#wine charm sets | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshifighting · 5 months

Text

From Accords to Kisses

Synopsis: Seungcheol, feeling overshowed by his accomplished cousin Jisoo, concocted a plan to surprise his family. Desperate to match up, he enlists Y/N, a talented athlete swimmer from his university, to play his girlfriend. Amidst the charade, unexpected sparks fly, leading to a surprising turn in their relationship.

Word count: 7.1k

Reader! Swimmer/University athlete, Seungcheol! University Student - Fake Dating

Warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, dirty talk, kitchen sex, loud moaning, creampie, big dick cheol, wap, and they are almost caught making out inside of the pool.

Seungcheol, a junior in college, found himself caught in a web of expectations spun by his family. Their admiration for his cousin, Jisoo, was boundless. Jisoo was the epitome of success in their eyes—an academic achiever, a charming young man with a promising career, and someone who seemingly excelled in every aspect of life. The family gatherings were always filled with tales of Jisoo's achievements, and they became a benchmark against which Seungcheol often found himself measured.

It was during one family dinner that his mother, after a few glasses of wine, turned to Seungcheol with a probing gaze. "When are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend, Seungcheol? Jisoo always has someone new to bring to family gatherings."

Caught off guard, Seungcheol felt the pressure mounting. He wasn't one to share details about his personal life, and the idea of having to introduce a girlfriend to the family seemed daunting. Trying to deflect the conversation, he blurted out, "Actually, Mom, I already have a girlfriend."

His mother's eyes widened in surprise, and a triumphant smile spread across her face. "Really? That's wonderful! You must bring her to the summer house this weekend. Jisoo and his family are coming too. It'll be a perfect opportunity for everyone to meet."

Seungcheol's mind raced as he tried to come up with a solution to his fabricated predicament. He couldn't admit to lying now; the web he had woven was too intricate. With a deep sigh, he nodded in agreement, accepting the challenge he had unwittingly set for himself.

Seungcheol paced through the college hallways, the weight of his fabricated girlfriend dilemma pressing on his shoulders. As he traversed the familiar corridors, he pondered his limited options. He wasn't exactly the type to have a multitude of close female friends, and the few acquaintances he did have might not be willing to play the role of his imaginary girlfriend.

His mind raced through a mental roster of female classmates, trying to assess who might be willing to assist him in this family charade. Seungcheol was not oblivious to the fact that asking someone to pose as his girlfriend for a family gathering was an unusual request, and the potential for rejection loomed large.

He glanced around the bustling campus, contemplating his next move. Should he approach someone he knew only in passing, risking an awkward refusal? Or perhaps he should resort to desperate measures and post a plea for assistance on social media, hoping that someone, out of pity or curiosity, would agree to help him out.

Seungcheol's mind was abruptly interrupted as he collided with someone in the bustling college hallway. Books scattered in every direction, and his immediate reaction was a chorus of apologies. Looking down to collect the fallen books, he was met with a pair of apologetic eyes belonging to Y/N.

He couldn't help but notice her black and tight gymnastic clothing, a stark contrast to the casual attire of most students. Her hair was damp, and droplets of water adorned her skin. It didn't take long for him to connect the dots – she was a member of the university's swimming team, a detail he had likely overlooked in the past.

As Seungcheol handed her the last of the fallen books, he couldn't help but find her presence intriguing. The hurried apology, the sporty attire, and the damp hair all painted a vivid picture of someone with a disciplined and athletic lifestyle.

Before he could articulate his thoughts or ask about her involvement in the swimming team, Y/N flashed a quick smile and darted towards the exit, leaving Seungcheol with a trail of unanswered questions and a newfound idea forming in his mind.

His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the bustling crowd, and a realization struck him. Y/N could be the perfect solution to his predicament.

One Saturday morning, when the university's athletes were deep in their practice routines, Seungcheol made his way to the swimming training center. He observed the swimmers cutting through the water with precision and grace, searching for Y/N among the lanes. Spotting her at last, he observed her storing her gear and searching for a towel on the bench.

Summoning his courage, Seungcheol left the stands and made his way toward her. As he approached, he noticed the surprise that flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a friendly smile as she recognized him.

"Hi Y/N,” Seungcheol greeted her, returning the smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Y/N shook her head, tucking the towel she had finally found over her shoulder. "No, not at all. I'm just finishing up practice. What brings you here? I've never seen you at our training sessions before."

Seungcheol took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“Sure what do you want to talk about”

“My family has this weekend gathering at our summer house, and my mom's been asking me about my girlfriend. Long story short, I might have told her I have one, and now she's expecting to meet her."

"You may have mentioned?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Okay, I'm following. But why do you need me for this?"

Seungcheol chuckled nervously. "Okay, maybe I said it definitively. But the point is, I'm in a bit of a bind, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to play the part of my girlfriend for the weekend. We just need to act like a couple in front of my family, and I'm sure we can come up with a believable backstory.”

Y/N's smile widened, and she crossed her arms, still holding the towel. "So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Just for a weekend? That's a pretty unconventional request, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol nodded, his sincerity evident. "I know it's a lot to ask, and I wouldn't blame you if you think it's too weird. But it would mean a lot to me, and I promise I'll make it up to you somehow."

"So, how exactly do you plan to make it up to me, Seungcheol?"

Seungcheol scratched his head, pondering the question. "Well, first of all, I promise to owe you a big favor. Anything you need, within reason, of course. I'll be there for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Anything? That's quite the open-ended promise. I might have to take advantage of that."

Seungcheol, thinking on his feet, remembered the valuable information he had gathered from Y/N's friends. "Well," he began with a smile, "your friends were kind enough to share some insights about you. I heard you have a favorite restaurant in town. How about I take you to dinner there? My treat."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. "My favorite restaurant, huh? You did your homework, Seungcheol. Alright, you've got yourself a deal. But you owe me the juiciest details about your family after this whole charade is over."

Seungcheol grinned, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "Deal. You'll get the full scoop, I promise."

