#i was standing in line at this coffee shop that's so cute like it's pretty popular | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beefboyandbabygirl · 10 months

Text

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.”

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought.

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it.

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky.

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over.

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.”

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like.

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids?

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!”

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery.

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.”

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses.

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing.

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced.

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received.

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.”

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed.

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing?

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons.

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests.

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth.

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks.

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’.

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air.

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes.

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust.

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.”

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?”

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!”

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent.

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that.

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still.

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once.

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.”

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat.

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.” _____________________________

You thought about quitting.

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck.

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine.

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing.

“Hey, titty-shirt!”

The loveliness was ruined.

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words.

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!”

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring).

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.”

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.”

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you.

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house.

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.”

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.”

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?”

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers.

“Okay.”

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered.

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway.

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides.

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks.

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?”

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose.

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive.

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?”

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs.

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt.

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen.

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita.

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!”

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand.

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-”

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.”

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-”

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.”

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit.

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him.

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.”

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles.

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.”

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed.

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.”

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?”

“Yeah, evidence.”

“EVIDENCE?”

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet.

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed.

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines.

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something.

“TITTY-SHIRT!”

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic.

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely.

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at.

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?”

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled.

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.”

“Okay?”

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly.

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?”

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child.

“Alright, but-”

“Yes!”

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good.

“What happened to Belinda?”

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.”

“She has kids?!”

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins.

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean.

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork.

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight.

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way.

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?”

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours.

“I think you love being treated like a slut.”

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair.

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?”

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider.

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?”

“JEONGHAN!”

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing.

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious.

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath.

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster.

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips.

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you.

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back.

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again.

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back.

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt.

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them.

You went to work.

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing.

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic.

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.”

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little.

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate.

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans.

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows.

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached.

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm.

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.”

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head.

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips.

“I’m tired, you just go.”

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit.

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat.

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants.

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-”

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?”

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-”

“Well, then give us a ride?!”

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left.

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-”

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!”

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-”

You’re not even sure why you lied.

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!”

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face.

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-”

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child.

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted.

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?”

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-”

“Why are you crying?”

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern.

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual.

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..”

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up.

God, you were pathetic.

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face.

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar.

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-”

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him.

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes.

There was a significant pause.

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation.

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?”

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush.

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you.

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket.

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling.

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it.

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze.

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great.

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt.

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser.

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his.

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen.

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!”

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing.

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing.

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too.

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-”

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground.

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae.

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other.

His hand dropped from your lips.

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless.

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.”

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in.

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well.

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?”

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?”

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.”

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park.

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway.

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?”

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed.

“You’ll see.”

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful.

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis.

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly.

“What do you think?”

Jeonghan was looking at you.

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.”

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well.

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.”

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you.

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained.

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back.

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.”

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?”

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second.

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?”

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-”

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face.

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically.

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky.

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly.

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.”

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.”

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body.

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily.

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around.

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.”

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance.

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear.

“Jeonghan, please touch me-”

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble.

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing.

“Jeonghan, I can’t-”

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway.

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it.

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch.

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest.

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder.

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.”

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection.

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off.

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now.

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties.

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this.

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties.

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.”

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly.

“N-ngh, fuck..”

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.”

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine.

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it.

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-”

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face.

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole.

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-”

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming.

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face.

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.”

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.”

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs.

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit.

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin.

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying.

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs.

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it.

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly.

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply.

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling.

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.”

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating.

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.”

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows.

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock.

It was long and right by your fucking face.

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out.

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.”

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up.

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane.

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin.

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture.

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then.

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?”

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting.

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage.

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.”

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply.

Or almost perfect.

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you.

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.”

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue.

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly.

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth:

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

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moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

no cause I was thinking…. reckless driving by lizzy is so james coded!!! so I wanted to ask if you could write something inspired by it with reader being a bit insecure about loving him loudly and he’s just like a walking „I love my gf“ sign

ily I hope you are having a great day/night🫶🫶

Thanks for requesting, love you!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s beginning to frighten you how often you think of James. One of your friends will make a joke and you’ll catch yourself trying to remember it for him, or you’ll see a cute dog and want to send him a picture, or you’ll overhear a conversation in public and wish he were with you to press in close to your ear and ask Did you hear that?

It’s sort of pathetic, really, considering you’ve only been dating a few weeks. The last time you’d met up you talked about how much you both loved the thin oreos, and when you saw a pack in the store yesterday you’d almost bought it for him. Only the realization of how much your life has started to revolve around him stopped you.

You can’t be acting like James’ girlfriend. You’re only dating. It’s not like you love him—though you could, definitely, in time. But if you start doing girlfriend things, he’s going to think you are his girlfriend, and things will spiral out too fast for you to stop them. You have to dole out your affection in measured doses. Careful, controlled.

You feel James enter before you see him. He holds the door to the coffee shop open wide, letting another woman exit before he steps inside, and the cool air that comes in with him has you turning your head.

James is smiling as soon as he sees you. It’s a seemingly perpetual thing for him, this expression. You’re tempted to look out the window to the sidewalk and see if he’s left a trail of sunshine in his wake.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from you. “You look really lovely.”

You look exceedingly normal, but you thank him for the compliment anyway. “So do you.”

“Thanks,” James says easily, like he gets this all the time (he probably does) but appreciates it nonetheless. He starts to dig in the tote he’s hung on the back of his chair. “I’ve brought you something.”

You start to protest, but he anticipates you.

“It’s tiny, don’t worry. Here.”

He slides something crinkly across the table. It’s a pack of thin oreos.

“Oh, no way! I almost…” You look up, meeting James’ eyes as your brain catches up to your mouth. Too late, you’ve blurted. You can hardly roll it back now. “I almost got a pack for you the other day, too.”

He doesn’t seem to take your insensitivity to heart. In fact, his eyes light up. “Really! That’s so funny.” His hand remains still on the table but his fingers stretch towards yours, the barest of touches. “It was nice of you to think of me.”

Your heart slumps. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them for you, though,” you say. “We should share these ones.”

“Nope.” James leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Those are all you, love. Say, have you had a look at the menu?”

You wince. “I’ve already ordered, actually.”

“That’s alright,” he says breezily. “Back in a sec.”

He stands and gets in line, leaving you to contend with the semi-awkward silence of being in the same place yet not speaking. Right as he finishes ordering, the barista calls your name. James looks like he might grab your drink for you, but you meet him at the counter, thanking the barista as you take it.

“No problem,” she says with a smile. “Love your outfit, by the way.”

You fluster a bit at the compliment, a break from the typical coffee shop dialogue you were prepared for, but James wraps a friendly arm around your waist and beams right back at her.

“She’s got great taste, doesn’t she?” he asks, and you manage to cast a quick thanks over your shoulder as he steers you back to the table. “See, it’s not just me that thinks you look especially pretty today.”

“Oh, hush,” you say, taking your seat and looking down to stir your drink bashfully. “What’d you order?”

“Irish cream latte. Limited edition, apparently.”

“So, the sweetest thing on the menu.”

The smile spreads on James’ face. It ebbs and flows like the tide, you think, never really leaving. “You know me so well.”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest feel hollow and achy. James goes to such lengths to do nice things for you, to show you that he pays attention and thinks about you and cares, and yet when it comes to you he’s left settling for whatever scraps of affection he can get.

“James…” Your tone reveals your shift in mood instantly, and James’ head straightens the way a dog’s ears perk when it hears something alarming. “You know I want to take things slow, right?”

He nods, and when he speaks his voice is considerately softer. “Yeah, you’ve said. Do you think we’re—I’m moving things too fast right now?”

“No, just,” you wet your lips, having some trouble looking at his face, “I don’t know, I feel like I’m not being as good as you deserve. You’re such a sweet person, and I think…sometimes I feel like maybe you’d be happier dating someone who could be more all-in. You know?”

For a second, the silence is torture. Then: “Someone you’re trying to set me up with, sweetheart?”

You look up in surprise, but James is smiling again. Softer, now. Almost tentative. You find yourself mirroring him reflexively.

His knee bumps yours under the table. “I don’t mind moving slowly with you,” he says.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because you seem like you’re ready for more.” And I don’t know if I can manage that yet.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He takes your hand in his, and his eyes are soft, sweet caramel. He looks almost like he could love you. “If I’m coming on too strong, you can tell me, but I care about you. It’s hard for me not to be all-in, but that doesn’t mean I’m expecting the same thing from you. You seem like a sane, well-adjusted person.” James nods seriously. “Something I could use, I’ve been told.” He tries to keep the poker face when you grin, but fails in half a second.

“Okay.” You give his hand a little squeeze. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

“I won’t,” he says certainly. “I always go for the sweetest thing on the menu, remember?”

You take your hand back to cover your face, and James’ laughter echoes off the walls.

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sometimesanalice · 4 days

Text

Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his creations.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the pain smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd fic #bob x you #bob x reader

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sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast · 6 months

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Teach My Mouth a Lesson

Toji x fem!reader

Synopsis: You've caught the interest of your friend's sleazy dad. And he's caught yours.

Content: age gap (reader is mid 20s, toji is late 40s), self pleasure(toji), he's kinda mean, voyeuristic scene (reader watches toji)

Wc: 1.5k

Part Two

A cold iced coffee sat nestled in your hand, pulling it to your lips as you listened to your best friend complain. About her father no less. It was usually the same. "He only calls after I beg him to." And, "Can you believe he missed my birthday again?" You didn't really have room to comment, not having the best relationship with your own father. Plus it wasn't really new information, he was barely in her life as it was. "Doesn't he usually miss your birthday?" You commented and she only pouted. "I thought it'd be different this time." With a sigh, she fiddles with her drink before her eyes widen. "Let's go shopping!"

"Again?" You shook your head, bringing the cold, foamy liquid to your lips. It's not like you really had a say, her hands already wrapping around your arm as she tugged you, almost making you drop your coffee.

You spent the day in store after store, watching as she tried half the clothes on and only buying a handful. You got some cute things too but ultimately were a little more frugal with your money than she was. She was always spending whatever she made as soon as her paycheck was deposited. By the time you'd finished, the sun was setting and she was dragging you, yet again, to a bar. It's not that you were opposed to drinking, it just didn't take much to make you tipsy let alone full-on drunk. Which is exactly what happened.

Both your friend and you, hailing a cab as your combined giggles filled the chilly air. She managed to clumsily tell the driver her address before you two sang, off key, some random song that happened to be stuck in your head.

The cab came to an abrupt stop, the driver giving a glare to both of you before she randomly threw a few twenties at him as you fumbled out of the car. Giggling and bumping into each other as she barely managed to get her keys, it took four tries before she finally slotted it inside the lock. "Shhhh," she giggled. "I don't know if-hicc-my Dad's home." Your alcohol filled brain scoffed at the carefulness. "What's he gonna do?" You giggled, and she joined before she excused herself to the bathroom. You rested yourself against the kitchen counter, head hanging backwards as you watched the ceiling spin.

"The fuck are you?"

A deep voice swarmed into your ears, making you jump as you leaned your head forward. A tall, beefy man stood in front of you. Jet black hair that went in all sorts of directions. But that's not what you noticed first, no. He was shirtless. Thick muscles lined his torso, arms, and chest. Fuck, he was built. He snapped in front of your face, "Hello? Ya deaf? Who the fuck are you?" You swallowed the lump that'd formed in your throat as you tried to talk. Failing miserably. Your brain couldn't even process that this was more than likely your friend's dad. "The girl who lives here…her friend."

"That so?" He clicked his tongue as he ran a hand down his stubbled chin. "Told her not to bring loud ass troublemakers in here."

"Excuse me?" You answered, annoyance making its way into your voice. Standing now, your hands balled at your sides, trying your best to be intimidating. Kind of hard when the man you're trying to scare has at least a whole foot, maybe more, on you. "My house, my rules. Got a problem?" He sneered, looking down his nose at you. In your inebriated state, it only made you more annoyed. "Yeah actually. You can't talk to me like that. You don't know me." He scoffed, "Scuse me Princess, didn't mean to insult the invisible crown you put on that pretty little head of yours."

Your eyes widened, stomach filling with a warmth as it proceeded to do somersaults. What the fuck? Your body was betraying you but you weren't about to let this dick know that.

"Whatever," you responded back, crossing your arms. A smirk played its way onto his lips. You didn't like the look of that. "She come home with ya?" He walked into the kitchen, switching on the light and illuminating the area. Now you could truly see every dip and curve, bump of his muscle. Fuck, who sculpted him? The clink of a beer bottle being pulled from the fridge pulled you from your daze. "Bathroom. She's in the bathroom." He hummed, tipping his head back as he popped the lid off with his hand. His throat bobbed, a few drops of the liquor ran down his chin. But he made no attempts to wipe it off.

"Ya sure you're her friend? Feel like I woulda remembered a laugh that obnoxious."

And there he went again, he truly was as much of an asshole as your friend said. "Like you'd know, you're barely home. A real deadbeat." You crossed your arms, a sick angry feeling filling your gut. He didn't say anything, the silence was deafening until you heard heavy footsteps. Toji moved through the kitchen and stopped just in front of you. His fingers grasp your chin, causing you to gasp as you look up at him like a deer in headlights. "Got a mouth on ya.." His rough thumb pressed against your bottom lip. "Someone should fix that."

A loud crash sounded from the bathroom and he pulled away. "I swear to God, if she broke her fucking neck." Toji sighed, craning his neck to get a better look at the bathroom door. Which in turn, gave you a better look at him. Heat was radiating off his skin, his enormous pecs were practically the only thing in your line of vision. Soon the bathroom door slammed open and you hadn't noticed till now, but he'd moved back to behind the counter. "Shit," your friend giggled. "Hope that didn't wake up my-" She paused, eyes slowly blinking as she assessed the situation. "Dad!" She screamed, rushing over to wrap her arms around his neck. "Can't believe you forgot my birthday," she pouted. Leaving her father to roll his eyes, pushing her off him. "Ya get enough during the year, you don't need a celebration." Your friend only pouted more as she crossed her arms. "S'not fair." Her bottom lip wobbled but Toji didn't buy any of it. "Not gonna work," he replied, taking another generous swig of his alcohol.

"Ugh, asshole." She turned on her feet, heading up the stairs. He shook his head, "Bitch." And he only received a finger in response. What a strange dynamic.

"Ya gonna go with her or stare holes into me for the rest of the night?"

You blinked, eyes coming back into focus. "Like I'd stare at you." You tried your best to sound annoyed, ignoring the lingering heat you felt in your stomach. Had he really grazed your lip with his thumb like that? The feeling was still there. He only hummed, dragging his eyes up and down your body. "Just fucking keep it down ya?" Toji finished off his beer before crushing it, tossing it into the trash and headed back upstairs. And you finally felt yourself breathe for the first time.

'What the fuck?'

You thought, trying to shake it out of your mind as you went upstairs too. Giving about a minute or two after her dad had left, you trudged up the stairs. Any alcohol that was in your system had subsided, leaving you a fuzzy mess. And you couldn't help but sigh when you entered your friend's room, where you found her passed out, face down in the bed. With heavy limbs, you pulled yourself to her bed and laid down. Tugging some of the blankets before falling asleep.

It was roughly 2am when you woke up, the heavy weight of your friend's leg on your stomach had triggered the urge to go to the bathroom.

With a huff, you moved her off and walked out of the room. Eyes halfway closed as you walked to the bathroom. Doing your business with a yawn, sight and hearing both a little muffled and blurry from just waking up. After finishing up, you open the door only for you to pause. Low grunts and moans made their way into your ears. Curiosity burned and you softly shut the door, tiptoeing towards where the noise was coming from; the living room.

Holy fuck.

You quickly covered your mouth to prevent your thoughts from escaping your mouth. There, on the couch, was Toji. Hand slicked with spit as he stroked up and down his thick cock. God, it was huge. How did he even walk around with that thing? You wondered. You couldn't tear your eyes away. His rough thumb pressed against his slit, smearing the beads of pre that formed there around the tip. Long, thick, veins ran up the length, pulsing each time he ran his hand over them. You should stop watching. This was private…and he was an asshole! You reminded yourself. But your pussy had other ideas. Already, you could feel yourself get wet watching as the scene unfolded.

His head rested on the back of the couch. Teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he fucked his fist. You pressed your thighs together, easing the growing ache.

"Ya just gonna watch, or are you gonna join me?"

A/N: There will be a part 2, promise♡

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you

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officialaemondtargaryen · 11 days

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Invisible String

❝and isn't it just so pretty to think that all along there was some invisible string tying you to me.❞

Summary: You are having a pretty strange week and you just happen to run into the same guy every single day at the same coffee shop. He could be stalking you, or it could be fate. You aren’t totally sure.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Author’s Note: This is a re-write of an old fic of mine. I'm in my re-writing era and this is Megan's Version. Anyways, here's some fluff. I hope that you are absolutely disgusted by it.

