#nobody had much free time and trying to squeeze it in around day jobs and other commitments started to affect some people's health | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 1 year

Text

The Deployment Diaries Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley get your groove back. And Bradley takes out the trash for you.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, fuff, angst

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist for the reading order!

Monday morning felt like a fresh start to you. You entered your lab to see your usual workmates, minus Josh. Nobody asked where he was or what happened to him, and you wondered immediately if Bickel had said something to everyone else. But you didn't dwell on it, because as long as you were able to enjoy a stress free day, it didn't really matter to you what had been said. You ate lunch with Cam and Maria, trying to catch a glimpse of Bradley while you were in the cafeteria. But all you got from him was a text message letting you know he would be working a little late today. You sighed. You had been hoping to surprise him by taking him out to dinner since you never really had a proper welcome home meal ready for him in your distraught state.

Even though you'd had a great afternoon at work, you were still a little disappointed when you got home. You showered, changed and made dinner, but Bradley wasn't back yet. He hadn't texted you again either. You were about to take Tramp out for a walk when your boyfriend burst through the front door, still in his flight suit. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry I'm so late!" he called, heading right for you with a huge bouquet of yellow flowers in one hand. He was so lovely, he took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his waist and let him kiss you as his fingers tangled in your hair. When he started to pull away with a smile on his face, you pressed up on your toes until your lips met his again. "I like it so much better when you're home," you whispered against his lips while your eyes were still closed. Bradley chuckled and you took the flowers from him with a smile. "Thanks, Roo. Dinner's ready, unless you want to walk Tramp before we eat?" "Nah, I'm starving. Been thinking about eating dinner with you all day, Baby Girl. But Mav kept Nat and I late to go over a bunch of things we had apparently missed while we were gone." You knew exactly what he was talking about, because it came directly from your lab. You just didn't know he was going to have to do it today. Your heart skipped a beat knowing you were hopefully making his job safer. When Bradley sat down at the table, still in his flight suit, you made yourself comfortable on his lap. He listened intently when you told him about your day, kissing your cheek between bites of food. Then you walked Tramp to the beach together after Bradley got changed. When you reached for his hand, he laced his fingers through yours and kissed your knuckles. He held your hand for the entire walk, and everything felt good, really good. And you realized you hadn't felt the prickle of tears behind your eyes once all day. --------------------------------------- Bradley held your hand in his, and you took turns, trading off who held onto Tramp's leash. The three of you tripped along down the sidewalks, dodging sprinklers and pulling Tramp away from flower beds while you laughed. Things felt more normal today between the two of you. God, Bradley had missed this so much. His heart squeezed every time he looked at you smiling and laughing. When you reached the beach entrance, you started to lead him onto the rocks and sand, but he pulled you gently to a stop, and Tramp plopped down, taking a break and panting at your feet. "What?" you asked him, probably wondering why he'd stopped you so randomly. "I just wanted to kiss you," he replied, and he smiled as you pulled him closer to you, inch by inch until his chest met yours. "I wanted to kiss you and tell you how much I love you." You reached up and stroked his mustache before letting your hand rest on his shoulder. "Okay, kiss me, Roo. And tell me how much you love me." He took his time about it. He watched his fingers tangle in your hair as the breeze tossed it around a bit. The setting sun made your beautiful skin glow such a pretty shade he couldn't have imagined it if he tried. And that thought was startling to him, because he thought about you almost nonstop. He thought about everything, imagined everything when it came to you. But he couldn't have pictured in his mind's eye just how perfect you were right now. Your eyes were searching his earnestly as he brushed your hair back from your face. He let his rough thumb touch the soft skin of your cheek, marveling over how good that felt. But that was how you always were. Your voice, and your laugh, and your crooked smile when he was telling you a funny story. The way you said things in such a matter of fact way. The way you loved him and took care of him. It always felt so good yet totally unbelievable to him. He trusted you. And he'd earn your trust back completely. Let you know it was okay to trust him when he promised he was never going to ask you to leave. Never going to do anything to jeopardize having you with him. He knew you were scared. But he also knew he was a broken person, and that you made him whole. Your lips parted as you drew in a deep breath, and he kissed you softly, longingly. Both of your hands found their way around his neck, as Tramp's leash slipped from your grasp. Bradley's heart beat faster as your lips skimmed over his. He let his fingers tangle further into your hair as he wrapped his other hand around your lower back. When his nose bumped yours, and you gasped for air, he pressed his forehead to yours. "Baby Girl, you're everything to me." Once you both finally made it onto the beach with Tramp, you let Bradley hold you while the sun set. You sat in front of him on the rocks, and your hand rested on his thigh and warmed his skin through his shorts. Bradley buried his nose in your hair and closed his eyes, filling his senses with you while you talked to Tramp and watched the sun dip below the horizon. ------------------------------------ "Which show do you want to watch?" Bradley asked you, a while later. "You pick, Roo. You're the one who was TV-less for eight weeks," you replied, settling on the couch next to him and handing him the remote. Bradley couldn't have given less of a shit about what was on the TV, because you were touching him again. So he chose an episode of your favorite show, and you snuggled up next to him, tucked against his side. Then Tramp settled down on the floor with his head on Bradley's feet, and it was a miracle Bradley could pay attention to the show at all. Three-quarters of the way through the episode, you turned to look up at him, whispering, "I missed you so much." Then you kissed his neck. Bradley held you close as you rose up onto your knees and kissed his lips, your soft hands caressing his cheeks and shoulders. And every time you pulled back, you just looked at him, like you were surprised he was really there. "I love you," he told you, every time you looked at him like that. You were smiling. And then you were laughing. And your laughing lips pressing against his made him dizzy. You just simply smiled and laughed and kissed him, but there was nothing simple about it. His heart leapt, and he was laughing too. Before you, kissing had never meant much to him, other than a means to getting laid. But Bradley would have gladly kissed you all night just to see that smile, the one you saved just for him. The show had ended, and Bradley subconsciously knew the TV screen was prompting you two to make a decision about watching another episode, but your fingers were in his hair now. His brain was screaming out for you and only you. He tightened his arms around your back, and you squealed as he pulled you flush against him. He let you kiss him more, but that's all you seemed to want to do. And that was fine with him. "Sweetheart, it's getting late," he whispered against your neck, placing a soft kiss to your jaw. "Let's get some sleep, okay?" He needed to get up and get ready for bed, because he was getting pretty hard now, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured about having sex with him again before you were ready to. "Mmm, okay," you replied before kissing the tip of his nose and caressing his scars. Bradley watched you stand and stretch before heading toward the bedroom, and he took Tramp out to the backyard. After the dog was finished and ready to head inside, Bradley crouched down to pet him and tousle his ears. When he carried Tramp into the bedroom, Bradley smiled at the sight of you already in bed, wearing his shirt and your glasses. "Hurry up and get in bed, Roo. I want to cuddle more." ------------------------------------------- Tuesday was just as pleasant as Monday had been. Perhaps all of that time you'd spend working late with Josh had actually been extremely toxic for you. It hadn't felt bad at the time, but now that he was gone, you were getting so much quality work done. Sonya was wonderful, too. She really made your job much easier. As soon as you got home, you saw a text from Bradley telling you he was on his way. "Daddy will be home soon," you told Tramp as you let him out the sliding glass door. It was so hot outside today, you were already undressing from your uniform in the dining room. "Fucking khaki monstrosity," you muttered as you pulled your shirt off. You stopped in your bedroom and grabbed the basket of dirty laundry before taking everything into your tiny laundry room. You were carefully removing all of the pins from your uniform shirt when you heard the front door close. "Sweetheart?" Bradley called for you, and your heart skipped along at a faster pace. You pressed your lips together and sighed. "I'm in the laundry room!" you replied, and a moment later he poked his head in with a smile. You watched as his smile slipped a little bit, turning into a look of awe as he stepped all the way into the room. His hands clenched into loose fists at his sides as he looked at you standing there in your bra and high waisted uniform pants. You could practically feel the weight of his gaze on you, and it seemed like he was struggling to keep his hands to himself. All you knew for sure right then was that you wanted him. You needed him. You needed him to touch you. You needed his body. "Why don't you get undressed, and I'll wash your uniform too?" you asked, and your voice sounded needy even to your own ears. "Fuck," Bradley muttered, his eyes wide as you watched his fingers work on his shirt buttons. You helped him remove his shirt and undershirt, and then you kept your hands busy by removing his uniform pins while he removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants. You set his pins in the tray next to the sink alongside yours before adding his shirt to the washing machine. As your boyfriend pulled down his tight khaki pants, giving you a clear view of his penis straining against his light gray boxer briefs, you audibly moaned. Bradley's eyes snapped up to yours, looking up at you as he had his pants down to his knees. "I want you," you whispered. His groan in response echoed around the laundry room, and you were gasping for air as he stepped out of his pants and took a step closer to you. "Baby Girl," he rasped. His voice was needy and his cheeks were flushed. You knew he had waited more than eight weeks for you, and you also knew he would wait longer if you wanted him to. "Oh, Sweetheart. Can I touch you?" You didn't want to wait any longer. You nodded your head and licked your lips, but you were already in his arms before he even reached you. "I want you, Roo. Oh, God! I need you!" Your lips were on his neck, sloppy kissing his scars, and your hands were gripping his huge biceps. "Baby Girl," he grunted, running his hands all over your back and down to your ass. "Fuck, are you sure?" "Yes," you whispered, and he was kissing your lips hard, backing you up until your butt hit the washing machine. You could feel his hands everywhere. Messing up your hair, sliding down your neck, unhooking your bra. He was hard and ready for you, but when you reached for the front of his underwear, he moved your hands back up to his chest. "Gotta slow down, or I'm not gonna last," he gasped looking you right in the eyes as he smiled. "I love you," he said before pressing his lips to yours again and squeezing your breasts. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, and you moaned out loud again as Bradley quickly removed your uniform pants and your socks. Then he knelt in front of you, stroking the fronts of both of your thighs with his thumbs. "I love you," he said again, placing soft kisses to your core through your underwear. You let your head tip back. Everything felt so good, and then Bradley was pulling your underwear down and licking your pussy, and it was euphoric. You threaded your fingers gently through his wavy hair, holding him to you while he licked and sucked. When Bradley guided one of your legs over his shoulder to get better access to your soaking wet pussy, you started grinding yourself against his face. "Oh my God," you moaned as he dipped his tongue inside you while his nose rubbed your clit. He slowed his pace, licking and sucking on your clit just the way you liked it, and soon you felt him pushing two fingers inside you. As soon as he worked his fingers against your most sensitive spot, he had you coming and squeezing around him. You tipped your head forward and watched him place soft kisses to your clit, his mustache prickling your soft skin. As your moaning subsided, Bradley glanced up at you while kissing your thigh which was trembling on his shoulder. You could see that his mustache was wet, and you needed to taste yourself on him there. "Come here," you whispered. Bradley gently kissed your leg one more time before setting your foot back on the floor. He stood to his full height and caged you in against the washing machine. You reached up and wrapped both of your hands around his neck, and when you guided him closer and licked his mustache, he moaned. "Baby Girl, you make me crazy. You know that?" You licked his mustache and kissed his lips, loving the way you tasted on this man's mouth. "Bradley," you whispered, reaching for the front of his underwear again. This time he let you grab the elastic and undress him. You grinned at him from where you were caught between his body and the washer. "Nice socks," you said, glancing down at the only article of clothing remaining on either of you. "Just for that, they stay on," he rasped with a smirk. You started laughing and Bradley kissed your neck and smiled against your skin. You felt his dick jumping against your skin where he was pressed to your belly. "You sure you want to do this, Sweetheart? We can still stop." You reached down between your bodies and wiped the bit of his precum from your hip bone and licked it from your index finger tip. Bradley groaned as you said, "I'm sure. I want you. I never stopped wanting you, Roo. I was just so scared." Bradley pressed himself harder against you, caressing your neck with both large hands before tilting your face up to look at him. He kissed your lips once before telling you, "You have nothing to be scared about, Baby Girl. I promise. You never have to be scared of me." "I know, Roo. I do know that." You rubbed your hands along his hard cock before spinning around toward the washing machine and looking at him over your shoulder. ------------------------------------------ Bradley was sweating. He hadn't been with you like this in two months, and he was so excited, he was afraid he would only last a minute. But right now you were rubbing your ass along his dick and looking up at him over your shoulder with such a lust-filled expression, and he couldn't wait to be inside you. So he would do his best to please you, because you always chose him over and over again. He took you by the hips and lifted you up to your tiptoes while bending you over and pressing the front of you against the washing machine. You gasped as he pressed your tits against the cold metal and caressed your hips and waist. You were still whining and rubbing yourself back against him as he used his knee to gently nudge your thighs apart. You were moaning his name over and over, and he was trying so hard to focus. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed himself slowly inside, almost crying out when he was fully seated. You felt that fucking good to him. He tried to hold still while you were trying to get your footing, but Bradley held you in place with his right hand on your hip. He ran his left hand from your left shoulder all the way to your fingertips, before wrapping his fingers around yours. He pulled your hand back to his mouth and kissed your palm before stretching your arm out along the top of the washing machine and pinning it in place. Then Bradley leaned down, pressing his chest against your back, letting you feel his weight against you. He was kissing you just below your ear and whispering your name as he started to thrust slowly. "Baby Girl, you make everything better. I'm in love with you." "Roo!" you whined as he loved your body. He kissed your neck and teased your ear with his nose. He whispered your name and let his right hand slowly wrap around your body until he was stroking your clit. "Oh, I love you," he groaned, squeezing your left fingers in his, stretching your arm further until you were barely touching the floor. You were whining loudly now as he ran his lips along your neck, licking the line of your spine. He felt the squeeze in his balls and knew he was beyond the point of return, thanks to all the sexy noises you were making. "I love you, Bradley," you gasped, and that was it for him. With a loud groan, he was cumming inside you, but he knew you weren't quite there yet. He wanted you to come a second time while he was still inside you, so he worked his fingers slow and steady along your clit. His cum was oozing out of you, and he swirled the slickness against your sensitive bud with his fingers. He buried his nose in your hair, and stroked you until you pressed back against him and cried out, squeezing around his softening cock. He collapsed against you, rubbing his sweaty forehead along your cheek. You pulled his left hand along with yours across the top of the washing machine until his fingers were pressed against your lips. Bradley slowly stood upright and eased you back to the floor until you were standing in front of him. You spun in his arms and looked up at him with your hands on his chest. Bradley scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, and your lips were connected with his the entire way there. He stretched out on the bed with you straddling his waist and kissing him. You started giggling. "You still have your socks on." Bradley glanced down at his feet. "I told you they were staying on, Sweetheart. You were touching me. I couldn't have figured out how to take them off at that point anyway." You smiled and settled against his chest, wrapping your arms around him and tucking them under his back. Bradley rubbed both of your shoulders as you whispered, "Thank you for loving me no matter what." -------------------------------------- "Is this for real?" Bradley asked when he showed up at your office on Wednesday afternoon. You spun in your seat to see him standing in the open doorway. "Roo! What are you doing here?" He stalked toward you with a grin on his face. "I got an email and then I talked to Mav. He told me I get to take you up with me. In Phoenix's F/A-18. Is that for real?" You smiled at him and nodded. "That's right. I need to fly for research purposes, and I got to choose my pilot. Turns out Phoenix is busy that day, so I picked you. Bradley barked out a laugh and you stood and wrapped your arms around him. "Nat would have jumped at the chance, and you know it," he said, kissing you on the top of your head. "I can't stay, Sweetheart. I have to get back to the classroom, but I just wanted to confirm that I get to take my favorite person flying with me." You smiled against his uniform. "See you at home?" "Of course," Bradley replied, but you were rubbing your hand along his abs with intent. After the laundry room yesterday, you and he had eaten dinner and then had sex in the shower. Everything felt like it should, but Bradley was being cautious. "How about you meet me in the laundry room again after work today?" you asked him softly. "We got so distracted, we never actually ran that load of laundry." Bradley chuckled. "Yeah, I'll meet you there." And that's what had him running into the house just after 5 o'clock, barely stopping to pet Tramp on his way to the laundry room. "Jesus," Bradley muttered as he rushed in and saw you sitting on top of the running washing machine, completely naked, your hair still in a bun. You smiled and reached for him, and Bradley was just a lost cause. After you helped him mostly undress, he stood before you in his boots with his pants and underwear around his ankles. "Tell me, Lieutenant Bradshaw," you said, while stroking his length. The use of his rank and last name coming from your mouth made him painfully hard in your hands. "Why are you suddenly obsessed with keeping your uniform socks on?" Bradley tipped his head back and chuckled, loving that you could always make him laugh. "Do you think your girlfriend prefers it that way?" you asked, still running your fingers along his length. He looked you in the eye. "I'm not sure. Would my girlfriend prefer it if I removed the socks?" "No, she finds you oddly charming no matter what you're wearing," you whispered, and he kissed your lips softly. Soft kisses turned a little more frantic as Bradley pushed your legs further apart and fucked you slowly where you sat on the running washing machine. "My girlfriend is charming all the time," he whispered next to your ear as you came for him. "The laundry room is my new favorite room," you said, and Bradley fervently agreed as he came inside you. --------------------------------------- After the laundry load was completed, and dinner had been eaten, Bradley cleaned the kitchen in his underwear while you got changed to go to the Hard Deck. "Just one drink though, okay?" you said when Bradley joined you at the bathroom sink. "I know everyone is obsessed with Wednesday happy hour, but I have to be at work really early tomorrow." He kissed the back of your neck and made it difficult for you to finish putting your makeup on. "Yeah, just one drink," he agreed, peppering your neck with kisses. "Or we can just stay in?" You laughed. "I already told Phoenix we'd be there. Apparently you owe her a drink for borrowing her Super Hornet next week. Oh! And I wanted to ask Bob and Fanboy for pointers on how to be an excellent backseater! I want to make sure you're impressed by me." Bradley laughed. "Baby Girl, if I were any more impressed by you, my brain would stop functioning. Now let's go so we can get back and cuddle." The Hard Deck was busy, as usual, but you and Bradley made a beeline for the other aviators at the pool tables. You felt your boyfriend's hand on your waist as he stood behind you with his chin on your shoulder, and you were sipping identical bottles of beer. "Bob and Fanboy, I need your help!" you said, gathering the two weapon systems officers together. "I need you guys to tell me how to be an amazing backseater, because I get to fly with Rooster next week!" --------------------------------------------- Bradley was really enjoying himself, listening to you asking the other aviators for tips about flying with him. He loved that you were taking your job as his backseater for the day very seriously. "Hey, Bradshaw," he heard Jake say before the other man grabbed his shoulder a little roughly. Bradley turned and looked at Jake who looked very displeased. "He's here," Jake whispered. Bradley tried to stay calm, but his heart was immediately pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe Josh decided to come back to the Hard Deck, where he had fucking touched you the last time you saw him. You seemed to be doing okay now, but you were still processing everything that had happened to you. The fact that Josh had lost his job and now his wife in rapid succession had seemingly made things easier for you. But Bradley wasn't going to let him get to you again, physically or mentally. So Bradley kissed your cheek, and left you to talk to the others with your back turned to the bar. Nat nodded at Bradley, and he knew she would keep you distracted and safe. His best friend was good like that. "Which one is he?" Bradley grunted at Jake once he'd taken a few steps away from you. But he already knew. Josh was looking longingly across the bar to where you were standing with your back to him. And then he made eye contact with Bradley. "Tall, dark hair, gray shirt, looking right at you," Jake drawled calmly. "You want me to come outside with you? Phoenix already knows, and she said she'll keep Angel inside." "Nah," Bradley replied quietly, maintaining eye contact with Josh, who had the decency to look a little scared. "I'll do it alone. Unless you wanna watch." "Have at him. I'll come out and make sure you're not interrupted," Jake promised before he followed Bradley silently across the bar. Bradley approached Josh with a very calm exterior, but inside he was raging again. "Let's go outside." Bradley practically growled at the other man who just raised a concerned eyebrow in return. "Now." Josh eyed Bradley up before turning and heading for the door. Bradley had been raised in a very peaceful home by Carole Bradshaw. She taught him to talk about his feelings instead of resorting to violence. But then again, Carole had never met you. She never got to see Bradley fall in love. And Bradley liked to think his mom would have made an exception for this singular occasion. Once all three of them were outside, and Jake was playing the part of lookout at the door, Josh spun around to face Bradley. "Hey, look man, your girl-" Bradley grabbed him by his shirt collar and rammed his back against the deck railing, and the entire length of wood rattled violently. "Shut the fuck up, asshole. I know exactly who you are and exactly what you did. I do not need to hear it from you." Josh opened his mouth to speak again, but Bradley hoisted him a little higher and shook him by the shirt collar. "I did not give you permission to talk!" Bradley shook with anger as Josh made eye contact with him again. "You even think about touching my Y/N again... you so much as look at her, and I'll ruin your fucking miserable life." Josh sucked in a breath and opened his mouth to speak, and Bradley grinned, because this man was about to give Bradley even more permission for him to wreck his face. "She let me work late with her all the time. She got drinks with me every week while you were gone, man. You have no idea." Bradley set Josh back down and straightened out his shirt with both palms before nodding solemnly. "Yeah, she's really something else, isn't she? Sweet and friendly and smart. And pretty. She's so fucking pretty. But she's not yours." Bradley slowly raised both of his fists to chest level, and watched the look of panic on the other man's face as he made two fists as well. Then Bradley punched Josh one time hard in the nose and watched him double over in pain, grabbing at his bloody face. And then Bradley grabbed him hard and rammed his knee into Josh's ribs, relishing in the cracking sound followed by groaning before tossing him to the ground. Once Josh started coughing and scrambling as if to stand, Bradley stepped on his fingers, keeping him in place. Then Bradley growled, "You disrespect her again, physically or verbally, and you'll need someone to call an ambulance for you. Understand?" Bradley yanked Josh up by his hair, forcing eye contact. "You stay the fuck away from her, and you stay the fuck away from the Hard Deck. This is my bar, and that is my girl." Jake came to stand next to Bradley as they watched Josh hold his nose and stumble through the parking lot, presumably to his car. "He won't be back," Jake drawled. "He better fucking not be," Bradley hissed, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. When Bradley went back inside and rejoined the conversation about weapon systems officers, you smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You okay, Roo? You look very deep in thought," you whispered. He pulled you into a hug. "I was just thinking about how much my mom would have loved you, Sweetheart. And she would have been completely delighted by how in love with you I am." It was the truth. And when you reached for his right hand and he winced a bit, he simply told you that he had hurt his hand earlier that day taking care of something annoying.