[…]

As Seungcheol drove through the city lights on that Friday night, the hum of the car's engine accompanying the anticipation in the air. The suitcases were neatly stowed away in the trunk, and Y/N sat in the passenger seat, looking out at the passing scenery.

"You know," Seungcheol began, glancing at Y/N, "I never got to ask you what you do for work. What keeps you so busy?"

Y/N smiled, looking out at the passing city lights. "I work as a swimming teacher for children. It's a lot of fun, but it can be quite hectic, especially when the kids are super energetic. They keep me on my toes."

Seungcheol listened attentively, and for a brief moment, a wave of unexpected emotion washed over him. The image of Y/N teaching children to swim sparked a dream in his heart—the dream of a future with a big, happy family. He couldn't help but admire her dedication and the impact she must be making on those young lives. "That sounds like a rewarding job. Teaching kids to swim must be both challenging and fulfilling."

Y/N nodded, her expression reflecting a sense of accomplishment “The joy on their faces when they learn a new skill is priceless."

Seungcheol smiled, realizing that the persona he had created for Y/N as his imaginary girlfriend was turning into a tapestry of qualities that were both admirable and endearing. "I can imagine you must be an amazing teacher. It takes a special person to guide and inspire kids like that."

Y/N chuckled, her modesty evident. "I just try my best. But enough about me. What about you? What do you do when you're not orchestrating elaborate plans to appease your family?"

Seungcheol laughed, appreciating the humor in Y/N's question. "Well," Seungcheol began with a playful grin, "when I'm not masterminding intricate family charades, I'm usually trying to keep up with my studies, attempting to conquer the ever-growing pile of textbooks. It's a thrilling life, really."

The gravel crunched beneath the tires as Seungcheol pulled up to the family's summer house. As he parked, a sense of unease settled over him, amplified by the sight of his cousin's ostentatious and expensive car gleaming in the garage. Y/N, seated beside him, couldn't help but notice the expensive vehicle and the subtle tension in Seungcheol's demeanor.

"Who paints a car with that color?" Y/N remarked playfully, breaking the silence and attempting to lighten the mood.

Seungcheol chuckled nervously, appreciating the attempt at humor. "Yeah, it's a bit much, isn't it? My cousin has always had a flair for the extravagant. Apparently, even when it comes to car paint."

Y/N continued with a mischievous smile, "I mean, I've seen more tasteful choices in a preschool art class. Maybe he's trying to blind everyone on the road."

Seungcheol burst into laughter, the tension dissipating momentarily. "You might be onto something there. But hey, let's focus on the task at hand—convincing my family that we're the power couple of the century."

Y/N grinned, her playful spirit adding a spark to the moment. "Power couple, huh? Should we come up with a secret handshake or something?"

As they unloaded their suitcases and approached the front door, the facade of the perfect couple began to take shape. As Seungcheol and Y/N approached the front door of the summer house, they noticed Seungcheol's parents emerging from the backyard, engrossed in conversation. Seungcheol's heart skipped a beat as he realized the moment of introduction was upon them. "Here we go," Seungcheol muttered under his breath, a nervous grin playing on his lips as he straightened his posture, trying to exude confidence.

Y/N shot him an encouraging smile, sensing his apprehension. "We've got this," she whispered softly, her voice carrying a reassuring tone.

Seungcheol nodded, taking a deep breath as they reached his parents. His mother's eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing them.

"Seungcheol, dear, you're finally here!" his mother exclaimed, her warm smile widening as her gaze shifted to Y/N. "And who might this lovely young lady be?"

Seungcheol's heart raced, but he managed to keep a composed demeanor. "Mom, Dad, this is Y/N. She's my girlfriend," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

Y/N flashed a bright smile, extending her hand in a friendly gesture. "Hello! It's a pleasure to meet you both. Seungcheol has told me so much about you."

Seungcheol's parents exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and delight. Seungcheol's mother wasted no time in pulling both of them into a warm embrace.

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed, beaming with joy. "Seungcheol, you've kept her hidden from us for so long. It's about time we got to meet your girlfriend!"

Seungcheol managed a nervous chuckle, stealing a glance at Y/N, who played her part impeccably, her smile unwavering. As they entered the house, the facade of the perfect couple continued, and Seungcheol couldn't shake the blend of anxiety and relief swirling within him.

As Seungcheol and Y/N entered Seungcheol's childhood room on the second floor, Y/N couldn't help but be drawn to the memorabilia that adorned the walls. The room was a testament to Seungcheol's achievements, filled with medals hanging from a supporter and framed photos capturing moments of his past.

Y/N's eyes lingered on a particular set of medals, each one a symbol of triumph in various competitions. "Impressive collection," she remarked, her gaze traveling from one medal to another.

Y/N examined a photo of young Seungcheol proudly standing on a podium with a black belt in jiu-jitsu, another of him passionately playing soccer, and yet another capturing the moment of his high school graduation.

"You look like the perfect son," Y/N said, a genuine admiration in her voice. "I don't understand why there's this constant comparison with your cousin. You've achieved so much on your own."

Seungcheol sighed, his gaze lingering on the photos. "It's just the way it's always been. Jisoo, my cousin, is the benchmark for success in my family. No matter what I do, it always feels like I'm in his shadow."

Y/N had been on the verge of sharing something with Seungcheol when the door creaked open, and Seungcheol's mom entered the room. Her face beamed with excitement, and her eyes were filled with pride as she spoke.

"Seungcheol, dear, Jisoo's family is waiting for us downstairs. And let me tell you, their daughter is absolutely adorable. You should see her, such a sweetheart!"

He managed a polite smile, concealing the sigh that threatened to escape. "Sure, Mom. We'll be right down."

As Seungcheol and Y/N made their way to the yard, they found themselves in the company of Jisoo, his face sporting a furrowed brow as he observed the "couple" holding hands. His eyes seemed to express a mix of curiosity and mild inconvenience. Jisoo, always accustomed to being in the spotlight, felt a twinge of irritation at the attention Seungcheol seemed to be receiving.

"Seungcheol, I see you finally found someone to keep you company," Jisoo remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Seungcheol managed a tight smile, the tension palpable. "Yeah, this is Y/N. Y/N, meet my cousin, Jisoo."