Warnings: language and cuteness.

Monday morning.

The bane of your existence.

It didn’t help that you were hungover; head pounding, pleading with you to go back to sleep after your best friend convinced you to go out for karaoke on a Sunday night. Who in their right mind decided that karaoke on a Sunday night would be a good idea? You did. Not your best decision, you had to admit, and one you immediately came to regret as your alarm continuously reminded you that you needed to get up. You only had about eight minutes before you were to leave your apartment in order to make it to work on time, and it typically took you an hour to get ready– thirty minutes on a good day. You were absolutely pressing your luck with eight.

You rushed into the kitchen, making a beeline towards your Keurig. Brewing yourself a cup of coffee was typically the first thing you did every morning, like clockwork; placing the disposable cardboard cup underneath the spout and setting it to automatic, allowing it to brew while you moved on to other things in your morning routine. It was always the perfect temperature by the time you came back to it.

“Shit!” You cursed with a mouth full of toothpaste after realizing you’d completely missed the sink and a long line of frothy spit had dripped down to the front of your shirt. It was the only clean blouse that you had, and you definitely didn’t have time to go rummaging through your closet to find something else. With limited options available, you tell yourself that no one will notice and hurriedly swipe at the glob of mint green paste from your left boob.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, the stain jumped out at you as if it were a flashing sign, look at me! You knew you’d be self conscious about it throughout the day and that everyone would, in fact, notice, and opted for a black blazer to hopefully cover up your mistake. Once you were satisfied with your appearance– as satisfied as you had the time to be– you rushed out the door; your bag falling off of your shoulder as you tried to scrape your hair back into the neatest bun you could manage without brushing your hair, practically sprinting towards the bus stop, hoping that you’d make it on time.

It wasn’t until you got there, waiting with what seemed like the entire population of this accursed city, that you realized you had never even gone back to the kitchen for your coffee after you had started getting ready. It was still sitting there cold, and lonely, and untouched– just like you felt right now, standing at the bus stop, no coffee to warm your hands.

You could just go to work, clock in on time, and drink that bagged shit your company supplies for the break room, but on a Monday and with the morning you’ve already had, that just wasn’t an option. You could see the bus headed your way but ultimately stepped out of the crowd and headed in the direction of the nearest coffeeshop, which thankfully was only two blocks up.

As soon as you walked through the door and into the warmth of the cafe, you inwardly cringed at the sight of the six people waiting in line. There was really no point in complaining about it, you were already here and you had already missed the bus, and you were already going to be late. You had no option but to wait patiently in line behind some blonde guy in a suit.

Your cellphone vibrated in your hand as you vaguely heard the man order a blueberry muffin and a latte. It was your boss, fuck. You silenced the phone call and decided to send them a quick text message instead, promising that you’d be there soon and made up some story about how the bus was late due to traffic.

Still looking down at your phone, you thought you saw the man take a step to the side out of your peripheral vision, and you stepped forward towards the register. Only he hadn’t stepped to the side, and you stepped right into him, and your face collided with his back. When you went to take a step backwards, you tripped over the woman behind you and ended up falling on your ass.

“I am so sorry!” You exclaimed, looking up at the man that you had just stepped into. Your cheeks warm at the sight of him, feeling infinitely more embarrassed when you see how attractive he is. “I thought I saw you move to the next register.”

He smiled and suddenly everything was okay, like you didn’t just trip and fall in front of like fifty people.

“S’okay, love,” he replied, holding out his hand to help you up. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you replied, trying your hardest to play it cool. “That was totally planned.”

He laughs, once again flashing an angelic smile, “you’re a great actress, then.”

“Thanks,” you say as you dust off your pants. “I rehearsed that for weeks.”

He seemed to think you were being wildly clever as his head dropped back and a genuine bout of laughter escaped his throat. The people behind you in line were becoming clearly irritated, one even stepping around you to keep the line moving. Typically, you would have protested but you suddenly didn’t care about the time or that you had been cut in line.

“Aegon?” The barista called out.

“That’s me,” his smile faltered just enough for you to notice. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“In a city with a population of 8.4 million people, I highly doubt that,” you step back in line after checking with the person behind you to make sure it was okay. “Have a good day.”

The man named Aegon still smiled, his head nodding to you before stepping out into the crowded city streets. If you were brave, you would have asked for his number, but instead you watched the door while you waited for your drink to be made; hoping that he would come back and sweep you off your feet.

You allowed yourself to live in that fantasy for a little while, until you became too busy at work and eventually forgot about the handsome stranger you had met in the coffee shop.

Tuesday was worse.

It wasn’t because you had a hangover or because you had woken up late again. In fact, it was quite the opposite. You were feeling pretty great on this particular morning. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day, and you had given yourself plenty of time for your usual morning routine; shower, makeup, clothes, coffee. The Spotify algorithm was providing you with a perfect soundtrack for your commute to the bus stop until–

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

You screeched as a double-breasted, suit-wearing businessman bumped into you and your coffee went flying towards the concrete; all over the ground, all over you. And for a moment, time stops as you could do nothing but stand there, completely shocked. The audacity he had to not only keep walking as if he hadn’t just ruined your perfect morning– and your shoes– but to yell back at you that you were the one who needed to watch where you were going.

You hadn’t even gotten to take a sip of that coffee yet.

Thankfully, Starbucks was only two blocks up, and you could make a pitstop for a refill and to clean yourself up and the coffee out of your shoes. Before you stepped in line, you made a beeline for the cream bar, hurriedly pulling napkins from the dispenser to shove them into the toes of your shoes. A few people in the lobby had begun to stare, and you sighed in defeat. This was frustrating that you were, once again, embarrassing yourself and making a scene in the same Starbucks two days in a row.

“You know, in a city with a population of 8.4 million people,” you heard as you tried to dry off your tights. Looking up, you noticed the same man from yesterday. What was his name? Aegon, right? “Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we bumped into each other again.”

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” you retorted with a sarcastic smile.

“Stalking the girl who’s spilled coffee all over herself?” He asked, eyes crinkling at the sides from the wide smile on his face. “I don’t know about that.”

You didn’t say anything, still a little irritated that you were even in this predicament, and now running into this handsome stranger again. Typically, you’d be elated to see him again, but not today.

“Let me buy you a coffee?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence that had grown between the two of you after he just stood there watching you try to blot the stain out of your white blouse. “It looks like you’re not having the best day.”

“Thanks for the offer, but not today,” you replied.

“Well, maybe tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” you said as you laughed through your nose, knowing that there was no possible way that you would see him again tomorrow unless he really was stalking you. “Tomorrow, for sure.”

He gave you another one of those remarkable smiles and nodded his head, “okay, I’ll see you then.”

Wednesday was better.

You woke up with a smile on your face and you gingerly started your routine, making your way towards your Keurig. It was the middle of the week; only three more days to go and you’d be free for the weekend. You already had plans for a Succession marathon and itched to make a home on your couch for the next two days with all of your favorite snacks and blankets.

But when you went to grab one of those tiny, plastic pods from the box, it was empty. You had told yourself yesterday that you needed to stop and grab coffee and milk, but had completely forgotten once your day had unraveled after that douchebag shouldered you on the sidewalk.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You always believed that one should enjoy the little things, but this week, it seemed as if those little things were on a mission to ruin your week. This time, you decided on the locally owned coffee shop that was only a block from your apartment. You passed by every day on your way to the bus stop, but they were typically so busy that you just didn’t have time to wait.

Today, they were surprisingly not nearly as busy as they usually were, in fact, they were almost completely empty. You still smiled at the barista as you walked right up to the counter without having to wait in line.

“Could I please have a mocha latte, please?” You asked politely.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the barista replied with a frown. “We were supposed to get our delivery sometime last night but there was a mix-up with the trucks, and we’re kinda out of everything. There’s a sign on the door.”

Of course you didn’t see the sign until you were leaving, frustrated, and stepping out onto the sidewalk with only one option; Starbucks.

This time you were prepared to see the good-looking stranger again, if fate were to have it; you were not covered in coffee, you did not have to rush on your way out the door, you were having a good hair day. Yet, as you stepped into the cool air conditioning of the corporate chain, you were saddened that you didn’t spot that golden halo of soft, blonde hair anywhere. You should have known not to get your hopes up, as the odds of seeing him three days in a row were slim and none. As you stepped up to the register you laughed at yourself, at how disappointed you were, as if you actually had a chance.

You stood off to the side, scrolling through your phone while waiting for the barista to call your name. It was then that out of the corner of your eye, you see that in walks a handsome, blonde stranger. Your heart skips a beat for only a second before it registers that he’s not your blonde stranger. He locks eyes with you for only a second and you offer him a small, disappointed smile.

“Your mocha,” the barista says and holds out the warm beverage to you.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice despondent.

When you turn for the exit, your eyes are drawn to the corner of the room- to a comfortable, brown leather chair next to the window. There, sits Aegon, the man who had somehow just happened to be here, every single day, at the same time as you. The man who is probably stalking you, and if he wasn’t, he probably thought you were stalking him. You couldn’t even blame it on timing– Monday you were late, Tuesday you were early, today you were right on time. Given outside factors, things like this typically do not happen.

He’s reading the paper and there’s a cup of coffee and a half-eaten scone sitting on a plate in front of him. Your lips curl into a smile as you say to him, “we’ve got to stop running into each other like this.”

Aegon looks up at you, surprise washing over his face before an enthusiastic smile begins growing on his lips. However, as soon as his eyes notice the drink in your hand, his smile immediately disappears, “I thought I was buying today?”

“I didn’t see you until I had already ordered,” you replied. “How about tomorrow?”

“Deal,” he nodded..

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” You asked, eyes narrowing.

He threw his head back in laughter, “I’m definitely not a stalker.”

“That’s what a stalker would say,” you glanced down at your watch and realized that you should get going before you miss the bus. “See you tomorrow!”

On Thursday, you were convinced.

You had spent most of the day yesterday discussing with your coworker about what had been happening to you over the last week. You’d walked through every different day and what had happened prior to you arriving at Starbucks. You had talked conspiracy theories and the invisible string theory, and eventually you both ended up coming to the same conclusion– you both agreed that it was best for you to not go to Starbucks today.

You didn’t believe in fate, or soulmates, or twin flames, but as you stood in front of your Keurig as it made the most god awful sound, you were starting to change your mind. You tried turning it off and back on, unplugging it and plugging it back in, but the diagnosis was that it had finally died.

After six wonderful years and all of college.

Any other day you’d stop at Starbucks and grab a coffee in place of your homemade cup, but you swore that you wouldn’t today, and you were not waiting in line at the one on the way to the bus stop. It didn’t help that you were actually looking forward to the nasty breakroom coffee, only to get to work and realize that the office had run out of coffee. The effects of the caffeine withdrawal had set in by lunchtime and your migraine was splitting. Needless to say, you were irritable and exhausted by the time you had clocked out. Everything seemed to be grinding your nerves; even something as simple as the person sitting next to you on the bus talking on their phone.

Despite promising yourself that you wouldn’t go to Starbucks today, you found yourself standing at the counter, ordering a latte and a sandwich. It was later in the evening, the sun was setting, and you were certain that you would not be running into Aegon at this time of night and so after you grabbed your coffee, you sat in one of the comfy, leather chairs and started replying to some emails.

You had been there for about an hour, most of the patrons had left. The baristas had begun cleaning up for the evening and the shop was getting ready to close when the door swung open, letting in a gusty breeze.

“No way,” you whispered to yourself as you watched a very tired-looking Aegon walk up to the counter and order a latte. He was so out of it that he didn’t even notice you until he sat down in the chair directly across from yours, and looked up to see you staring right at him.

“I told you,” he said as he let out a tired laugh.

You just shook your head at him in disbelief.

“I was called into work early today and I couldn’t come in this morning,” he said with a smirk. “I was certain I wouldn’t be seeing you today.”

“My Keurig broke, and when I got to work they didn’t have any coffee, so I figured I’d stop in and grab a cup before heading home,” you replied.

You sat there and talked to him until the manager kicked the two of you out, and he ended up walking you to your apartment, even though it was in the opposite direction of where he was going. He was sweet and funny, and you found yourself laughing at almost every joke.

“So tomorrow?” You asked when you stopped in front of your building.

“How about dinner instead of coffee?” He asked, rather boldly, taking you by surprise. “I know we don’t really know each other but I’d like to change that.”

“I’d like that, too,” you smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Wanna chance it and see if we show up at the same restaurant at the same time?”

“The ultimate test of fate, eh?” He asked, rubbing his chin as he mulled over your offer for a moment. “Can’t risk it, how about you just meet me at Ray’s at seven.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you exhale a soft laugh.

“Perfect,” he says and takes your hand, offering a tender kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll see you then, love.”

Friday was perfect.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened. Though, thinking back on it now, maybe those seemingly bizarre incidents this past week weren’t actually out of the ordinary at all. Maybe the forgotten coffee on Monday, the spilled latte on Tuesday, the late delivery on Wednesday, and caffeine withdrawal on Thursday were all meant to happen; everything playing out perfectly in order for you to be walking up to Ray’s at exactly 6:54 PM.

Aegon stood outside, a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. As your eyes met, a wave of warmth washed over you, dispelling any lingering doubts you may have had. This felt right.

This felt like fate.

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astraaa3 · 2 months

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How about some headcanons of Velvette x Female or Genderneutral reader who hates confrontation? Is the type that can't send back food when it's wrong. Someone cut in front of them? What are they gonna do? Tell them not to? Yeah, no. God forbid they're being outright spoken down to. Maybe they yell back at someone in an act of defiance as a form of growth but they're in shock immediately after which is so not the right thing to do with the person still in front of them. Velvette would probably dress reader up however she wants to. What happens if reader tries out saying they want to where something they think is pretty or nice? Okay, this got overly lengthy, but you get the idea?

A/N: This one was such a fun writing experience. I literally couldn't decide which way I wanted it to go. Thank you so much for the ask Anon, hope you enjoy it. <33

Feedback is much appreciated and don't forget to ask. (I need something to get the brain juices flowing)

Velvette x Gn!Reader

In which Reader can't bring themselves to say no to people or to stand up for themselves. (aka the Velvette x Pushover!Reader I never knew I needed)

=========📱=========

Initially, Velvette wrote off your compliance with all of her requests as you wanting to please her. And well, she couldn't complain, she liked pushing people around, and her partner was no exception. That said, her sharp tongue was reserved for her poor models. (you got a free pass most of the time since she didn't want to make you cry)

With time, Velvette realized that this was just how you were. She laughed the first time Vox showed her the footage of you helping an assistant carry boxes, only to end up helping with organizing files for one of Vox's assistants. She laughed even harder when she saw you try to get a word in as some wolf sinner cut in front of you in line. And well, it was kinda funny. Until the same shit happened again and again.

Velvette tried talking some sense into you. "Babe, listen. You can't just let any dimwit trample over you." She sighed as you promised to try to stick up for yourself.

Nothing changed after Velvette's 'pep talk'.

Realizing that you were too much of a soft-hearted pathetic idiot to stick up for yourself, Velvette took it upon herself to keep others from pushing you around.

Someone pushed in front of you in the line? Velvette was there telling that cunt exactly why they didn't deserve to even look in your direction.

You were delivered the wrong food order? Velvette would call the restaurant to make sure they knew how utterly useless they were for not even being able to pack a food order.

After laying it on thick whoever wronged you, she would look at you smirking. In turn, you would smile at her happily before kissing her. It turned into a game after some time.

The one time Velvette saw you raise your voice wasn't even to defend yourself. It was to defend her. The moment you calmed down enough to realize what you just said, you were immediately mortified. Burying your face into your hands, you flushed red from embarrassment as Velvette looked at you with wide eyes. Fuck. It was hot seeing you angry…

=========📱=========

Small prompt time~

You and Velvette were walking towards the Coffee Shop right across the street from the V tower. The two of you were holding hands while Velvette was ranting all about how Valentino absolutely destroyed one of her models just before a show when the domestic vibe was ruined by some drunk assholes who came up to them.

"Hey babe, aren't you that cute little overlord with the social media shit? I'll give you something to make a story on Voxstragram with."

As the sinner said this, he made some explicit gestures with his hips. Gagging in disgust Velvette grabbed your hand to walk away from them, not wanting to ruin the cozy coffee date you had planed. However, as you were walking away, all you could hear was the those sinners mocking laughs. You were so angry. You didn't exactly know what made you snap at them. Was it the crass comments regarding your lover? Was it the fact that Velvette refrained from killing them for your sake? Maybe it was both. But before you knew it, you turned around glaring at them before proceeding to curse them into the next afterlife. Velvette looked at you shocked, not expecting you to snap at those no-names. As you calmed down, you looked at Velvette's shocked expression, before burrying your face in your face mumbling something along the lines of: "Let's not talk about this ever again." Velvette pulled your hands from your face, replacing them with hers. As she cradled your face with her hands she smiled at you excited:

"That. Was. Fucking. Awesome. Babe, you were so hot fucking humiliating those pathetic worms."