---------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed this outrageously long chapter! Thanks for reading!

Part 14 is here

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@yaboid19

@mak-32

@miles-rooster

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@grxndedwt

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@babybloomers

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@thedroneranger

@changlingkhat

@callsign-echo

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@katiebby04

@andycanbeemotional

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@cherrycola27

@ccbb2222

@bradshawsbitch

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@high-bi-imgonnacry

@xoxabs88xox

@scenesofobx

@chassy21

@dhwanishah09

@halo-mystic

@sometimesanalice

@gennyanydots

@notroosterbradshaw

@godsfavoritebabe

@caatheeriinee07

@benhardysdrumstick

@beyondthesefourwalls

@spaceygirly1

@crazycaamano

@topgunbb

@starlightstories

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x reader

612 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 1 year

Note

Hey gorgeous girl!!! I hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to request maybe a preoutbreak!joel and reader where reader has a bad day at work/college? Just how Joel would comfort when he sees reader all upset and stressed out🥹 if it doesn’t spark any interest, feel free to ignore this!!! I love you & your writing 🫶🏼💐✨💋💗

Thank you for your sweet words and your love!! I love this idea!! Pre-Outbreak Joel makes my Texas heart soar 🤠

Snowqueen of Texas

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Joel hears about your day through the grapevine and decides to try to make you feel better

Warnings: None! Just Joel being a softy (gif by @loregifs)

The day had started rough. You got stuck in traffic on your way into work and cut someone off so badly they laid on their horn for a solid ten seconds. It didn’t matter because you ended up being twenty minutes late anyways. By the time you had clocked in, you were already in the weeds and barely had a chance to breathe before rushing around the restaurant like a crazy person. Every table that got up and cleaned got sat again almost immediately. People weren’t tipping as well as they usually did, but they made up for it by being rude as fuck. Your feet hurt from running back and forth all day, and to top it all off, you spilled hot sauce on your new white shirt.

So, when the hostess came to the back and told you someone was there for you during the two seconds you had to sit down, you were more than a little frustrated. You sulked up to the front, where you found Joel talking to your manager with a smile on his face. He ended all his sentences with “yes ma’am,” “no ma’am,” and “thank you, ma’am,” like the good southern boy his mama raised him to be. You smile as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his middle. He kisses your forehead and hugs you back, not missing a beat in his conversation.

“Is it okay if I take my break, Samantha?” You ask your manager. Normally, she would make you roll silverware for a while before she let you go on break, but Joel seems to have buttered her up because she agrees. As she goes back upstairs, he holds up a plastic bag from your favorite Mexican restaurant. “Oh, my god, I love you.” You gasp as you take the bag from him and walk to his truck.

Joel tells you about the job he’s working right now and Sarah’s school project while you eat the tacos he brought you. The air conditioning blasts cold air to beat the summer heat, and an old country song is playing on the radio. You’re really trying to listen to his story, but with the food and the comfortable passenger seat, you’re more focused on how much better you feel. “By the way, Tommy ratted you out for cutting him off this morning.” He says, and you laugh.

“Tell Thomas he can’t take up the entirety of I-35 just because he thinks he’s the only one late to work.”

“Thomas? We’re using government names now?”

“Snitches get stitches.”

“Fair,” he says as you roll the empty tinfoil wrapper into a ball and throw it back in the plastic bag. “Feelin’ better?” He asks as he puts his hand on your thigh, his warm hand squeezing you.

“How did you know I was having a bad morning?” You ask and catch his nervous habit as he grinds his teeth.

“Sarah might’ve told me she saw you leave the house from the bus stop. Said you were in a huge rush, and I figured you slept through your alarms.”

“Are all the Millers spying on me?”

“Nobody is spying on you. She told me because she knew I would be nearby today and said I should bring my beautiful girlfriend lunch.” He says as he leans over and kisses you.

“Smart girl,” you whisper against his lips, resting a hand on his scruffy jaw. His hand snakes through your hair as he deepens the kiss. “You should always come to see me on my lunch break.”

“I reckon if I did that, we’d do a lot more than eat lunch.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Only if you want us to keep our jobs,” he says, and you groan dramatically. “You just have to make it through today, and then when you get home, we can have dinner and drink wine and yell at Tommy for being a snitch.”

“Fine,” You sigh. “But I need one more thing before I can go back to work.”

“Name your price, sweetheart.”

When you walk back into work full of tacos and love, you’re wearing Joel’s shirt to replace the one you spilled hot sauce on. The hostess raises her eyebrows mischievously at you, but you shake your head, smirking, as you clock back in. “He had an extra work shirt, and mine was dirty.” You say. She hums and walks away, giving you a look that tells you she doesn’t believe you. She can think whatever you want because the scent of Joel’s cologne on his shirt is going to be enough to get you through the rest of your day.

Thank God the Millers are nosy as hell.

🍓

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller requests #joel miller drabble #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

232 notes · View notes

presidentbungus · 2 years

Note

🖊 and/or 🧠 :0

🧠 - Medic/Merasmus. I don't even know what this would be but every so often it bounces around my brain and that's the important part. I think it would be terrible by god I'm gonna figure out how to write it

🖊 - umm here's one I wrote for an au a little while ago that i didn't actually expand on. bully me into expanding on it please🙏🙏

Around the middle of recess Jeremy rolls around the back of the building to check the basketball court, cause that’s usually where fights are—and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting but Tommy Higgins, who plays soccer after school and is the size of an 8th grader, might fit the bill somewhat.

They’re hunched down in the middle of the snow, and Scout might see a little red staining the white—he’s on top of some little skinny kid he’s never seen before, who’s only wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans, giving him what looks like the noogie of his freakin’ life. The kid looks at Jeremy an’ cries “tell the teacher”—and Tommy’s head snaps where he’s looking, right at freakin’ Jeremy, and—and he wasn’t sure if he was gonna step in here but he probably doesn’t have much choice now.

Surprisingly, Tommy doesn’t move from his place—just keeps hitting the other kid on the head, a gross little grin splitting his face. His teeth look like little white beetles. “If you’re smart you’ll beat it, Germ,” he says.

To be honest Jeremy doesn’t feel that brave his he puffs up his chest anyway, takes a step forward, makes a fist and makes sure to keep his thumb on the outside like his brother Jamie keeps telling him. “Nobody calls me Germ and gets away with it.” He uses his best Saxton Hale-voice, all low and grumbly, and he marches up to Tommy and raises his fist an’ smacks him right on his dumb stupid face.

—

He sits on the stupid little chair outside the principal’s office—it’s not like it’s new to him but it still feels so shameful. ‘Specially cause his mom went in the room with Tommy’s parents and the walls aren’t that thick. She’s yelling at Principal what’s-his-freaking-name now and she’ll yell at Jeremy in a bit, when she marches out and drags him along in the car to the diner even if school’s not over yet. They’re suspending Tommy two days and still not sure what they’re gonna do with Jeremy—the same, probably. Injustice or whatever. As far as it went it could’ve gone worse—when he was in fourth grade Tommy swung at him with one of the big reading textbooks and knocked out two of his teeth, and they had to take off his braces to fix them and then put them back on and whenever he starts work in the diner he’s gonna have to do extra shifts working free to pay back how much it cost. It’s this whole thing. Anyway this time he got away with a black eye and his wrist hurts a lot but it wasn’t that much.

That kid sits across him. Looking at the floor. His nose stopped bleeding awhile ago but he still squeezes it with a tissue, like he’s worried it’ll come back. Hasn’t said a word since they got pulled in by the PE teacher, who Jeremy doesn’t know the name of since it’s the seventh replacement this year. And, like, he knows heroes don’t need thanks or whatever—but it still pisses him off a little—no thank you, or good job, or nothin’.

So he just stares and hopes he’ll get the message. And he keeps not getting the message, and he keeps not getting the message, so Jeremy stares and then he takes a breath and says: “You’re welcome, by the way. That I saved you.”

“… Thank you,” short and quick, in a lil’ accent Jeremy can’t place.

“I think I should get somethin’. About you.”

“We’re in front of the principal’s office.” He almost sounds worried. “If you try anything I’ll—“

“Whoa, hey. I just got my ass beat for you. Calm down.” An office lady glares at him. “I mean, uh, butt. What’s your name?”

“… Um.” The kid pulls his knees up to his chest, sniffling—god he’s tall. “I think—I mean—my name is Mickey.”

“Mickey. Huh. It fits, I guess—“

“But call me Mick.”

“… Well, okay. Mick."

#bungus snippets #thanks for the ask!#welcome to ikea #ask game

7 notes · View notes

secretsofanentrepreneur · 5 months

Text

Mark Cuban Business Advice

#1: You Need Social Proof

Mark Cuban began his business by giving his services away for free. Customers want to go where customers are as nobody ever wants to feel like they are the only person going out on a limb. Don’t be afraid to give something away for free if it will gain you a customer for life. Over the lifetime of your business the value of repeat customers will far outweigh the amount of money that you can squeeze out of any one deal.

#2: Know What You’re Best At

Nobody can be great at everything. Instead, evaluate what you do best and focus on doing those things better than anybody else. Play to your strengths; don’t waste all your time trying to improve your weaknesses.

#3: Be Obsessed

Don’t start a business unless you’re absolutely obsessed with it.

#4: The one thing you can control in life is effort.

Put in the work that other people won’t. For him, this means carving out time every day to learn, whether it’s through reading books, watching TikToks, playing around with NFTs or taking online courses (experimenting with different mediums is important too). He likes to stay on top of every new development in technology, sports and healthcare, and credits the “effort” he puts into constant learning as how he keeps his “competitive advantage.” “When I was the youngest walking in the door, it was people dismissing me because of my age and I could outwork them,” says Cuban. “When I’m the oldest walking in the door, people would dismiss me because of my age and I can outwork them.”

#5: Keep your mind (and inbox) open.

Cuban would walk around bookstores looking for ideas for his businesses. Though he’s no longer wandering around his local Barnes & Noble, he still spends a lot of time searching for inspiration, which is yet another reason he emphasizes the importance of constant learning. “You never know where your ideas are going to come from,” Cuban says.

#6: Take advantage of technology.

he points to artificial intelligence (AI) which he predicts will become the key mechanism for disruption moving forward. Those who don’t keep up will certainly get left behind, Cuban says. “I think the biggest challenge that entrepreneurs may have is that there’s two types of companies right now in the world, those who are great at AI, and everybody else. And those companies that are great at AI have a huge advantage.”

#7: Use the job you have now to get the job you want in the future

On his blog, Cuban quoted an interview in which he said: I worked jobs I didn’t like. I worked jobs I loved, but had no chance of being a career. I worked jobs that barely paid the rent … I knew I would end up owning my own business someday, so I figured my challenge was to learn as much as anyone about all businesses. I believed that every job I took was really me getting paid to learn about a new industry.

Every job is an opportunity to develop a new skill set and learn about a new industry, both of which can be leveraged for future career success while getting paid in the present. Reap the benefits of diverse work experience by staying open to any and all job opportunities – engaging in your career, income and personal growth throughout.

#mark cuban #entrepreneurship

0 notes

toby-determined · 5 months

Text

Day 12: Background NPC - Amanda Determined

“Come ooooon, Toby,” Amanda whined. “You used to be cool! Now you got your desk job and suddenly you forgot how.”

“Thanks,” he snorted looking up at her from over his laptop, but the rhythmic tapping of his fingers over the keys didn’t stop. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go.”

She groaned, louder and from the gut this time.

“Why don’t you just go alone?”

Normally, she would have. Going places alone was an obstacle she had long overcome, much to their mother’s displeasure. But this was different.

“I’ve already got the ticket,” she told him. Though she knew that wasn’t the only reason, it was just the only one she was willing to confess to.

“You can sell it.”

“I can’t be bothered to do all that.”

He shook his head, “I’m sorry your friends bailed on you.”

“Me, too. And now my brother, my own flesh and blood, my bosom buddy, my ride or die, is also forsaking me. This is exactly why you can’t trust anyone these days,” she sighed to follow her over dramatic performance.

This time when Toby looked up his fingers had stopped their typing. Amanda forced herself not to smile, knowing she’d gotten the hook in. Now all she had to do was reel him in and she was home free.

“What day is it again?”

“Saturday,” she replied. “Starts at 9.”

“That’s so late.”

“It is not,” she countered. “It’ll be done by 11, we’ll be home before 12!”

“That’s only if traffic isn’t-”

“It won’t be. It's their first tour and it’s at a bar, Toby, there’ll be 100 people there, if even that.”

His mouth squished to one side, eyes flickering to his screen and her face. She pressed her palms together and laced her fingers, squeezing. Her lower lip stuck out and she did her best puppy dog eyes. It was always a crowd winner, and while Toby was less susceptible to it than others, it seemed to do the trick as he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” she said with a little fist pump. “I knew you’d come around.”

“But-!” he said, sitting up again and holding up his index finger. “I have a deadline by Sunday. So, that means I’ve got to finish this tonight so I can edit it tomorrow before we go.”

“Got it,” Amanda was up and on her feet, heading toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow! And wear something that’s not what you’re wearing now.”

“What’s wrong with this?” he asked, looking down at himself.

Ever since he’d graduated from uni and got the job at the newspaper all he had been wearing was the same get up. A white button down, black tire, and dark trousers with dark shoes. It did it’s job to make him look like nobody, a regular Clark Kent if Superman was a shrimpy little fucker who landed in Australia rather than the US of A, but it wasn’t something you wore to a concert.

Toby was not the older brother that Amanda had been sold in various movies and television shows. He wasn’t cool and he wasn’t aloof. Her friends didn’t get crushes on him. He didn’t wear a leather jacket, he didn’t tell her who she should and shouldn’t go out with, he didn’t try to control her, and it never felt like he was the golden child who was favored by their parents who could do no wrong. He was what he was, which was a weirdo that she happened to be related to.

Amanda let her brother be for the remainder of the night and all Saturday morning. She kept her phone on her at all times until he called to tell her that he had finished and sent in his little article.

She picked him up later that day, laying on the horn until he came scrambling out. He tore open the passenger door and grabbed her arm to pull it off the steering wheel. He’d lost his balance on the curb, foot slipping down and making his body fall into the seat. She cracked up, pony tail hitting against the headrest. She hadn’t been able to see through her tears as he righted himself and got into the car, slamming the door shut after him.

“Will you go?” he asked, sinking down into the seat to peek out from the window. “The neighbors are going to hate me now.”

The drive to get there was a bit of a task, traffic in the city was always a fucking nightmare, and parking was even worse. But they’d found a spot that Amanda had whipped into before the fucking pick-up could steal it from her. They walked over to the building that was around the block, Amanda pulling the tickets from her purse to get them in the door with little purple paper wristbands. She had to help Toby get his on, having to stand off to the side as they hunched over his wrist.

Then they were in.

“There is way more than 100 people here,” she pretended she did not hear Toby say as she walked them over to the stage area. It was standing room, obviously, and everyone that was there was mostly crowded up by the front or trying to get a drink order in before the set started. She could feel her boots sticking to the floor as they kicked through plastic bottles and wadded up napkins.

“How much did you pay for this?” he asked.

“What does it matter to you? It’s not your money,” she replied, staking their claim on a spot by the wall. She liked having at least one side of her not surrounded by strangers who could potentially be fucking annoying.

The opening band was fine. They weren’t something that she would seek out again on her own but were entertaining for the moment, the anticipation building up in her stomach. Toby, as she suspected he would be, was sort of the perfect companion. He was quiet when he needed to be and talked when she needed him to, like asking if she wanted water or a drink and bringing them just in time for the actual show to begin.

It was great. The crowd was a little annoying with their lack of noise control when the band was trying to talk, and at one point someone had to be dragged out the front door when he’d taken a tumble, but other than that, it had been great. The music wasn’t a disappointment live and the girls on stage knew how to put on a show. Amanda was pleasantly toasted by the end of the set, shouting along with everyone else as they asked for an encore. And then the second encore.

It was over far too soon, honestly. She wanted to live in that moment forever but knew she had to go home at some point.

She hadn’t even noticed Toby had disappeared during the second encore until he reappeared at her side from behind a couple that were swaying together to the sound of the crowd shuffling into a line for merch. Ugh, she had wanted a shirt but she didn’t want to wait in-

“You still like to wear mediums instead of smalls, don’t you?” Toby asked, holding up a shirt. She blinked then grinned, snatching it from him to shove over her head. Amanda breathed in the absolutely disgusting smell of the room one last time before deflating.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

They started out the front door and when she went to go in the direction of her car, Toby caught her by saying her name. She stopped, turning to look at him, thinking maybe he’d forgotten his wallet or something at the table.

“Where’re you going?”

Amanda frowned. “The car?”

“...but…don’t you want to meet the band?”

“What? No, they aren’t even doing a meet and greet.”

Toby snorted. “Come on.”

She did not follow him until he got too far without looking back at her for her to not jog after him. They walked down the street until there was a break in the buildings and they turned down the little alleyway that opened up on a back lot. Presumably where employees of the establishments put their cars and where deliveries came to drop off. There were a few cars there and toward the back was a large bus and truck behind it.

An open door, stuck that way by a piece of wood sitting at the bottom, had people coming in and out of it. They were dressed in black, pushing black boxes on wheels with silver linings and buckles over to the truck to sit in neat rows. There were other random assortment of bags and boxes sitting in the lot by the car.

Her eyes widened when she realized what it was and she turned to look at Toby. He was not looking at her though and she blinked at the person walking beside her. She fucking hated when people did this, because after the first 1,000 times it just became a grating joke that made her want to shout No, you’re not fucking original!!! at anyone who said it, but Toby looked…determined.

She faltered, falling a step behind him when he didn’t stop as they got closer. Amanda figured they were just going to hang out by the bus. There was already a little crowd of people who weren’t doing anything but standing and talking by the nose of the bus, on the side with the door. She clocked their wrists, the purple bands. That’s where they belonged, surely.

But Toby just kept going. Passed the crowd, passed the boxes, until someone cut in front of him.

“Uh uh,” said the guy. He was security, judging by the thick arms and chiseled jaw.

“Oh, sorry there, mate!” Toby smiled up at the guy, who towered over both of them. They were both short, gifted by their mother’s genes. “We’re here for Bridget. We’re the cousins.”

“Who?” asked the security guy.

Toby made a face, then looked at Amanda like he was confused, too. She was pretty sure she was the most fucking confused out all three of them. He turned back, “Um, Bridget…she plays the drums?”

“I thought her name was Taylor.”

“For the opening band,” Toby said, like he was correcting the guy.

Aaaand Amanda had finally caught on to what her brother was trying to do here. She felt sick. It wasn’t that lying was a no-no to her, but she wasn’t big on being embarrassed, avoided it at all costs if she could, that's why she had built up her confidence to be an unmovable object and ability to not give a fuck an unstoppable force. It wasn’t easy to rattle her but the prospect of getting kicked out of the parking lot by this bands crew after trying to lie their way in, with a bunch of fellow fans to bare witness, after having a perfectly good night and knowing the walk of shame passed that crowd would fucking ruin it, she hated this. She hated her brother for doing this to her. Since when did he do shit like this? Or talk like this? Why hadn’t he told her he was going to do this? If she had known she wouldn’t have fucking followed him, she would have left his dumb ass here and driven home.

She blinked. Suddenly there was someone else there dressed in all black. A woman, with a hoodie and cargo pants, she had a belt with clips and various things attached to it, too.

“Yeah, no, that’s right,” she said, like she was confirming a question that had been asked of her. Her eyes found Amanda’s for a moment, then looked down to her shirt, before she returned to the conversation that was happening between Toby and the security guard. Amanda tuned back in, too.

“-ust ask her. She said we were supposed to meet her back here. I mean, it’s fine if not, but I just don’t want her to think we didn’t come.”

The security guard seemed to consider this, then he glanced to the woman who shrugged. She turned around, going back inside, narrowly avoiding someone who was carrying out a guitar case. Amanda’s eyes followed them as they brought it over to the bus, the doors opening to let them on. When they disappeared inside she refocused and found herself looking at the crowd of fans. They were all looking at her. Amanda quickly whipped back around.