Y/N offered a polite nod, but the instant dislike was evident in her eyes as she shook Jisoo's outstretched hand. Jisoo, oblivious to the undercurrents, turned his attention back to Seungcheol with a smirk.

"So, Seungcheol, how long have you two lovebirds been together? Or is this just another fling?" Jisoo's question carried a hint of mockery.

Seungcheol's grip tightened on Y/N's hand, a hint of discomfort flickering across his face. Y/N, however, surprised both Seungcheol and Jisoo by retorting with a calm yet assertive tone, "Oh, we're still in the honeymoon phase, you know. Seungcheol's such a romantic!”

Jisoo's smirk faltered, replaced by a flash of uncertainty at Y/N's assertive response. While Seungcheol noticed how practical she was with her answers. As Seungcheol's dad called for dinner, Jisoo took the opportunity to leave, disappearing into the house without a backward glance. His departure seemed to ease the tension that had loomed around them.

With Jisoo out of earshot, Y/N leaned closer to Seungcheol, her voice low as she mockingly imitated Jisoo's haughty tone, adding a touch of humor to the situation. "Seungcheol, darling, I believe my greatness is far too dazzling for mere mortals to comprehend," she joked, her imitation surprisingly accurate.

Seungcheol chuckled softly at Y/N's impression, finding her ability to lighten the mood in the midst of tension both unexpected and refreshing. "You caught onto that pretty fast, huh? Not a fan of Jisoo, I take it?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "He's like a walking checklist of things I can't stand. But hey, we're putting on a show, right? I can play nice for your family."

Seungcheol, grateful for Y/N's resilience and ability to handle the situation with humor, offered a sincere apology. "I'm sorry you have to deal with all of this. I didn't expect it to be so... intense."

Y/N waved off his apology, a reassuring smile on her face. "No worries. I can handle a bit of drama. Let's just get through this dinner, and then we can figure out how to survive the rest of the weekend."

He chuckled again, appreciating Y/N's ability to navigate the complexities of his family dynamics. As they headed inside for dinner, the shared laughter between them became a beacon of comfort amidst the orchestrated performance they were embroiled in.

Seated at the dinner table, Seungcheol exhibited a courteous demeanor, serving Y/N and delicately placing the napkin on her lap. It was a gesture that reflected not just an act for the charade but an ingrained courtesy that came from being well-raised.

Y/N appreciated the gesture, noticing the genuine manners that Seungcheol effortlessly displayed. To her, it wasn't an act of pretending to be a good boyfriend; it was simply a reflection of his upbringing and character.

However, the atmosphere shifted as Jisoo took center stage, eagerly boasting about his company's achievements. He regaled the table with tales of success, his voice brimming with self-importance. Seungcheol's parents appeared captivated, hanging onto every word as if mesmerized by their nephew's accomplishments. As Jisoo's monologue continued, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnect. While she maintained a polite demeanor, the stark contrast between Jisoo's self-centered dialogue and Seungcheol's modesty became more apparent.

Seungcheol, noticing the discomfort, shot Y/N a sympathetic glance, silently acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation. The facade they maintained was starting to crack, revealing the genuine individuals they were beneath the surface.

Seungcheol's dad, intrigued by the prospect of learning more about how Seungcheol and Y/N met, directed his attention towards her with a warm smile.

"So, Y/N, how did you and Seungcheol cross paths? I'm curious to hear the story," he inquired, a genuine interest in his eyes.

Y/N met Seungcheol's gaze, a subtle nod encouraging her to share their fabricated narrative. With a composed smile, she began to weave the tale.

"Well, Mr. Choi," she started, "I was working on a particularly challenging project for my technology class. Knowing that Seungcheol is widely recognized as one of the brightest minds in his class, I decided to seek his expertise."

Seungcheol's dad nodded appreciatively, his eyes reflecting approval. "Ah, seeking out the best in the field. Smart move."

Y/N continued, her expression earnest, "I reached out to Seungcheol, and he graciously agreed to help me. I was impressed by his intelligence and dedication to his studies."

Seungcheol's parents exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by this newfound revelation about their son's academic prowess. The charade wove its way into the fabric of their family dynamic, blurring the lines between fiction and reality.

As dinner conversation continued, Jisoo, seemingly on a quest for attention, diverted the topic to his own life. With an air of self-importance, he proudly announced, "My wife, spends her time making our daughter Instagram famous. She's a digital influencer, you know."

Seated next to Jisoo, his wife appeared absorbed in the task of filling their daughter's mouth with food, seemingly disinterested in the conversation.

As the dinner conversation meandered, Jisoo once again sought attention, showcasing his wife, a woman who fit the stereotype of a socialite, indulgently feeding their daughter. Sat beside her, Jisoo proudly mentioned his wife's profession as a digital influencer, a statement delivered with a touch of self-importance.

"And what about your girl? What does she do?" Jisoo directed the question at Seungcheol, his tone tinged with a hint of curiosity and a smidgen of superiority.

Seungcheol, maintaining the charade, responded calmly, "She's an athlete, a swimmer." Jisoo's eyes widened in genuine surprise at the revelation. He recalled hearing about a swimming competition held months ago at the university, where Seungcheol's "girl" had emerged victorious.

"You're into sports?" Jisoo's tone held a subtle incredulity, his surprise evident.

Seungcheol nodded proudly, "Yes, she's quite accomplished. She even won the university's swimming competition and participated in international contests."

Meanwhile, Jisoo's wife interjected, dismissing the idea of sports due to the impact on her appearance. "Oh, I don't like sports. They ruin my nails and all."

Y/N, maintaining her composure but unwilling to let the comment pass, retorted calmly, "Well, being active and healthy is really beneficial. Nails can grow back, but a healthy lifestyle has far-reaching benefits."

Seungcheol, silently impressed by Y/N's poise and her willingness to stand her ground, couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her resilience.

As Seungcheol's mom asked Jisoo and Y/N to help bring dessert to the table, Y/N willingly offered her assistance. They found themselves in the kitchen together, navigating the preparations side by side. However, in the midst of their task, Jisoo seized the opportunity to corner Y/N with an uncomfortable question.