The first thing Velvette did when they got back to the V tower was spam her groupchat with Valentino and Vox with messages about how cool you were. But you didn't need to know that. After all, she liked taking care of assholes for you. Satan forbid you actually grow a backbone. She dreaded the day you would actually gain the courage to deny her picking your clothes. (as if she would ever let that happen)

#velvette x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #gn reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette

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verysium · 5 months

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how bllk boys would react when u draw them, could either be rlly good or rlly SHIT u choose idk (plz include barou and the itoshi bros) 😊😊😊 i love you and ur works, and the way u write the boys and ur content makes me laugh fr, one of my fave bllk authors mwjahaja 😓 have a great day, ily:3 and the icks post made me smile like all of ur posts do!

thank you so much anon ♡ this ask had me contemplating very seriously, so apologies if it's a bit late:

sae is definitely awestruck in some way, even if he doesn't immediately show it. i think i talked about this in a previous headcanon, but he has a deep-seated admiration for artists who can grasp abstract concepts because he himself cannot. he would be somewhat flattered if you drew him since he's never considered his own appearance to be particularly inspiring. would be appalled if you considered him your muse. like....why? to him, his looks aren't anything of importance (clearly he is blind.) would probably say your drawing was inaccurate but then hang it up by his nightstand so he can look at it every night before he goes to sleep. if you're a full-time artist, he probably keeps a little stash of your gifts in a small box beneath his bed. sometimes if he's having a bad day or he lost a game, he goes back and flips through them just to make himself feel better. secretly loves the way you draw his bangs and the little swoop you do in your signature.

kaiser corrects every single detail in your drawing. stands behind you and gives you little pointers here and there. he should have an 8-pack, not a 6-pack. his jawline isn't sharp enough in your initial sketch. poses shirtless in front of you so that way you can encapsulate the full extent of his sexiness. shows off your drawing to every living creature in existence. "isn't he handsome?" like...🙄 yeah, michael we know. he's probably the hardest to draw because of his tattoo, so i think he genuinely appreciates it when you put in the effort to capture his intricacies. will never admit this but he's low-key proud of you and your talent (mostly just your ability to make him look good.)

rin is one of those people who doesn't understand hyperrealism. like why does he need a highly detailed sketch of his face when he can just take a photo and print it out? i don't think he understands art in general. probably despises modern art too. he'd take one look at a rothko painting and be like....i could draw this too...in my sleep. similar to sae, i feel like he's just numb to the sentimentality of gift-giving. doesn't understand why you would waste your time drawing a little picture of him, but it does make his heart feel strangely fuzzier, so maybe he'll keep it this one time. lo and behold, months later he now has a collection of your drawings he doesn't have the heart to throw away. refuses to let isagi or anyone see them because they're meant for his eyes only.

yukimiya has impeccable taste. in fact, he's probably an artist himself. i think it'd be cute if you both drew little sketches of each other throughout the course of your relationship. but neither of you ever knew until you gifted him your sketchbook for christmas, and he was like....guess what...i drew you too. thinks you're pretty even when you don't think so. sometimes when you're having a coffee shop date, he scribbles a portrait of you on his napkin because the sunlight hit your cheek just right in that moment, and the birds were chirping, and he fell in love all over again. i think it's also tragic that he's slowly losing his eyesight, so he won't be able to enjoy your drawings and the vibrant colors you infuse into them. that's why he treasures them even more. probably thumbs over the pages from time to time. memorizes every stroke and line.

isagi likes the way you always draw that little tuft of hair that sticks up on the top of his head. it looks like a cute little bean sprout. he pins your drawings up above his bed next to a polaroid of you two in germany. buys you a professional art set for your birthday. if you're a digital artist, he buys you a new tablet and stylus.

bachira adds his own doodles next to yours except he makes a chibi version of everything. always pesters you to include his little fangs. uses the boldest combination of colors. he would definitely be a messy artist. paint everywhere. fingernails perpetually stained a different color. you both draw during class, so when you two trade notebooks to actually study......there aren't any actual notes.

barou acts like he doesn't know what to do with your drawing of him but then the next day you visit his house, and he's already put your artwork in a fancy picture frame. refuses to let anyone else even stand within a ten meter radius next to it because he doesn't want their "nasty fingerprints" all over your beautiful masterpiece.

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devildomcrybaby · 4 months

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𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮

I spaced out and wrote about Getou being a pervert

Minors do not interact. 18+ only

Getou likes to dress you up.

You two were supposed to go out to visit a new coffee shop and spend the afternoon doing one of the many favorite activities you enjoy doing together, just sitting next to one another, drinking hot chocolate and reading Russian classics (aren't you both pretentious). You're standing in front of the bathroom mirror, toes slightly lifted and back arched to get your eyeliner right, when you feel his large hands on your hips. His grip was firm, but not too tight. "I'm almost done, promise I won't take long this time!" you say absentmindedly, not really paying attention to the man behind you, eyes still on the black line you're trying to trace without too many bumps. "We can be a little late" he breathes against your neck before kissing you where your neck meets your shoulder. "Would you be a doll and try something on for me?" he doesn't wait for you to answer when he gently takes your hand away from your face and pulls you towards your bedroom. You're both confused and intrigued as you follow along. He stops in front of the mirrored door of the closet and puts a finger inside the black tie around your neck, pulling it until he undoes it, then grabs it and tosses it on the dresser. Then he begins undoing your shirt. When he gets to your stomach you huff. "Couldn't you think about it before I got ready?" you frown. "I should have" he exhales heavily, eyes closed for a moment as if he's deeply sorry. You roll your eyes. "You look real pretty like this". "Not pretty enough for you to let me keep it on" you retort while he slides your shirt down your shoulders and arms until it falls on the ground when it doesn't meet any more resistance. "You're never pretty" you're about to sass him but he kneels in front of you. He lifts your skirt to press a kiss to your inner thigh and you hold your breath. "You're so beautiful all the time, it makes me want to rip your clothes off, claw at your skin until it's red" he presses another kiss on your panties, right on your pussy and undoes the zip on the back of your skirt "sometimes until you bleed" he kisses you above them now. "I want to eat you..." he playfully bites your inner thigh and you'd squeal if you weren't so engrossed in his words, in the soft inflection of his voice "...and choke on you". His teeth lightly scrape your clothed pussy and you gasp. "Romance isn't dead after all" you act all sarcastic, but your voice comes out breathy. You do think that’s romantic somehow.

Getou kisses you all over your hips and your crotch for a little while before sliding your panties down your legs. He doesn't throw them like the rest of your clothes, but folds them messily and puts them away in his pocket, then he gets up. He grabs your hips and turns you towards the mirror. His index finger traces an uneven pattern down your shoulder. He slides down one strap of your bra first, then the other. He groans quietly when your bra slips down half an inch exposing the pink of your nipples. He unclasps your bra which thumps on the ground next to the rest of your clothes. Getou cups your tits from behind, then brushes his hands all over them. When he feels your nipples harden he rubs them with his thumb and index finger. You exhale and throw your head back against his shoulder. Thighs clenched together as you already feel your arousal gliding down your bare thighs. Getou smirks, savoring your reactions. When he's satisfied he pinches your nipples hard. Your gasp comes out more like a moan. He pinches them a few more times until he's satisfied, then holds your breasts in his hands brushing his thumbs over them admiring his work. "Cute" he murmurs, eyes fixed on your chest. Nipples hard and slightly swollen. He takes a step back and walks towards a shiny shopping bag he placed on the padded elegant chair right next to the dresser. You bend your head looking at him curiously. "No peeking. Stay still in front of the mirror". You glare at him, but still turn away. You can't help but think about how once again you're naked and he's fully clothed. Getou brushes your shoulder and you bend your head down looking at his fingers finally back on you. He takes your hand in his and puts up one of the shoulder straps, then does the same with the other. Once he put the top on you, he turns you towards him, his long fingers working intently on the ribbon tying the top-like corset together.

"Exactly how I imagined it" he comments in a low voice, more talking to himself than to you. "Feet up". He says without looking up at your face. You suddenly feel the urge to slap him, push him away. He's manhandling you however he wishes, making you undress just to dress you up himself like you were a child, changing your plans on a whim. You don't slap him though, nor do you push him away. Ever obedient, very few are the things you'd deny him, very few the things you wouldn't do just to hear a word, even a sound of approval from the lips of your revered lover. You lift a foot, then the other letting him pull up the panties he got you, then a sort of skirt and stockings. His movements are slow and careful. He's so precise, reminding you of an artist working with Venetian glass. It gives you the chills. Getou takes your hands in his, pulling your arms slightly away from your sides. "Cute little thing" he repeats looking you up and down. "Are you satisfied?" "Very much so. Turn around". And you do, finally seeing yourself in the mirror. It's obscene, really. You're all dressed in off-white fabric. Some smooth like silk, some organdy, very few lace. Your top is a sort of corset which is tied from the front. The fabric is tighter and firmer on the sides, while transparent on the top of your cleavage. It's not transparent enough not to leave anything to the imagination, but enough to faintly show your nipples underneath. Your skirt barely covers your ass and completely shows the garter that ties the stockings. You examine your outfit for a few seconds, sliding your hands down your chest and sides, pulling your skirt down with no success. There really is no fabric to pull. "Suguru Getou, you're a pervert". "We didn't meet at church, now did we?" he grins. Then he lowers his voice and adds right against your ear "And if we did you wouldn't have been on your knees for no other God than me". "The most insufferable man I've ever met". Getou doesn't reply to your comment right away, keeping the ace up his sleeve. He'll get back at you in a moment. He runs a hand up your thigh, slightly lifting up your skirt in doing so. "I also got you a woolen down coat. It's cold outside". Your head snaps back towards him. "What do you mean ‘outside’?" "We were supposed to get coffee, weren’t we?"

#Eve scribbles #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto suguru #getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #suguru x reader #getou suguru #suguru geto x reader #getou smut #jujutsu kaisen #getou x you

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honeyedmiller · 5 months

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A Blissful Feeling | Javier Peña

pairing: husband!javier peña x wife!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: fluff, established relationship (marriage), smut (grinding, fingering, rimming [don’t look at me lol], f oral receiving, one (1) smack on the ass [if i remember correctly], unprotected piv, consensual choking, spitting, praise), small uses of spanish with translations at the end, uses of pet names in a loving manner, teasing, no use of y/n. please let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: You find out Javi is having a bad day at work, so you pay him a visit at the office.

divider by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

It was mornings like this that Javier wished he could stay in bed with you. Tangled in the sheets, bare skin against bare skin, soft lips brushing pulse points, and satiated grins adorning your lips as you stared at each other with pure love and awe.

But, reality was an unwanted, cruel thing that wrapped herself around perfect mornings like ones like this. Ones where Javier is almost late to work because he can’t get enough of his beautiful wife, leaving him to rush out of the door with his thermos of coffee and a chaste kiss to the lips as a see you later, mi amor to you.

That left you standing in the middle of the kitchen, bare feet on the cold tile floor as you leaned over the counter to make a list of all the errands you had to run today. Your silk robe was tied securely to your body, recalling that the material almost made its way off of you, courtesy of your husband’s needy hands.

As much as you almost gave in to temptation, you didn’t need him to be chewed out by his coworkers for being late. They all loved and respected him at the Laredo sheriff's office, but to save him the humiliation, you mustered up more willpower than you wanted to and ultimately swatted his hands away.

You knew he had a long work day ahead of him, though, and you missed him already. You loved your husband so dearly and being away from him for most of the day tugged at your heart. Some might call it clingy. You just call it being in love.

You decided to get to work on your list anyhow, hoping that these errands and few chores would give you the perfect distraction from missing your sweet Javier too much.

First up: tidy up the house. You put some music on and got to work, having the house cleaned in about an hour. You upkept with cleaning pretty well, so your intermittent cleaning wasn’t as tedious. Once you were done you showered and got ready for the day, sporting a cute christmas patterned sweater with some leggings Javier always said looked good on you. You smile faintly at your husband’s words, relishing in the recollection of them.

The rest of the to-do list was pretty easy, considering it was mundane tasks like washing your car, putting gas in it, and grocery shopping. You also had a nail appointment lined up today, which you were excited for. You were feeling festive, so you wanted to go with something more Christmas themed.

You decided to save grocery shopping for last, knowing it would take at least an hour and a half. The list you and Javier made last night was long, knowing you needed to restock on essentials and your favorite foods.

You got washing your car and filling up the tank out of the way in twenty minutes, leaving you to head to the nail salon. While you were sitting in the chair mindlessly watching your nail tech paint your nails, your phone pinged with a text from Javi.

Hi mi amor. How’s your day going so far? I miss you.

You couldn’t help but smile foolishly at his text, making your heart flutter as you read the words over again. Six years together and two years married, and yet, he still made you feel so special—like the only girl in the room that mattered.

Hi baby. I miss you too. It’s good, just got some stuff done off of my to-do list. How’s work?

You respond as fast as you could with the hand thats nails weren’t being painted.

He responded almost immediately to you.

That’s great, cariño. Work has been shitty today. Tipped my fresh coffee over by accident in the break room, and I couldn’t make myself a new cup since we ran out of coffee grounds. Nobody around here seems to know how to do their job today. Wish I was back in bed with you.

Your smile falters at his text. You hated seeing him so stressed, wishing you could take it all away in an instant.

Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, amor. I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner tonight and give you a nice back massage. How’s that sound? ;)

You’re hopeful your offer lightens his mood a little bit, but another idea skimmed your mind. You looked at your watch-clad wrist, seeing it was only eleven thirty. You decided you’d try and brighten his day sooner by surprising him with lunch at his job.

Part of you wanted to go anyway just to see him and kiss him, telling him the stress of the day will go away when he comes back to a nice clean house and a home cooked meal waiting for him after he gets off of work.

Sounds great, baby. Can’t wait.

You heart the message and finish up with your nails, paying your tech and tipping her for doing an incredible job. You contemplate where to get lunch, and you ultimately decide on this Mediterranean spot you both love. It’s down the block from the sheriff’s office, so it was perfect.

Within twenty minutes, you were heading down the road to see your husband. You pulled up to the sheriff’s office, greeting the familiar receptionist with a smile.

“Doreen! How are you today?” You smile, and her grin reflects yours. The sweet older lady always enjoyed chatting with you, loving when you paid the office a visit.

“Mrs. Peña! What a nice surprise. I’m good dear, how are you?” She asks, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I’m great, thank you. Glad you’re doing well. Is Javi busy at the moment?” You ask, hopeful that he isn’t so you can actually spend time with him and enjoy your lunch together.

“Nope. Go right ahead, doll. Should I call him and tell him you’re coming?”

“No, no,” You stop her with a sweet smile. “I wanted to surprise him with lunch today.”

“Well aren’t you two just the cutest. Enjoy your lunch.” She winks at you, and you can’t help but laugh. You just absolutely adored her kind soul.

“Thank you Doreen. See you in a bit.” You wave, heading off to Javier’s office. You turned a couple of corners before stopping at his door, knocking on it twice with a smile stretched on your lips.

“Come in.” You heard him say, and you opened the door.

He doesn’t look up from his paperwork until he hears the bag of food rustling, and his head shoots up. His big brown eyes gleam with joy as he takes in the sight of you.

“Mi amor,” He whispers, getting out of his chair to make his way to you. “What are you—”

“Surprise.” You say and hold the bag of food up, and he chuckles as he wraps an arm firmly around your frame to pull you into him. You softly yelp in surprise, your free hand landing on his chest.

“You’re the best, cariño. This is exactly what I needed.” He grins as he leans to kiss you tenderly, hand making its way under your sweater to splay out against the skin of your back. The coolness of his wedding band shot a shiver down your spine, and you moved your hand from his chest up to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

He groans softly and pulls away before he gets lost in the art of kissing his beautiful wife.

“What’d you get for lunch?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Mediterranean.”

“Mm, thank you baby.” He kisses your cheek before fully pulling away.

“Thought I could join you today, if that’s okay.” You grin at him.

“Of course mi amor, I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He kisses you chastely once more before closing his office door behind you all the way. He makes his way back to his desk chair and grabs your hips, silently asking you to sit down on one of his legs. You laugh at the gesture before taking the food containers out of the bag, the aroma of chicken kabobs and basmati rice instantly filling the office.

Javier keeps one hand wrapped around your waist as you both eat, savoring the delicious food. Halfway through the meal, you feel his lips brush your neck with a ghost of a kiss that has you clenching your thighs together.