It took a few minutes. Some very painful minutes, though they did allow Amanda time to think about the ways she could kill her brother.

“Hey, Garrett!”

The security guard turned, Amanda leaned to see around his hulking mass to find the woman from before. She was leaning into the doorway, only her shoulders and up were visible as she was trying to stay out of the way of the people moving things still. And, seriously, it was a small ass venue? How much shit could they be carrying out of the place?

“They’re good,” she said with a nod and thumbs up before disappearing.

Amanda could not fucking believe it. The security guard led them over to the door, just letting them walk right inside.

They ducked out of the way of a guy rolling one of those boxes, giving Amanda time to dig her nails into Toby’s arm and ask, “What the fuck! We’re not anyone’s cousins!”

“Technically we do have-”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed before they both kept walking down the hall. “You know what I mean, you idiot! That wasn’t even a good lie! She’s going to know we aren’t-”

“No, she isn’t,” he assured her. “She doesn’t know what we look like.”

“Does she even have cousins coming?”

“Yeah, but we’ll be gone by the time they get here.”

“How do you-”

“Come on,” he cut her off, leading her into a room. The walls and ceiling were covered with stickers. There was couches along the right and back walls. The left had a table with a bunch of snacks on it, and the front by the door sat a large mirror with bright lights. The table below it had a few little bags that Amanda recognized to be for make-up and toiletries. She had one herself, though not as cute as the ones sitting, opened and spilled out on the table.

The band was in this room, all of them lounging on the various couches with food and water, talking excitedly to one another, before one of them noticed the two of them standing there.

Amanda blushed furiously, eyes darting to Toby, waiting to see what he’d do.

“Hi! Layne told me it’d be a good time?”

“Uh…” said Cierra, the bass player. “...for what?”

“The interview!” Toby said. He smiled and gestured to Amanda, who could only wave at the girls at this point. They all glanced at one another, waiting to see if the other knew something they didn’t. When no one seemed to know what was going on, they all looked back to Toby. His smile dimmed a little and then he tried again. He bumbled about to pat at his pockets, starting with his jacket and then his pants until was pulling out his stupid newspaper card to show them, “Uh, sorry, I…I’m from a local paper? The Yowie Mail. We contacted your manager and she said you’d all agreed to do an interview with a fan from the area. She just let us in.”

“Did she tell you?” Frankie, the singer, asked their drum player, Dawn, who only shrugged and shook her head. No one else confirmed nor denied.

“Oh, I’m- I’m so sorry,” Toby said, he looked at Amanda then back to the band, “We can wait while you confirm if you’d like?”

“Yeah, uh- oh, hey! Layne!” Frankie stood, waving a hand. In the door, the woman from the back door stopped again, hand on the door frame pulling her back into view. “Did you just let these guys in?”

“What?” the woman asked, then looked to Toby and Amanda. Toby smiled and waved at her. And she nodded, “Oh, yeah.”

“Oh. Okay,” Frankie said. “Did-”

“Sorry, I need to- hey! Don! Don’t lift that!” she shouted and then was gone.

Amanda looked back to the band, who seemed to be holding a silent conversation with one another as to whether or not they were going to do this. After a moment, they all looked over at Toby and Amanda. “Okay! We have a while before we can leave anyway. Come and sit!”

And they did.

It was actually pretty cool after Amanda managed to get over the hump of the initial awkwardness and mind fuck that had gotten them in the door. She kept waiting for the manager or the security guard to come in, pick them up, and toss them out on their asses. But they never did. Amanda got to ask all the questions she could think of, which was hard to do on the spot, but Toby stepped in when she had stuttered too much. It hadn’t taken her long to get comfortable, though. She wasn’t the kind of person who sat in the formal pleasantries, she liked conversations.

Pretty soon the interview fell away into a hangout session and then Toby was standing and saying they’d better be on their way. Amanda hadn’t wanted to leave, had started to protest, but then saw the meaningful look on his face. Oop. Yep. Gotta go.

She waved goodbye to the girls.

“Wait!” Frankie said. “Can we sign something for you or anything?”

“Oh,” Amanda blinked. “I don’t have…”

“What about your shirt?” Toby suggested.

“Ooo! Yeah!” the band cooed in agreement.

All the girls got up, using a marker that was on one of the tables for labeling the drink cups, and one by one signed a spot on the shirt. She thanked them, even getting a hug from Frankie, and then left with Toby. Out the back, passed the little group of fans, out the alley, and back onto the street until they got to the car.

She sat in her seat for a minute before asking, again, “What the fuck?”

“Jeez, it’s already 1:30?” Toby replied, leaning his seat back a little. “I’m getting too old to stay up this late anymore.”

“Toby! Shut the fuck up about the time!” she said, punching him in the shoulder. He flinched away.

“Ow!”

“What the fuck was that?”

“I thought you wanted to meet the band!”

“I-! I mean-!” her mouth worked to get all her thoughts that were smashing together but couldn’t get them to be coherent until she closed her eyes and took a breath. “Okay, I am going to ask a question and you’re going to answer it.”

“Right.”

“How the fuck did you know who Bridget was and that she had cousins?”

“I’d gone to get you that drink after her band played,” Toby said. “And she was next to me, talking to the bar manager about how her cousins were coming and if they did before the show was done, to tell them to come see her. Then, when I was getting your shirt, she was asking if they’d seen them and they said no. So then she said to tell them to come around to the back. I figured, since they didn’t make it to the show, they probably weren’t coming at all.”

“You figured,” she repeated then shook that off. “Okay. So, then, the manager? How did you know her name?”

“I didn’t,” shrugged Toby. “Just got the drummer’s from-”

“No, no! I mean the band’s manager.”

“The security guard,” he said, looking at her funny. “He’d said it when we were talking to him?”

“Oh,” Amanda frowned. It must have been when she was freaking the fuck out. “How did you know the interview thing would work? Like, what if she’d actually stuck around for them to ask about it?”

“I didn’t. Just sorta hoped she’d be too busy dealing with the bad hired help to pay us much mind.”

“Fuck,” she sighed, finally sitting back in her seat to absorb all of this. “Fuck.”

“Did you not want to meet them?”

“No, I-! That was great,” she said, smiling to herself as she remembered bits of the conversation. “It was really nice. I just…how the fuck did you learn to lie so well? You can barely keep a straight face when you tell mum that dad didn’t eat her leftovers.”

“That’s different. That’s mum. And this was for you. Plus, now I have a story to pitch to my editor on Monday.”

“Story?”

“About the band! I have to make sure they see an article with their interview, don’t I?”

Amanda looked over at him. He was slumped against the door, arms crossed over his chest. He sort of reminded her of their dad when he got to the couch, out like a light as soon as he turned on the tv after a long day of work.

“Right,” she smiled and then patted his shoulder.

“Ow,” he whined. Yeah, Toby wasn’t the typical older brother, but he was her brother.

#swynwrimo

0 notes

thedreadvampy · 3 years

Text

ppl over on the Bird App tweeting about how the mechanisms are unkindly ignoring fan demand for more content: hello. guys. are you aware that these are Human People whose student band went on for almost decade and like. best will in the world and I'm glad they made as much content as they did but they stopped for a reason, and that reason was, among other things, that being 30 is very different to being 20 and they all have jobs, commitments, other projects and many of them have moved to other parts of the country. Some of them are still creating Mechanisms work, some are creating other works, some are doing different stuff that's not publicly consumable, but none of them are beholden to keep living in the shadow of their 19 year old selves because You Want More Content like??????? That's A Human Person??????

look. peek behind the curtain. DTTM was in the works for several years specifically because with people's lives pulling them in so many directions it was increasingly hard to find times and places where it was feasible to get all of the band members in the same place with enough energy to think creatively. There was never going to be another full album not because they don't care but because unless you can make music full time professionally it is incredibly hard to find time and space to consistently get together 9 people living in 4 different cities to write and produce complex music like??? they're human People with lives and even if any of them made enough money to live off from the band it would still be A Lot to ask people to keep making the same music for the same audience their entire careers that they were making when they were still at uni.

for real it's not a personal attack on you that there's no more Mechanisms music. sometimes that's just how life is. however much you'd like more. "they're not listening to fan demand!!!!!" they're HUMAN PEOPLE WITH LIVES not machines you put fan demand into until music falls out.

#hhhhh. sorry. just.#i know a lot of people aren't in the position where they really think of the Mechs crew as anything but Internet Celebrities #but they're people and i think just getting bifrost to completion ended up being a real uphill struggle #with a lot of people working long mon-fri hours and then giving up all their free time to effectively a second job writing the album #and spending a lot of money on coming into London to rehearse and meet #everyone was knackered one person missing a session could knock the whole timeline back #nobody had much free time and trying to squeeze it in around day jobs and other commitments started to affect some people's health #idk like it would be great if they made more content! it would be amazing if they had the time and money to work together healthily #but DTTM happened because unfortunately it's a lot to coordinate through the Adulting Responsibilities #and like nobody wants a band that's just there because they have to be and are knackered and grumpy and bored #they put on DTTM so they could go out on a high because they were not going to be able to keep producing as a group #it wasn't just an arbitrary decision i mean.#the mechanisms

526 notes · View notes

epigstolary · 3 years

Text

The Middle of Nowhere

Technically, I’m free to come and go as I please. My chaser doesn’t keep me under lock and key. There’s no gainer sex dungeon, no bed with handcuffs built into it, no livestock feeding machine with a harness he lashes me into. Anybody could come up and knock on the door, and there’s a decent chance my 800 pounds would even waddle up to the door to greet them. I’m not a captive. I’m not even hidden. I’m just… in the middle of nowhere.

At first, the idea of a farmhouse way out in the country seemed idyllic. Peace, quiet, privacy, and the miles of fields and plains stretching far away. It didn’t hurt that, in a rural place like where I was from, there was virtually nobody interested in feeding and growing someone — except for him, and he was surprisingly close. We met for the first time at the diner in town, but it didn’t take long for the discussion to turn to where he lived — miles away, miles down a dirt road cutting off from the already desolate rural route running along the edge of his land. Nobody around to spy or judge. Someplace where we could be ourselves.

I jumped at the chance to move in with him, and I started blowing up almost immediately. I had the opportunity to indulge myself, and I took it — while he’d be out at work, I’d be sitting around his farmhouse, always eating or snacking between meals, never having to stop and go anywhere. I went from my original fat body to morbidly obese in a matter of weeks, and in six months nearly doubled my weight. He bought me clothes with room to grow, but faster than either of us expected my belly was fully hanging out the bottom of my shirts, resting on the thighs that were stretching my formerly baggy pants to the bursting point. My newly flabbier arms bulged out of the sleeves, flexing the fabric as they lifted more food into my waiting mouth. I didn’t strictly need clothes, since I never went anywhere, but we both liked to keep up the pretense that I was living something of a normal life.

There was no question that he wanted to see me fatter; but he never forced me to eat, never got angry when I said I wanted to slow down or try to eat a little healthier. He just kept cooking, kept serving, kept making sure everything I couldn’t resist was always in reach. That was all it took. It wasn’t long before my belly and arms made me far too large to fit in the small cab of his old pickup. The discovery that I was now isolated here — completely under his power and dependent on him to leave, confined as effectually as if I were chained — took my breath away. Even if I could somehow squeeze behind the wheel, the fat bulging out around it was enough to keep me from turning it or reaching the pedals, however much I might push against that resistance. At that point, my only real means of leaving became tantalizingly close but forever out of reach. I could see it, touch it, get as close as I wanted; but I could never use it to save myself again.

I did try to walk away once. When I hit 500 pounds and he made an entire cake for me to finish to celebrate, I had a minor freak out at just how big I was getting and decided I had to get out. So I started walking in the middle of the night. But at a very sedentary quarter-ton, it didn’t take long before I had burned through the panic adrenaline and started getting winded hauling so much fat around. My back ached from holding up my juggling belly, my thighs burned from the unfamiliar friction of walking a long distance, and my chest clenched tight from exertion and the struggle to breathe. I collapsed about a half-mile toward the road, a sweaty, blubbery heap; and early in the morning I heard his pickup chugging up behind me. Without a word, with no reproach, he helped me up, hoisting my bulbous ass into the cab of the truck. He drove us both back toward the house, my body jiggling with every bump and dip. A pound of bacon and a plate of chocolate pancakes calmed me down just fine.

Things only accelerated from there. Early on, I’d been able to take a snack out to the yard and walk along the fence to get some fresh air. Now, I’m barely able to waddle out to the porch and plop down on the bench, my overhang bumping against my knees with each step. I’ll go out with a plate of food, my ass filling the two-seater bench in its entirety, and watch the occasional car glide by on the distant road, as remote and unreachable to me as the moon. Even if I really did want to leave — even if I thought I could go somewhere, ignore my hunger long enough to get down to a “normal” size, and go back to my life as it was — how would I do it? I’m not struggling for miles to the road carrying nearly a half-ton of blubber, if I could even make it down the driveway on my own without getting completely winded; and even if I did, nobody is picking up a hitchhiker who can barely fit into a pickup bed.

Who could I call for help, then? The police? And tell them what, that they should arrest my roommate because I ate myself to the size of a small elephant? This is the midwest; there’s a decent chance I wouldn’t even be the fattest person they’ve dealt with that week. And there’s nobody here driving for Uber, no cab company within a hundred miles, even if I could fit in their car. I could hire an ambulance, but with what money? And anyway, I’m not ready for the shame of being strapped into a gurney and bundled away by a troupe of men, all gawking at how much lard I’d been able to pack onto my frame and tut-tutting at the fat cow who let their indulgence and morbid obesity get so out of control. That might come whether I want it to or not someday, but not yet.

So here I sit — chewing, swallowing, consuming. Eating so much I can almost feel my body expanding with new fat every day. More weight pressing me down, making the distant road that much further away. My thighs and calves jiggling more, my pudge-filled arms swinging more to balance my weight, my belly hanging lower every day. And he sits here with me — smiling, complimenting, admiring my growing rolls and tighter clothes and slower steps and heavier breaths. Watching as I build my own prison, bite by bite.

It won’t be long before the dozen or so steps to the porch and the now-too-narrow front door are more trouble than they’re worth. Then more and more of my meals will be taken on the couch because it’s not worth my fat-laden frame hobbling over to the dining table. Then eventually, maybe, I stop getting up at all, and just let my fat swell and grow in place. How much bigger will I get then, I wonder.

He doesn’t have to keep me locked up, because I’m doing the job well enough on my own. And I know he’ll never stop wanting me bigger. I can see it in his eyes when he imagines my body under another hundred, five hundred, thousand pounds of fat, wobbling pitifully amidst a pile of unmoving lard and struggling desperately to function at all. What is he going to do to get me there? What’s going to happen to me when I’m too big to go anywhere and he has me, in the middle of nowhere, all to himself?

I guess all I can do is keep eating and find out.

#extreme weight gain #feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #wg story #weight gain story

2K notes · View notes

starrysvn · 2 years

Text

lonely birthday | jung wooyoung

pairing: wooyoung x gn!reader

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, not proofread!

masterlist

this is all cause i hate lonely birthdays (gif credits: @/mir_xxx on weheartit)

Squeezing the empty beer can in your hand, before letting it fall all crumpled in the bin, you defeatedly plopped down on the lonely chair at your dining table. On it rested a single chocolate chip muffin – its Starbuck’s paper bag acting as a tablecloth – crookedly stabbed with a single blue sparkly birthday candle.

“Absolutely fucking pathetic” you murmured as you lifted your hand to light it with your black lighter.

It had been a while since you last believed in birthday wishes, but the realization of having hit rock bottom made you act a little foolish from time to time. You squeezed your eyes real tight – like you used to do as a kid, convinced it would somehow help the process of making the wish come true – and felt a stray tear make its way down your cheek. You sniffled, barely caring anymore, and blew out the candle. As you opened your eyes and saw the smoke make its way up, you almost laughed. Birthday wishes never came true. You hated birthdays.

You slumped in your chair, staring straight at the wall in front of you, and started to think when life had become so dull. Trying to pinpoint the moment when college had started to feel like a job and your job a nuisance. When, suddenly, the realization of being an adult had somehow colored grey your youth: it wasn’t like you didn’t have friends or things to do to fill up your free time, but somehow the weight of responsibilities had become ten times harder to hold up. Someway, all you could manage to focus on was duty and not what made you happy. And the saddest thing was that you knew exactly how it happened but didn’t know how to fix it.

You grimly chuckled, taking a bite out of the muffin. Growing up really fucking sucked.

“You’ll be sulky and mad all day if you spend today alone. You’ll think that nobody cares about you when really, it was you who didn’t want anyone around”

His words echoed in your head as the clock struck one minute after midnight and you stood up to throw the paper Starbuck’s bag and the muffin wrapper away. As always, he was right. You never really gave much thought to birthdays, never really cared much what you did on the day of. That was until he came along and showed you how much fun it could be, just to even hang out with a few friends or do something you had wanted to do for a while. The purpose of birthdays was to celebrate yourself a little bit more than usual, he reminded you. Funny how the first time he wasn’t in your life you seemed to have forgotten a hard-learned lesson.

As you made your way to bed you tried to come up with excuses as to why you had spent your birthday doing the absolute minimum: it fell on a weekday, your friends all had stuff to do, it was enough to have had a quick lunch with them. Wooyoung wasn’t here to put a stop to everyone’s lives just to remind them of your birthday. The harsh truth downed on you and had the same effect as an ice-cold shower. You hated the feeling of getting older and realizing how the world, with its cruelty, crushed the innocence and unadulterated joy you were gifted. Birthdays to you were just a reminder of that. Wooyoung, on the other hand, mitigated such bitter feelings by showing you how despite all of it, you could still find it in yourself to be a little bit of a Peter Pan, that you didn’t have to let it all go, but rather keep it with you to help facing how unforgiving life could be. Especially on birthdays. The thing is, it would have been so easy to do as you’d learned from him, you could’ve done it, but trying would’ve cost your heart too much. It would’ve been the umpteenth reminder that he wasn’t by your side anymore, not him, not his joyous smile or bright laughter. You weren’t sure that your patched-up heart could’ve taken being the better version of yourself if he wasn’t by your side, not yet at least.

Tossing and turning in bed did you no good, you had to be up early the next morning, yet whenever you closed your eyes you just saw pictures of him. Throwing the blanket off your body, you lazily stood up, ready to take a trip to the 24h convenience store just by your building. Wrapping a scarf around your neck, you finally opened the front door, just to find yourself facing the person who’d been clouding your head.

“Wooyoung?” you asked, voice shaky and confused.

“Hi” he simply said, a small smile on his lips. “I’m sorry I missed it but...” he looked at you, pushing a small gift bag in your hands. “Happy birthday y/n”

You couldn’t help but stare, bewildered, between the item placed in your trembling hands and his unreadable face. “I- “ you started, not really knowing what to say. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and you couldn’t keep up with your spiraling thoughts. “You don’t have to say anything” he rushed, eyes focused on his sneakers. “I know you hate birthdays and I’m probably the last person you want to see right now” shrugging, he finally looked at you. “But I hated the thought of you thinking I’d forget about it more” Something snapped inside of you, probably also having to do with his unusual calm and quiet voice and downcast eyes, that brought tears to your eyes. Wooyoung was rarely like this, he was always happy and cheerful and joyful, a smile stamped on his face no matter what. Seeing him like this had your heart squeezed in a painful clutch. You sniffled, immediately trying to smile despite the pain. “Thank you Wooyoung, you didn’t have to,” you said, trying your best to make your voice sound stable. “But I wanted to” he smiled a little wider this time, subconsciously making you do the same. “I was about to go get some ice cream; do you want to join me?” you asked before you could stop yourself. That had Wooyoung grinning in no time, nodding his head. “I’d like that” And just like a thousand times before the two of you broke apart, the table outside of the convenience store saw you sitting under its awning once again, talking and laughing like you used to with the company of just two tubs of ice cream and a starry sky. “Promise I’ll never let you spend a birthday alone ever again,” he said, suddenly solemn, holding out his pinkie to you. With a chuckle and the brightest smile stamped on your face, mirrored on his, you laced your pinkie with his.

464 notes · View notes

seita · 3 years

Text

— miscommunication | m.

pairing: matsukawa/f!reader

wordcount: 4.860

genre: smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

cw: camboy!mastukawa, established relationship.

tags: masturbation (m.), dirty talk, cam sex, daddy kink, pet names, praise kink, soft!mattsun, fingering, cock riding, big dicked mattsun, multiple orgasms, creampie, use of the word cunny.

note: repost from my other blog!

+ summary: your highschool sweetheart makes a lot of money as a camboy. however, when you start watching his streams, things he says instills insecurity within you.

The second you met Issei Matsukawa, you knew that you were going to fall completely, irrevocably in love with him. There was just something about him; he was sweet, kind, attentive, and strong – among other things.

Since you knew him in high school, word swirled around that when he was older he would be a dream man. They were right.

You have no idea how your little puppy dog crush managed to catch his attention, but you were happy about whatever you did.

When he graduated, he learned he could make money off of his body. He was tall, over 6 feet tall, and fit with a dominant personality and sweet voice that made you want to do anything he asked.