"You and Seungcheol don't seem all that close. Did the honeymoon phase wear off already? Bad sign?" Jisoo asked, his tone carrying a hint of mockery.

Unbeknownst to Jisoo, Seungcheol had overheard the conversation. Seungcheol entered the kitchen, casually holding Y/N's waist and grabbing a couple of spoons, playing it cool as if he hadn't heard a word.

Y/N, glancing at Seungcheol with a sly smile, decided to play along. She placed a kiss on Seungcheol's lips, a gesture that surprised Jisoo.

"Well, actually, things are running really well. We just have our own way of being close," Y/N replied, her tone confident, while Seungcheol maintained the act, appearing nonchalant.

Seungcheol's presence seemed to catch Jisoo off guard, and he awkwardly shifted the conversation. "Oh, uh, good to hear. I just thought—"

Seungcheol, still holding Y/N close, interrupted with a grin, "We're just not as showy as some people, I guess."

Jisoo, realizing the conversation had taken an unexpected turn, nodded with a forced smile, and they continued their dessert preparations.

Seungcheol left the kitchen with his heart pounding in his chest, the unexpected kiss lingering on his lips. As he settled back at the table with Y/N, the air around them seemed charged with a newfound energy. His mind raced with curiosity about what questions or comments might follow.

Seungcheol and Y/N found a moment to talk privately, exchanging glances and shared smiles amidst the family conversations. However, their private bubble was burst when Seungcheol's mom decided to casually drop a bombshell into the conversation.

"You know," she began with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "I happened to see you two in the kitchen earlier. A little kiss, was it?" she said, leaving Seungcheol red-faced like a tomato. Clearly enjoying the flustered reaction she had induced in her son. "You're too beautiful, Y/N. I don't blame Seungcheol for not being able to resist your charms."

Seungcheol, now a deeper shade of red, attempted to diffuse the situation with an awkward laugh. "Mom, please..."

As the teasing banter continued, Y/N responded to Seungcheol's mom with a warm smile. "Mrs. Choi, your son is truly a beautiful man. I often found myself a bit breathless when I saw him in the university hallways."

Seungcheol, caught off guard by Y/N's compliment, felt his face grow warmer. He couldn't help but hold his palms to his face, as if attempting to shield himself from the embarrassment that threatened to consume him.

His mom, still in playful spirits, chuckled. "Well, it's no surprise. He has always been quite the handsome young man. I'm glad you appreciate his charm, dear."

As the conversation continued, Seungcheol couldn't shake the question lingering in his mind. Was Y/N merely playing along with the charade, or was there a genuine undercurrent to her words? Her smile and tone suggested a level of sincerity that left Seungcheol wondering about the authenticity of their connection.

Seungcheol suggested going to his room to get some rest, and Y/N agreed, feeling the fatigue from the day's events and the road trip. They entered his room, and Seungcheol closed the door behind them, creating a moment of privacy.

Seungcheol, leaning against the door, looked at Y/N with a thoughtful expression. The weight of the charade and the events of the family dinner lingered in the air. Breaking the silence, he posed an intense question, "What was that about at the dinner table? The kiss, the compliments... What's really going on here?"

Y/N, meeting Seungcheol's gaze, responded with a mix of sincerity and caution. "Seungcheol, we need to act well to pull this off convincingly. The compliments, the moments we share, they need to feel genuine. Right?”

As the morning sun painted the beach in warm hues, Y/N felt a sense of tranquility wash over her. The sound of waves and the sensation of warm sand beneath her feet created a perfect backdrop for a day with Seungcheol's family.

Observing Seungcheol playing with Jisoo's daughter, Y/N couldn't help but admire his strength and the tender way he interacted with the little girl. However, a concern surfaced in her mind – Seungcheol hadn't applied sunscreen.

"Seungcheol," she called out, scolding him playfully, "come here! You'll burn in this sun without sunscreen."

Seungcheol, momentarily distracted by the waves, jogged over to Y/N. She took the opportunity to apply sunscreen on his skin. As she rubbed it onto his broad shoulders and admired the softness of his skin, a fleeting thought crossed her mind. Lost in the moment, Seungcheol stood like a child being cared for. Y/N couldn't help but smile as she spread sunscreen on his face.

Seungcheol and Y/N, engaged in the playful challenge of building a sandcastle, found themselves in a race to fetch water from the sea. Seungcheol, ever the competitor, declared, "I'm stepping on the water first!"

Y/N, not one to back down, retorted, "You won't dare." With buckets in hand, they both sprinted towards the sea, the excitement of the challenge propelling them forward.

As they reached the water's edge, a larger wave surged, catching them off guard and sweeping them off their feet. The water receded, leaving Seungcheol holding Y/N, their bodies sprawled on the wet sand. Intense glares exchanged, a playful rivalry intensified in the aftermath of the unexpected wave.

"I arrived first," Seungcheol declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/N, her competitive spirit undeterred, argued, "No, you didn't! I got here first!"

Seungcheol, teasingly retorting, insisted, "You're just saying that because you ran fast."

She laughed, "It's not fair!"

Seungcheol, seizing the moment, interrupted her protest with a sudden kiss. As he got up from the sand, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, as she sat on his lap. His teeth bitting the soft lips from hers.

"Fair enough now?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.

Y/N, momentarily flustered by the unexpected kiss, couldn't help but chuckle. "Well played, Seungcheol."

The day at the beach continued with laughter and joy as they built the sandcastle. The little girl reveled in the attention of both Seungcheol and Y/N, enjoying every moment of splashing water and building sand structures.

As the sun began its descent, signaling the end of their beach day, the group headed home. Not yet tired from the day's activities, they decided to spend some time at the pool.

Y/N, with her background in swimming, took it upon herself to teach the little girl how to swim. Seungcheol, always admiring the scene, watched with a warm smile as the two splashed around, creating memories that would last a lifetime. Meanwhile, he joined his dad and cousin in preparing a barbecue, the scent of grilled food filling the air.