Javier always had a way of arousing you, even with the simplest of actions. Sometimes it wasn’t fair how easily he could turn you on. He didn’t care though. He fucking loved it, and loved teasing you until you were squirming and whimpering for him.

“Javi.” You whisper, leaning your head back on his shoulder. It could’ve also been the way that you two didn’t get to finish what you started this morning, so the anticipation has been building and brewing deep in your belly all day.

“My wife is just the sweetest,” He whispers against your neck, “Just wanna thank her for a wonderful surprise is all.” He teases, hands caressing your curves underneath your sweater.

Goosebumps rise on your skin from his touch, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. He stops his movements momentarily and brings one hand out from under your sweater, lifting your hand up to his line of sight.

“Got your nails done, baby? They look real good,” He compliments, kissing your hand. He admires your red nails with a holly design on your ring finger.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Did you use my card to pay for them?” He asks, and you shake your head no. He groans, shaking his head. “Baby, you know I love to pay for your nails. Why won’t you just use my card?”

“I feel bad, honey, you don’t need to pay for everything I need maintenance on all the time.”

“Uh uh. Don’t ever feel bad. I’m here to spoil my wife as I please, and if I wanna pay for her nails, I’ll do so,” He chastised, but it wasn’t condescending. He chuckles after, and you turn to give him a confused look. “Besides, I love seeing what color and design you always pick out. Can’t wait to see how it’ll look wrapped around my cock you love so much.”

He’s snickering like a school boy, and your jaw drops in pure shock.

“Javier Peña!” You swat his arm, “You’re so bad.” He laughs at your scolding, putting both hands on your thighs.

“You know you love it, baby.” He teases, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, taking notice that you’re wearing his favorite leggings on you.

“Do me a favor, mi amor,” He says, and you turn to look at him. “Lock my office door for me.” He nods his head towards the door, and you look at him in confusion.

“Javi, what—?” You begin, but he shakes his head and gives you room to get up. You rise slowly, making your way over to the mahogany door to twist the lock shut. You turn to look at Javier again, and the lustful look on his face startles you.

His sweet brown eyes are now nearly black, full of so much desire and neediness and—fuck—you were so turned on by it. There’s just something about the way he looks at you that silently screams possession, like he’s proud that you’re his, that turns you on so much.

You needed to ground yourself back to reality though, because doing anything here would be too risky.

“Javi, baby, we’re at your job. We can’t—we can’t do this here.”

You begin to walk closer to him and he turns his chair to the side so he’s no longer facing his desk. He makes a ‘come here’ gesture with his index finger, and you want to fucking salivate with how delicious your husband looks right now. He’s got that carnal stare locked on you and your figure, legs spread wide with the fabric of his slacks straining against his thick thighs, and a devilish smirk on his face as he tugs you by the waistband of your leggings to stand before him, tucked between his legs.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, baby. Wanna finish what we started this morning,” He tugs you down gently so you’re straddling his lap. You feel his bulge through his slacks, and it takes everything in you not to moan. “Just gotta keep that pretty little mouth of yours quiet.”

His large hands cradle your ass, giving it a squeeze as he kisses you. Your first instinct was to card your fingers through his dark locks, but you had to remind yourself that you were in his office—you didn’t want to leave any evidence of your insatiable endeavors behind. You opted for the lapel of his suit instead, tugging him closer to you. You moan breathlessly into his mouth, instinctively grinding your hips down onto him.

A deep groan rumbles from his sturdy chest, like the neediness and desire to have you right now was life or death.

He pulled back from you for a second to trail kisses down the warm skin of your neck, tongue poking out to trace over your pulse point.

You gasped and grinded yourself into him harder, your arousal slowly seeping through your panties and leggings. Your core was aching to be touched at this point, only merely teased this morning by your husband’s skillful fingers.

You wanted more, more, more, but responsibilities outweighed desires.

One of his hands traveled down to rub at your core over the fabric of your clothes, cock straining tighter against his slacks to find you’ve already soaked through your panties and leggings.

“Does my beautiful wife want me this badly?” He murmurs, and you nod frantically.

“Please, Javi. Need you so bad.” Your voice sounded desperate and whiny, but you truly couldn’t care at this moment. All you wanted was for your husband to take everything he needed and wanted from you.

“Stand up, sweet girl.”

You obey instantly. He was so easy to submit to. Everything with him was just so easy. He was safe, he was gentle, he was home.

He turned your body so you faced his desk, and he bent you downward so your body was at a ninety degree angle.

He easily peeled your panties and leggings off of your ass, shimmying them down to your mid-thigh. He kicked your feet further apart, relishing in the sight of your ass on full display for him. He rubbed the supple flesh lovingly, giving it a smack before he sank to his knees behind you.

You turned your head back to look at him, eyebrows threading together at the sight of him kneeling behind you.

“Baby, what are you do—oh, fuck.” You cry, hand clamping over your mouth. Javier had taken it upon himself to eat you out from behind, delving his expert tongue through your slick folds.

He hummed against you, licking up everything you gave him as your arousal dripped down your thighs, and now, his face.

It was rare when he ate you out from behind, but when he did, it was a fucking treat. Before him, nobody else had ever done so, so the first time he did it with you, it had you coming in less than five minutes tops.

He usually liked to eat you out from below, just so he could see your pretty face contort into pure pleasure as his tongue fucked you rhythmically.

Your hand did a half-assed job at muffling your moans as Javi’s tongue circled your clit, all the way up to your entrance, and past that to your other hole. You choked on a gasp as he greedily licked you, reaching your other hand back to grab one that dug into the meat of your thigh. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a squeeze as he removed his mouth from you.

He chuckled darkly as he spit onto your hole, saliva trailing down to your entrance. He got back to work immediately, licking your entrance before moving back down to your clit. He unlinked his hand from yours, prodding two fingers at your entrance. He pushed in slowly and with ease, slick instantly coating his thick fingers.

You whimper at the sensation, that low burn of desire that’s been pooling in your belly all day completely awakened, licking a flame up your spine and waiting for a chance to engulf you wholly.

“Could eat this pretty pussy all day, baby.” Javier mumbled below you, and you couldn’t help but clench around his fingers.

The lewd sounds of your wetness reverberated off of his office walls, hoping to god none of his coworkers could hear any of this.

You felt the internal flame in your body get hotter and hotter, traveling down your legs as they shook with pleasure.

“That’s it, mamas, there you go. Doing so well. Let it go, baby.” Javier’s words launched you over the edge, gushing around his fingers and all over his mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut as you bit your lip hard to try and keep quiet. The obscene sounds of him slurping every last bit of you up nearly made your knees buckle.

Your body went limp against his desk, breath uneven and shaky.

“Fuck, Javi.” You breathe, eyes closing in pure bliss.

“Worth the wait?” He asks.

You nod mindlessly, mind too fuzzy to conjure up a proper response.

“Good. Not done with you yet, though, cariño. Turn around for me.”

You muster up all the strength you have in your body to turn around and face him, and your eyes immediately move down to the straining bulge in his slacks. You lean against his desk, pulling him to you by his belt buckle. You deftly unbuckle his belt and pop open the button of his slacks, sliding down the zipper in one go.

You move to drop to your knees, but Javier catches your elbow before you fully sink down. You look up at him with glossy eyes and a confused stare, and he moves to cradle your jaw in his large hand.

“Mm mm. Let’s save that for tonight, mi amor. Wanna be inside you now.”

Before you can even register his words, he’s lifting you up onto his desk and pulling his slacks and boxers down. His painfully erect cock springs free, and you reach forward to give it a few tugs and swipe your thumb over his slit to collect the pre come that gathered at his tip. You pop your thumb in your mouth, sucking on it while staring into your husband’s beautiful brown eyes. You let out a satisfied hum, licking your lips after you remove your thumb from your mouth with a ‘pop’.

Javier hisses through clenched teeth, expression painted with neediness and agony. You tug on his cock a couple of times, biting down on your lip as you look up at your handsome husband. You bat your lashes up at him and you feel his cock twitch in your hand.

“Need you, baby.” His voice is gravelly, nearly pained.

“I’m yours.”

And he’s on you. He leans down to kiss you fervently, sliding the tip of his cock through your folds before pushing into you. You both swallow each other’s moans; the fullness he provided you each time was something you’ll always be mesmerized by.

He starts off slow, testing the waters of his thrusts to see if his desk would creak too loud or if it would scrape too much against the thin rug beneath it. Once he found he was in the clear, he picked up his pace immediately.

He relentlessly thrusted in and out of you, the tip of his heavy cock kissing your cervix. You cried out his name and he shushed you with praises that only made you more aroused.

Sh sh sh, I know baby, I know. Taking my cock so well, hm? Such a good fucking girl for me. My pretty wife. All mine, he babbled.

He looked down at you as he relentlessly fucked you, the sound of skin slapping on skin much louder than your moans. Javier couldn’t give a shit anymore, though.

His tunnel vision was locked in, only wanting to make you feel good. One of his hands gathered your wrists and held them above your head, flashing you a wicked smile as his other hand traveled up to your throat. Before he could squeeze, he waited for your consent.

“Please.” You squeak out, and he wraps his fingers around your throat to squeeze the sides.

“Open your mouth.” He says, and you oblige, sticking your tongue out for good measure. He spits directly into your mouth, and you swallow without hesitation. You grin up at him as he squeezes your throat a little tighter, a euphoric type of bliss overcoming your whole being.

He’s fucking into you so hard now that various items on his desk start to rattle. Pencils are being knocked over and the framed photo of you and him on your wedding day plops down onto a pile of papers. His hand moves from your wrists to your breasts, squeezing them generously over the soft fabric of your sweater.

He couldn’t wait to give the entirety of your body all of the attention it deserves when he got home from work tonight. The thought of you squirming beneath him as you tugged on his hair, moaning as loud as you wanted without a care in the world, had him fucking panting.

You were canting your hips up to meet his thrusts as best as you could, the sensation of his wiry hair at the base of his cock causing a delectable friction onto your already sore and puffy clit. He moved his hands from your throat and breasts to skate them down your figure, finding home on your hips.

“I’m close, Javi.” You were breathless, the rumbling fire in your core slowly overtaking your body once more. You needed only a single match to light your fire, and Javier was it. He was your match. He slid you against the matchbox and lit your whole body aflame, engulfing you in everything Javi. He was all-consuming.

You let the feeling of that familiar euphoric bliss overcome your body once more as you convulsed, legs shaking as they locked around Javier’s waist. Feeling you clench around him with such force had his hips stuttering, knowing he wasn’t far behind from release himself.

His lips enveloped yours once more, hands flying up to cradle your face as he spilled every last drop of his come into you. Your moans met in a harmony that not even the most skilled choir could compete with.

His hips stilled completely, waiting a few seconds to relish in your warmth before sliding out of you slowly. You whimpered at the loss of fullness, wishing you could curl up next to him and enjoy his warmth for hours. Reality trickled back in as he bent down to pick up his boxers and slacks, readjusting himself to make it look like he didn’t just fuck his wife relentlessly on his desk.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead before helping you stand, kissing your thighs before sliding your panties and leggings up your legs again. The fucked out look on your face was one of his favorites, and it’s one he knows he’ll never get tired of seeing.

“I love you, baby. Thank you for two meals in one.” He winked, and you felt your body get hot.

You quirk an eyebrow at him, taking a step forward to close the gap between you both. He mindlessly wrapped a hand around your waist, and you rested a hand on his chest—right above the strong, rhythmic beat of his heart.

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Peña. Hope this made your day a little better,” You give him a chaste kiss, hand sliding down his chest to his abdomen before separating your lips from his as your gaze meets his once more. “And I can’t wait for mine tonight.” Your fingers tease the waistband of his slacks, and he grabs your hand to move it lower, resting over his already half-hard cock.

He closes his eyes in pure bliss as you rub him through the fabric slowly, and you kiss his neck before huffing a small laugh.

“Mine.” You say, stepping away from him, heading for his office door. You wink at him and blow him one last kiss before unlocking and opening the door, leaving him dumbfounded, turned on, and pondering what you had in store for him at home that night.

But, for now, he had reality and her greedy ways to tend to before he could submerge himself once more in this blissful thing he called home—

You.

translations:

-> amor: love

-> mi amor: my love

-> cariño: honey

tag list: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy

#javier peña smut #javier peña fic #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #javi pena #javier pena one shot #javier pena fluff #javier pena x f!reader #husband!javi #husband!javier #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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bradshawssugarbaby · 6 months

Text

Timeless - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Literally my first attempt at a fic in forever so bare with me, but I had this idea and I couldn't not do it. Also definitely inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift in a way so don't mind me.

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: no warnings, extra cute Bob. mutual pining. lots of fluff. mild angst if you squint.

word count: 2.6k

The cool, crisp November air tickled the back of your neck as you walked down the street, orange, red and yellow leaves peppering the sidewalks, the smells of autumn air filling your nose. You frowned as you zipped your jacket up further to cover you better, the breeze sending a shiver down you. The streets were buzzing with people out and about to finish their preparations for Thanksgiving. It was still a week or so away, but, no one leaves anything to the last minute around here, especially not when it comes to homemade pies and cornbread dressing. The smell of fresh brewing coffee swirled around you as you made your way closer to your favourite local bake shop, enveloping your senses as you walked. You stopped as something - someone caught your eye. You froze in your steps as you peered in the window of the bakery, and you almost gasped in surprise at who you saw standing in line to order. A tall man, with neatly styled dark blonde hair, wire framed glasses, and the most stunning blue eyes you’d ever seen - it had to be him.

Suddenly, he turned and saw you, a large smile on his face as he waved, as if he’d just seen his long lost best friend. In a way, he had.

Robert Floyd had been your neighbour growing up, his house was two doors down from your parents - a pretty Victorian-Queen Anne style home that sat on the corner of the street. His mother had always kept her garden looking immaculate, like something out of a home and garden magazine. He was the youngest of three kids, with an older brother and older sister who were both outgoing and popular in school - Robert had always been shy and more reserved than his siblings.

You moved in when you were 6, just getting ready to start the school year in a new town, terrified of your own shadow. The first thing you noticed when you’d moved in, was the Floyd house and its picturesque landscape. That, and the adorable boy around your own age who’d been playing out front, and waved shyly when he saw you through the back window of your parents’ car as you drove past. For the next 12 years, you and Robert Floyd, or Bobby as you’d always called him, had been best friends - practically inseparable friends, in fact. You did everything together possible. From bike rides to church on Sundays to trick-or-treating to sports teams, everything you could do together, you did. It was as though you couldn’t function as a child without Bobby by your side, and vice versa.

That all changed when Bobby decided to enter the Navy when he turned 18. It was the first time you wouldn’t be going to school together, and the first time since you’d met that he couldn’t be by your side if you needed him. He was leaving you, and you couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards him for it. You’d wanted to tell him the day you graduated high school that you loved him, you’d wanted to beg him to stay or take you with him wherever he was heading, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something inside you had told you that it was futile - he’d always wanted to join the military, since the day you met him, and when you were 10 and he’d joined a Navy League Cadet Corps group, it was like fate had decided what he was going to do in life right then and there. You knew that no amount of love in the world shared between you two would have stopped him, and you also knew that he’d never let you give up on your own aspirations to follow him wherever he went.

As you walked into the coffee shop, you were captivated by the smell of freshly baked pastries and roasted coffee beans, but everything around you seemed to freeze when you saw him in person - as if the whole world came to a complete standstill at that moment. God, you missed him. You didn’t even realize just how much you’d missed him over the last decade or so it’d been since you’d graduated. He rarely came back to South Carolina for visits, and you hadn’t exactly spent a ton of time in your hometown since college either, but in this moment, it was as if fate had decided again - you needed one another.

“Kristen? Kristen Taylor, is that you?” His voice sounded the exact same, as if nothing had changed about him in the last 10 or so years. In fact, he even looked the same as he had when you’d graduated high school, even the frames of his glasses had remained the same.

“Bobby? Wow, it’s been years! It’s so nice to see you,” You smiled fondly as he gently placed one of his large, firm hands on your arm, as if he wasn’t sure a hug was appropriate after so long.

“It’s been too long. Do you have a moment? We could sit and catch up for a few minutes, if you want to? I feel like we lost touch for some reason when I shipped out to training, and I feel like I missed a lot.” He nods sheepishly, almost as if he’s making an admission of guilt.

“I think I can spare a few minutes,” You nod slowly, smiling as you met his deep blue eyes, “I’m home visiting from New York and just wanted to take it all in, you know? I don’t really have an agenda for today.”

“Perfect,” Robert nods his head as he points to an empty booth by the window, “I’ll wait here for you while you order.”

A few moments later, coffee in hand, you’re sitting opposite him just like you’d done so many times in this very coffee shop when you were teenagers, sipping sweet teas together while sharing a freshly baked cookie or two. He smiled as he set his coffee down and laughed softly, shaking his head as he spoke.