It started off with him simply selling nudes and short videos of him simply stroking his cock. You were both baffled by how much people paid for a 15 second clip of him jerking off – not even finishing.

He had sat you down one night and asked how you felt about everything. You would never tell him he couldn’t do something. Especially because it was his body. Besides, it’s not like it really bothered you.

It didn’t take him long to evolve, creating a camming account that quickly blew up due to his good looks and dominant charisma. The spare bedroom, which had previously been a simple study room, had been turned into a studio for him to film in.

He made good money, becoming one of the top creators on the platform. Things were going very well for a long time, you never really watched his streams either in real life or on the phone. His occupation wasn’t really something you ever thought too much about – he kept everything mostly to himself, never really talked to you about it or anything of the sort.

But one day, you got curious. As any normal girlfriend would.

You sat in your shared bed, the lights dimmed with your phone in your hands. As you tuned in to his stream, you were greeted with a familiar sight. The studio was exactly the same as always and your boyfriend was more than familiar – but it still felt so surreal. Like you were an outside looking in, despite the fact that he was just down the hall from you.

You had spent a little while procrastinating, debating on whether you really should watch it or not. Issei had never told you that you couldn’t watch. But he never really encouraged you to either. Truthfully, his career behind that door was sort of a mystery to you.

Due to your back and forth dilemma with yourself, the stream was already well in progress by the time you started watching.

His body was a familiar sight – but it was different seeing it from an outside perspective. Right now, you weren’t his girlfriend. You were a viewer.

His fingers, adorned in metal rings, were wrapped around his thick cock. It made your mouth go dry at the sight. His cock was so pretty, long and thick with a blushing red head that glistened under the ring lights from the dripping precum.

Your gaze fell to the comments, seeing people complimenting him – as could be expected. After all, these were people who were paying for the privilege of watching him stroke his cock.

‘Your cock is so big!’

‘I’d cry trying to take it but I’d still thank you.’

‘His hands look like my favorite necklace.’

A strange feeling settled in your chest as you read all these people’s thoughts on your boyfriend. They gushed about how perfect he was, how amazing his cock was, how much they’d die to be stuffed full by him.

He grinned and laughed, giving flirtatious comments in response to them.

“Yeah? You think you could take my cock?” he chuckles, breath shuddering as he squeezed his length, “I don’t think you could handle it.”

“Ah, I bet you’d be such a good little girl for me,” he whispers, eyes lidded, “You’d cry and take my cock like you’re supposed to, huh?”

As he says these dirty things, the tips continue to rise. The words are familiar as they fall from his lips because they’re things you’re used to hearing.

You’re not sure how to feel knowing he’s talking to these nobodies the same way he talks to you so you click out of the app before the feeling becomes too much. You place your phone down and sigh, feeling your heart ache in jealousy as you replay the recycled words you’d heard him say night after night to you.

You know it’s stupid to feel jealous; it’s his job. He talks that way so he can make money. But it still instills you with an unfamiliar feeling of insecurity. It almost felt like everything he said and did to you wasn’t as special as you thought it was – because he just turned around to say the exact same things to faceless nobodies who paid him.

Issei is the only man you’d ever dated. He was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, and he was the one to take your virginity. You’d never even held hands with anyone else.

But you know he had fucked around a lot before the two of you got together, when you were just a shy, pining little girl for him. Of course he had, there was no way a man like him wouldn’t have girls all over him, feral for the opportunity to sit down on his cock and make him fall in love with her. After all, he’d made a job out of it.

It was never something that made you insecure. Issei never did anything that made you question his feelings or loyalty to you. So jealousy and possessiveness wasn’t a feeling you were familiar with. And you weren’t quite fond of it, you were learning.

You wanted to storm into the studio and sit on his cock, make all of his viewers see that his cock was all yours and they only had the privilege of watching him — put them in their place.

You sat with the negative feelings for the entire night. He finished his stream and took a shower, helped you cook dinner, and you sat on the couch with him as you watched a couple movies together.

He didn’t notice anything different in your demeanor. You weren’t mad at him so you had no reason to be passive aggressive.

But when you crawled into bed that night and laid beside him, tucked against his body, you thought back to all those women who were probably touching themselves to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect cock and pretty words.

You frowned and tossed your leg over his waist. He looked up from his phone in surprise, a brow raised before he smiled.

“Can I help you with something, babygirl?” he placed his free hand on your bare thigh, stroking the skin gently.

“I wanna ride you,” you demand softly, making him laugh.

“Since when are you so bold?” he teases, locking his phone before tossing it to the side. You pout and push the band of his sweats down to pull his cock free. He reaches out and grabs your wrist with his eyes narrowed, “I think you know better than that, pretty girl. Is that how you ask Daddy for his cock?”

You shrink a bit under his gaze and lower your head, “N-No Daddy…I’m sorry…”

He smiled, “It’s okay, baby. Why don’t you ask politely, hm?”

You swallow thickly and nod, “C-Can I ride your cock, Daddy?”

He licks his lips and relaxes against the pillows with a sigh, “Go ahead and get me hard then, pretty baby.”

It wasn’t a difficult task, just the fact you were so eager for him was enough to have him getting harder by the second. You eagerly spit on his length, using it so aide in the slick movements of your hand as you jerked him off.

“That’s a good girl, fuck,” he breathes, body trembling as he stroke him with practiced ease, “Lift up, sweet girl.”

You do as you’re told, sitting up on your knees, keeping your hand wrapped around his length. He bats your hand away and you pout, but he pays no mind as he instead decides to strip you. He pulls the thin nightshirt you were wearing, dropping it off the side of the bed before sitting up properly to eagerly wrap his lips around your pert nipple.

You whimper, tangling your fingers in his hair as he circles the bud with his tongue. He pulls away for a second, nipping your breast before breathing out, “Are you wet, babygirl?”

You nod, “Yes, please Daddy…I want your cock.”

He clicks his tongue, “You know better than that. Let me see your pretty cunt, hm?”

Your pout deepens but you do as you’re asked and sit between his thighs, pulling your panties off before handing them to him. He hums, thumbing the material to see how wet it is before tossing them away. He looks expectantly at you and you immediately let your legs fall apart.

“Let Daddy see,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around his cock as you reach between your legs to spread your folds apart.

A couple years ago, you would have never been able to do something so lewd. You always felt so embarrassed when he wanted to look at your pussy but you eventually learned how turned on it made him. You still felt shy but you enjoyed the way his cock throbbed when you let him look.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he whispers, grabbing your arms to tug you back into his lap properly, “Fuck, you are wet.”

Your cunt is pressed against the underside of his cock. It’s hot and throbbing against your clit, an addictive feeling that makes you grind against him. He groans, head falling back as you move along, coating him in your juices.

“Can I have your cock now Daddy, please?” you whine but he shakes his head, making you whine.

He pulls you against his chest and slips his hand between your legs, leaning up to press his lips against yours. His fingers circle your clit before prodding your little hole, slipping two inside easily. It stings but it’s a feeling you’ve learned to accept eagerly.

“Let Daddy stretch you out,” he whispers against your lips. You start grinding against his fingers, fucking yourself on the pretty digits as he curses, “Fuck, ride my fingers, pretty girl. Just like that.”

“Daddy…” you sob, head dropping against his shoulder as he curls his fingers, tapping your sweet spot. The stimulation makes you gush and you sob, clenching around him before you reach down to find your clit, “Y-You’re gonna make me cum…”

“I sure am, sweet girl,” he coos, choosing that moment to mercilessly fuck his fingers into your poor little cunt, abusing that tender little spot inside that has you creaming and dripping down his wrist.

A mantra of ‘daddy’ falls from your lips as you cum hard, trembling and sobbing against him as he fucks you through the high. He slows but doesn’t stop until you’re begging him to.

His hand is soaked in your cum and he can’t resist popping his two fingers in his mouth to taste. You suddenly remember the first time he ever did that, the way you squealed indignantly and hid your face in the pillow out of shame. He’d laughed and spent 20 minutes explaining how much he loved it and how he wanted to eat you out so bad now that he got a little taste of your sweet cum.

Before you could fully come down from your high, you reach beneath you and take his cock in your hand. He opens his mouth to speak, probably to stop you or scold you, but before he can, you’re sinking down onto his length. It burns as usual but the fiery pit of jealousy still burns bright and you want him to think of you too. You know it’s silly because there’s no way he’s thinking of faceless girls who comment on his streams but you still feel like you need to lay claim to him.

He’s your boyfriend.

“Jesus, baby,” he moans, his eyes rolling back in his head as you immediately begin bouncing on his cock, “What has you so riled up?”

“You’re mine, right, Daddy?” you pant.

He grips your waist, aiding in your movements as you fuck him like a toy, “Fuck yeah baby. Daddy is all yours. My cock’s all yours.”

You grin at his admission, feeling satisfied. That was all you needed to hear.

He looks at you, having no idea what this behavior was all about. But he had no complaints in the end.

Despite the negative feeling watching his stream had caused you, you continued to watch them. The outcome is always the same; you wind up ending the night staking your claim and making him remind you that he is yours. And he remained more or less ignorant to your behavior.

The night things take a turn is when you tune in to find him in his usual position, fucking his cock into his fist. He’s panting, more of a growl than anything, and muttering things you’d never quite heard before.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he watched the comments, “I don’t give a shit about a good girl. I want a bratty little girl I can let some steam off on, put her back in her place.”

He grins as the comments fly by, viewers pleading to be that girl for him. Telling him they’d be perfect for him, the best sub he could ever dream of.

“I don’t think you could handle it,” he threatens with a narrowed gaze, “You’d let me slap you around? Let me treat you like filthy little whore? How pathetic.”

You gasp at the harsh, degrading words. Issei had never spoken like that before, it was strange to hear it. You find yourself being thankful you weren’t on the receiving end of that language because you were sure you’d probably end up crying.

“Yeah,” he chuckles again, “I’m sure you’d be such a pretty little brat for me.”

You sit back, his words fluttering around inside your head.

What did he mean he had steam to blow off? Why would he be unsatisfied? Is it because you were too…easy? You never fought him, he always whispered praise and sweet words to you. He’d never called you a name like that before. Is that what he wanted? To call you a dirty slut instead of his sweet girl?

Insecurity festered within you. In fact, you barely even noticed the fact you’d started pulling away. You didn’t consciously realize you were questioning yourself – doubting his attraction to you.

He was at a loss, baffled by your seemingly sudden rejection of him. It was almost as if you kept shying away from him when he tried to touch you – you had never denied him like that. You avoided his gaze in bed, choosing to cling to the bed sheets instead of burying yourself in his chest like you usually do.

Things progressively began to feel more awkward for him. He wasn’t sure if you felt it too, but he started feeling more apprehensive about touching you because he thought you didn’t want him to.

When he stopped trying anything with you, you started to feel even worse. Every insecurity you felt festered more and more until you felt like you were holding back tears just by looking at him. You were convinced, especially now that he crawled into bed with his back to you instead of peppering your face with kisses and slipping his hand down your panties so he could make you cum before bed, that you were no longer what he wanted.

Another night, you were sat curled up in bed. Issei hadn’t even told you he was going to start streaming – the only clue you had was the solid click of the studio door.

So you sat there, curled up in bed, leaning against the headboard with your phone in your hand as you watched him grin at the camera. He read the comments, slowly palming himself over his sweats – one of your favorite pairs that you’d seen him wear.

“I seem tense?” he mused, reading a comment, “I guess so. My cock’s been hard for days,” he tosses his head back and laughs but you can tell it’s not as genuine as it could be.

Guilt eats at you, knowing that you were the reason he was so tense – he wasn’t coming to you to get off anymore.

“Hmm,” he sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You track the way his tongue slips over his bottom lip and his cock twitches visibly beneath the fabric of his pants, making him grunt, “No, I don’t have anyone to take care of my cock,” his words make you shrink in on yourself, tears pricking at your eyes, “Oh, you wanna take care of it, huh? Come here then.”

Something about his words has you jumping to your feet.

The only time you’d ever stepped foot in his studio beyond to clean it every once in a while. Otherwise, it was completely his space that he took care of. So to stand in front of the door, located at the very end of the hall, was strange. Especially since you could hear his muffled voice from within.

Taking a deep breath, you twist the knob and push the door open. Issei jumps from where he’s on the bed, leans forward and hits a button on the keyboard to mute himself before looking at you in confusion.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” his tone was almost curt and for a moment you second guess yourself. He watches you shift awkwardly on your feet and his gaze immediately softens, “Baby, what is it?”

The pet name makes you look up, tears stinging your eyes at the tender look in his eyes. His gaze flashes to the computer for a second before moving back to you.

“I just…” you pause, tugging awkwardly at your oversized t-shirt before blinking your tears away, “Am I…still what you want?”

He blinks, confused for a second before cocking his head. You can see the wheels turning in his head and you can tell the exact moment he realizes what you mean. Clicking his tongue, he holds his hand out, “Is that why you’ve been actin’ like this? Because you thought I didn’t like you anymore?”

You look in confusion at his outstretched hand and take a step forward, “I-I thought…maybe you felt I was too easy a-and you wanted someone brattier.”

He laughs, a genuine one, and you can see his eyes light up when you finally place your hand in his. In the blink of an eye, he’s tugged you into his lap, making you squeal before he’s silencing you with a kiss.

“I think I would go insane with a brat,” he chuckles, “Besides, I love you exactly how you are, my sweet girl, hm?”

You shift where you sit, feeling his cock is still hard beneath you and you bite your lip, “I really missed you.”

“God, I thought you’d never say that,” he whispers, brushing his lips against yours, “Let me just turn the stream off and I’ll make everything up to you, hm?”

You stop him before he can, however, shaking your head, “I…”

He notices the bashful look in your eyes and groans, “Is that how it is, baby? You want everyone to see who owns my cock?”

You eagerly nod and he hisses as you grind your hips against his cock. He leans around you and taps the button again, unmuting himself.

Neither of you waits even a second longer. He holds your hips up, letting you pull his cock free from the confines of his pants as he yanks your shirt over your head, laughing at the way it messes up your hair.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he coos, cupping your breasts, “Prettiest fuckin’ tits, huh, baby?”

You whimper, wrapping your fist around his cock, giving him a few squeezes to make him shudder. You can feel his precum drooling from the head, leaking down to meet your fist so you can stroke it into his skin.

“You’re so hard, Daddy,” you breathe, making him groan as he nods his head, “‘M sorry…”

“Don’t worry at all, pretty baby,” he huffs, thumbing at your nipples as he looks down to watch how you stroke him.

“Can I have your cock, Daddy?” you ask, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

He nods, unable to formulate words. It feels like it had been months since he had last properly felt your slick little cunt around his fat cock. His eyes are lidded, biting his lip as he watches you sit up to slip your panties aside. Neither of you think twice about even looking at the chat to read comments.

Right now, this is about the two of you – about showing everyone that Issei does have someone there to take care of his cock every night. Someone who he adores. And anyone with eyes can see how enamored he is with you.

As you position yourself above his cock, he narrows his eyes at you and with a firm grip to your waist, tosses you onto the bed beside him.

“Daddy!” you squeal, bouncing on the mattress, “Why–”

“You know better than that, babygirl,” he huffs, manhandling you with ease into the position he wants, “Silly of you to think I’d let you take me without prep, hm?”

You purse your lips in a pout but don’t offer a rebuttal, making him laugh as he knows he won. He spreads your legs and knees between them, making a show of stripping himself. As you look to the side, you can see that the two of you are in perfect view of the camera.

You had thought you were going to feel self-conscious with so many people watching you but instead, you feel confident.

Once the both of you are completely bare, he shifts down the bed before laying on his stomach between your spread legs. His large hands cup the underside of your thighs and push them upwards, reveling your glistening little cunt to his view.

“Fuck,” he huffs, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart, “I missed this perfect little cunny, you have no idea. So fuckin’ pretty for me.”

“Please, Daddy,” you whine, tangling your fingers in his curls. The gaze he gives you let you know exactly what he wants and you flush as you whisper, “Please eat my cunt.”

“That’s my good girl,” he sighs, leaning forward to run his tongue between your folds – collecting your slick on his tongue with a groan before swallowing, “So fuckin’ sweet.”

Once he gets that first taste, he wastes no time on going in. His tongue prods at your entrance, making you sigh at the little stretch that it gives before he leans up and finds your clit. His tongue is hot and wet against the sensitive bud, making your whole body twitch at the sensation. When his thumb finds your clit, he pulls the hood back and before you can even blink, his tongue is attacking the sensitive little bud beneath.

You squeal and instinctively kick out, squirming at the overwhelming sensation. He laughs, wrapping his lips around your clit and you sob at the feeling.

“D-Daddy, please!” you whine, “I-It’s too much!”

He hums and finally pulls back, returning his tongue to your little hole. His hand abandons its hold around your thigh in favor of finding your entrance. You hold your breath, looking down to watch as he sinks two fingers in – biting his lip as he keeps his own gaze on the way your little cunt swallows them down.

You spasm where you lay, the feeling of him just barely missing your g-spot nearly painful. You know he’s not doing this to make you feel good but you still can’t help but whine.

“What is it, baby?” he whispers, giving your hard little clit a sweet kiss before his eyes flick up to find yours. “You want Daddy to make you cum before you take my cock?”

You desperately nod, “Yes, please Daddy?”

“Fuck, anything for you, my sweet girl,” he doesn’t waste a second in wrapping his lips around your clit, crooking his fingers expertly to find your sweet spot,

The way Issei can drive you to the edge, to orgasm, is almost terrifying. It takes very little for you to feel your body tensing up. The lewd, slick sounds of his fingers stuffing your cunt along with the way you can see his tongue working over the cute little bud of your clit has you flying over.

Your back arches in the most beautiful way that he loves as you cum with a soft whine of ‘daddy’.

When you finally start pushing him away, he comes up panting. Catching any of your stray slick off of his chin before licking the pad of his thumb clean.

“Pl-Please, Daddy,” you whine, reaching out to wrap your hand around his cock, “C-Can you put it in now?”

“Fuck,” he groans, letting you direct his cockhead to your entrance, which was still spasming in the aftershocks of your orgasm, “Yeah, pretty baby, ‘s all yours.”

“All mine?” you giggle, gasping as he begins to press into your tender cunt.

“My cock’s all yours, fuck,” he groans, making sure the viewers can catch what he says.

It makes you flush and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. The change in closeness makes his cock sink even deeper inside you and you moan in his ear as he quickly bottoms out.

Usually, he takes his time and lets you adjust. But this time, both of you are so needy for each other that you can’t resist grinding your hips up to rock yourself against his cock. He hisses, taking the hint quickly and easily.

He pulls his hips back only to swiftly roll them forward again, sheathing his cock back into your spasming little cunt. His eyes are locked on his cock and the way your pussy swallows him over and over again – he can’t sink all the way in but you take most of him and he loves the sight of it.

Your precious little cunt creams so beautifully around him, coating him in translucent, milky white every time he pulls out. You’re moaning and whimpering for him so beautifully that it makes his hips falter every once in a while.

“Daddy!” you squeal, finally releasing your hold around his neck, “Please, make me cum again!”

“Yeah, baby? You need Daddy to make this pretty pussy cum?” he huffs, moaning when you nod and eagerly spread yourself open for him by hooking your arms around your knees and pulling them back.

He rests his hand on your pelvic bone, stretching his thumb down to circle at your twitching, excited little clit as he continues to stuff your cunt nice and full. You claw and cling to the sheets desperately and he can’t help but cup your bouncing breasts with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty baby, cum for me,” he huffs, licking his lips as you gush around his cock, “Lemme feel this pretty cunny cum.”

You sob for him, back arching as you cling to his arm as he continues to grope and tease your tit. He feels your pussy clench desperately around him as you finally cum.

“That’s a good girl!” he praises, “That’s it, just like that. Keep cummin’ for me, I’m almost there.”

“Please, Daddy, gimme your cum!” you cry, your nails biting into his skin but neither of you notice as he reaches his high as well.

His balls throb and he groans, his body slumping over yours as he gives a few more, lazy thrusts of his hips as he spilled his cum into your vulnerable cunt.

The both of you finally fall still, panting and sharing soft kisses as he smiles and whispers promises of love. The sound of donation chimes on his computer finally draws you out of it and he sits up, pulling out of you.

He bites his lip, his cock twitching at the sight of your cunt drooling a mixture of yours and his cum before he moves to the end of the bed.

He doesn’t even spare a glance at the comments or donation total before turning the stream off. When it’s officially just the two of you, he crawls closer to you and pulls you into his arms with a side, giving the top of your head a kiss.

You know that you’re going to have to talk more about everything, but you both know that can wait at least until morning.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #issei matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei smut #issei matsukawa smut #afton.writes

3K notes · View notes

missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

The Things We Don’t Tell

Summary: You were sure your life was written and directed to fit a sketchy Rom-Com and nobody could convince you otherwise. First, your boss was too hot to be true, and burning with desire didn’t even begin to explain the tingling sensations he left on you. Second, your coworker (a.k.a. Ex-About-to-be-FWB) insisted in turning your life into a living hell, which wasn’t the exact kind of hotness you were into. And if having these two hot men around you every single day of your life wasn’t enough to prove it, maybe the threat of your slutty secret identity about to be busted would be… But you couldn’t let this happen.