The poolside moments were filled with laughter, Seungcheol couldn't help but appreciate the genuine connection that seemed to be forming between Y/N and the little girl, a connection that went beyond the charade they were enacting.

The evening unfolded in a relaxed atmosphere, Seungcheol, taking a break from the grill, approached the pool where Y/N and the little girl were still playing. In his hands, he held two perfectly cooked pieces of steak, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Hey, you two," he called, "time for a little snack." With a grin, he offered the bite-sized steak to each of them, placing the savory morsels into their mouths. Laughter ensued as they savored the delicious flavors.

Seungcheol then returned to the grill, leaving Y/N and the little girl to enjoy the pool. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across the backyard.

Jisoo's wife called the little girl to take a bath, signaling the end of their poolside activities. As the backyard emptied, only Y/N remained, relaxing in the pool. Seungcheol, seizing the opportunity, managed to sit on the edge of the pool, the cool water lapping at his feet.

Seungcheol couldn't help but admire Y/N's figure as she swam gracefully through the pool. Her awareness of his gaze prompted her to swim over, and she surfaced near him, her arms draped over the pool's edge as she looked at him.

He met her gaze, the intensity between them palpable, but before any words could be exchanged, Y/N, with a mischievous smile, grabbed his legs and playfully pulled him into the pool. Seungcheol's protests of "no, no, no" were drowned out by the sound of his body splashing into the water.

Y/N grinned at him, satisfied with her little act of mischief, as Seungcheol surfaced, pushing his wet hair from his face. The water droplets glistened on his skin as he swam back to the edge, his arm muscles flexing with each stroke.

Y/N, feeling playful, hugged Seungcheol from behind, teasingly preventing him from leaving the pool. Seungcheol turned around, facing her with a smile.

"I'm not much of a swimmer like you," Seungcheol admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Y/N, still holding onto him, reassured him, "Don't worry, you won't drown with me here."

Seungcheol, feigning concern, quipped, "But if I do drown, you'll have to perform mouth-to-mouth on me."

Y/N burst into laughter, appreciating his sense of humor. "Oh, absolutely. I'm practically a certified lifeguard," she replied, the playful banter adding to the lighthearted atmosphere.

Seungcheol, feigning a dramatic sigh, submerged himself in the water, creating a ripple of playful splashes.

As Y/N dived into the water, the playful atmosphere took a sudden shift. Under the surface, Seungcheol met her eyes, and in that watery world, they shared a kiss. He held her arms, the sensation of their lips meeting under the water creating a moment of intimacy.

Breaking the surface, they both took a deep breath before locking lips again. Y/N, wrapping her legs around Seungcheol's waist, pulled herself closer. Their bodies pressed together, the embrace intensified. Seungcheol's tongue caressed hers, their passion growing with each passing second.

With a subtle movement, Seungcheol guided Y/N to the side of the pool, her back against the wall. As he pressed against her with his strong body, a soft moan escaped her lips.

Seungcheol's kisses trailed down Y/N's neck, evoking a shiver that traveled through her body. In response, she ran her nails gently along his back, eliciting a low groan from him. His hands, firmly gripping her hips, pulled her closer, the heat between them intensifying.

As Seungcheol's desire became more evident, Y/N, feeling a certain bulge inside of his shorts, “Cheolie…” called his name slyly, a playful and teasing tone in her voice. As Seungcheol's hands explored Y/N's body, the sounds of the water mingled with their shared movements. Despite the coolness of the pool, the intensity of their connection generated a heat that enveloped them, making the water around them seem almost irrelevant.

Y/N's eyes, not fully opened, widened as she sensed a figure approaching. Reacting quickly, she pushed herself away from Seungcheol, the realization dawning on her that they were not alone. Jisoo had entered the room, witnessing the unexpected scene. Seungcheol looked at her with concern, sensing the abrupt change in the atmosphere.

In a moment of embarrassment, Y/N instinctively hid behind Seungcheol's back, seeking refuge in the shield of his presence. Seungcheol, ever reassuring, gently caressed her hand, a silent gesture to ease her discomfort.

Jisoo, in a casual manner, announced that the family was heading to a restaurant and invited them to join. Y/N, still behind Seungcheol, hesitated, her mind racing.

Seungcheol, assessing the situation, spoke up, "We won't have time to get ready for that. We'll stay and I'll cook something for us."

Jisoo, understanding the situation, agreed and left the yard, leaving Seungcheol and Y/N alone once again. The air between them, though slightly disrupted by the interruption, held a sense of intimacy that lingered from their poolside encounter.

Seungcheol, grabbing a towel, left the pool and approached Y/N to dry her off. Together, they headed inside the house, making their way to the kitchen. From the window, Y/N watched as the family got inside the car, preparing to leave for the restaurant.

Seungcheol, seizing the moment, came up from behind her, their bodies pressed together. The wet material of his shorts clung to her, and she gasped, mentioning that the family hadn't left yet. Seungcheol responded with a soft "Mhmm," kissing her neck as he gently bent her over the kitchen marble. In a bold move, he moved aside her bikini, fingers starting to get wet from her arousal.

When his digits starts to rub her clit, Y/N couldn't help but cry out Seungcheol's name. Her voice carried a mix of desire and pleasure, and in response, Seungcheol pressed the bulge on her ass, intensifying the sensations that surged through their bodies.

As they both stood by the window, attentively watching the family's car pull away, Seungcheol took advantage of the moment. With a daring move, he slid a finger, eliciting a relieved moan from Y/N. The tension that had built up during the family's presence now found its release in the private confines of the kitchen.

With the family finally gone, Seungcheol and Y/N found themselves in a space free from prying eyes, allowing them to explore the depths of their connection without restraint.

"They're gone. Come here” Seungcheol, sensing the privacy that the departure of the family afforded them, took Y/N into his embrace. He seated her on the countertop, and with a tender touch, he began to undo the ties on the sides of her bikini. Seungcheol moved to remove the bottom part from the bikini, moving way the top from her tits.