“What have you been up to? You said you’ve been in New York? Like the city? That’s awesome,” He appears completely invested in hearing everything you’ve been up to since he last saw you.

“Well,” you began to unravel your recent past to him, or as much as you felt comfortable disclosing. You weren’t quite ready to share how you’d had failed relationship after failed relationship since you turned 18, unable to find any man who could compare to him or his sweet demeanor. You didn’t want to tell him that your last relationship ended mercifully as you prepared to walk down the aisle with your ex, and how you got cold feet a few months before the plans were finalized, but didn’t know why that was until today. You had told your ex you just weren’t ready - which wasn’t entirely untrue, but until Bob reentered your life a few minutes ago, it hadn’t dawned on you why you weren’t ready. In reality, it was because no one could ever be Bob. No one could ever give you butterflies like he had, or make you blush when he kissed you on the cheek after asking you to dance at homecoming when you were 15, or hold your hand so protectively as you said goodbye to him when he left for California.

Instead, you told him how you’d gone to NYU for journalism, how you’d entered the field and loved it instantly, how writing was your passion and you loved it so, and you told him how you’d landed the ideal position, working for a major news network writing copy and scripts for the on-air hosts to read off of, working your way up the corporate food chain to make yourself a producer. You told Bob how New York winters were biting cold at times, but how the freshly fallen snow was almost romantic, and how the sight of Central Park at Christmas was stunning, no movie could do it justice. You told him how you adored the way New York had become like a second home to you, how you felt like you’d found the perfect place for you to thrive, something you’d always struggled with growing up in a small town in the south.

Robert nodded his head as you spoke, showing deep interest in your every word and thought as you spoke. He never took his gaze away from you and never once appeared bored or as though his mind was elsewhere as you spoke - he was complete invested and hung up on your every word. When you finished, he smiled and sipped his coffee before leaning back slightly in the booth, his eyes widening slightly, the way they often had when you were growing up and he’d been impressed by something he’d read or seen.

“Wow, you’ve done pretty well for yourself then, I’d say.” He laughs softly, “I haven’t been up to nearly as much, just different tours of duty with the navy, I became a Lieutenant, and became a Naval Weapons Systems Officer, graduated from the Top Gun program, where the top like, 1% of all pilots get called up to. I then joined a task force and did a few more missions with them. I’m still on that task force, but I applied for a leave because it’s been so long since I’ve been home and I haven’t taken a leave in probably,” Robert hums for a moment as he thinks, his cheeks turning red as he speaks, “Honestly? Probably four years. My parents and siblings usually either come to me in California, or I go to my brother’s house in Texas. I don’t often need to come here, but this year my mama wanted to host Thanksgiving, so I opted to come home.”

You noticed that, as Robert spoke, he couldn’t help but keep his focus entirely on you. It was like he was studying your every feature, in case he never got to see them again. The look in his eyes suggested that he never wanted to forget anything about you, as if he was scared that if he didn’t analyze every freckle, every hair on your head and every word that escaped your lips, he’d lose you. Like you’d fade away again, into nothing more than a distant memory. His cheeks continued to blush as he realized he’d been staring at you for longer than he had intended. He shook his head and let out another laugh, this one sounding strained, as if he was trying to cover up any awkwardness that may have arisen because of him.

“You know, I really am glad we ran into each other again,” he nodded slowly. “You know, you’re still the only person who calls me Bobby. Nowadays, I’m always Bob or Robert, if you’re my parents,” he smiles fondly as he mentions the nickname you’ve called him since the day you met him. You decided that hot August afternoon that Bobby just suited him better. He agreed, and despite his mother’s protests that his name was Robert - it stuck. He was always Bobby to you, and he always would be.

“Is that so? No other girls have thought to nickname you Bobby as a pet name?” You laughed as you raised an eyebrow before sipping your coffee. You found it hard to believe that he’d never found anyone else. A man as loving and affectionate as Bobby wasn’t something you found every day, you’d learned. In the past decade, you hadn’t managed to do it, despite your best efforts.

You’d never found a man who matched him perfectly - his sweet personality, his soft spoken nature, his deep baritone voice, his laugh, the way he always protected you fiercely, but yet, always encouraged you to do whatever made you happy, and whatever you felt was best. You’d never met someone who’d rather die for you than ever see you upset. You’d yet to meet another man who’d wiped your tears when you were heartbroken or cuddle up and watch your favourite movie with you over and over again until you smiled when you were having a bad day, or meet another man who made your mother comment with, “Kristen, boys like him don’t come around too often.”. Bobby would always and forever be the only man who could meet all those expectations.

You knew it was unfair of you, and until today, you didn’t even know why you were doing it, but no man could ever be Bobby. You’d rather spend the rest of your life alone than with anyone who wasn’t him, you’d come to notice. You just prayed he felt the same way, or that you at least could convince him that he did before he went back to California, whenever that was.

“Nah, come on now, Krissy,” he chuckled as he used his nickname he’d always reserved for you growing up, “You know I’d never meet another girl who I’d let call me that. We could have been apart for 40 years instead of 10, and I still wouldn’t have let anyone else call me Bobby. That’s always been your thing for me. It wouldn’t feel right if someone else called me that, you know?”

“I do. I feel the same about being called Krissy. I don’t think anyone’s called me that since you left,” you nodded slowly as you let out a soft sigh, looking down at the now empty coffee cup on the table in front of you.

“Krissy?” He said softly, his hand reaching across the table to touch yours ever so gently.

“Mhmm?” You hummed, not wanting to meet his gaze out of fear that one look at him right now would make you crumble and burst into hysterical tears.

“You know, I’ve really enjoyed seeing you. Do you think we could see each other again before I go back to base? I leave on Monday, I’m only here for 5 days, unfortunately,” he said quietly, gently holding your hand across the table. You can sense he has more he wants to say, but it’s like he’s struggling to get the words out.

“I think we can make that work, maybe after Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, we could go for a walk? Our folks still live two houses away from one another, so it’s not like we’ll be too far away from each other for the next few days. It’ll be just like old times.” You confirm, nodding your head reassuringly, trying not to seem too eager or excited at the prospect of seeing him every day for the next five days.

“Sounds good,” Robert smiled warmly as he stood up from the booth, looking down at you with an excited happiness about him, “I’ll come knock on your door after dinner tomorrow then, we can go for a walk like we used to as kids, just enjoy being outside and all that.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you laugh as you shake your head, standing from your seat.

You smiled softly to yourself as you watched Robert head outside, walking down the street past the window of the coffee shop, his navy quarter zip sweater and dark wash denim jeans suiting him perfectly. You bit your lip to hold back a grin as he walked away. You had five days to work up the courage to tell him how you felt. Five short days. You weren’t sure how you were going to do it, but you were certain about one thing - Bob wasn’t leaving South Carolina without you this time.

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shoyoist · 2 years

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— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : sano shinichiro.

cw: gn!reader. barista!y/n. lots of fluff, strangers to lovers except you already sorta know eachother, so it's a bit of a speed run. shin bounces from confident to insecure a lot. a cute cameo by baby inupi. happy birthday, sano shinichiro my love.

wc: approximately 3.3k

⠀⠀⠀⠀ — . ｡˚ ♡ shinichiro plans to confess his feelings to you, the cute barista at his favourite coffee shop. on his birthday. but it doesn't play out as he expected.

the coffee shop seems even busier than usual, on the morning of august first.

teenagers getting together to hang out and make the best of their summer break, office workers sneaking in for a quick morning meal, and groups of tourists on their way out to the beach all flock to the counter — some scanning the menus displayed overhead, some with their usual order already on their tongue.

shinichiro has been seated at the back for an hour now, only a cup of plain black in front of him on the table.

he's leaning on his fist, gaze as bored and sleepy as he can disguise it to be, as he pretends to look out of the window across the room.

every now and then, his eyes stop tracing the logo stamped on the window, and he sneaks a longing glance at you, as you stand at the counter, tallying up bill after bill for the morning crowd.

the sun that streams through the storefront is a pale gold, and it throws gentle highlights onto your complexion.

it puts a pretty glimmer in your eyes, and accentuates all the lines of your figure as you lean back to talk to one of the other baristas.

when you reach forward to hand a customer their change, there's a glow to your smile as you thank them, telling them you hope they'll come again.

to sum up, you're fucking gorgeous, and all shinichiro can do is sit there and stare.

he's texted wakasa, benkei and takeomi and asked them to join him, but they're taking their time getting to the place.

they don't take him seriously, he knows, but you'd given him a look and a pretty smile when he walked into the shop — as you’ve been doing for a while now, and he swears he has a chance this time.

shinichiro doesn't even know how or when he became so infatuated with you.

he'd just walked in here one day, before opening up the bike shop, feeling like shit and deciding to opt for a coffee rather than a smoke. and as soon as your fingers touched while you handed him his drink, he'd fallen in love.

maybe it was after the sip he took out of it (coffee you'd made for him with your lovely hands) with his gaze still on you, eyes a little too wide and starstruck for his own good.

maybe you'd put something in his drink. maybe it was some sort of love potion — hell, he doesn't know.

all he's sure of, is that you're beautiful. and on this lovely, sunny morning on the first day of august — on his birthday — he's feeling confident.

he wants to tell you he likes you, and he wants to compliment your smile. your voice, your eyes. and he's going to do it today.

if only his stupid fucking friends would get here sooner, then he could practise his lines with them, and get to you before your shift is over.

another fifteen minutes pass as he sits there in the corner and waits.

and then, shinichiro notices you get called over by a frazzled looking coworker.

there's an exchange of words between the two of you, before you pull back your shoulders, give your coworker an assuring nod, and walk out of the cafe through the back door.

he doesn't know what just happened, but his heart sinks.

you look just as pretty from the back, the dark green pants and white shirt combo that all the employees wear hugs your figure nicely, and you have an attractive walk.

but you're walking away, and that other girl takes your place at the counter, getting a drink of water and tying her hair back before she gets to work serving the line.

wait, he thinks. how ‘m i supposed to confess to you if you leave?

he does have the option to just get up and follow you out, call your name and get you to pay a sliver of your time and attention to him, while he tells you how he feels.

but he can’t bring himself to it — he remains frozen in his seat, watching as you disappear behind the door, heart sinking further and chest hollowing out as he loses sight of you.

a waiter inches his way up to shinichiro as he sits there dejectedly, hoping you’d be gone only for a little while, and asks tentatively, "another coffee, sir?"

"nah." he shakes his head. "i'm waiting to see if my friends show up. if they aren't here in fifteen, i'm cashing this cup in and heading out."

the waiter nods politely and wanders off to another table, and shinichiro maintains his stare on the back door that you'd walked out of.

please, he prays. come back.

he doesn't know how much longer he sits there for. it's definitely more than fifteen minutes, but he's upset. the buzz of conversation going around him fades into a dull hum, as he props his elbows on the table and rests his face in his hands.

the one thing he wanted to do on his birthday today, was to confess to you. or at least tell you you're looking beautiful today (and every other day, too).

but now, he can't do it. because you're gone. he'll have to leave for work soon, and his damned friends are still nowhere to be seen.

and really, it was alright even if he didn’t get to confess to you. he might’ve bailed out on it himself, even if you’d been at the counter all day, available for him to converse with.

but of all days in which you could all of a sudden leave work in the middle of your shift, it had to be today?

on his birthday, when—

"shin?"

there's a voice talking into shinichiro's ear all of a sudden, and he flinches, whirling around in his seat with his hand raised and ready to slap whoever it is — but just in time, he realizes, it's a kid.

"m-mikey?"

"no," says the little boy, blinking pale eyes shadowed by pale eyelashes, and shaking a head full of even paler hair.

his cheeks are rosy with the summer heat — and shinichiro notices the scar over his eye a little too late. "why do people keep calling me the wrong names? i'm inui."

"i—" shinichiro has to laugh despite his sour mood, because the kid is adorable. "sorry, seishu. didn't see ya there."

"'s okay." inui mumbles, fidgeting with the pocket of his hoodie. he pulls out a little cardboard box, crumpled in his hand, and gives it to shinichiro. "i got you a birthday present."

"aw, thank you little man." he coos, taking the box from the boy and setting it down on the table. inui waits for a few seconds, before he clears his throat. "you're supposed to open it."

"oh." shinichiro mouths. inui gives him an unimpressed look, lidded eyes rolling in their sockets at him, as he snatches the box back and peels the top open with his thumbnail. "what've you got for me, huh?"

it's a bracelet — one of those elastic ones with tons of tiny, multi-coloured beads on them.

he cant help but wonder where inui might've got it from, but he slips it onto his wrist anyway, and gives him a grin. "it's great. thanks, buddy. now why don't you tell me how you found me here?"

"um," inui seems to take some time to retrace his steps. "i went to the bike shop. but only benkei was there. he said you were at the coffee place, so i came here."

"what's he doin' there?" shinichiro frowns, and inui shrugs unhelpfully. "dunno. gas, i think."

"i give them a spare key for emergencies and they just go in there any fuckin' time they want." he runs a hand through his hair, starting to feel like he should just give up and go.

once his friends make their way into his shop, they never leave. not until he closes the place up for the night, or chases them out. so, most likely, they wouldn't be coming to the coffee shop any time soon.

it doesn't look like you'll be back either, and if wakasa joins benkei and finds the collection of tapes he's stored away under the counter, he's never going to hear the end of it.

before he can get up, take inui's little hand in his and get going, though, inui climbs onto the empty seat next to him and makes himself comfortable. "why are you here, shin? 's your birthday. you should go hang out with your friends."

"i'm an adult, seishu." shinichiro laughs, flopping back against his own seat.

fine, maybe he'll buy inui a muffin or something first.

"i have work from 9 to 5, even on my birthday. 'm just here for some coffee before i open the shop." he shrugs his shoulders, glancing at the back door once again, though you’re no where in sight.

"why can't you get coffee at home?" inui asks, and he reaches over to ruffle the boy's fluffy cloud of hair. "'cause then mikey's gonna ask me for coffee. kids shouldn't drink coffee."

"i drink coffee." inui remarks, and at this point, shinichiro's too tired to care.

he asks the waiter for a muffin, and the man shoots inui a strange look (probably wondering if this is the friend shinichiro had been talking about) before fetching him what he requested.

a moment passes, and as shinichiro watches inui nibble on the chocolate dessert, he feels an urge to emote in his chest.

"and also ... there's someone workin' here," he begins slowly, testing the waters. inui looks up immediately, eyes bright and clear. so he finishes his sentence. "someone that i may like."

"you like them?" inui lowers his voice (like a good friend. waka, benkei and omi could never. neither could mikey). he turns and looks around, eyeing the waiters and the new girl at the counter. "which one?"

"think they're out back right now. or maybe gone." shinichiro sighs. "i came here to ... confess. but they left, and i have to get to work myself soon. i lost my chance."

inui gives him a confused look. "what do you mean?" then, without letting him explain, the boy hops off his chair and starts walking towards the exit, taking the muffin with him. "just come out and look for them."

for a second, shinichiro doesn't get it.

so he just sits there and watches inui push the door open and walk out — before it clicks, all of a sudden, and he shoves the chair back and leaps to his feet. "seishu, no!"

ignoring the looks everyone else in the shop aims at him, he pulls his work jacket back around his shoulders, and runs out after inui.

the sun and the hot breeze outside is a sharp contrast to the air conditioned shop, but he blinks the effect of the heat back and stumbles around the building to the back, hoping inui hasn't done anything stupid.

he tears around the corner and sees inui, and opens his mouth to call out his name — before freezing instantly, upon realizing that he's already talking to you. "sei— fuck."

inui turns around, blinking doe eyes up at him innocently.

and of course, you look up at him, too.

so you hadn't left.

shinichiro has only ever seen you behind the counter.

or when you're clocking in for your shift in the morning. or when you're leaving in the afternoon, sometimes, if he's taking a break from his own bike shop and loitering around. which is all from a distance, or behind a glass wall.

right now, though, you're standing right in front of him.

your apron is off, revealing more of your body to him — and your hands are now gloved, and there's a van behind you, the back of it full of wooden boxes.

some of the boxes are on the ground, and he understands that you're unloading them. supplies for the cafe, he assumes. maybe this was initially your coworker’s job, and then you’d switched tasks. yeah.

fuck, you're so pretty.

a nervous chill rides up shinichiro's spine, even as the sun’s warmth pools over him, lighting up his dark eyes and dark hair as he walks a few steps forward. "uh, seishu. let's go."

"this is him. see? he’s here to tell you." inui says to you, and shinichiro's hands curl up into fists where they're inside his pockets.

“did you—” he hisses at the boy, before catching himself and skirting his eyes back to yours. did he spill everything to you?

inui simply bites into the muffin, that he's still holding cupped in his palms.

shinichiro's face burns, even though nothing has happened yet, and he knows he's blushed too hard for you to pass it off as an effect of the summer heat.