WC: 7,5 K

Genre: Smut, Humor (?)

AUs: Office, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Bang Chan

(Not really a love triangle as Hyunjin is the Lead. However, Reader wants to Bang Chan)

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List

Warnings: Language, Thigh riding, Public space (Office), Exhibitionism, Possessiveness, Pet Name (Baby girl), Sir Kink

[If I forgot anything, please let me know! I’m kinda sleepy right now]

Notes: There will be at least one more chapter but I won’t do a tag list post for now, only if someone wants it, cuz I’m too lazy to think about doing it right now. This fic is an attempt to experiment with some writing style things that I’ve been wanting to try. I don’t think it worked, tho SUHAHUSAUHSUHA But that’s life

- I’ll quite possibly change the title in the future-

///

You are a superhero.

Okay! To be honest, you may be exaggerating a little bit ─ a tiny harmless little bit ─ but that was how you felt every single day of your life, alright? You had this glorious and mysterious side of yours that you hid from everyone else in the world… That mask that you couldn’t let come to the ground and would fight for dear life to protect… That side to your persona that no one was allowed to meet… The fierce, bold, and dark aspects of your soul that—

“Y/N! I want those papers on my table!”

“Yes, sir!” You shrieked in an embarrassing (not even slightly bold) way.

— That you couldn’t show at your work.

Yeah… So maybe no one actually thought of you as a superhero, but you really believed someone should start to. Was there something that different between your life and those low-budget TV shows people seem to enjoy so much? You didn’t think so.

To be fair, sometimes you felt like someone wrote a questionable script and poorly directed your life to fit you as the leading lady of a sketchy rom-com. As if they just focused on checking out every point on a bullet list made up with rules for a successful superhero office drama that wasn’t even that good…

… And speaking of which…

Rule Number One: The stern (maybe kinda attractive) boss!

If you had to define Bang Chan with a couple of adjectives, you would choose undeniably beautiful ─ extremely professional of you because the right words to describe him were fucking hot ─ and committed. Fortunately, it wasn’t an “I have someone waiting for me at home and a bunch of kids I must put to sleep” kind of commitment, which would destroy your hopes of having this man one day. Unfortunately, it was an “I’m better than the header and gonna run this company by tomorrow night” kind of commitment, which destroys your hopes of a peaceful day at work.

Now, it’s not like you don’t want to do your job! It’s just that you didn’t sign up to be Bang Chan’s perfect little toy ─ definitely not the better words to describe it ─ and you didn’t expect to be joined by the hips ─ really? ─ with him or any of your coworkers. The thing is that Bang Chan wants to be on top ─ someone has to stop you ─ and he believes the only way to get there is to work as a team and be as perfect as one can be. In other words, Bang Chan wants absolutely everything and everyone to be neat, tight, and ready to be used ─ again… Not the better way to put your thoughts into words ─, but this just wasn’t who you were.

It also wasn’t the point right now.

The point right now should be the fact that Bang Chan was striding to his office looking like he owned the whole damn place… If this was a movie, the camera would be focusing on his expensive, black leather shoes before scanning all the way up to his waist in slow motion. The scene would zoom in on his fine ass only to go a little bit up and catch the shiny, black belt wrapping around his figure. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but you had a hell of a productive mind… You could think of a few things you shouldn’t really be thinking about right now.

Bang Chan didn’t seem to understand he was at work either.

He rolled his sleeve up in a sexy motion that should be illegal. It isn’t. You can tell by the way there are no cops bursting inside the building and arresting this gorgeous son of a bitch.

The lack of any authorities to stop this atrocious moment had you lowering your gaze to your desk ─ a vain attempt to ignore the way his forearms flexed as he gestured and ordered people around. If you were a little bit less professional, you would have some ideas of how he could do it in bed. With you. But you weren’t some kind of creepy perv who would be fantasizing about riding your own boss from dusk till dawn.

Not at all.

“Do you need me, Sir?” His secretary asks politely.

A question that you would love to ask him too… In a totally and strictly professional way, of course.

Rule Number Two: The (extremely unnecessary) nemesis!

The shiver running down your spine could mean only one thing: Hwang Hyunjin ─ your obnoxious coworker ─ was standing right behind you, just like a bloody damn ghost. There was no need to turn around. You knew he had his mocking eyes glued on Bang Chan’s figure, and you could feel the air shifting as he tilted his head in a silent sneer before leaning on your desk.

You refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence; painfully aware that he would flash a wide grin while looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You wouldn’t give him the taste of seeing in your face that he was right; that you were staring at your boss as if you were a starving vulture. So you did the only thing you could do in this situation: You started to work. The sheets scattered over your desk wouldn’t walk by themselves to Bang Chan’s room, right?

And neither would you if it depended on Hyunjin.

The attempts to swipe the papers in your direction and gather everything you needed ─ to finally get rid of Hyunjin ─ proved to be vain as his hand took root on the desk. You pursed your lips in annoyance while glancing at his prominent knuckles and slender fingers; wondering if he would be so collected if he knew you wanted to crunch them. Probably not. But he gets off so fucking much on upsetting you that he might just want to take the risk anyway.

“What do you want, asshole?” You hissed; stopping your motions before turning around to stare blankly at him.

The face of an angel was the most accurate way to describe the sight in front of you. Plump, pink lips molded into a sweet smile and dark brown eyes morphed into cute crescents. None of those features fit his true self, though. Underneath the angelic façade, there was a demon called Hwang Hyunjin ─ who was resting his free hand on your shoulder for no reason besides driving you crazy.

It would be easier if he was just a pretty face, but Hyunjin had a good body too. The guy looked just like a model ─ slim, tall, and classy ─, and even though only his collarbones peeked out from down his shirt, you knew that there was much more than the eyes could see.

Well, you never saw it, but you had felt it.

As far as you could remember, each curve on Hyunjin’s abs was craft by God himself. The way his chest was built for you to caress would be forever craved on your mind. You might never forget how soft his lips were in contrast to his lap… How his thighs flexed just right when you pulled his hair… How reactive he was… How his moans sounded… And how he put everything to waste.

“Oh, nothing” He shrugged. As usual, his voice was just like sweet, hot honey; still, you could wipe the poison dripping down his chin, “I was just wondering if you had enough time to do your job while fucking your boss inside your head” He clarified sarcastically, cracking you a smile.

Sometimes you regretted not putting his mouth to good use… He really needed to learn how to shut up for a while and stop being so… Unbearable. The silence he met had him scoffing; body leaning even closer to the point his face was practically hovering over yours ─ smugness plastered all over it. You held his gaze to confront him; breathe mingling with his in a heated mix that matched the anger under your eyes.

Was he licking his lips as he stared at yours? Oh boy… He definitely wanted to get laid. It was your time to scoff as the frown on your lips turned into a smirk; eyes twinkling mischievously as you looked into his in a silent teasing. As if sensing that he was in trouble, Hyunjin tilted his head to look even more obnoxious than he was; face coming closer to yours to defy your newfound confidence.

“You know what? If you stared at him any longer, I think his balls might have fallen off…” He whispered in a tone loud enough for just you to hear “Unless he saw the way you were looking at him… Then I guess his dick would go straight up” He assured you with a ‘friendly’ pat on your shoulder as he finally let go of your papers and straightened his back.

“Are you saying it from experience?” You sneered; grimacing at him.

“Are you telling me that you want me to fuck you too?” He retorted gibingly; not even thinking twice about it.

“No” You tilted your head, trying to stay composed, “I’m reminding you that you couldn’t even kiss me without getting a boner… Just like a teenage boy” He arched a brow at your statement; pursing his lips as he hummed in wonder “I’m surprised you never came in your pants like the pathetic thing you are” He laughed; poking his cheek with his tongue before squeezing your shoulder in a silent warning.

“I must have been quite a sight if you can remember it so vividly” You pretended not to notice the way he sniggered, pushing away the urge to punch his face.

Nemesis was just a classy way to call him a pain in the ass.

Rule Number Three: The (plain and uninteresting) secret identity!

It would be impossible to miss the moment Hyunjin’s devilish smirk morphed into a bright, friendly smile. The snarky comment on the tip of your tongue was swallowed back in a bit; grimace dissolving into a wide grin as if you weren’t about to throw your fists at him. He giggled as his arms spread open before snaking around your body to pull you into a tight hug; holding you close and rocking your body side to side as a soft huff fell from your lips.

If you didn’t know any better, your knee would be buried between his legs.

“Way to go, Y/N!” He chirped, loosening his grip to take a better look at your face; eyes smiling as if the both of you were the bestest of friends in the entire world, “You’re awesome! I’m so proud… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as my teammate” He pursed his lips; dimples showing as he offered you nothing but affection in his gaze.

You did know better, though, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was standing behind your back as you opened your mouth to answer him: “There’s no one I’d rather be with!” You reassured Hyunjin in a sweet, mirthful tone; tilting your head to return the fondness in his look in an act worthy of an Oscar “We’re a team, you know? You can’t get rid of me so easily” He laughed wholeheartedly at that; ruffling your hair before leaning closer to you again, resuming the hug.

“We’ll see about that” He whispered in your ear, making you scoff.

“What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy so you won’t work with me anymore?” You hissed back; breaking away from his hug with a tight grin before turning around to meet Chan’s gaze.

The surprise plastered over your face was millimetrically calculated; just like the way you pretended to be flustered as you stared into your boss’ eyes to see the pride shining on them. You brought the papers closer to your chest in what was meant to be an innocent, coy way ─ a technique mastered over the months you worked for him ─, and Chan seemed to fall for it as he giggled in delight. The poor guy had no clue all of this was as fake as your camaraderie towards Hyunjin, and he wasn’t about to discover it anytime soon if it depended on you.

Luckily, it did! You had taken some acting classes; just enough for your next words to be naturally convincing: “I’m so sorry, Sir! We’re just so happy that –” The words were deliberately drawled to give him enough time to interrupt you. Just like you knew he would. And it was a good thing that he did because you had no idea of how you were supposed to finish that sentence anyway.

You were a good actress, not a professional improviser.

“Don’t mention it” He cut you off giggly; detaching himself from the doorframe he leaned on as he watched the friendly scene taking place.

The amount of cuteness this man could deliver in his smile wasn’t fair, and it didn’t match the sensuality a simple gesture of his overflowed with, enchanting you. You gulped down as he gave both of you a silent order to follow him into his room, wondering if the duality he had in the office was remotely similar to what he could do in bed ─ a thought that shouldn’t be having a place in your mind right now.

Hyunjin seemed to pick up on it pretty quickly too, and as soon as Chan turned around to head to his office, he bumped his shoulder onto yours. The obnoxious action was followed by your elbow diving into his ribs; a retaliation that took you less than a second and, luckily, Chan ─ or any of your coworkers ─ didn’t seem to notice. Neither of you gave away your silent quarrel as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, smiling at you when Chan finally took his seat.

“It’s good to see that you guys have such chemistry” He confessed, and you had to suppress a scoff when you looked into his eyes. He had no idea… The chemistry between you two was enough to make you want to blow each other, “You know what I always say, right?” He boasted on a sing-song; much more at ease than he seemed to be earlier.

You weren’t about to put that on the line, though.

“You can’t have teamwork if you don’t have a team!” You warbled in unison.

“That’s the spirit!” Chan gurgled, heading to his desk in a visibly good mood.

What was going on? He wouldn’t be so happy just because you and Hyunjin were being friendly… Were you missing something? He didn’t seem in such a peaceful state of mind when he came in… It had to be something that happened after that. Perhaps he got some good news from his secretary? Or maybe… You narrowed your eyes as you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s hands fidgeting in front of him; his foot tapping the ground rapidly but quietly before moving slightly to step on your toe.

Or maybe Hyunjin had something to do with it…

“As I said in the email, Sir, I happened to hear some stuff around and… KQ managed to get an exclusive with Han Jisung” The sentence sounded just like a normal introduction to a report, but you knew it wasn’t. Hyunjin’s eyes darted to meet yours, glinting with anxiety and despair. He was informing you of what was going on, not Chan, “And as we all know, Jisung is a rising producer star, which is bound to raise their sales and might get in the way of ours…” He continued, swallowing dryly and widening his eyes ever so slightly.

He was definitely trying to warn you of something.

“Yes, I read the e-mail, Hyunjin” Chan agreed sternly; smile disappearing as his fingers intertwined to serve as a support for his chin. He looked classy and incredibly sexy, but your mind couldn’t afford to focus on it right now. You had to figure out what the hell Hyunjin suggested to Chan before blowing everything up, “You also said that Y/N might have the solution for this…” Oh, so that was it, you thought when Chan arched his brow; eyes connecting to yours.

And now what?

“So?” He encouraged you, detaching his chin from his hands so he could rest them on his desk “I’m waiting” He smiled gently; a closed-mouth smile that was supposed to calm your nerves, even though you could see how tumultuous his gaze was right now.

It was practically a silent threat.

In a normal situation, the predatory way he was looking at you ─ resembling a wolf when you were nothing but a sheep under his radar ─ would get you… Thinking.

Your job wouldn’t be at stake in a normal situation, though.

The pressure on your toes increased; the subtle way Hyunjin found to snap you out of your mind, despite your silence hanging in there for just a few seconds. It was obvious that he was freaking out just as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but blame him for this. Couldn’t he have told you about it earlier? What the hell was going on inside his mind?! Instead of taunting you about wanting to fuck Bang Chan, he should have warned you about that shit!

That’s not the time for this, Y/N.

The muscles on your face tensed as you tried to not give away everything going through your mind; lips twisting in a tight smile as you looked at Hyunjin: “Yeah, he was right” You answered calmly, even though your stomach was settled on becoming an Olympic athlete right now, “As I was telling him before coming here, Sir, I have someone in mind…” The relief washed over Hyunjin’s face; a genuine smile adorning his features as he withheld a sigh, “I happen to know I.N, and I think I can get us an exclusive” You confessed, shifting your gaze from Hyunjin to Chan.

“The writer?” He blurted out, astonishment plastered all over his face.

“Yeah… They’re a friend of mine…” You trailed off, embarrassed to say it out loud “They’re in the top trending now since their novel will become a drama and…” You cleared your throat, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. There was just so much of acting you could handle for a day, “I mean- It’s… Adult stuff, right? But they never—”

“I know! That’s perfect!” He beamed, getting up from his chair to walk your way “They’ve never been seen! Nobody knows anything about them, Y/N” He laughed ─ he genuinely laughed ─ while clasping his hands together “Han Jisung is good, but I.N is better! This is hot news… FrontPage… How come you never told me about that?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder “Rest assured that when I get my promotion, I’m gonna have you right here in this room” He promised you in such a serious tone that a shiver ran down your spine.

Rule Number Four: The (kinda horny) true self!

There was not a single soul in the office as you made your way down the hall; eyes focused on the mesmerizing view outside. The sky was colored in purple shades, so deep that you would have mistaken them for black if it weren’t for the dazzling, sleepless city and its dozens of skyscrapers lighting everything up. Not even the full moon would be able to compete with such a beautiful brilliance, but it wouldn’t be necessary either as your gaze was abruptly torn away from the night.

The darkness surrounding you didn’t allow your brain to connect the dots immediately, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened when you bumped into something. The surface was much softer than a wall, yet firm enough to have you wincing for the impact; eyes snapping to meet the unlucky bastard that stayed until so late. The moonlight kissed his skin just enough for you to recognize the sharp features of your boss; clenched jaw revealing popping veins that distracted you for a fraction of a second.

Your eyes trailed the path from his jaw to his neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it tasted like; if you could savor it like the sins you wanted to commit with him. The closeness didn’t work in your favor, and the hint of his scent intoxicated your senses as you connected your gazes. Something must have given you off ─ maybe your hesitation, maybe the lust glinting in your eyes ─ because the next second, Cristopher had his hand placed on your lower back.

The warm sensation grew to a burning feeling as his eyes darkened while diving into yours; his stern, cold gaze contrasting to the feeling of his touch and sending a shiver down your spine. Could he have noticed the way your legs trembled as his grip tightened around you? The look on his face was indecipherable, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel too exposed and vulnerable to keep looking for an answer, so you averted your eyes away from him.

“Weren’t you supposed to come as soon as you got his answer?” The way his voice made its way to your senses had the embarrassment washing over you. The huskiness in his tone made you gulp down ─ throat dry from thirsting over him ─ and the calmness in his sentence alarmed you as it didn’t match the disapproval in his eyes “It’s so late that there is no one else here anymore” He added nonchalantly; mixed signals getting you confused to what he meant by it.

Was it just a way to scold you or was it an invitation?

“I’m sorry, Sir” Despite not having anyone around, you whispered the words as if you could be caught at any moment now, “It took me longer than expected, but we—”

“We?” His eyes were sharp enough to cut you off but the real reason why you couldn’t manage to finish your thoughts was the way he pulled your body impossibly closer to his “Were you with him this whole time?” He hissed right into your ear, letting his hot breath fan over your cold, sensitive skin in a silent threat.

“Working” You corrected, even though he didn’t say anything.

“Working” He hummed in agreement; hand going to tuck your hair behind your ear “As in how we work late at night?” He sneered, manhandling you to press your back against the cold surface of the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the place “Or is it as in how he wants to work you on his desk?” He scoffed; soft huff almost as degrading as the way he held your cheeks with one hand and guided your eyes to his.

“Neither” You guaranteed breathlessly; voice quivering in excitement.

“Are you going to pretend that you didn’t notice his looks?” He narrowed his eyes at you; his knee making its way to the gap between yours before slowly rising to your thighs, “That you don’t know how much he wants to fuck you?” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You better not, ‘cause I know you love it” He warned as he kicked your legs apart.

“He could never fuck me as you do” There was such seriousness in your tone that it had him chuckling, and he nodded in approval before burying his nose in your neck, “I-I’m yours only, Sir… I know my place” You promised quietly, trying not to give away how aroused his jealousy made you feel.

“Yeah…” His raspy laughter tickled your skin, and you muffled a whine as he grazed his teeth over your neck teasingly “But you like being reminded of it, don’t you?” He taunted, taking in your scent in a way that made you feel too small and helpless. He groaned as soon as you let a whimper fall from your lips, and you couldn’t help but struggle to stay still while knowing what was about to come, “Do I have to spell it for you, baby girl?” He snickered before sucking on the tender spot of your skin that he knew too well at this point.

“N-No” Somewhere inside your head, you acknowledged that your reaction was insanely humiliating. He just needed a couple of words spoken in a sultry tone and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. That was the power he had on you. And you loved it. “Only yours” The rushed tone made him smirk against your neck, stopping his path of kisses for a second to look into your eyes “Sir” You panted; returning his gaze with just as much intensity as he had on his.

“Claim your place” His order was so tantalizing that you didn’t even blink before you finally let your knees give away, losing the support of your legs to earn the support of his thigh, “That’s right… You do remember your place” Somehow, this sounded like the best praise he could ever offer you, even under his amused tone, “But you have been such a bad girl lately…” He pouted as he caressed your cheek; hand stopping to grab your chin gently “And I don’t like bad girls… You know that, right?” He let his thumb reach for your lower lip, fiercely staring at it before grazing his finger on your teeth.

Your answer was as silent as his request; tongue welcoming his thumb before you sucked on his digit. He hummed in appreciation, pushing it inside your mouth as you looked at him with big doe eyes to show a coyness that wasn’t really there within you. The action was followed by a swirl around the tip of his finger; as if to leave in his mouth the taste of what he was missing and prompt him to give you what you really wanted: Him.

If he picked up on your plans, he showed it by giving like for like.

He didn’t say a word as he pressed his thigh against your heat; leaning closer to let his breath fan over your neck once more. He stood like that for what could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but nonetheless time enough for his warmth to creep into your senses. He was like a poison to you; the intoxicating presence clouding your better judgment and destroying any will you had to have him losing control. You didn’t even mind the way he scoffed as you started to grind his leg; brows twisting to shout out a needy plea for release.

“That’s a good girl” He approved, catching your earlobe between his teeth. The moan that fell from your lips was muffled by his finger and he didn’t seem to appreciate it, “I don’t hear you, baby girl” He complained, moving on to your jaw with a path of open-mouthed kisses that weren’t enough to distract you from his other hand “There’s no one here… Be loud for me” He allured you as his hand found its way under your shirt.

The temptation was great… Scream his name as he fucked you senseless in the office... No risk of being caught… Just you, and him, and your dirty little secret…

Your thoughts were all around the place, and you had no hopes of grasping them back as his cold hand brushed your side, contrasting to the warmth under your clothes. The way he touched you made shivers run down your spine; his slow, delicate motion enhancing your senses to every single second of his caresses. You held your breath when his finger finally managed to reach its destination; grazing over your nipple to have you succumbing to his wishes.

You fought it as you could, but you were never much of a fighter.

It was too easy for him to have you under his control, and he knew it. You could tell it by the way he chuckled as soon as you gave away how lost you were at this point. The moan that left your lips came all the way up from your chest, sounding crystal clear in the room as you let your mouth fall agape. Sucking on his finger and following his orders were the last concern you would have for this moment. The only thing worthy of your attention right now was the fact that you couldn’t get as much friction as you needed, and you had to do something about it.

So you grind on his leg for dear life.