Looking at her, his mouth sucks her nipple, fingers starting to work inside of her “Oh god” she moaned, head falling back as her thighs started to tremble. “Cheolie, feels so good!”

“I haven't even started yet babe…” He coos “Your pussy fells so good, clenching around my fingers, can’t wait to burry my cock inside of you.” He laughs when he feels her cunt clench with his dirty talking.

Stopping everything, his fingers dug into her thighs, holding her legs open, dragging his tongue over her clit. Moans getting louder, as he sucked her clit between his lips. Legs squeezed around his head, and her hips bucking into his mouth.

The kitchen countertop, an unexpected stage for their newfound intimacy, became a tether for Seungcheol and Y/N. In the privacy of the secluded kitchen, Seungcheol worked with a heightened sense of urgency, each movement reflecting a shared desire that went beyond the initial charade of the weekend. Y/N's moans echoed through the house, blending with the intimate sounds of their connection.

Y/N, whispered breathlessly, "I'm getting closer, Cheolie." She held onto Seungcheol's soft hair with her fingers.

He moans feeling that her pussy was already dripping on his chin, making his heart to beat faster. In Seungcheol's mind, it felt like another competition, a different kind of contest that fueled the hunger in his eyes. As he worked to bring Y/N to climax, his gaze remained intense and focused. The shared pleasure became a battleground where every move, every touch, was a strategic maneuver aimed at winning the unspoken competition between them. The intimate encounter reached its peak as Y/N lay spread on the kitchen counter, screams of pleasure escaping her lips while she cum. The walls of the kitchen held the echoes of their shared moans, creating a symphony of passion that filled the secluded space.

In the aftermath of their intense connection, Seungcheol and Y/N found themselves in a moment of quiet, the kitchen countertop now bearing witness to the depths of their shared desires. Seungcheol, still in the aftermath of their passionate encounter, managed to pull off the strings that held his shorts on his body. The remaining clothes cascaded to the floor, leaving him exposed in the intimacy of the kitchen.

His erection stands proud, waiting for the warm hug from her wet cunt. He gently pulled Y/N to the edge of the countertop, his heavy cock laying on her belly. “I’m going to fill you up.” He whispers in her ear, slowly pushing his thick cock inside of her, getting him gasping, since his big dick us squeezed by her slippery walls.

Holding his body close, she lets out a long whine, stumbling her elbow In the midst of the intimate aftermath, a sudden interruption startled Y/N. As she moved, her elbow accidentally hit a spoon holder, causing the utensils to clatter loudly into the sink. The unexpected noise echoed through the quiet kitchen, disrupting the moment.

“S-sorr-y! Ngh” Y/N, in an attempt to apologize, managed to murmur. However, her eyes rolled back into her skull, overwhelmed by the fast pace of Seungcheol hips, making his thick tip, knock her g’spot.

“Shh… That’s okay sweetheart, I got you, It’s okay.” His head already spinning.

Nothing was more beautiful than her face contorted in pleasure, and the the ways it was consuming her. He was nearing his own release too, but was determined on making her cum.

“You’re fucking me so good Seungcheol” Overwhelmed by the sensations building up within her, Y/N managed to express herself amidst the aftermath. "I could do this every day," she admitted, the intensity of the release approaching once again.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol looked into her eyes and replied, "If you want it, I'll give it to you every day, any moment." His words carried a promise, a commitment to the connection they had forged.

Like a switch, the waves of pleasure, courses through her like a sudden surge. She looks at Seungcheol’s face, not loosing the pleasure expression on his face, then throwing her head back, one elbow placed firmly on the marble, exposing her body. Drops of water, remnants from the pool, glistened on her skin. The subtle light in the room, though weak, was enough to reveal the beautiful contours of her trembling body. Her reaction caused Seungcheol to growl, speeding his hips.

He pulled right out to the tip before slamming all the way back in, making a silent moan to leave from her opened mouth, while her pussy gushed around him.

The subdued lighting in the room allowed Y/N to see the details of the intimate scene that unfolded. Seungcheol's thick arms held her hips in place, and his defined torso moved with each rhythm of pleasure. His abdomen knotted with the sensations coursing through him, visible evidence of their shared desires.

Seungcheol's lips were red and swollen, a testament to the intensity of their connection. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and veins appeared on his strong arms and lower abdomen, showcasing the physical exertion of the passionate encounter.

“I want you to fucking cum inside of me! Are you listening to me?!” Y/N, through gritted teeth, ordered Seungcheol to release.

Seungcheol, understanding her plea, nodded aggressively, his consent evident in the fervor of his response. Opening his mouth, Seungcheol let out a loud and unrestrained moan as he surrendered to the culmination of his desire. Long spurts of cum filling her up. He closed his eyes as he thrusts already weak. As he gradually stilled, he sought solace on Y/N's shoulder, his body softening in the embrace.

As Seungcheol and Y/N gazed at the mess of their passionate encounter, with the remnants of their shared orgasms dripping from the countertop to the floor, Y/N confessed, "I might have liked this a bit too much."

Seungcheol, catching his breath, responded to Y/N's admission with a soft smile. "Maybe I did too," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of playful realization amidst the heavy breathing.

After the shower, Seungcheol took charge of making dinner for them. They settled down in front of the TV, enjoying their meal together. As they ate, Seungcheol noticed Y/N's knees trembling. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely curious about the cause of her trembling.

In response, Y/N shot him a serious glare and playfully threw a pillow at him. "It's your fault," she accused, making him raise an eyebrow in playful innocence.

Seungcheol couldn't resist teasing her, "My fault? I thought I was just following orders." They both shared a laugh, the comfortable atmosphere a stark contrast to the earlier intensity in the kitchen.

Despite the events of the day – the beach trip, swimming in the pool, and their intimate encounter in the kitchen – Seungcheol and Y/N managed to find respite in sleep before the family's arrival. The exhaustion from the various activities and the intensity of their shared moments contributed to a restful night.

The next day, the family eagerly headed to the amusement park, embracing the childlike joy that such places can inspire, regardless of age. Seungcheol, Y/N, and the others ran from one ride to another, laughing and creating memories together.