"hi," you smile at him, breaking the awkward silence. you seem unfazed, and he really doesn't know what's happening anymore. "shinichiro?"

"uh," he stumbles on his words again — he's embarrassing himself, now, for fuck's sake. "yeah. how'd ya know my name?"

"your little brother told me." you gesture to inui, with a little giggle that sounds so cute as it leaves your lungs, shinichiro wishes he could record it. "and besides, i've taken your order more than a few times. you gave me your name, you know."

he blinks, licking his lips nervously. god, fuck little kids.

"i uh, oh yeah. forgot." he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, feeling so dumb, but also so warm and giddy because shit, you're talking to him, and you're laughing. "seishu's not my brother, by the way. he's just ... a friend."

"a friend." you repeat. shinichiro nods. "yeah."

"and ... it's your birthday?" you ask, and he pauses again, because oh god, that's right. inui's gone and told you that it's his birthday and he's trying to confess to you today.

he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can decide what he should say, the sound of motorcycle engines roaring to an exaggerated stop cuts him off.

sounds like wakasa, benkei and takeomi were finally here. and they were letting him know it.

his phone buzzes in his jeans pocket — one of them has sent him a text.

inui's eyes light up at the familiar sound, and he glances at shin for only a second, shooting a 'can i go?' look before he runs back around the corner to the front of the shop, to meet them.

shinichiro has half a mind to follow the boy.

to hurry up and run away, while he still can.

this is birthday gift enough. to see you up close and talk to you, and hear you say his name, with that pretty voice of yours.

"what was that?" you ask, stopping him in his tracks — as the honk of a motorcycle's horn cuts through your question, making you wince.

shinichiro grits his teeth, feeling like everything was going his way and also exactly against his way.

"that would be," he chuckles awkwardly, after the horn stops. "my other friends."

"you called your friends over?" you say, and though your tone is good natured, it still makes shinichiro wish the ground would swallow him whole. "i would think that's creepy, if you really weren't so cute."

wait, what?

he looks up at that, automatically hopeful. balling his hands up deeper into the pockets of his work jacket, he leans forward slightly, inquiring. "hm? say that again, will ya?"

"i think you're cute," you repeat, and when he gets an eyeful of your shy smile, he feels elated — hell, he put that smile on your face?

he had just been thinking that, apart from everything else that was wrong right now, the dreary back end of a cafe, standing alongside a grungy van full of coffee supplies, wasn't the best place to confess your feelings to someone.

but you know what, if it works, then it works.

"uh huh," he grins, feeling cockier. does he really have a shot with you? taking a breath, he steels himself. "and what're ya gonna do about that?"

"get you a drink on the house, maybe. since it's your birthday and all." you contemplate, walking over to the van and dragging out another box full of something made of glass, as the tinkling gives away. "not your friends, though."

"not my friends." he agrees immediately, coaxing another pretty giggle from you.

your voices hitches a little as you struggle with the weight of the box."o-okay, but i thought you were the one with a plan in mind."

"hm," he muses, taking a chance by stepping closer to you and taking the box from your hands. you let him do it, and he places it back on another box inside the van, before lifting both of them together.

you lead him into the storage room at the back of the building, and he puts them down where you tell him to.

brushing away your thanks, he hums, "think a date sounds good. a date with the birthday boy, yeah?"

"mhm," you look up at him, eyes glinting a little with the bright sun that falls in seams through the open door just by you. "then this date would be your very first one ever, wouldn't it?"

it takes a moment to register what you said in his head — and as soon as it does, his mouth drops open in disbelief. "what? how did you know—"

you laugh again, face flushing beautifully as you pat his arm reassuringly. "i've liked you for a while, too, you know. and i've asked your friends about you."

"fuck," shinichiro groans. "and who told you about that?"

"wakasa." you say, and he slaps a hand across his forehead. "of course it was him. bet omi told you 'bout when—"

"hey, cut them some slack." you murmur, the hand you've placed on his arm curling its fingers around his bicep, and he shivers under the jacket, a stranger to such a caress. "i'm the one that wanted to know about you."

"could've asked me." he sighs, rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb, before meeting your gaze again. "you're tellin' me you like me, after i gathered up all that courage to tell you i like you?"

"i was just making sure!" you protest, and he shakes a finger at you. "and ya called me a creep, for bringin' my friends over. when you already knew them!"

"hey, i said you're cute." you mumble, frowning playfully.

you're both silent for a second after that, in which shinichiro gathers his thoughts and bearings, and slowly, his heart warms and picks up pace.

god, you like him. you've accepted his offer for a date.

he's going to have to sock his friends later, for keeping this secret from him — but for now, he can't care enough about them.

maybe he'll keep the bike shop closed for today. as inui had so smartly said, it is his birthday, after all.

he follows you out to the van again, and lets you pull another carton of supplies out of it before taking it from you. "so ... this afternoon, at 2? after your shift. i'll pick you up on my motorcycle."

"sure, that sounds good." you nod, and once he's gotten the box into the store room for you, you gesture to the cafe. "now go back in, and i'll get you that free drink once i'm done here."

"let me stay with ya." he pouts, dark eyes somehow going all cute and charming when he does it. "i'll help you with this. we can go back in together."

you allow him to grab yet another box from the van, before gently lacing your hand back around his arm and pulling him down, to press a short kiss to his cheek. "so sweet to me already?"

your lips are soft, and you smell like cinnamon and matcha when he leans in close to you. up close, your eyes are even more stunning.

"of course. 'm a sweet man." he smiles, closing his eyes as you kiss his cheek once more, and he thinks that he'll never experience a better birthday than this one, ever again.

#☆༉ rekha™#☆༉ dulciloqui.#shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro fluff #shinichiro fluff #shinichiro drabbles #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tr fluff #tr x reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #shinichiro headcanons #shinichiro x you #shinichiro x y/n #shinichiro angst #sano shinichiro angst #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano fluff

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hitomisuzuya · 8 months

Note

hiii suzuu could i have some yn scara coffee shop au fluff?

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Fluff. AU. Scara with a smooth pick up line at the end. Some humor.

Hello, dear❤️ Sorry it took me awhile to get to this. I wanted to think of something really cute. I know you guys don't fancy my fluff or romance as much as my smut but I wanna show I am not a one trick pony.

At first, Scaramouche had only stopped in to get a coffee. Get in, order, pay, and get out. That was a plan, anyways. Until he saw you.

When he first walked in, there you were, standing there looking all beautiful as you smiled at him in what he started hoping wasn't an obligatory smile in greeting.

"Scaramouche. What a unique name," You said when you asked what name to put on his cup. You wrote with a marker on the cup. "Spelt like this, right?" You showed him the cup with his name spelt correctly in blocky but somehow elegant handwriting.

No one had ever taken the time or consideration to ask him if his name was spelt right. Were you some kind of subhuman or something?

Scaramouche left that day not having the nerve to ask you for your phone number. Fast forward to this point a few months later. He still hadn't gotten the nerve to ask for your number.

You know what they say about pretty girls? They were intimidating to approach because they were pretty.

Yeah, that was you.

Scaramouche always made it a point to ask you what days you worked so he could come and see you. He would spend his time making idle conversation with you about music or anything when there was a lull in customers, or when you were doing cleaning, or had a spare minute.

And ordering a lot of coffee.

He started picking random mixes, and it become something of a game for both of you. Especially when you started sampling his concoctions with him.

Scaramouche watched you at the counter, handing someone their order. This guy had been coming in quite often, just like he was. He knew what he was after.

He couldn't sit still any longer when the guy lingered by the counter. He needed insert himself into this situation before it was too late.

But, Scaramouche had something working against him. You did that thing where you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear when you smiled. That distracted Scaramouche from seeing that his shoe lace was untied.

Because fate loved him so much, he stepped on his shoelace, tumbling right to the ground. He let out a loud volley of curses.

You rushed out from behind the counter. "Are you okay?" You asked, kneeling down in front of him. You put your hands on his cheeks. "Did you hit your head? Look at me."

Scaramouche's cheeks flushed, gently batting your hands away. "I'm fine," He said gruffly, his pride heavily dented. His breath was stolen from his lungs when he looked into your eyes.

You sighed in relief. "That's good," You offered him your hand. He almost didn't take it out of pride, but that would give him a excuse to actually touch you in some way.

He could barely look at you as he got to his feet. He could smell your perfume. "Wait," He said when you turned to go back to the counter.

"Hm? Are you feeling dizzy?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

Scaramouche shook his head, his cheeks flushing darker. "I'll need your phone number so you can come check on me later," He said, feeling his heart speed up in his chest. He'd finally done it.

His heart dropped when you smiled at him, and walked back to the counter without a word. Were you turning him down? What was going through your head?

You went about making a coffee, making sure it was black like he normally liked it. You wrote what he assumed was his name on the label.

A pity coffee?

"Here, it's on me," You said, handing him the coffee cup. However, his name wasn't on the label. Instead, there was a little heart colored in with purple marker, and your phone number under it.

Your cheeks had the cutest blush on them.

#genshin impact #fem!reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin romance #genshin humor #scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

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floral-force · 1 year

Note

Hi! I saw your requests are currently open, I've never requested anything before, so I hope I'm doing this right. I saw this prompt:

"Here, let me buy you a new one"

and I imagined it with Simon Riley. Honestly, I think that man is too traumatised to meet his s/o in his line of work, man would be worried sick about his partner's life and I jist think it would cause him anxiety looking out for his partner's and own head on a mission. If he were to meet his s/o, I believe it would be accidentally, like he bumps into his s/o and spills her coffee or vice versa. He admires them for a moment, but continues on with his life. And then he happens to stumble upon them more often and slowly starts falling for them... I'd like the readee to be female, but it's okay with me if the reader is g/n. Also, a slowburn would be just right for my idea.... Hope this is not too bothersome, ty regardless if you decide to write it or not <3

I also personally think our beloved simon wouldn't be able to mentally focus with his SO in the field. some folks think he wouldn't be able to fall for a civ, but I’m personally more of a fan of that or a medic!reader. and, I'll die on the hill that he's a gentleman when the moment calls for it. I write requests as drabbles and short one shots (esp since im editing a few wips) so I tried to get the slow burn in as best as I could. I hope you enjoy this nonnie!!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Are You Mine?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

summary: He bumps into her far too often for it to be mere coincidence. Suddenly, a spilled coffee leads to something more, and Simon falls deeper into the puddle he caused all those months ago.

words: 1.7k+

warnings/tags: 18+ only/NO MINORS ALLOWED, innuendo, meet cute, soft!simon, fluff, allusions to smut, slow burn, gentleman!simon "ghost riley, soft!simon, Oxford and Lincoln college are mentioned

read on ao3 | masterlist | send a request

I. MARCH

Simon felt a small bump when he turned away from the register, and then a swear. He turned and saw a woman staring up at him, eyes wide. Coffee dripped down her hand and onto the floor, her mug half empty. This café was too damn small, and he was too damn broad.

The woman glanced at the ground at the puddle and frowned. Simon’s heart hurt a bit at her defeated sigh, and he tapped her arm.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, immediately cursing himself for the lame apology.

She looked up at him again with her sparkling eyes and shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

An American, he noted. And a pretty one, at that.

He shook his head, suddenly warm under the balaclava. “No, no.” He jerked his head back to the register and pulled out his wallet. “Here, let me buy you a new one.”

She gave him a weak smile, obviously intimidated. “Sir, really, it’s okay— “

“Stop, love. Let me get this sorted.”

He stepped up to the register and asked the barista what she’d ordered, and the barista put it in. Simon paid and turned back around to the woman. A gentle smile teased her gorgeous lips, and Simon couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. Before he could get another word in, his order was called—four coffees, one for each of the 141—and he was rushing out the door into the rainy March day.

II. MAY

Soap was relentless. Pint in hand, he was swaggering up to any woman in the tiny pub, seeing if any of them would bite. Gaz sat next to him, making him shake his head with jokes about Soap. The Scot was standing at the bar chatting up a girl, and Simon’s heart stopped when he saw the woman standing next to her.

It was the girl from the coffee shop—the one he'd bumped into over two months ago. She wore a simple but sexy outfit—one that turned heads. It certainly turned his. He shook his head when she covered her pretty mouth after Soap made a terrible joke that was timed completely wrong. Gaz commented on it, but Simon didn’t hear it; he was too focused on gathering the strength to speak to the mystery woman.

“I’ll be back,” he said gruffly to Gaz, rising to his feet and striding over to the woman. She noticed him when he stood at Soap’s side and looked directly at him, her eyes widening.

“I-It’s you,” she gasped. To his surprise, she smiled. “You’re the guy who ruined my coffee!”

“And promptly bought you a new one, love—don’t forget that.” He gripped his drink tighter. “Didn’t forget me though, did’ya?”

She giggled at his quick retort. “How could I forget such a clumsy, handsome man?”

She remembered him after all that time. And she thought he was handsome.

He stammered and Soap laughed before he could get any words out. Simon glared at him when the Scottish man clapped him on the back.

“I’ll leave’ya to it, lad,” he chittered, the woman he’d been chatting up following him away.

Simon stared at her and drank in her beauty. He noticed how she shifted under his gaze, how her eyes darted between his and the floor. The pub’s music seemed to fade into the background and echo as he took her in, noticing the way her outfit defined her delicious curves, the way her hand seemed to clench her drink when her eyes met his and stayed.

He broke the awkward silence. “Not afraid I’m gonna spill your drink again, are you, love?”

She laughed, the sound of it like gentle, tinkling bells. “No. I guess I just didn’t realize how—” she waved a hand up and down—“tall you are.”

He felt his cheeks redden. “The mask ain’t scarin’ you?”

“I’ve seen worse.” She took a sip of her drink, licking her lips.

“Like what, love?” He asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

“A 200-page book written in Britain from the 14th century.”

He chuckled, and she smiled up at him. “You’re right, lass—that’s far scarier than a mask.”

“Compared to that, you aren't scary at all.”

“Care to give me your name, then?” She told him, and he repeated it, letting the sound linger on his lips. “That’s lovely.”

“And yours?”

“Simon.”

She smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Simon.”

His chest warmed at the sound of her voice saying his name. Simon finished his drink, closing his eyes. When he opened them again to set the empty cup on the counter, she was staring up at him, something sultry in her expression.

“You know, you have really nice eyes.”

“You think so, sweetheart?”

She nodded and took a step closer. Simon’s heart quickened. He could smell her perfume—something sweet and seductive—and took a deep inhale, hoping to etch it into his memory and be reminded of her every time he got a whiff of something even remotely like it.

“I’d love to see them up close.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled. “That could be arranged, love.”

III. JUNE

In Early June, Simon asked to take leave from late June through mid-August. It had only been two weeks since he’d met her at the pub, and one since they’d met again randomly in a café. After that incident, he knew he needed to see her as much as he could. Price had given him a quizzical look, a thick brown eyebrow quirked as he read the papers. He’d stared at Simon, making him feel small standing in front of his captain’s desk.

“This important to you, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

Price had sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’ll see what Laswell has to say.”

Simon had nodded and left his office.

One week later, his request had been approved, and he was packing his things to return to his flat.

His leave now approved, Simon was hoping he’d be able to convince her to stay in England just a while longer after she graduated from Oxford—the smart lass getting her Masters—and he’d been successful.

She agreed after their date to some random bookstore that ended with her in his bed. Simon laughed when she confessed that she’d already broken the news to her family in the States that she was staying through the summer the day after they met again in early June by accident in a small café.

“Awfully confident, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

She playfully shoved his bare, sweaty chest, her own body slick and shiny post-orgasm.

“Don’t try me, Simon,” she scolded, her small smile betraying her attempt at a threat. “I can always get on a plane tomorrow.”

“We both know that ain’t true, love.” He dropped down to lay next to her on his side, running his hand down her torso and up again, watching her shiver.

“I can and will!” She exclaimed, hiding her growing smile under one of her delicate hands.

Simon pulled it away and kissed her, groaning when she placed her hand on his cheek. How he craved his lover’s touch. Just one taste was all it took.

IV. JULY

“Simon, English flats are not made for heat,” she muttered, fanning herself with a stack of papers. “Especially yours.”

He chuckled. She sat on the other side of his small couch, knees slightly spread apart, cotton shorts riding up her soft thighs. She gave him a shake of the head, rolling her eyes.

“You’re the one who chose to extend her stay into the summer, love. Not me.”

“I’d say you sealed the deal back when I ran into you in that café near Lincoln and you put the moves on me.” She looked over at him, a few baby strands of hair stuck to her sweaty brow. She looked lovely, even when she was sweating from a heat wave.

Simon smirked at her, raising his eyebrow. “Is that so?”