“You’re so needy” The mockery didn’t have much effect on your mind anymore, so you just kept sliding up and down his thigh as if that was the only thing that could keep you going “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” He huffed in disbelief; thumb leaving your mouth so he could cup your face “That’s all you can understand, right?” He taunted, pinching your nipple to get your attention again, “Are you still there, baby girl?” He leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“F-Fuck me” Was the only answer he would get.

“Manners” He warned; licking the sweet spot next to your jaw.

“Fuck me, Sir” You corrected yourself; wrapping your arms around his shoulders to look for some support as you practically bounced on his leg, “Please, fuck me, Sir” You repeated, forehead resting on the crook of his neck as you clawed his back, trying to bring him as close as possible to you.

“Louder” He demanded, and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was grinning, “Louder…” He instructed in a tone so low that you could barely hear him over the rustling sounds of fabric against fabric. Your breath hitched as his hand gently caressed your hair; moving some strands away from your face to take a better look at you. However, he didn’t get to see your teary eyes, “Come on, baby… Look at me” He asked in a tantalizing tone, alluring you to try and meet his gaze.

There wasn’t much you could see through your hooded eyes; vision too blurry for you to grasp what was going on inside his mind. You could tell he enjoyed it, though. He always did. That moment when he could pinpoint you had given up on your control, that you weren’t yourself anymore and would be willing to do whatever he asked… He lived for it, for that rebellious flame of self-control extinguishing from your eyes.

For who you become when lust overcomes you.

The grip on his hair wasn’t unexpected, and Cristopher offered you a small, wicked smile before you connected your lips. The kiss was messy and hurried; tongues exploring every corner they could find while your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes. Neither of you cared about anything else but feeling each other’s bodies as you ripped your shirts. The cold breeze hitting your bare skin wasn’t enough to cool down the heat consuming you, but it was enough to have you squirming and whining.

“Beautiful” Was the only thing he said before pushing your back against the glass and adjusting his grip to take your nipple between his teeth. The groan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, prompting him to answer with a grunt of his own as he sucked on your skin. The vibrations ran from your flesh to your core, enticing another moan that seemed to fall into deaf ears, “Louder, baby… I want him to hear you…” He pleaded, letting go of your breast just to grope it and give you a kitten lick on the next second “To know who made you like this…” He added before sucking on it again.

Perhaps it was the fact that he thrust on you, just to tease your senses and make you thirstier. Perhaps it was the fact you had to support yourself on just one leg as he pushed his hips against yours and you tried to seek for your balance by involving his leg with yours. Perhaps it was his hand sliding to meet your clothed core; finger pressing against your clit to add a delicious, needed stimulus for your orgasm.

Perhaps it was the words that slipped through his lips.

“W-What did you say?” You panted; hips faltering as you tried to keep riding him, but steading their pace as his finger circled your clit to goad you “M-Mhm… S-Sir” You cried; hand burying in his hair to pull it and translate the utter bliss waving down your body. The string of mewls and urgent pleas spilled from you like a chant, getting him more eager than before, “P-Please” You whined, even though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

“Hold it” He ordered; straightening his back to look right into your eyes, but failing as yours rolled back to your head. His hand made its way to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with a soft shake to catch your attention “Look at me” It sounded like a warning; stern enough for you to try your best to focus on him, “You’ll only cum when he walks right through that door… Do you understand?” He searched for any signs of stubbornness in your eyes, but his smile showed he didn’t found any.

“W-Who?” You managed to ask; body trembling as you tried to hold every single string inside your mind in place, even though each one of them was ready to snap and unravel the crashing pleasure that was building up.

“Why does it matter?” He scoffed, quickening his pace as the unmistakable ring of the elevator sounded on the room “You love being seen, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching as your body shook violently and your knees started to give away to the sensations running down your body.

“Y-Yes, Sir” You could bet your voice echoed inside the building, and Christopher seemed to agree with you as he grinned in approval.

“So look at your guest, baby… And scream my name” He instructed, pushing your face to the side. The doors opened slowly, revealing the lights inside the small cubicle right in front of your eyes “Let him know who you belong to” He whispered in your ear; hand pushing your underwear aside so his finger could come in contact with your core.

The mysterious figure detached from the corners of the metallic walls to finally reveal himself. You met his eyes for a half of a second; enough time for you to recognize the one who worked with you every single day of your life. For the past few years. Someone who would be your partner for years to come, and who would witness and engrave your face in your most vulnerable moment.

You came hard; probably the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever had in your life. It was impossible to hold back your voice, and you couldn’t help but howl his name; legs shaking and body collapsing into your boss’ arms. You squirmed and whimpered as you tried to recompose yourself; letting him help you ride you out of your orgasm and occupying yourself by staring into your coworker’s shocked eyes.

“Thank you, Sir…” You breathed out, gripping his arms for dear life while the shame sank into your soul.

Rule Number Five: The (grateful and satisfied) fans!

And… Post.

Oh, well… You did it. Again. There was something about displaying your deepest fantasies for anyone to see that was kinda thrilling to you. Your heart raced inside your chest just like a drum ─ well, if a goddamn drummer decided to do a solo but was too offbeat, to begin with ─ and you couldn’t help but stare blankly at the page without a clue of what to do now. It was out there… Why didn’t anyone say anything yet? Was it that bad? Should you delete it?

Well… People have to read it before commenting, you know?

Yeah, right… You just posted it.

Chill.

You licked your lips before biting them; feeling the rush that was posting about your boss online when no one else knew about it. If you were being honest, the best part of this wasn’t having the chance to live your fantasies throughout your writing. No. The best part was knowing that only you knew the true identity of Christopher… Or what you really wanted to do to him while he walked down the hallway. The best part was that no one would ever figure out that you were the author of the bestselling novel of the moment… That this steamy romance between boss and employee was nothing but your rawest desire.

Who would think that the boring, shy girl from the office would be a smut writer? Who would think that you would have a horny, interesting secret identity? No one else but you.

And this was priceless.

Or maybe… It was priceless.

As far as you knew, every single thing you cherished about being a secretive horny bitch could go down the drain tomorrow. It would be all fine if it was just a… Well, actually everything would suck. How would you look at Chan’s face if he knew you were writing about having sex with your boss while he was your boss? What would you do if they decided to fire you because of it? What would you do with your life from now on?!

Don’t panic, Y/N.

You had everything under control… Tomorrow morning you would be going to Jeongin’s house and interview him as if he were you. No one would ever suspect you after that. You would save your ass, Hyunjin’s ass, and Chan’s ass. And that was it. The perfect plan. Nothing to worry about. Just trust Jeongin to follow your script and make sure everything would go as planned.

Flawless. Totally safe. Perfect.

That’s right…

You just need to take a deep breath and rela—

The sudden sound caught you off guard; eyes focusing on the screen once again so you could understand what was going on. All of your worries vanished away as soon as you saw the notification on the top of it; announcing that you had just got a message from a fan.

Finally!

The weasel icon was so familiar that you chuckled while opening the message; a smile plastering over your face as you let your eyes wander around the words. There was nothing more fulfilling to your writer ass than seeing the way Weasel always had something to say about your story. Sometimes, he’d give you some feedback on your style. Other times, he’d freak out about how much he wanted to “try those things out”, as he usually said. There were also times when he’d just get excited over the characters and their conflicts, which always got you laughing.

It was fun to talk to Weasel.

He was just as mysterious as you… There was no name to his face, and also no face to his icon, but both of you were friends anyway. He had been keeping up with your stuff from such an early stage that it felt natural to have him around and getting his feedback. It was so comfortable, that you didn’t even mind when he slid in your DMs, embarrassed to let anyone else know that your smut made him… Feel things. There was no need to elaborate on what he did about those feelings or those things. But it was kinda hot to know he enjoyed himself throughout your fantasies.

His fantasies.

Well… For the number of times that you used them to write your stories, it was some sort of shared fantasies by now. As a matter of fact, you never intended to make Christopher a jealous character but Weasel made the idea seem too hot for you to ignore. Sometimes, he’d open up about that girl from his work that he really liked and how jealous he was of the guy she liked and then… Well, it felt… Interesting.

The thought of being desirable to the point a guy would want to claim you as his like this? Not that Weasel did it. He actually just mentioned that he hoped she was into this as a kink. You couldn’t help but picture the way he would touch her in such a greedy way… The possessiveness blinding him for a second… The grip tightening… The mean words and the humiliation… Oh, the sweet humiliation that would crush you as he whispered how much you would cum for him… How he was the only one who could make you like that… How he would ask you to say his name… To tell him that you were his…

You could drink holy water and still be shaking just by picturing it.

“That was such a good chapter… I didn’t expect you to use her friend like that. I thought it was a given that she’d end up with Chris” You read out loud, chuckling when he reached for your DMs to talk to you “Will we get a threesome or something, miss? 😏” He joked on the next line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this “I’m waiting for it”

“You’re just a horny bitch, aren’t you?” You typed, smirking as you stared at his messages “No spoilers for you, though, baby boy… You’ll have to wait like everybody else” Teasing him was always funny, and he never failed to amuse you.

“I’m not the one writing porn online” He pointed out, and before he could write anything else you shot him.

“Yeah but you’re the one getting off to it” You retorted, getting a whole set of gasping and shocked emotes that had you laughing.

“I have no words to express how offended I am” You chortled, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Alright, Drama Llama” Why was it so fun to mock him? You wished you could actually meet him offline and banter like this in real life “To fill your horny ass, I might write a dom!reader next time… I was thinking about torturing the 2nd lead a bit”

“First of all… I don’t think I want my ass filled, thank you for offering tho” Why was he like this? “And I was just joking” You frowned at that, confused by what he meant “Don’t you think that a threesome doesn’t go along with the characters? Her friend likes her a lot and Christopher is just a kinky son of a bitch… I thought he’d just show him that she was his and be an ass as usual”

“What do you have against Chris, dude?” You rolled your eyes, although he wouldn’t be able to see it, “He’s way better than her friend! At least, he does something about her”

“I have the 2nd male lead syndrome! You know that!” You chortled, very aware of this, “And isn’t that the perfect opportunity for him to do something about it?! I mean… I don’t want to be nosey but having a threesome is way out of character for them” He pointed out, and you had to admit he was right.

“No, you’re not nosey…” You sighed; shoulders dropping for a second “It’s just that I’m upset about something that happened at work today and you know that projecting my problems on those characters is my thing” You pursed your lips, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before deciding to continue “Besides, I’m about to spend an entire day with a guy that kinda inspired the 2nd lead and… I don’t really want to think about a sex scene with him, you know?” You confessed.

“But thinking about torturing and having a threesome with him is easy” He mocked you.

“That’s because that threesome would never happen” You sent it before you could think about what you had just written.

“Ooohhhh!” Holy shit… The amount of emotes he had just dumped on that chat couldn’t be a good sign, “So having sex with this guy is something you want?! And that could happen?! ” Great, now you would have a Drama Llama-Weasel trying to get some juicy gossip about your inexistent sex life… WORSE! Your sex life with your nemesis! “Why don’t you go for it? I’m sure he’s into you if he’s anything like his character” Poor thing… He had no idea.

“Shut up, it’s not like that” You brushed it off.

“If you say so” You could almost hear him snickering, even though you didn’t know how his voice sounded like “I’ll just have you regretting this for the rest of the night” You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. He was unbearable! “I have work early tomorrow but I’m gonna come back with questions, Miss… Wait for me”

“What I meant is that it’d be easier to happen than having a threesome, not that I want it to happen, moron” You defended yourself but he didn’t even get to read it as he logged off right away.

Great… He would never let you live it down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

451 notes · View notes

angry-geese · 3 years

Text

OSHA Non Compliance

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. shameless smut. fingering, oral (fem and masc receiving), face riding, praise kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, mutual pining. gojo slander. a little dub con due to the sex pollen stuff. afab reader

Notes: some sex pollen smut with Nanami. i have a post thats pretty similar to this thats a gojo x reader which you can read here

Word Count: 3.3k

If there's one thing you two can agree on, it's how this is all Gojo’s fault.

The job was supposed to be simple; get in, exorcise the curse, get out. It wasn't a particularly deadly one, but it was proving to be difficult for lower grade sorcerers. Anyone who had come into contact with it fell violently ill, suffering effects that lasted between hours to days. The symptoms themselves varied from person to person. Nobody seemed to give a straight answer.

In response, you two were sent out.

As odd as it was, you didn't question it. Curses are odd, things like this happen. Two grade one sorcerers should have been enough to take this thing out. One alone should have been enough, not to mention the army of sorcerers sent after it before. Gojo wanted you to take backup just in case, shrugging you off when you asked why he couldn’t do it himself. You were certain you could take this alone, but he was insistent.

Reluctantly you dragged Nanami along.

The two of you weren't officially partners, but most of your jobs were done together. It was a mutual agreement. He found you much less annoying than Gojo. That's not to say he didn't find you annoying at first, but you were more tolerable. Nanami wasn’t much older than you—only by a few years—but he acted as a mentor when you first started out. You quickly improved, nearly rivaling him in strength. It wasn't long before you became a grade one sorcerer, same as him. On that day he was there to celebrate with you.

He likes to think you’ve turned out to be a semi-functional human being. Maybe he’s gotten sentimental as he’s grown older. He hated for his work life to cross over into his home life, but he’s made an exception for you. Any time you’d call, he’d come running.

The curse had taken up residence in an abandoned school, only being discovered when the building was being surveyed for possible reuse. You’re not sure why nobody had noticed it sooner, but you’ve learned not to question a curse’s behavior.

It’s attack had a strange area of effect. You've never seen anything like it. The fact that such a non-lethal curse was considered such a high grade should have tipped you off in the first place. The curse released some strange sort of fumes. Or spores. You really weren't certain what they were. It was airborne and you knew that you needed to stay far away.

While the direct hit missed you, you were still affected. You took in a lung-full of the stuff before you managed to get away.

If it weren't for Nanami…

You barely make it back to the car. You’re not injured, so much as you’re lightheaded, and nauseous.

“I’m not going to make it back to the school.” You say.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

Slowly you shake your head. It's not wrong, per se, but it's not right either. This is a strange type of hurt.

Your apartment is closer. The drive was twenty minutes on the way there; you make it back in about eight.

You’re not sure what to do once you get inside other than contemplate your life choices. You toss your keys and bag aside. There's not much you can do aside from flop down on your couch and pray. Not that you’re the praying type normally, but what could it hurt?

The effects of the pollen seem to hit you all at once. The sickly sweet taste in your mouth makes you gag. You fall to your hands and knees and retch, but nothing comes up. If you thought you felt bad before, you definitely do now. Sweat beads on your forehead. You feel jittery, yet lethargic. Heat radiates off your skin like a furnace. Your mouth has gone dry. Your clothes feel too tight. You’d claw them off your body if your partner wasn't sitting a few feet away.

You swallow hard as heat begins to pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some relief.

While you’re slowly losing it, Nanami looks fine. As calm and collected as ever.

Nanami didn't seem to get the brunt of that attack. Or maybe he's better at hiding it than you.

He is.

He’s been dealing with an aching cock since you two left that building. He was all-too aware of every corner and bump on the ride home. You were too busy trying to escape with your dignity to notice him, and the tent that grows in his pants. He covers his lap with his suit jacket. You think nothing of it.

He studies every dip and curve of your clothed body. They cling to your skin with sweat in a way that makes his cock throb. Nanami knows how wrong it is. He shouldn't feel this way. You're his damn partner! Looking at you this feels so wrong.

In an attempt to comfort you, he smooths a hand across your back, gently squeezing your shoulder. Sweat beads in your hairline. Your chest heaves.

“I don't think it’s something we can wait out,” you say, swallowing hard.

“What are we-” it’s as if he didn't realize what he was asking. His eyes go wide, before his gaze shoots straight to the ground.

“‘Ken-” You say, hoping he can't hear the way your voice trembles, “I feel like I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

It's with a sinking, horrifying feeling that he agrees. Slowly you climb into his lap. It feels wrong. But your body fits perfectly against his. He’s your partner—your friend—you shouldn't be wanting him this way. He’s pliant against your touch, moving with you, paying close attention to each and every one of your movements. Every cell of your being wants him to fuck you.

“I know.” He says. “Me too.”

He hauls you into his arms, setting you down on the couch back-first. The sudden weightlessness you feel makes you gasp. There's nothing gentle behind his touch. Your hands work to undo the buttons of his shirt, but they tremble so bad it's hard to do.

“Don't worry about that.” He coos. "Let me take care of you."

With shaky hands he undoes the buttons on your pants, sliding them down your legs. His face heats up at the way your panties are already soaked through. All this just for him?

He tries not to stare too long. If you were the only thing he looked at for the rest of his life, he'd be content.

He strokes at your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He almost seems afraid to touch you. For a moment he is, but that quickly wears off when you moan. He can't help but watch the way you squirm and writhe under his touch. How the delicate fabric clings to your skin from how wet you are. He hates how much he enjoys seeing you like this. It feels wrong.

“Please,” there’s a hazy look in your eyes.

He swallows hard. You’re not thinking straight, he thinks, this is so wrong.

He pulls down your panties, throwing them aside with your pants. You tug off your shirt, quickly tossing it aside. His hands come up to palm at your breasts through the fabric of your bra. He gently tugs the fabric down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air. As wrong as it feels, you would be lying if you said your partner wasn't attractive. Not only is he handsome, and one of the most powerful sorcerers you have met, he was a close—if not your closest—friend.

Nanami’s touches are feather-light. It's not that he's worried about hurting you—though the fear of that is there—he doesn't want this to ruin your friendship. He doesn't want you to view him differently because of this. The two of you have gone through much together; he doesn't want this to make things awkward. He’s just wanted you for so long.

He never intended for his work life to cross over into his home life. That was until you came along. Nanami can't imagine a life without you around.

Two of his fingers press against your entrance, his thumb circling your clit. His fingers are long, and fairly thick. Only one enters you at first, but you’re wet enough he adds a second one not long after. His fingers curl, stroking against your g-spot. His touch feels like too much yet not enough. You desperately grind against his hand, chasing your own release.

If he can just get you to finish, maybe he can wait it out. You’ve clearly got it worse than him. Right?

He pulls you up into a kiss. His lips taste sweet. Your lips part, allowing his tongue into your mouth. His chest presses against yours. Your thighs tighten around his hand, though not in an attempt to stop him.

Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. You moan into Nanami's mouth. You're reduced to a whining, whimpering mess under his hand.

His free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze meets his. A sleepy grin spreads across your face. The pad of his thumb brushes over your glossy lips. In a moment of lucidity you wrap your lips around it, swirling your tongue around the digit.

Nanami almost forgets how to breathe. Nobody can get him nearly as flustered as you can.

The coil in your stomach snaps. If you knew how much you gushed around Nanami's fingers, you'd be blushing. Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

Your first orgasm provides no relief. In a matter of seconds—probably less time than that if you're being honest—you're ready for another round.

You work the last few buttons of his shirt open before he gets impatient and pulls the thing over his head. You let out an audible “oh!” at the sight of his chest. It's more toned than you expected; not that you’ve given it much thought.

“Like what you see?” He says in a sudden moment of boldness that it surprises both of you.

You nod. Now really isn't the time to be shy, but you can't help it.

He's painfully hard, his erect cock leaking precum against his thigh. The tent in his pants is impressive to say the least. You get on your knees, tugging his pants down his hips. You were right to notice his bulge. He's huge. Long and thick. Uncut too. The hairs towards the base of his cock are light—a similar sandy blonde as the hair on his head—and neatly trimmed. He always takes care of himself. A prominent vein runs up the bottom. A small pang of guilt hits you when you realize how needy his cock looks. His chest, the tips of his nose and ears, and the head of his cock are all dusted with pink. He looks at you with such adoration it makes your chest flutter.

You slide off the couch, getting on your knees. Nanami parts his legs just enough for you to kneel between them.

His eyes go wide the moment your lips touch his cock. You press kitten licks to the tip, watching the way his lip twitches in frustration. Nanami’s hands bury in your hair. The feeling of his nails raking against your scalp makes goosebumps raise along your skin. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you stroke with your hands. Saliva runs down your chin in streams, tears stained black with eyeliner streaming down your cheeks.

The only sign that he’s about to orgasm is the way he tilts his head back, cursing.

When he cums, he cums a lot. It's thick, but runny, and has almost no taste to it at all. His cum spills out the corners of your mouth when you pull off of him, releasing him with a pop!

Without thinking, you swallow.

With how long he stares down at you, it almost seems like you’ve done something wrong.

You can't stop the squeak you let out as he hauls you into his lap. He lays back, guiding your hips so you’re kneeling above his face.

“What are you-”

“It’s only fair that I return the favor,” he says.

No matter how hard you try, he doesn't let you wriggle out of his grasp.

“I- I don't want to suffocate you.” You say.

The amount of his testicles Nanami would cut off just to get a taste of your cunt… He’ll give you a hint, it's more than one and less than three.

“You won't.” He said. Even if you could—which you couldn't, he’s stronger than he looks—he’d die happy.

Your thighs cradle his head in an almost perfect way. There's almost no better feeling. His tongue dips between your folds, circling your clit. You taste sweet, he notes. A kiss is pressed to your clit before long, slow strokes of a hot tongue lavish it in affection. He kneads your thighs gently all while alternating between licking and sucking on your bundle of nerves.