Amidst the excitement, as they waited for Jisoo's daughter to finish enjoying a particular attraction, Seungcheol turned to Y/N, he, looking around to ensure their privacy, spoke softly, "You know, I didn't want this to be just an accord anymore. It feels too real now."

Y/N met his gaze, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Maybe it's time to break this accord, Seungcheol. Let's get to know each other beyond the confines of the family charade."

He nodded, realizing the truth in her words. "Yeah, you're right. It's time." Seungcheol, feeling the genuine connection that had blossomed between them, couldn't resist injecting a bit of playfulness into the moment. He looked at Y/N with a teasing glint in his eye and asked, "So, do you think we can handle the reality outside of our little accord?"

Y/N, catching on to his playful tone, chuckled. "Only one way to find out," she replied.

Seungcheol, not one to shy away from taking a leap, closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss, filled with a blend of playfulness and a burgeoning sense of something more, marked the beginning of a journey beyond the confines of the family charade. As their lips lingered together, the promise of a genuine connection unfolded, transcending the boundaries of the carefully constructed story they had started with.

1K notes · View notes

drudyslut · 5 months

Text

— summary: you meet rafe cameron on tinder

— pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

— warnings: smut! 18+ tinder hookup, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected sex, some degrading name calling, praise, strong language. i think that’s it.

— note: this isn’t based in the obx. it’s an NYC au <3

❥ swipe, fuck, leave — r.c

being on tinder was not apart of your life plan, but with the pain of your last relationship, and how messy the break up had been, you’d fallen into the world of dating apps- more specifically, tinder.

you wanted meaningless hookups with guys whose names you’d never remember, wanted rough, no strings attached sex- swipe, fuck, leave as your friends would say.

it was friday night, and the sound of your heels clacking against the pavement, followed by the chatter of the many people around filled your ears as you walked along the cold streets of new york city.

you approach your destination, an extravagant hotel coming into view, your eyes sparkling as you stared up at the tall building.

you pull open the large doors, making your way straight to the elevators. once you’re inside, you pull your phone out, opening your messages with the man and finding the room number- room 920.

once you reach the ninth floor you step off the elevator, smoothing down the front of your black dress and beginning your search for the room.

your eyes scan each door carefully before they finally land on the room you’re looking for. you reach your hand out slowly, knocking softly on the door and stepping back, waiting on him to answer.

the door swings open in seconds and you’re met by the most beautiful set of blue eyes you think you’d ever seen, a sexy smirk played on his lips.

“y/n right?” he says, voice low and raspy, the ache between your legs already growing.

you smile. “yeah. nice to meet you, rafe”

you extend a hand out for him to shake which he gladly accepts, his large hand covering your small one as he places a soft kiss to the back of it.

“please, come inside”

you quickly oblige, stepping through the threshold and into the room.

your eyes begin scanning the room, taking in the beautiful view of new york from the large door that leads out to a balcony.

“this is so beautiful, wow”

rafe chuckles, making his way toward a mini bar and pouring two glasses of wine. he grabs both glasses, making his way toward you and handing you one.

“i take it none of your other tinder hookups spent this kind of money for the night?”

you chuckle, bringing the wine glass to your lips and taking a long sip. “they have not. so far i’ve had hookups in someone’s parents basement, in a car, and mostly at my apartment. this is a nice change of scenery”

rafe grins, setting his glass down and taking yours from your hands. he places his hands on your shoulders, sliding the skinny straps of your dress down, his lips placing soft kisses on both sides.

“well, i’m glad i can be the first to treat you to a night you deserve. a beautiful girl like you deserves princess treatment”

you feel your face heat up, your head falling back as his lips begin kissing at your neck.

“charming aren’t you?” you say, your voice shaky, breathing becoming erratic the more he kissed and nipped at your neck.

he licks a stripe up your neck and to the lobe of your ear, his teeth lightly nipping at the skin and sending chills down your body.

you turn quickly on your heels, arms flying around his neck as you harshly press your lips against his. he forces his tongue into your mouth, the two of you fighting for dominance before he inevitably wins.

you moan into his mouth when his hands run down your sides, gripping your ass tightly in his hands.

“can’t wait to fuck you, i bet you feel so fucking good” he groans, his feet carrying the two of you to the large bed.

he pushes you back onto the large, fluffy mattress, your tits bouncing from the impact.

rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth attaching to your neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh while his hands palmed at your breasts through the fabric of your dress.

you whimper when he sinks his teeth into your skin, sucking a deep purple bruise into your neck. he kisses the new hickey softly, pulling back and admiring his work.

“need to get this off of you” he states, his hands working your dress down your body, tossing it onto the floor.

you see the outline of his growing cock through the fabric of his khaki pants, your eyes growing wide at the sight.

“so. fucking. sexy” rafe groans, his eyes taking in the sight of your red lace lingerie set you’d chosen for the night.

“fuck me already” you whine as your hands fly to his pants, palming him through his pants.

he chuckels, quickly unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down his legs. you begin salivating when you see his hard on pressed against his thigh, his briefs giving you a better look at what you’re working with.

“such a needy little whore aren’t you?”

“i know what i want, and how i want it. i want you to fuck me, and don’t be gentle”

you watch as his bright blue eyes go dark, his lip brought between his teeth as he nods his head.

“i like ‘em fiesty. i like a woman who knows what she wants”

you loop your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down his legs and tossing them to the side, his large, thick cock springing free and smacking at his stomach.

“fuck” you groan, eyes wide as you take in his full size.

rafe chuckles darkly. “don’t worry, i’ll make it fit sweetheart”

you lift yourself from your back, sitting on your knees, hands flying to grasp him. you spit into your hand, placing it back on his cock and stroking him slowly, twisting and pulling his entire length.

a raspy groan falls from rafe’s lips, his head falling back in pleasure. “feels so good, fuck”

you smile to yourself, leaning forward and placing a kiss to the head. he twitches in your hand, precum leaking from his tip. you lick the precum from his head, humming in approval, the taste of him on your tongue making your arousal pool into your panties.