She bit her lip and set the papers down on his dingy coffee table, scooting closer to him. Her sticky skin touched his, and she touched his shin with her toes. He ran a finger along her jawline, leaning down to catch her lips with his, the sweat on his brow running down his temples as he got even hotter when she placed her hand on his thigh, ghosting over the hem of his short cotton underpants, finally coming to rest over his crotch. She pulled back and smiled up at him, running her hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch; he craved it, had been craving it ever since he’d seen her in May and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and she tugged him in to kiss his lips. In that moment, she’d sealed his fate. Simon was greedy for her, always needing her.

He still hid things from her—all she knew about his job was that he was military, but nothing specific—and always redirected any conversations that could lead to him discussing his past. Maybe he’d let her in one day. For now, he wanted to enjoy this—her skin on his, her tongue in his mouth, her scent lingering in his bed and mixing with his. Simon forgot everything when he was with her, choosing to bask in her glow instead. She blasted away the darkness within him with her radiance, gave him relief from his torments when she held him.

He clicked his tongue when she gave his already-hardening cock a soft squeeze. “Don’t go teasin’ me unless you’re ready for the consequences,” he warned.

She straddled him, pressing her thin cotton tank top to his bare chest. His eyes fluttered close when she placed her hands on his cheeks, tapping her fingers. She kissed him again and Simon placed his hand at the base of her skull, the other gripping her waist. He felt her pull back and breathe against his mouth, something light and needy.

“Choices have consequences,” she said simply. “And I’m ready to face them.”

Simon shook his head and grabbed the underside of her thighs and rose to his feet, smiling when she squealed. He carried her to the bedroom and set her on his bed, letting her rest on her back and kissing her smiling lips once more.

He'd never been happier to have ruined someone’s drink.

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yuujispinkhair · 1 year

Text

From Sukuna, made with love

Christmas is your favorite time of the year. You love the coziness, the warmth, the love. But unfortunately, all this feels less magical when you know you will spend Christmas Eve alone. And so you desperately try to find someone to keep you company via your dating app. But maybe the real magic of Christmas is already right in front of you, brewing your favorite coffee and baking your favorite cupcakes while wearing a far too smug smirk and complaining too loudly about the stupid Santa hat he has to wear at work.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Christmas AU, Coffee Shop AU Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: none, just lots of fluff, flirting and kissing. This is a non-curses AU. Sukuna is the barista from hell to some of his customers but not to you :) All characters are of age. My blog contains 18+ content. Minors don't interact.

There is now art for this story!! Thank you so much to the lovely @irideste for drawing barista!Sukuna!!

This is my contribution to my sweet friend @shirohyorin's Ficmas Calendar! Thank you so much for hosting this cute collab, Loni! I hope my story can add to the coziness you are spreading over our dash. I wish everyone a sweet December and merry Christmas if you celeberate it!

December 1

The doorbell jingles softly as you enter your favorite coffee shop. It makes you smile because the sound reminds you of Christmas. Like Santa's sleigh with the reindeer. The smell that drifts towards you adds even more to the Christmassy feeling. The rich taste of coffee and hot chocolate laced with cinnamon and gingerbread spice.

You sigh happily. This is your little safe place, your sanctuary every morning before you start your hectic work day. And especially now, when the countdown to Christmas has begun, and the pretty Christmas decorations and lights are up, this little coffeeshop all in white is the coziest place you know.

You smile to yourself, already looking forward to a little treat before work, a gingerbread latte, and maybe a cinnamon roll. You look over at the counter, expecting to see the owner or one of the usual baristas. But you blink in surprise when your gaze lands on someone else.

A new guy.

He stands out in the white interior like a black sheep amidst its white herd. He is dressed all in black and is tall and muscular with an athletic build. His hair is pink and styled in a fashionable-looking undercut. His ears are pierced several times, and his face is adorned with filigree black tattoed lines.

He looks intimidating. Strikingly attractive but scary. And definitely very out of place in the middle of all the sparkly white and silver Christmas decorations.

The woman before you grabs her bag of cookies and leaves, giving you space to step up to the counter.

Your breath catches when a pair of pretty maroon eyes meets yours. They are framed by long black lashes and a second pair of eyes, tattoed ones, black and red. But what strikes you the most is the intensity with which those eyes look at you. As if the owner of those eyes can see right into your soul.

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and you realize that the new guy is smirking at you, looking almost infuriatingly smug, as if he knows how flustered you are by his gaze.

Even his voice is mocking you. A sexy lazy drawl that should rather be used in the bedroom than in a cozy little coffee shop at 7:00 in the morning!

"Good morning, princess. What can I get you?"

"Sukuna, you shouldn't call customers pet names!"

"Oh, shut up, Yuuta! Get back into the kitchen or something and stop getting on my nerves. I'm just being nice. Isn't that what is expected of me here?"

You watch the little quarrel with wide eyes until those maroon eyes snap back to you. The new guy, Sukuna apparently, laughs softly, revealing two rows of straight white teeth. And a pink tongue that curls upwards to press its tip to his front teeth, letting you catch a glimpse of something sparkly in his mouth. You realize only a split second later that Sukuna has a tongue piercing. You don't know why this fact makes your pulse flutter.

Sukuna cocks his head, fixing you with his intense gaze and a lifted eyebrow, like a cat checking you out, deciding whether you are worthy of its presence,

"So, let's try this again, huh? What do you want to order?"

"Um...I...a ... a large gingerbread latte, please...but can I get extra cinnamon, please?"

"Sure, anything you want, princess."

He smirks at you again before walking over to the coffeemaker. He is really tall. And his skinny black jeans are snug on his thighs and firm butt, making you silently curse yourself for checking out your new barista's ass. Sukuna is looking at you over his broad shoulder and asking in that velvety voice,

"What's your name?"

You tell him, and he nods, grabbing the pen next to the coffeemaker and scribbling your name on a paper cup before he starts preparing your order.

A few moments later, Sukuna puts the cup in front of you with another big grin on his handsome face.

"Here, enjoy!"

His long fingers are still wrapped around the cup. He's wearing black nail polish. Of course, he is! You almost snort. But his handwriting is surprisingly elegant.

You take the cup from him and give him a polite smile,

"Thank you. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day too, sweetheart. Make sure to come back tomorrow."

His voice is filled with amusement, and the cheeky wink he gives you is absolutely not the way the other baristas treat the customers.

You quickly leave, wondering why your face feels so warm. It must be the heating in the coffee shop.

December 2

"Good morning, princess. I'll get your order."

You are greeted by a smirking Sukuna, who is leaning casually against the shiny white counter, bracing himself on his elegant hands. The sleeves of his black sweater are pushed up to his elbows, exposing a pair of tattoed forearms. Tattooed and toned.

You stare at them for a moment too long before you lift your face to blink still a bit sleepily at Sukuna. His words register in your mind, and you frown in confusion.

"But...I didn't order anything yet."

"Oh, you don't have to. I know what you want."

His maroon eyes sparkle teasingly. You hate the way you get so flustered by a stupid comment like that. But something about the way Sukuna looks at you with so much confidence and smugness makes it hard not to get nervous.

Sukuna chuckles and turns around to walk over to the coffeemaker. When he comes back to place the paper cup in front of you, you see your name written on it correctly with a smiling face next to it, and Sukuna announces in a triumphant tone,

"Large gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon."

He really remembered your name and your coffee order. You can't help but be impressed. It took his coworkers weeks to remember those things.

You leave the coffee shop with a smile, sighing happily as you take the first sip of your gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon. Perfect! Exactly like you want it.

December 6

You are in a bad mood this morning as you wait in line in the little coffee shop. Your thoughts are occupied with what your workday holds in store for you today. So you barely manage a weak smile when it's your turn to place your order.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow,

"Rough morning ahead, princess?"

You nod, oddly touched that he noticed something is amiss.

"Yeah, I have a meeting with my boss today, and he will probably give me even more work."

Sukuna srunches his nose,

"In that case, you need something sweet to get you through the day. Take one of the red velvet cupcakes! They are the best. Trust me on that."

Before you can reply, he is already leaning down to grab a plate with a delicious-looking cupcake out of the glass display. He puts it on the counter in front of you with a boyish grin.

"Something sweet for a sweet girl."

You feel like an idiot when you drop the money you want to give him and have to pick it up from the floor with your ears ringing from the blood rushing into your head. Sukuna's laughter still carries through the coffee shop when you have already reached the door.

December 7

"There she is! Hey, how did you like the cupcake? I didn't promise too much, did I?"

You can't help but laugh as Sukuna greets you with those words.

"It was one of the best cupcakes I ever ate! Thank you for recommending it."

He pouts, huffing in mock exasperation as he crosses his toned arms in front of his defined chest.

"Only one of the best? Then I'll make it even more delicious next time, so it will become the best cupcake you ever had. I'm not ok with only being second best!"

That makes you stop and raise your eyebrows,

"Wait, did you bake them?"

Sukuna laughs and nods smugly. There's a proud twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, I did. Tell me what you want me to change about the recipe, and the next batch will be the custom-made cupcake of your dreams."

Somehow you have no doubt that he is ambitious enough to really do that. And so you put a finger to your lips and lift your eyes in a playful thinking gesture,

"Hmmm, in that case, I really would love dark chocolate frosting instead of the vanilla one."

"Ok! My favorite customer wants dark chocolate. She'll get dark chocolate!"

You can't help but laugh at Sukuna's words, and hours later, when you are already sitting at your desk at work, his low playful voice still plays in your head. "My favorite customer," he said.

His favorite, huh?

A smile lifts the corners of your lips. Sukuna is definitely well on the way to becoming your favorite barista too.

As rude as he is, he is also pretty charming. You have to admit that. He definitely manages to lift your mood before a long workday. And maybe you are looking forward to his teasing comments and smug smirk every morning. Just a tiny bit.

December 8

The first thing you see when entering the coffee shop is Sukuna's smirk, and he lifts a tattoed hand to wave at you and give you one of his teasing winks.

You chuckle softly and wave back at him as you get in line behind the other customers.

When you are only one customer away from the counter, the man in front of you steps to the side, allowing you to get a good look at the display stand. Behind the glass is a delicious-looking tray of red velvet cupcakes. This time with a dark chocolate topping, exactly as you wished for.

Your lips lift in a smile. And then your gaze lands on the little chalkboard in front of the cupcake tray. There is written in Sukuna's elegant handwriting, "(Y/N)'s dream cupcakes".

December 10

When you enter the coffee shop this morning, you are greeted by the sight of red amongst the otherwise white interior. The two employees you see both wear bright red Santa hats.

Not Sukuna, though. He chooses that moment to stride out of the kitchen, carrying a baking sheet with Christmas cookies, looking as un-Christmassy as usual.

"Hey, Sukuna, put the hat back on! You know we have to wear them! Same rules for everyone!"

Sukuna rolls his eyes at his coworker as he places the cookies in the glass display.

"Tsk, I won't do that shit. It looks ridiculous."

His maroon gaze meets yours, and he grins.

"Let's ask a customer! Hey, princess, I'll let you be the judge."

And before you can say anything, Sukuna already grabs his discarded Santa hat and puts it on his pink hair. His eyes sparkle challengingly as he raises an eyebrow at you and points one long tattoed finger to his head,

"What do you think? This looks stupid, doesn't it?"

You stare at him wide-eyed, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights with all eyes on you. Especially that pair of maroon eyes that fixes you with an intense gaze and a smirk so attractive it should be illegal.

Your mind isn't functioning properly with all this attention on you before you even had your first fix of caffeine. And so you just blurt out what comes to your mind,

"I think it looks really good on you!"

It does. Everything looks good on Sukuna! He is gorgeous. He could even wear some reindeer antlers and a glowing red nose and pose as Rudolph, and he would still look hot!

Maybe your answer was a bit too enthusiastic, though, judging by the smug look on Sukuna's face. You feel embarrassed, averting your gaze quickly and feeling much too hot suddenly. But Sukuna just laughs.

"Well, in that case, I'll leave it on. Just for you, sweetheart."

The loud "Ooooooh!!" coming from the people in the waiting line behind you makes you wish the ground would swallow you whole, but at the same time, you cannot help but snicker softly and grin as you take your coffee from Sukuna.

The grin won't leave your face even when you are already on your train to work.

December 12

Today you chose to pay the little coffee shop a visit after work. It's already pretty late, but you can't bring yourself to get up from your comfy seat at your favorite table that lets you watch the wintery street. People rush past the coffee shop on their way back home from work. Some carry big bags filled with Christmas presents, probably. You see small children on their parents' hands, pointing excitedly at the Christmas lights installed on the street lamps and the buildings.

It started to snow an hour ago, and now the trees lining the street are covered in fluffy-looking powdery snow. You watch, mesmerized, as big snowflakes slowly soar down from the sky.

It's so comfortable here in the coffee shop. Warm and cozy. You take a sip from your coffee before closing the e-mail you have been responding to. And now your finger lands on another app.

Tokyo Hearts – The dating app for lonely city hearts.

You open the app and get greeted by their current seasonal welcome message. You don't want to be alone on the merriest day of the year? Find a date for Christmas Eve here and discover true love.

You sigh. If only it was so easy! As much as you love Christmas time, it also gives you a little pang this year because you know you will be lonely on Christmas Eve.

Or maybe not! A notification pops up, telling you there is a new message for you.

The guy who sent it looks cute. And he works in an animal shelter, which makes him sound like the type of guy you could like.

Your finger hovers over the reply button, thinking hard about what you could message him back when a low voice next to your ear makes you jump,

"Are you looking for a boyfriend online, princess?"

You squeal loudly and almost drop your phone, struggling to catch it before it falls into your coffee.

Your gaze snaps up to Sukuna's tall figure, seeing him grin that insufferable grin at you.

You hurriedly lock your phone screen while trying to fight the embarrassment washing over you. As if Sukuna caught you doing something dirty.

"W...what are you doing over here, Sukuna?"

Sukuna graces you with a shit-eating teasing grin as he replies,

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I work here. Maybe I am being a good employee for once and checking on my customers to see if they are happy in our wonderful coffee shop or if they have another wish. Crazy, I know!"

His maroon eyes are full of mischief as he leans casually against your table.

You huff and roll your eyes,

"Wow, I guess I am talking to the employee of the month. But I don't need anything at the moment, thank you."

Sukuna laughs at your reply, but he doesn't leave. Instead, he shoves his hands into the pocket of the apron he is wearing over his black jeans and sweater and eyes you with a strange look on his handsome face.

"Be careful if you want to meet up with one of those guys from your little dating app. You never know what kind of idiots hide behind that screen."

That makes you blink up at him, surprised at the uncharacteristically serious tone of his usually so playful and teasing voice. Sukuna is towering over you with his tall height, but the bright red Santa hat atop his pink hair makes him look cute instead of intimidating today.

And his concern is touching. You find yourself nodding slowly and smiling gratefully at him.

"I'll be careful. Thank you, Sukuna."

December 13

Your date with the animal shelter guy is a disaster.

You asked him to meet you in the coffee shop, and at first glance animal shelter guy is cute. But it only takes about ten minutes to realize that a cute face doesn't make a cute personality.

He is annoying. A know-it-all who keeps talking over you, making fun of your taste in movies and music, scrunching his nose at your job, and even looking down on the gingerbread latte with the extra cinnamon you love so much.

Not even half an hour into the date, you already know you never want to see him again. But he refuses to get the hint even when you start responding with only one-worded answers. You have a feeling he even prefers that you don't talk anymore because, most of all, he likes to listen to himself. And so he keeps on talking, sharing his opinions with you about this and that.

You zone out and let your gaze wander across the coffee shop and over to the counter, where Sukuna's tall figure is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. His maroon eyes meet yours. He has been watching your table, you realize.

He raises one eyebrow curiously, and then his gaze slips to your date and then back to you with a knowing grin. He lifts his right hand and makes a throat-slitting gesture.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud, but your eyes sparkle amusedly at him as you nod softly.

Sukuna pushes himself off the wall and grabs a tray with a large coffee cup that his coworker just put on the counter, making said coworker complain loudly. But Sukuna ignores him and, to your astonishment, starts walking toward your table.

Your eyes widen in foreboding as Sukuna stops next to your table, smiling down at animal shelter guy. It's a dangerous smile. And his low voice is sugary sweet, dripping with fake politeness,

"Here is your order, sir."

Your date lifts his head to snap at Sukuna,

"What do you mean!? I didn't order anything."

Sukuna's smirk grows wider as he stands there in all his glory, tall and gorgeous, looking intimidating with all his tattoos and piercings and the toned muscles of his biceps flexed from balancing the tray.

He cocks his head, eyeing your date with an amused expression on his handsome face that reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse,

"Aww, you didn't? Well, I guess this is on the house, then. Enjoy."

And with that, Sukuna flicks his long fingers against the large coffee cup, making it tip over.

You watch in fascinated horror as the coffee spills out of the cup and gushes over animal shelter guy's shirt.

"What the fuck!!?? Can't you be more careful!??"

Your date jumps up from his seat, hands twisted in his soaking wet shirt while he glares daggers at Sukuna, who just watches him with a satisfied grin.