He wants nothing more than to take his time with you. After all, he’s got years to make up for.

You can feel and hear him panting against your dripping sex. He can do little to hide the way he grinds his bulge against the couch. He grunts when you tug his hair, guiding him to where you need him most.

There's a feeling of emptiness as you cum, your walls contracting around nothing where something should be. You ride out your orgasm with a series of short, high pitched moans, rocking your cunt against his mouth. Nanami takes all of it in stride, lewdly slurping at your sex. Your thighs shake, your cunt spasming as he continues to press kitten licks to your clit.

And god- the sight of his face; his lips wet and slick from your cunt, eyes hazy with lust, his hair a mess.

"It's no use." You say. It's in-between whimpers and moans. Even as your second orgasm approaches, you feel no sense of relief. "I need your cock."

He feels himself twitch with need. His cock barely went soft the first time he came. Nanami wants nothing more than to sink his length into your warm, wet cunt.

He doesn't bother carrying you to your room. He would have fucked you in the car if you asked. He’d fuck you on every flat surface of your apartment if you wanted him too.

His cock presses against your entrance, rubbing at your folds. He doesn't mean to tease you, he just wants to drag this out as long as he can. You're so wet you take his cock with no resistance. He groans at the feeling of your cunt as you sink onto him.

Cumming on his tongue is intoxicating, but it feels like nothing in comparison to his cock. Nothing substitutes for the hot, full sensation of his cock inside of you. You string together words in some desperate attempt to make a sentence. Being completely filled is making you woozy. Nanami fits just so well inside of you. It's like you were made for this. You're not sure if it's the pollen, or just him, but you can feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

"Can't believe-" he huffs, "can't believe you got tighter after cumming twice."

"Please Ken," you whimper.

It hurts, but it feels too nice to stop. Nanami can't tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as you ride him. The sounds of skin slapping on skin echo through the room, mingling with his grunts and your moans, creating a lewd cacophony.

"Fuck," he says, his seemingly calm demeanor fading, "you're so fucking pretty."

Gojo would give him shit about this for weeks if he knew…

You're starting to think he meant to do this.

"I'm going to kill him," you say, although it's hard to stay mad for long.

“Me too,” he says.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, throwing you around and spitting you back out, leaving you an absolute mess. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Eyeliner runs down your face in streams, leaving black trails across your skin. It's the first time you've cum from g-spot stimulation alone. But it's also the same as the other two times you've cum: you're ready for another round instantly.

At some point in time Nanami gets on top. Your legs lock around his back, pulling him in. Maybe you blacked out. Exhaustion creeps into your limbs, leaving them sore and wobbly.

Nanami thrusts harder, trying to quell the fire that pits in his stomach. He doesn't warn you that he's coming. If he's being honest, he didn't know he was either. You just feel hot ropes of his cum fill you, spilling out, staining your couch. When he cums, his cock doesn't even go soft. If anything he’s harder. Almost instantly he’s ready for another round. He's never felt anything quite like this.

The sensation of his cum dripping out of you, running down your thighs in streams is bizarre. There's so much of it. You don't want him to stop. He brings a hand down to give your ignored clit some attention. His spare hand wipes your tears away, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek.

Even as he's made you cum for the nth time tonight he doesn't stop. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you're no longer sure where your body ends and his begins. It doesn't feel like enough. You’ve never been so full. He wants to cum in you and breed you until your womb is swollen with his child.

At some point he collapses from exhaustion—he thinks—and he's certain the two of you are going to die. No human can survive this, he thinks, that's impossible.

Neither of you died.

It could be minutes, it could be hours; by the time you wake up the sun has set completely. You're not sure what time it is, but judging by how long the sky's been dark, it must have been a while. Nanami snores softly, his drool pooling in the valley between your breasts. You card a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. One of his eyes cracks open. He can't tell if he’s dreaming or not. If he is, then this is too good to be true.

"You still with me?" You ask.

He nods.

You're cradled chest to chest, his heartbeat as steady and alive as ever. He pulls out slowly, admiring the mess between your thighs. Even in his sobering state he finds you truly beautiful. From the way your skin glints with sweat to the way you run your tongue over your parched lips. You stretch out, trying to work the stiffness out of your limbs. You’re certain you’ll be sore in the morning.

Nanami disappears into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. What you could really use is a shower.

If you want, he'll never mention this again. He's starstruck by your naked form, his cum dripping down your thighs. Part of him wants to see you like this every night. But that might still be the pollen talking.

He's sputtering out an apology; stringing words together in hopes of begging for your forgiveness.

"I didn't think that's how it'd happen," you say, shrugging, "but…"

You really can't complain. Everyone but Nanami seemed to realize how head over heels you were for each other.

"You… liked it?" He asks.

If you didn't like it, he would know. Nanami can't believe it.

"Minus the nearly dying part." You say. "I've spent the past year and a half trying to get in your pants. So yeah."

Instantly his face turns red. How has he not noticed? He's both mortified, and relieved that you feel the same—or at least similar to him. Then the embarrassment hits him. He didn't think he could be more embarrassed than he was standing naked in your living room.

"I'm gonna go shower." You say. He gives a nod in response, stopping dead in his tracks when you say: "join me."

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #nanami kento #not sfw #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #cw sex pollen #cw dub con #i know im posting this kinda early but im impatient and i just want to post this now

457 notes · View notes

writerpeach · 3 years

Text

Lights & Cameras

Jeon Somi x Male Reader

5575 words

Categories: smut, daddy kink, rough sex, dirty talk

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

masterlist

Three hours. Endless outfit changes. Barely an hour for lunch.

Jeon Somi had done photo shoots before, both as part of a group and as a soloist, for commercials and for album covers, but she had never had the focus be on her just like this. Her beautiful face was going to be on the cover of a magazine for the very first time for the entire country to see.

It took countless people to make a magazine shoot run smoothly. Stylists, photographers, directors, makeup artists, interns, and a plethora of untold staff members whose titles were unbeknownst to you.

Somi’s first magazine shoot was exciting. If she was nervous, she hid it well, radiating confidence behind the camera as hundreds of flashes went off every second.

You had lost track of how many times you saw Somi disappearing from the set into her personal dressing room, reemerging in an outfit that either tantalized or confused you. Each ensemble brought out several emotions and at least one change that left you scratching your head.

Fashion never made sense.

There wasn’t a moment behind the cameras that Somi wasn’t swarmed by staff - fixing her hair, touching up makeup, and preparing her for the next set of blinding lights. Somi basked in it all, she loved the attention and loved every moment of being in the spotlight.

You weren’t hired by anyone, yet had one of the most important jobs in the building.

Your job was just to be there. You were a familiar face to the gorgeous young model, keeping the couch warm in the first-story studio where you could be seen at all times when Somi felt a pit in her stomach from being overwhelmed.

One look into your eyes across the distance brought a bright smile to Somi’s lipstick painted lips, one that melted you like a hot summer’s day.

Another outfit change. One more shade of lipstick applied to her lips, her cheeks now a shade of pink instead of red. The fumes of hairspray lingered in the air as her dark big brim hat was swapped out by a simple white ball cap and blue sunglasses.

Truth be told, Somi could make any outfit look good. Whether it be tall high heels that almost made her trip, short skirts that showed off her amazing legs, or puffy coats that she looked adorable in, anything and everything looked great on Somi. You’re pretty sure she could make an astronaut’s spacesuit look sexy.

Somi loved dressing up, wearing expensive clothes and outfits she only dreamed about, each time she was presented with something new feeling giddier than a kid in a candy store.

This outfit you particularly liked on Somi, a rather long green dress that almost touched the ground, perfect for summertime. At first glimpse it seemed to cover her up, the sacrifice worth it as it did a terrific job of hugging her body nicely, leaving her shoulders bare and just a tease of her exposed back.

The best part of her fancy dress was how good her tits looked in it. Her wide hips were plainly visible, curves everywhere and outlining her delicious backside, the perfect woman.

Four hours in, Somi's energy level was just as high as at the start. Perhaps it was your company, or the high of her first solo photo shoot that kept her spirits lifted, filling her tank to get her through the rest of the day.

Bright lights went off again as Somi rotated through a myriad of poses, from sensual, to serious, to downright goofy, conveying a multitude of expressions that seemed to please the director.

Somi was a natural, the camera was in love with her and the feeling was mutual. You couldn’t hear her cute voice over the constant shutter sounds of the camera drowning out her playful laughter, but you knew she was having the time of her life.

Sitting there for hours at a time might have been dull as a spectator, but not so much as you loved watching Somi in different outfits and different styles of makeup. She stepped back into the dazzling lights appearing as an almost completely different person.

The brightly lit set became flooded with staff again. Somi was handed a bottle of water to her left, while on her right someone wiped her brow carefully with a white towel, heading out of view as if that were their only job.

“Thirty minute break!”

An echoing voice from the director rattled the walls as a much needed break was called. Somi was filled to the brim with unlimited energy as she headed to catering and you followed in her footsteps.

The catering table was surrounded in no time flat, trays of pastries and sweets spread out, an assortment of fruits and cheeses, sandwiches and skewered meats all made up a fantastic spread.

“Oh my god, I’m starving,” Somi said as she picked up a plate, stuffing it as high as she could, not even bothering to take a seat as she stuffed her face, forgoing the image she was portraying as a model as soon as she took her first bite.

“What do you think so far?” Somi asked as she found you, mumbling her words as she talked with her mouth full as she approached your position.

“You must be bored out of your mind.”

You shook your head and smiled. “I don’t mind. You look cute wearing all these outfits.”

“Which one was your favorite?” she asked, practically inhaling a bite of strawberry cheesecake.

“I liked the pink dress. And the white top with the jeans. This dress looks really nice on you too,” you said, trying your best not to stare at her chest while dozens of eyes were on you.

“I like it too. It’s light and comfortable and I can move around in it freely. Some of those other dresses I could barely walk in,” she said, annoyed.

Somi waited for a handful of staff members to pass by, exchanging polite bows and smiling as they headed off with equally filled plates.

“I want you to take it off me,” she whispered, flashing a mischievous smile, one that had you seen before.

“You want me to help you change?”

Somi shook her head cutely, keeping her lips pressed close enough to your ear that you could feel her hot breath nuzzling your earlobe.

“I want you to fuck me in this dress, daddy.”

Thankfully nobody was in earshot.

“It’s going to be several more hours before I’m finished shooting. There’s a spare dressing room in the back that nobody is using...” she playfully said, her expression the same as when she tried to convince you her vibrator was a neck massager.

“You’re bad, Somi,” you said, her gaze agreeing with you as you stared into each other’s eyes as if you were wondering what you were about to get into.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Lead the way. I’ll stay a few steps behind you.”

Somi nodded gleefully, putting her half finished food down on the nearest table.

“I’ll uh, be back. I think something I ate didn’t agree with me,” she announced, letting the staff know she wasn’t going to be available for the time being.

If your calculations were correct the break was called about ten minutes ago, leaving you with twenty minutes left, yet also Somi leaving herself an excuse if extra time was needed.

But twenty minutes was more than enough time for what you wanted to do to her.

You carefully followed Somi, taking care to leave additional space in trailing her as you weaved through makeup tables and desks full of equipment, disappearing behind the set as your heart raced at what was about to happen.

“Come on,” she said, waving you down a long dark corridor and looking behind her as she took purposeful steps. Shortly after, she opened a door and stepped inside, ushering you in as the two of you looked around, making sure the coast was clear before entering.

Somi entered first, locking the door behind you as her lips smirked. She placed her hat and sunglasses on a nearby countertop, ruffling her hair messily.

“You’re so naughty, Somi.”

“Am I? What are you going to do with me?” she asked, putting her arms behind her back.

Stepping closer, you moved her hair out of her neck, planting your lips on her soft skin and sucked for several seconds, careful not to leave a mark. You took each of her dress straps in your fingertips, playing with them as you looked deeply into her eyes.

She stared back as if to say do it as you pulled the top of her dress down to her waist in one swift movement, exposing her full supple breasts as they bounced freely. You kissed up her stomach, marking her soft skin with your mouth until you reached her large heavy breasts, practically drooling all over her chest.

It was regretful that you couldn’t spend the entire hour worshipping her perfect tits, lips closing around a sensitive nipple that had already hardened as you latched on, sucking gently while you squeezed her free breast.

“F-fuck, daddy,” Somi moaned, as you took your time in sucking her tits, enjoying the sounds of satisfaction she released as your lips wrapped around each of her nipples, covering them in your saliva.

You loved Somi’s huge breasts as much as you loved breathing, the threat of a deadline hovering over her almost didn’t deter as you devoured her breasts.

Your pants tightened as you alternated breasts, slurping loudly and slicking up her stiff pink nipples with your tongue, leaving them swollen and doused in drool as you gave equal attention.

“I wish I could suck these all day,” you said, giving a disappointed look as you kept your focus on her beautiful tits, squeezing and kneading them, never wanting to leave your hands from them.

“I want you to do just more than suck them, daddy,” Somi said, moaning at your touch. You simply couldn’t get enough of her delicious tits, biting her swollen nipples as she whined and threw her head back.

Somi’s attention shifted to the bulge in your pants, and without another word she lowered to her knees and began to undo your pants. Her needy hands cupped your crotch, giving a firm squeeze.

She looked up for a second before she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your thin boxers, yanking them down with power and unleashing your stiff erection as her eyes widened, her lips smiling hungrily.

Her gaze never broke as she rubbed your leaking tip on her stiff nipples, spreading precum on and using your shaft to slap her large breasts with your cock. Somi loved getting your hungry shaft ready for what she was about to do, but no amount of work would ever truly prepare you for what was next.

Somi opened her mouth without a word, spitting on your shaft several times and stroked your cock furiously, lubricating you nicely with her own saliva. She took control of your shaft, placing it in the comfort of her pillowy soft breasts, trapping it as you moaned at the warmth enveloping your hard shaft.

Her chest began moving slowly, massaging your throbbing shaft and causing a torrent of pleasure as she created orgasmic friction, causing your shaft to twitch. Your cock had no chance to escape, surrounded by flesh that wrapped around it, causing your breath to be taken away as several sensations flooded your body.

Somi had the biggest grin on her face as she squeezed her tits around your cock firmly, using her hands to cup them and make sure you weren’t going anywhere besides her abundant cleavage.

“How does it feel daddy? You love fucking my big tits, don’t you?” she pointlessly asked, picking up the pace just enough to drive you wild with intoxicating pleasure. Your eyes were glued to her huge tits, watching your cock disappearing, every inch of throbbing flesh being swallowed up by her lubricated cleavage.

“Fuck yes, baby. It feels so damn good,” you replied, matching her rhythm and helping pump your shaft in between her tits, so much warm flesh hugging you tight that never wanted to let you go.

You couldn’t help but moan freely at the intense pleasure. You loved the way your leaking cock felt snuggled in between her cleavage, you wanted it to stay there forever. Her breasts felt so soft, softer than silk as you thrusted endlessly, savoring every moment of ecstasy.

Somi loved the feeling of your hard cock trapped between her sizable tits just as much as you did, trying to lick the sensitive head of your cock when it showed itself again, adding additional spikes of pleasure each time she succeeded.

You were more than content to keep this up, keep the incredible pleasure going until you couldn’t take anymore, but things were just getting started.

“Daddy…” Somi whined, moving her breasts up and down as you thrusted in her deep suffocating cleavage.

“What is it, baby?”

“I want to suck your cock. I’m still hungry,” she said, anxiously waiting for permission.

“So suck my cock.”

Somi gave an ear to ear grin as you pumped yourself in between her chest a handful more times as she slowly let your cock slip out of her tits, rubbing it between her wet cleavage. Her delicate small hand wrapped around your shaft, throbbing at her touch as she stroked your cock up and down gently from base to tip.

"You're so hard, daddy,” Somi hummed, pumping your shaft and squeezing it tighter as you leaked over her slender fingers, giving your shaft a single solitary lick from base to tip, proudly tasting your precum.

“So yummy,” she said, giving repeated licks of your cock, teasing the sensitive underside of your shaft, causing more fluids to leak out of your slit.

You would have loved Somi to spend more time teasing your cock, but time was of the essence here. She planted a soft wet kiss on your swollen tip, followed by another, kissing up and down your throbbing shaft and leaving her lips everywhere she could.

“This is much better than our catering,” Somi giggled, her voice full of desire and need, her wet tongue roaming every inch of your shaft. She pressed her lips on your flesh for one more deep kiss, causing a loud smacking sound to escape.

Her beautiful lips parted as the head of your cock disappeared inside her mouth, Somi sucking ever so softly on your tip and nothing more, causing you to groan softly at the intense sudden pleasure.

“Fuck, baby…”

Nothing ever matched the way Somi sucked your cock. Her small soft lips wrapped tightly around your cock, staring intently at you as her cheeks hollowed, applying the perfect amount of suction. Her mouth felt incredible, warm and wet in all the right ways. She took you deeper into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down in a short rhythm and as she held her gaze.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned, scrambling for something to anchor yourself to. Thankfully you were inches away from the nearest countertop, finding the edge and gripping it tightly as Somi pleasured your cock expertly.

“I love sucking your cock so much, daddy,” Somi said as she lowered her head, nudging her nose against the base of your cock as she gave a few teasing licks on your tender balls.

“I love the way I can feel it throbbing inside my mouth. I love the way it tastes, it makes me so fucking wet, daddy.”

Somi’s filthy words aroused you even more as she dove her mouth onto your sensitive balls, tenderly sucking on them individually with just as much hunger. She kept a tight grip on your cock, giving slow strokes that accentuated your pleasure until your balls were doused in her warm saliva.

The combination of pleasure made you groan endlessly as she withdrew her lips from your balls after a few loud slurps, carefully fondling them.

“They feel so full. Is all this cum for me, daddy?” she asked, returning her focus to pleasuring your shaft, spitting on it several times and stroking it.

“Every last drop. They’re ready to be drained, baby.”

“I can’t wait, I want a nice big load inside me, daddy.”

Somi gave an approving smile, taking you back in the comfort of her wet mouth and sucking you off loud and wetly, lips almost to the very base of your shaft and leaving a glistening trail of saliva that followed.

Given the circumstances Somi wasn’t able to take her time with much regret. In a matter of moments she was furiously bobbing her head and taking every inch, letting out a shallow gag with every few strokes. She never quite conquered her gag reflex but didn’t seem bothered, she was just happy with every second her throat was filled.

Somi poured all her energy into giving you such a mind-numbing blowjob, moving her lips from tip to base, spilling saliva out of her mouth, covering your shaft in it. Her lips rested at the end of your shaft as her cute nose pressed against your stomach, smiling with a mouth full of a cock.

She came up for air, saliva dripping down her chin that she didn’t bother to wipe, her expression lust-filled.

“Fuck my face if you want,” she invited, taking your shaft and smacking herself in the face with it, rubbing it on her cheeks and lustfully grinning.

“I’d hate to ruin your makeup,” you replied, the one and only time you had that concern. Somi’s expression was full of disappointment, her smile fading and forming a pout.

“That’s the point,” she said, matter-of-factly. “My makeup artist can fix it later. She gets paid too fucking much anyways.”

Well, that settled that. Somi went back to slobbering on your cock as you placed your hands on both sides of her head, running your fingers through strands of hair and started thrusting inside her pretty mouth.

Consequences be damned, you were going to fulfill Somi’s wishes and desires, thrusting your hips back and forth and sliding every inch of your shaft down her tight warm throat.

Satisfied grunts and moans escaped your lips as you used Somi’s mouth for your pleasure, gagging her with your length as you struck the back of her throat to the point of tears from your forceful use, only encouraging you to give harsher thrusts.

“If only everyone knew what I was doing to you,” you said as Somi kept her mouth wide open for you as you furiously fucked her gorgeous face, slapping your full balls against her chin as she held onto your thighs and slurped hungrily.

“I bet that director had no idea what a cock-hungry little slut he hired did he?” you said, using Somi’s mouth as your personal toy, the constant sounds of gags and erotic slurps filling the small room as your pleasure sky-rocketed.

“Or your stylist unnie, she has no idea her cute innocent model loves choking on cock does she?”

Somi hummed around your cock in satisfaction, the vibration spiking your pleasure as you forced your cock down her throat, streaks of mascara starting to run and drip down her face.

Her makeup artist would certainly have her work cut out for her.

That wasn’t enough for you as you thrusted harder down her throat, slamming every inch nonstop without mercy, drool spilling out of her mouth and dripping onto her beautiful exposed tits as she choked and gagged on your needy cock.

“Take it all, baby,” you growled, holding the back of her head firmly against your crotch, not

caring if she could breathe or not. You desperately wanted to fill her messy warm mouth with cum, coating the back of her throat with it, but that dress looked so fucking sexy on her and you had other plans.

Instead, you savored the intoxicating warmth of her mouth for a few more thrusts, slowly withdrawing your drool-covered shaft as several lines of messy wet spit ejected from her lips, connecting to your swollen tip.

Somi gasped for air, rubbing her drool-covered face all over your wet shaft as she got the treatment she deserved, gargling the leftover saliva and spitting it onto your already drenched shaft.

You smirked at what you saw, once perfectly brushed hair was disheveled and out of place. Her eyes were still filled with tears, whatever leftover mascara she had staining her cheeks, drool glistening on her chin and her chest, an absolutely beautiful mess.

If only her staff could see her like this.

“Was I a good little slut, daddy?”

You nodded proudly and grabbed her dainty wrists and gently helped her to her feet, sharing intense eye contact as you kept the anticipation in the air high.

“I want to fucking ruin you,” you said, squeezing her breasts again, the drool coated on them making them glistening in the lights.

“Do it, please. Fuck me like the whore I am, daddy,” Somi begged, flashing the deepest set of fuck me eyes you had ever seen. You had gotten this far without getting caught, there was no reason to stop.

The dressing room was small with just two countertops, mirrors resting on top of each one waist high, used beauty products still scattered on both surfaces.

There weren’t that many options, no chairs in sight and the floor looked dirty and unkempt as it most likely hadn’t been touched in months if not longer. The counters provided ample space, but not enough for what you needed.

Somi looked at her designer watch she still had kept left on, and you saw you had ten minutes left before they would be looking for her. Plenty of time.

“How do you want it, baby?” you asked as you hiked her green dress up, surprised to see she had on a dark pair of blue panties for once.

“I don’t care, daddy, as long as you’re rough with me,” she said, biting her lip. You couldn’t help but smirk, roaming her tight body with her hands as you gripped her wide hips, harshly spinning her around as she gasped in delight.

“P-please, daddy. I need you. I need to be fucked so bad,” she pleaded, her eyes wide and bright. You kissed her bare shoulders, planting your lips behind her neck and whispered into her ear.

“I want you to watch me ravaging your pretty little cunt, baby.”

Somi dripped between her thighs and her muscles tensed up as you slid her skimpy thong to the side, exposing her gorgeous pussy to you, pink flesh dripping with arousal.

“O-of course, daddy,” Somi said, bending over the makeup countertop, sticking her plump round ass out and placing her palms flat on the surface, ready and willing to be taken right there.

Had there not been time restraints placed, you would have loved to make her beg and tease her pussy until she was as needy as could be, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option right now.

You spread her long legs, grabbing your throbbing shaft and rubbing her aching sensitive clit, pressing it against Somi’s hot wet flesh as she looked back, eyes full of desire.

“Fuck me, daddy. Fuck me like a whore.”

You didn’t hesitate for a second and pushed yourself in deep, her warmth suffocating you as you sank inside every inch of hot flesh, her cunt clenching hard as she moaned loudly. You didn’t waste time, thrusting immediately without any build-up, harshly gripping her hips as you began fucking her tight body from behind.

“Oh my god, daddy,” Somi moaned, her erotic expression visible in the mirror. Your rhythm was frantic from the very start, pistoning your hips and smacking them against her beautiful ass, causing her cheeks to ripple with every stroke.

“Such a tight little whore aren’t you? You like your pretty pussy stretched like this, baby?”

“Y-yes, daddy! You’re so fucking big, pound me daddy, pound me with your big fucking cock.”

“I’d fucking love to,” you replied, grabbing a rough handful of hair and wrapping your fingers around it, forming a ponytail and yanking back hard on it, tugging her head back. Her pussy clenched as she looked directly into the mirror, her eyes barely able to keep open as her mouth let out nothing but needy moans.

“Watch yourself, baby. Watch what I’m going to do to my pretty little cumslut.”

“Y-yes, daddy. R-ruin my pussy, please. Fuck my tight little hole until you blow your load in it!”

Somi’s filthy mouth only served to bring out your carnal desires, increasing your pace rapidly as you slammed her body against the counter, causing her back to arch perfectly as she screamed in delight. You really hoped the dressing room was far enough away from the rest of the staff to not be heard, but at this point you didn’t give a shit if they were listening right outside the door.

“F-fuck me harder daddy, p-please fuck me like the naughty whore I am!”

Your strong grip tightened on her hips, firmly pressing both thumbs into her toned back hard enough that you’re pretty sure was going to leave a bruising mark, one of the myriad of things Somi was going to have to figure out how to explain.

“Treat me like your pretty little fucktoy and break me!”

You watched intently in the mirror in front of you as Somi’s expressive features grew more contorted by the second, her lips only able to form breathless whiny moans and several strings of profanity.

Her pussy tightened to the point of almost causing pain, your shaft being lubricated thoroughly by her abundant slick that dripped down her thighs as you gave it your all, watching her breasts bouncing in the mirror in a way that hypnotized you into a trance.

“Choke me, daddy. Please, fucking choke your whore,” Somi said, as you seemed to be taken aback by every new sentence that left her lips.

You didn’t know what had gotten into her, but you didn’t have time to care as you dropped the bundle of hair you had, bringing the same hand to the front of her body, fondling one of her breasts before finding her warm, soft neck and wrapping your fingers around her throat and giving a gentle squeeze.

“More,” she demanded, and placed her small hand on the back of your own, increasing the pressure as she felt more airflow being restricted, thriving off the feeling she felt.

Somi’s dripping hot pussy pulsated wildly as you pumped into her, keeping a hand on her delicate throat as you looked at the sight in the mirror, something you’d never forget. Her chosen dress barely still on, mascara stains still visible underneath her eyes, her breasts bouncing deliciously with every rock of your hips as you choked her.

Somi kept her eyes focused straight ahead and loved every second of it.

It was hard to remember where you were, that this was still a designated break for Somi and that she would still have to return to work in a few short moments. Yet, you continued to pound into her tight cunt, giving such powerful hard thrusts she was liable to forget her own name.

“God, you’re so fucking deep inside my tight little pussy. Don’t stop fucking me, daddy, use me until you’re done with me!” Somi said, her words becoming an unrecognizable slur that all ran together.

Her warm wet walls grew wetter the harder you drilled her as the room became an orchestra of pleasure - the wet squelch of her pussy, harsh sounds of flesh smacking against flesh, and the constant rising volume of her loud needy moans and gasps, every second that went by without a knock on the door caused a sense of relief.

That satisfying smack of flesh grew louder and louder as you released your grip on her throat. earning a whimpering moan. Your hands weren’t kept idle as you grabbed Somi’s arms and pulled them back, gripping her wrists as her back arched even more, hammering into her pussy with as much energy as you could exert.

“Oh f-fuck, daddy! D-don’t stop, don’t stop fucking your slutty little whore!” Somi said, her clouded eyes barely able to watch herself in the mirror as you saw her vacant stare. You used her slender arms as handles to fuck her senseless, feeling her gripping pussy squeezing the life out of your cock as it pulsated wildly as the stale air in the small tight room grew hotter.

“I’m going t-to cum, daddy! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, daddy-”

Somi didn’t even have time to finish her sentence, her body already trembling, her held back arms shaking as her pussy tightened even more. Her hips bucked, toes curling into her expensive heels as she shrieked, juices flooding out of her cunt as she came the hardest she had in some time.

You didn’t let up, not that she would have wanted you to as you fucked her through her intense orgasm, pounding away and maintaining the same breakneck pace, harsh stroke after harsh stroke into her heat.

Somi's constantly clenching pussy sent tingles up your spine, and you weren't that far off from your own release if the aching tightness in your balls was anything to go by.

"I'm gonna fucking fill your needy cunt with cum, baby," you hissed, not asking for permission, hooking her arms and bringing her body upright until her back was pressing against your chest, making sure she wasn't going anywhere.

"P-please cum inside me, daddy. Cum inside your filthy little whore! Please, daddy, dump your huge thick load inside my slutty wet pussy, please!"

You loved using Somi like this, her pussy begging for cum as you railed her without mercy, the use of her arms taken from her and nothing to hold on to and at your mercy, taking every thrust into her body and pleading for more. You watched her lustful expression in the mirror as her breasts never stopped bouncing, chasing that sweet release you both desperately wanted.

It wouldn't be much longer now, your hips smacking harshly against her ass as her cunt was fucked so hard she would definitely have trouble not only walking out of her but for the next few days. Savoring every thrust into Somi’s tight warm body, you never let up, keeping the pace as fast your limbs allowed you to move until you finally were pushed over the edge.

“I’m fucking cumming!”

It took less than a handful of thrusts as you buried yourself in Somi’s wet warmth, groaning loudly as you spilled your seed deep into her cunt, throbbing with each shot of hot cum that you emptied into her inviting body, filling her to the absolute brim.

You used the last remaining energy in your body, hips tiredly working until you had no more to deposit in her. Thoroughly drained you never stopped thrusting, trying to fuck your hot deep as it possibly could go, spilling every drop into her womb.

Your moments slowed down little by little until they halted completely as you released her arms as she collapsed against the counter, both of you spent, filled with fatigue and gasping for air, an equally exhausted mess of bodies.

You rested inside her for one final moment, wanting to savor her smothering warmth for as long as possible as you gave her ass a quick smack and slowly pulled out, a flowing stream of thick semen dripping out of her roughly used pussy, staining her beautiful thighs.

“H-holy shit, d-daddy, you fucked me so well,” she said, her words trembling as you slid her thong back in place and pulled her dress down as she turned around to face you.”

“You asked me to.”

“I’m going to be so sore,” Somi smiled as she leaned in and kissed your lips, her bare breasts pressing against your chest.

Your breathing resumed gradually as you wiped the sweat off your brow. You wanted to say something but were rudely interrupted by a voice from the intercom.

“Jeon Somi to the set please!”

The two of you frowned as Somi took one more step, lips locking on to yours deeply, gasping for air as they withdrew.

“You really made me a mess, daddy,” she said proudly, as she pulled her top back up, trying to fix her hair as best as she could.

“I better get cleaned up. Fuck me again after I finish up?”

“Of course, baby.”

She kissed you on the cheek as she made her exit, walking gingerly and taking slow, tired steps out of the room.

You felt a little guilty that her staff would have to put in so much extra work, but that was their problem not yours. The fact that your load would be dripping out of her for the rest of the photo shoot, just the thought putting a smirk on your face.

You pulled your pants back up, stopping by the nearest bathroom to try and fix your hair, freshening yourself up before heading back.

Somi had a lot of explaining to do.

#somi smut #kpop smut #somi #reader insert #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader

930 notes · View notes

murswrites · 3 years

Text

Spiders And Toy Soldiers ⎯ Kaz Brekker One-Shot

Pairings: Kaz Brekker x Reader, SOC canon pairings Fandom: Grishaverse MASTERLIST Word Count: 2,139 Warnings: Six of Crows Spoilers, mentions of a fem looking reader for sake of the plot, wee bit of tension SUMMARY: You’re the leader of a mostly fem gang called the Black Widows and the leader of your rivaling gang, Kaz Brekker is in need of some help. Request from @maybanksslut: kaz brekker x reader with rivals to lovers? like maybe they're two different gangs and rival all the time, but once they do a job together?

A/N Um... I’ve been trying to finish this since you requested and honestly forgot where I was going with it. I might finish it one day but here’s a half-baked fic that’s mostly exposition :) Maybe one day I’ll writing a second part?

Also, I know it might see similar to @magpiencrow‘s piece, “Black Widow” but at the time I started writing this, I wasn’t aware she wrote a Kaz piece with the same premise of Y/N being a gang leader! You can read her piece here :) (it’s amazing!!)

Everyone in the Barrel knew of the rivalry between the Dregs and your gang, the Black Widows. Two completely different gangs but both equally feared. You were well aware of the things people said about you, “They’ve got a scorpion’s tail that’ll prick you when you turn your back!”, “My brother got a good look once and now he’s blind.”

There were about a hundred different names used to describe you. But the one you laughed at the most was Medusa. “A gang named after spiders and the leader’s a fuckin’ snake.” The memory of blinding the man who said that never left your mind, none of them did. But you didn’t let it affect you outwardly.

It was beautiful being untouchable. Some people would try to take you down, but your loyal members would sweep them under the rug as if they were toy soldiers. Your widows are far more effective than any male soldier. A gang of women run by someone who nobody has ever lived to tell an accurate account of.

Despite your terrifying reputation, you’re hardly 18. A youngster, just like Kaz Brekker… the boy known as Dirty Hands aka your biggest rival. You two never met but you’ve dealt with his little bird, Inej Ghafa aka the Wraith. A pretty girl with a tendency to spy on you.

You hated how she managed to squeeze her way past your defenses but one night it was more than necessary. The Wraith had a proposition, from Dirty Hands himself… a bloody truce between yourself and the Dregs.

When the words left the Wraith’s mouth, you laughed in her face. “A truce? With the Dregs? Darling, I’m afraid to tell you this, but Kaz Brekker doesn’t run the Dregs. I’m well aware he fronts as the boss but I’m sure Per Haskell would love to hear of this little truce Dirty Hands has cooked up.”

A Widow chuckled to herself which prompted you to glare in her direction, “Out, now.” She nodded and left without another word. “Ms. Ghafa, I’m sure you’re well aware that Black Widows don’t have partners… left alone allies.”

“What if there were 30 million Kruge involved?”

Of course, this piqued your interest, 30 million split between a small team would land everyone into retirement if they choose so. You knew there was a catch, 30 million Kruge is only certain if the crew dies in the process… no one would ever throw away that much money.

“Any job paying that much means certain death,”

Your right-hand man leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “Word is Pekka Rollins knows about this, we could all be free if you take the offer.”

Jeska’s words weighed heavy on your chest. “We” included yourself, despite escaping from hell, you still had plenty of people to pay off. You looked around the office at each of the ladies, the gang was more than just a group of people using one another.

It’s a family and you’d do anything to keep them safe. Including risking your life. “Set up a meeting, Wraith. It’s time I finally meet Mr. Brekker.”

Nothing would truly prepare you for what was to come. You walked down the cobbled streets with Widows all around you, a scarf covered your face. It was all a part of the lore, the mysterious leader of the Black Widows. No one got a chance to get too close as you walked into The Crow Club.

A hush fell over the room, everyone in the Barrel knew trouble by smell alone. And to anyone involved, you entering Dreg territory was surely trouble. As though she were truly a phantom, Inej appeared in front of you. “Follow me.”

You recognized a few faces here and there, Jesper Fahey stood out to you as his jaw practically dropped to the floor. A smirk made its way onto your face, it was entertaining watching everyone lose their marbles upon seeing you.

Inej knocked on the door and whispered to someone-- presumably Kaz Brekker --behind the door. “He’s inside.”

“Get the door,” You said to Jeska.

It was strange to say the least, agreeing to work with the enemy. Kaz Brekker and his army of Dregs… even if it isn’t his army if one is being technical. His bargain was simple: you and a few trusted confidantes would join his team and everyone would get at least 2 million Kruge if the job was completed.

That much money would be enough to save your life. You wouldn’t pass up such an opportunity. Everyone’s fate was now tied together by means of a contract with your and Kaz’s signatures.

The preparations had to be done quickly so that the likes of Pekka Rollins couldn’t take the prize from beneath your noses. With both of your forces combined, everything went smoothly up until the night you had to leave. You were well aware that Kaz planted a dummy boat, but you hadn’t expected so many of Rollins’ men to show up.

You nearly suffered a fatal stab wound if not for Inej getting in the way. It was pure chaos. But the drüskelle you broke out of Hellgate, managed to fend for himself quite well. Two of your ladies were too wounded to manage the trip but well enough to get home safe. You hated the part of yourself that thought about more money coming your way.

Unbeknownst to Kaz, you’ve known about Jurda Parem for a few weeks. One of your messengers practically stumbled upon some important intel that came in from Shu Han. Apparently, something had changed in the Grisha world. Some of them were doing impossible stunts; even for a Grisha.

You heard of Heartrenders controlling others' minds… even going so far as to immobilize them. It frightened you, to hear of the effects of this drug on the mind of a Grisha. Something inside you wondered what it could do to you and your horrible ability to summon storms. Nobody knew you were part Grisha.

Hell, even you hardly knew if it were true. You’d never grown up around other Grisha so your talents were left untapped. But as you grew up, you tried to use the power bestowed upon you… and every time you ended up hurting someone (usually yourself).

The plan was simple-- as simple as a 30 million kruge heist could be --in and out, grab the scientist… and live to see the day you’d get your money. “That’s easy enough,” You joked, everyone stared at you like a fish out of water. Even the Fjerdan thought you were odd.

The crew was small so that the chances of word getting out were low. Nobody could know you were leaving the country. The lie you came up with was simple, you were busy and needed to focus inside for a while.

With the plan complete by the time you made it to northern Fjerda, all that was there to do was execute it. Kaz was smarter than he looked and it impressed you that he hadn’t tried to pull the rug beneath your feet before the truce.

Only you would come to complete the job, the rest of your crew would stay on the boat. Didn’t need any more death on your hands.

The entire walk to the Ice Court was miserable, the cold made your bones ache, it reminded you of starving on the streets of Ketterdam. Alongside the Fjerdan and Grisha girl bickering it made you more than annoyed. Surrounded by people you didn’t know, you felt hellishly out of place.

A single thought plagued your mind the entire way there, “If I’m the only one from my team, who’s to say these idiots would save me?” It made you a bit paranoid, they’re not exactly the easiest bunch of people to trust.

Either way, you had to pull through because by the end of it you’d get at least 2 million kruge… a sum of money that’d set you free forever.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one whose feet have gone fuckin’ numb.” You complained and drew the coat in closer, “It’s like I’m standing in an ice bath,”

Jesper sticks his hand up, “Haven’t felt them since we got off the boat,” His breath was clear to even your eyes as you trailed toward the end of the group.

You shivered and kept walking before the Grisha, Nina Zenik tapped you on the shoulder. “I could warm you up?” You sensed the slightly flirty tone along with genuine concern.

Part of you wanted to say yes, but at the same time, this could be where you die. You shook off the negative thoughts, “Please,” You said quietly. Nina offered a small smile as you opened the coat. She pressed her hands to your chest and suddenly warmth flowed through your entire body. “Oh saints, that’s wonderful.”

Inej gave you an odd look. That must’ve been the first time she’s ever heard you say please. All that spying and she’s never seen an ounce of gratitude. “Sometimes being Grisha is nice--” Her sentence was cut short upon seeing what looked to be bodies burning, it took a second for you to realize what was happening.

Despite your lack of knowledge of Fjerda and its supposed “Witch hunters”, you knew what was happening just by Nina’s reaction. They were burning Grisha on stakes. Everyone watched with various degrees of horror, even the boy who has probably burned many Grisha looked unsettled.

By the time you’d made it to the city of Djerholm, it’s like the world was turned upside down. Each and every building was a different, vibrant shade of the rainbow. It was beautiful. You couldn’t help the awed look on your face as the group walked through the city. Ketterdam’s dark and brooding nature could never combat the vibrant colors of Djerholm.

“Have you ever seen the rainbow?” Jesper jokes, bumping his shoulder into yours. He got comfortable quite quickly.

“Why’re you being so friendly? Aren’t you the same lad whose jaw fell upon seeing me?” You asked curiously, eyeing the young man intently.

Jesper’s smile dropped as he began to look nervous, “Nobody’s talking and you seem-- um…”

You struggle not to laugh at his embarrassment, “Calm down I don’t actually bite.” You whispered to him. The light in his eyes was obvious upon hearing you make a joke.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Kaz glance back toward you two. Probably just making sure you don’t kill Jesper.

Once on the roof of a tavern, Kaz explains exactly how he plans to enter the Ice Court. “We’re to pose as prisoners?” You wonder, “What if the Fjerdans know what the prisoners look like?”

“It’s our only way in, we have to hope they’re not that thorough.”

“They are,” Said the Fjerdan. “It may have changed in a year, but… they have lists of who’s coming in and out.”

“So we find prisoners we look like then?”

Kaz shakes his head, “That will take too long, we won’t have much time to get inside the wagon.”

You wiped your hands on your pants. “Isn’t it a Grisha thing to be able to modify physical appearances?” You wonder, “You’re a heartrender… can’t you tailor too?”

“When’d you learn about Grisha schools?” Nina asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” You explained simply, leaving it at that.

The Ice Court was supposed to be the hardest place in the world to break into… and a bunch of teenagers managed to do just that. Sure, the way Kaz went about it was a bit… unorthodox but it worked, didn’t it?

When it came time to get out of the wagon, the guards made a fuss upon seeing you.

“What’s this one? Paper doesn’t say if it’s a man or woman.” It was hard to keep a straight face. Thankfully, Nina tailored you to seem more feminine for a short while so you could help her and Inej on their end of things. With the boys being four and the girls (without you) being only two, it seemed fair.

“Looks like a girl to me?”

And that was that. Soon everyone was in their cells. The heist truly began in those moments as you, Nina, and Inej waited for Kaz and Wylan to get you out. Kaz, Nina, and yourself go together. She’s easy to relax around but Kaz isn’t, he always seems off... Probably using her ability to calm you down. The thought seemed irrational for a moment, but it was a very good possibility.

Instead of being annoyed by it, you decided it was good that you could trust them. Even if it wasn’t genuine. You split up three ways to look for the scientist.

grishaverse moots

@maybanksslut

@flysafepapi

@musicallisto

@lxncelot

@swanimagines

@genyaakostyk

@lotsoffandomimagines

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #kaz brekker imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #nina zenik #inej ghafa #matthias helvar #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #murswrites

186 notes · View notes

restapesta · 3 years

Note

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #*ficlet #i only know about bipolar from thw show so don't hold my word for anything written in this #btw anon hope you have a wonderful day #thank you for the ask!

202 notes · View notes

reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.��

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic

673 notes · View notes