You can't help but laugh but try to hide it by coughing into your hand while you watch the scene before you.

Animal shelter guy is now gesturing wildly with his hands, spitting insults at Sukuna.

But Sukuna just smiles devilishly at him and informs him in a dangerously soft voice,

"I want you to walk out that door now and never come back."

"I will NOT do that! Who do you think you are? I want to talk to your boss!"

That makes Sukuna laugh,

"Oh, I can do anything I want. My shift, my rules. And you are banned for a lifetime. Bye bye loverboy."

Sukuna jerks his chin towards the door and adds,

"You better not make me drag you out."

His gaze is stern now. The smile is gone. And apparently, your date finally gets the hint that he shouldn't get on Sukuna's wrong side. He scrambles to grab his jacket and hurries towards the door without a glance back,

Sukuna calls after him,

"And don't ever contact her again! I will find out about it if you do!"

You spend the next hour chatting with your favorite barista and eating a red velvet cupcake which he brings to your table with the words:

"On the house because you deserve that after having to listen to that loser for longer than a minute."

When you leave, you smile and call out softly,

"Thank you, Sukuna."

His answering smile is so genuine and pretty that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

December 14

You have a dream where you are at a speed-dating event in the coffee shop, and Sukuna walks from table to table and pours various drinks over every potential date partner.

December 15

You can already spot Sukuna from outside the coffee shop. He stands out, as usual, dressed all in black, tall and athletic, with pastel-colored pink hair and black tattoos.

But you realize immediately that there's an important detail missing. Where is the Santa hat he is supposed to wear?

You scrunch your nose. Maybe he decided to fuck the rules after all. It would suit him. You shake your head in amusement and push the door open.

The little bell jingles, and the comforting smell of coffee and Christmas wraps you in its cozy embrace.

And a pair of maroon eyes instantly meets yours.

Your heart does a weird thing. It throbs.

And Sukuna strides over to the counter and grabs something off it. His Santa hat, you realize a moment later, when he puts it on his head while grinning broadly at you.

The gesture makes you laugh, and when it's your turn to place your order, you can't help but comment teasingly,

"I see you are following your boss' wishes. Good boy."

At the beginning of the month, you wouldn't have dared talk like that to Sukuna. But by now, the two of you have established quite the playful banter, so teasing him back a little won't hurt, you assume.

Sukuna throws his head back, laughing loudly, revealing his slightly pointy canines and the silver tongue piercing that glitters in the light of the coffee shop. His voice is a low, seductive purr when he answers,

"Oh, I'm not wearing that stupid hat for my boss. I'm only wearing it for you."

And once again, you leave the coffee shop with a big grin and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

December 16

There's a small heart doodled onto your coffee-to-go cup.

You spot it in the middle of a meeting when you play with the cup in your hand and turn it to look at your name in Sukuna's elegant handwriting.

A heart.

It's red.

You didn't even know they have a red pen in the coffee shop.

When your boss asks you a question, you stutter because you have no idea what he is talking about.

The paper cup stays on your desk even after it is empty.

December 17

The 17th day of December is the day when the "red velvet incident" happens.

You're standing in the waiting line, smiling to yourself as you already look forward to your gingerbread latte and a yummy red velvet cupcake. Of course, the ones with the dark chocolate frosting. The ones Sukuna always bakes for you now.

But your smile wavers when you catch a glimpse of the display and see that only one cupcake is left. And, of course, the guy in front of you orders a red velvet cupcake right now.

You silently curse and already try to come up with a replacement when Sukuna looks the guy dead in the eye and informs him,

"We are out of red velvet."

You blink. The other customer is just as surprised as you are because his head snaps from Sukuna to the cupcake and back again.

"Um, no, there is still one left."

Sukuna shakes his head,

"No."

"What do you mean? It's right there."

"It's not available."

"B...but.."

Sukuna lets out an irritated breath and straightens up, crossing his toned arms in front of his chest. His maroon eyes glitter dangerously as he glares at the customer,

"Do you want to be a problem? When I tell you there is no red velvet cupcake available, then there is none available. Now order something else or leave!"

Your eyes widen, and you watch in stunned amusement as the man stares at Sukuna for a long moment before he takes the hint and nervously asks for a cinnamon cupcake instead before hurriedly leaving the coffee shop, probably never to return again.

You step up to the counter. The same maroon eyes that were so unrelenting only a moment ago twinkle amusedly at you now, and the face that was so stern and threatening, is now lighting up in such a genuine and dazzling smile that it makes you feel a bit lightheaded.

"Hey, princess. Fancy a red velvet cupcake?"

December 19

It's hard to focus on work today.

The paper cup standing in the middle of your desk is just too distracting. Maybe not the paper cup itself, but definitely the message that is written under your name.

From Sukuna, made with love.

A stick-figure is doodled next to it, with a grin on its tattoed face and a Santa hat on its head.

And somehow, your heart beats a bit too fast.

December 20

You roam through your dating app just like every night before you sleep. But you skip all the guys it suggests to you. They are all lacking something. Even though you can't tell what it is you don't like about them. They all seem nice and good-looking. So what is it that you are missing?

But in your dream that night, you see yourself sending a message to a very familiar guy with pink hair and tattoos on his handsome face.

December 22

"So, did you meet anyone new on your little dating app, princess?"

Sukuna's gaze burns into yours, making you gulp hard before you manage to answer.

"Um, yeah, I have been exchanging some messages with someone. He asked me to be his Christmas Eve date."

Yesterday morning you woke up to a message from a good-looking businessman who rather straightforwardly asked you to be his date for Christmas Eve since he didn't like spending the evening alone.

As unromantic as the message was, you replied to him and agreed. After all, everything was better than being alone on that day. And this way, two lonely hearts wouldn't have to be so alone on that special day.

You thought you would feel relief upon finding someone to keep you company on Christmas Eve. After all, this was the sole reason why you downloaded that dating app. You were scared to spend this special evening alone. So you should be glad you found someone who wants to take you on a date. Right?

But why do you feel so unsure about it all of a sudden now that you are standing here in front of Sukuna? Why does it feel so wrong?

There's a strange twinkle in Sukuna's pretty eyes, and his smug expression wavers for a split second, but then he huffs softly, and his arrogant smirk is back in place. His soft, teasing laughter fills the air,

"Good for you. But I hope this isn't another loser like the last guy. Bring him here, ok? So I can have an eye on him. You know I'm excellent at getting rid of your failed dates."

Your fingers touch Sukuna's when you reach out to take the paper cup from him. His fingers are warm, and only the silver of the rings he's wearing feels slightly cool to the touch.

His eyes still look deeply into yours. They are an enticing shade of brown you have never seen on anyone else before. Maroon, like rich red wine, dangerous and warm at the same time. Framed by pretty black lashes and the filigree tattoos on his face.

Sukuna still hasn't pulled his hand away. And your fingers are still lightly wrapped around his, not making a move either to take the cup from him.

Only when Sukuna's coworker yells from the kitchen that a fresh tray of Christmas cookies is ready, do the two of you pull away.

When you leave the coffee shop to run towards the train station, you can't help but let a treacherous thought slip into your mind.

What if your date for Christmas Eve had pink hair and a smug smirk and made the best red velvet cupcakes you ever tasted? Would you feel happier about your date then?

You know the answer but forbid yourself to think about it.

December 23

"Do you have any plans for Christmas Eve, Sukuna?"

You curse yourself for asking. You didn't want to give in to the urge, but you couldn't stop obsessing over it. What is your favorite barista doing on that day? Does he have a date himself? Will he leave the coffee shop behind to meet some beautiful girl or boy and take them on a date, making them laugh and flirt with them until they are so flustered they can only stutter? Will he kiss someone under a mistletoe? Will he take someone home and keep them warm in his strong arms while the snow falls down over the city?

The thought makes an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach.

Please don't say you are going on a date! Please don't say you are meeting someone else!

"No, I don't. I took the evening shift. I'll be here, blessing the love-drunk couples with my presence. The best Christmas gift, I dare say."

He winks at you, sounding smug and teasing like ever, but you feel like there is a little edge to the comment.

You are already at work when it hits you: Sukuna took the evening shift. He will be here tomorrow when you meet your date.

December 24

Christmas Eve.

The time for couples. The time for love and romantic dates.

And yet you are sitting alone at your favorite table in the coffee shop.

Your date is already twenty minutes late.

The truth is you aren't even sure you still want him to show up. Or that you ever wanted him to show up at all. Because isn't all of this just a farce anyway?

You aren't interested in that guy. You don't know him and don't want to get to know him. Your heart doesn't beat faster when you think of him. There aren't any butterflies in your tummy when you see his pictures. You have no warm feeling in your chest when you hear his voice. He doesn't make you laugh. He doesn't make you look forward to talking to him. He doesn't know your favorite coffee order or that you like dark chocolate frosting on your red velvet cupcakes.

So what are you even doing here? It's an uncomfortable truth but one you have to face. You only wanted to meet him because you didn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve.

But is this the right way to do it? Fight loneliness with a meaningless date?

It was stupid to do this. And now you are sitting here amidst all those happy couples, clutching your coffee cup tightly in your hands, feeling the sadness wash over you.

So stupid.

How could you think that you could force yourself to have a romantic Christmas Eve?

You get startled out of your misery when Sukuna suddenly plops down on the bench on the other side of your table.

"He's not coming, is he?"

His beautiful maroon eyes are watching you carefully.

You bite your lip and shake your head, feeling tears gather in your eyes. You feel so small and pathetic, sitting here all alone while around you all the couples have their romantic dates. And all you managed was to get stood up by some random guy you weren't even interested in. It's so embarrassing. Surly Sukuna thinks the same.

But his eyes narrow at your words, and he reaches out to put his large hand on top of yours, giving it a short but reassuring squeeze.

"What an asshole! He doesn't know what he's missing."

"It's... it's ok, I guess. I didn't really like him anyway. I don't even know him. I just...I didn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve. That's why I wanted to meet someone on that stupid dating app."

"You aren't alone, princess. I'm right here! I'll be your Christmas Eve date!"

The smirk is back on Sukuna's face, looking so handsome and charming that it makes your heart skip a beat. And his words...

You blink at him, feeling heat spread through your body. Is he serious?

You eye him shyly, not sure if this is just part of your usual banter or something else. But there is a softness on Sukuna's tattoed features you have never seen there before. As if sensing your insecurities, Sukuna adds with a smile,

"I mean it, princess. I would have asked you anyways if you didn't tell me you already had a date. And come on, I am much better than any of those guys in your dating app! With me, you'll experience the ultimate Christmas magic! So, say yes, and I'm all yours."

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth. The gloominess from a moment ago is already forgotten as you smile at your favorite barista and nod softly,

"Ok, how could I say no to an offer like that?"

Sukuna's answering laugh is warm and genuine.

"Good girl. You won't regret it. Give me five minutes, and I'll make this the best Christmas Eve of your life!"

And with that being said, he gets up and walks over to the counter. You watch him across the coffee shop, feeling your pulse race and smiling from ear to ear at the fluttery feeling you have in your stomach when Sukuna's gaze meets yours across the room, and he winks at you.

He comes back after a few minutes carrying a tray that's overflowing with red velvet cupcakes, Christmas cookies, and two slices of Christmas cake as well as your gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon. He sets it down on the table and sits down across from you with a big cheeky grin.

"Merry Christmas, princess."

He looks so pretty with his glittering maroon eyes and boyish smirk. And his low voice is gentle and playful, making it impossible not to smile brightly at him.

"You are actually really nice. Do you know that, Sukuna?"

"Oh, I can be nice if I want. But don't tell anyone. I prefer it if they are scared of me. It's more fun."

Both of you laugh at that, and after that, you fall into a comfortable conversation while sharing the delicious Christmas treats and sipping coffee. It feels so natural to be here with Sukuna. He makes you laugh and roll your eyes in mock exasperation at his arrogant comments, but your heart feels so full at everything he says, at the familiarity of it.

And you realize at that moment that this is what you have been looking forward to every morning for the last few weeks. These flirty comments, that smug smirk, those warm maroon eyes that always sparkle so mischievously.

And all the nice little things Sukuna did for you. And finally, you let yourself think those thoughts you used to consider treacherous. You let yourself feel those things you thought would lead nowhere. You let yourself admit that you like him.

You enjoy Sukuna's company. You like the way he talks and smirks and is so insufferable in the most attractive and irresistible way. You think he is the most charming person you have ever met. And as tough as he appears at first glance, he is actually caring and sweet when you don't let yourself get tricked by his rough attitude.

Another customer chooses that moment to clear his throat loudly before he addresses Sukuna,

"Hey, um, can I order?"

Sukuna musters him with a cold look, his face a stony mask.

"No, you can't. Don't you see I'm on a date too? If you want more cake, just go behind the counter and get some. Put the money on the table."

The corners of his lips lift in a grin when his gaze meets yours again, and you laugh softly, shaking your head,

"Aren't you going to get into trouble with your boss?"

Sukuna shrugs,

"I don't care. And the owner is actually my cousin. So as much as I have tried, he hasn't fired me yet. I think you'll be stuck with me as your barista."

"Oh, that's good to hear! You're my favorite, after all!"

"I know. Who else would prepare your coffee so perfectly and bake your dream cupcakes? I'm the only one who gets it right, don't I?"

And yes, it's true, you realize at that moment. Sukuna is the only one who gets it right. Not just your coffee order and your favorite cupcakes. He also gets it right when it comes to making you feel happy. He is the only one who gives you this magical Christmas feeling that you crave. He has been doing it the whole month.

And suddenly, you are filled with so much affection for your gorgeous barista. You catch yourself wishing there was a mistletoe above your table so you could seal this Christmas Eve date with a kiss.

You look around the coffee shop for one, thinking you are sneaky. But then your gaze meets Sukuna's, and you see the sly grin on his face.

"You know, you don't need a mistletoe to kiss me, princess. I'm your official date now, so you can get a kiss anytime you want."

Before you even have a chance to get embarrassed, one of Sukuna's large hands lands on yours again, and this time he interlaces his fingers with yours. He leans over the table, smiling that boyish grin at you that makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

You see his gaze wander to your lips, and you instinctively lean closer to him too.

Is this really happening?

Maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours as Sukuna places a long finger under your chin, tilting your face up and smirking that sexy smirk at you.

And then his lips are on yours. Warm and soft and surprisingly gentle, making you melt into the kiss with a happy sigh.

Soon your mouth opens against Sukuna's, and he deepens the kiss, making your heart race when his tongue strokes tenderly against yours. Letting you feel his tongue piercing and making you gasp at the sensation of the metal stud gliding over your tongue.

You smile when your fingers land on the back of Sukuna's neck and caress the soft stubble of his undercut, which makes Sukuna groan softly into your kiss. Before long, the Santa hat on his head falls to the ground, but neither of you cares.

Not when Sukuna's kiss is so sweet and enticing. Not when his kiss is your personal Christmas miracle.

Sukuna's fingers caress your jaw, a firm but tender touch. Just like his kiss is passionate and gentle at the same time. A deep, slow French kiss that makes your head spin.

When the two of you pull apart, you are both grinning broadly at each other, eyes filled with wonder.

Your voice is a bit hoarse when you confess softly,

"This is really the best Christmas Eve date I ever had."

Sukuna's grin grows even wider at your words,

"I am the best choice for a date all year."

"In that case, I think we should go on many more dates."

"Anything you wish, princess. I told you, my favorite customer gets anything she wants from me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't hide how pleased you are, brimming with happiness, lips lifted in a smile and eyes shining brightly. Before Sukuna can go on even more about how perfect he is, you quickly lean over the table again and shut him up with another kiss.

The other customers are forgotten. The only thing you know are warm maroon eyes and soft lips and a smug smirk that turns into a beautiful smile when you caress the tattoos on Sukuna's cheek.

It's getting late, and gradually all the couples around you leave the coffee shop to head home or to go see the Christmas lights.

And then there are only you and Sukuna left. He joins you on your side of the table. And soon after, you find yourself sitting on his lap, with Sukuna's strong arms wrapped tightly around you, his warm solid body pressed against yours, and his lips moving on yours in slow sensual kisses that taste like gingerbread spice and cinnamon.

You send a silent thank you to your original date, who decided to ditch you. Because, after all, Sukuna was right. He really is the better date. The best one you could have ever wished for.

Your perfect Christmas gift.

Thank you so much for reading my Christmas story!! I hope you enjoyed barista Sukuna :) He definitely baked his way into my heart! I didn't plan for this story to get so long, but I couldn't stop writing. All the Christmas fluff with Kuna made me feel so happy and warm! I hope he can make your December sweeter too! If you are lonely on Christmas, you can count on barista Sukuna to make you feel better.

A big thank you again to Loni for hosting this amazing collab! It's such a sweet idea!!

Please let me know how you like barista Sukuna! Comments and reblogs make me happy :)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna

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