“taste so good, rafe”

you lick a stripe up the bottom of his shaft and to the head, pushing the tip into your mouth and sucking at it lightly. a string of curses and groans fall from his lips, his hands flying to the back of your head, fingers tightly gripping at your locks as he shoves himself fully into your mouth.

you gag around him, the tip of his head repeatedly hitting the back of your throat as he thrusts himself into your mouth.

“fuck, fuck! such a good little slut, letting me fuck your throat, letting me fill this pretty little mouth with my cock and you don’t even know me”

you feel your eyes filling with tears, the abuse his cock was doing to your throat making it hard to breathe, making your mind hazy.

you place your hands on his thighs, steadying yourself as he continues his abuse on your throat, his hips thrusting into your face harshly.

his dick twitches in your mouth, his release nearing the edge. he pulls your hair tightly, pulling your mouth from his cock, the head popping out with a small pop.

“up, i wanna fuck you on the balcony, let all of new york know who’s making you feel so fucking good”

you quickly obeyed, jumping from the bed and rushing to the balcony door. you swing it open, stepping out into the chilly air, goosebumps traveling up your skin, but you were too turned on to care.

rafe makes his way behind you, a condom in hand. he sets the condom on a small side table, pushing your back into the railing and dropping to his knees. he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, sliding your lacy red thong to the side.

"wanna taste you first" rafe says, running a finger through your slick, gathering your arousal onto his digit.

he removes his finger from your pussy, shoving it into his mouth and humming in approval.

"so fucking sweet, just like i thought you'd be"

you gasp when you feel rafe lick through your slick folds, his tongue lapping up your juices and flicking against your clit.

your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the messy locks as loud moans and whines fall from your lips.

you scream out in pleasure when he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking at it lightly while he shoves two fingers inside your aching cunt. he begins thrusting his finger in and out of you, his tongue sucking and flicking your clit, pushing you close to your release.

rafe pulls his mouth from you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, “scream baby, let everyone know how good you feel”

he wraps his lips around your clit again, fingers brutally thrusting into you, hitting at your g-spot and making you feel weak.

“fuck! rafe, rafe, rafe! so fucking good, please, fuck!” you shout, your head falling back, hair dangling off the side of the balcony and blowing in the wind.

he sucks at your clit harshly, his large hand holding at your thigh and keeping it pressed into his shoulder.

“gonna cum, rafe! fuck!”

you begin clamping around his fingers, the band snapping inside you as your release washes over you. your legs are shaking, rafe’s hand tightly gripping at your thigh as he fucks you through your high.

he lets your leg fall from his shoulder, pulling himself away, and up off his knees, wiping his mouth clean.

“that was fucking hot” he smirks.

you grip at the railing, trying to steady your breathing as he grabs the condom off the table.

he rips the foil packet open with his teeth, stroking himself a few times and sliding it down his length. he tightly grips your waist, turning your body and pushing you into the railing, your breasts pressed harshly against the cold metal.

a gasp falls from your lips when you feel him sliding his cock through your slick, teasing your entrance with his head, pushing it in slowly then quickly pulling it out.

“rafe, please-“ you beg.

you hear him chuckle, his free hand gripping at your hip to keep you still while he sinks himself inside you, a raspy groan coming from his lips.

“fuuuck, so fucking tight, feels s’good” rafe groans, slowly thrusting himself in and out of you.

you can’t help the loud whines that escape you, the feel of his thick cock pressing into you so deep you could feel him in your stomach.

“fuck, just like that” you whine, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder.

he snakes his free hand up your side, wrapping his large hand around your throat, his lips leaving a harsh kiss to yours as he begins fucking into you harder.

“doing so fucking good for me baby, taking me so well”

you arch your back, pushing your ass out farther for him, allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. you’re a moaning mess, the swollen head of his cock repeatedly hitting at your sweet spot.

you can feel the burn between your thighs, your stomach tightening as he fucks you closer to the edge.

“gonna cum! fuck, rafe!”

he pounds his hips harder into yours, his ringed fingers digging into your hips while his other hand is tightly wrapped around your throat. you begin seeing stars, mind hazy as you clamp down around him.

“cum for me, be a good girl and cum” rafe rasps, his thrusts becoming harsher and sloppier.

he smashes his lips to yours again, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you moan against his lips, him swallowing every beautiful sound that falls from you.

the band snaps again, your release washing over you. you let your head fall forward, legs shaking as rafe fucks you through your high, chasing his own.

you feel his dick twitch, thrusting inside you hard as he busts into the condom.

you slightly wince when he pulls himself from inside you, the empty feeling making you pout.

“that was fucking great” rafe says, an amused smirk on his lips while he pulls the condom off, tossing it into the small trash bin that was sat outside.

“you weren’t too bad yourself” you joke, biting at your bottom lip as you watch him make his way back into the room.

“you wanna stay here tonight? it’s kinda late” rafe says, grabbing his underwear from the floor and slipping them back on.

you bite at your lower lip, contemplating staying. your rules for tinder were no staying the night, and never fuck the same guy more than once, but there was something about him that was making you want to break your rules.

“uh, sure. couldn’t hurt to break one of my rules, right?”

“rules?” rafe asks, eyebrow quirked as he grabs his glass of wine from the table.

“yeah, my tinder rules. never sleep with the same guy more than once, and never spend the night”

rafe chuckles. “you got it all figured out huh? let me just say though, if you stay the night, you’re definitely breaking all of your rules, because i don’t think once was enough for me”

you smile, letting a small laugh out. “i definitely think i’m okay with that”

rafe hands you your glass of wine, the two of you taking small sips as you keep your eyes on each other. you didn’t know for sure, but you felt like you were in for a long night with this one.

RAFE TAGLIST: @whore-4-drewstarkey @ivy-34 @aemonddtargaryen @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @starkeypankowsbae @lizcameron @m-1234 @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @alexisbaumann2004 @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @mel119g @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @softlilacarrest @fayerite @exhaustedbutelated @lyndys @urmyslxt @presleyanswrites @sierraluvz @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron

rafe masterlist | taglist form

1K notes · View notes

heartofjasmina · 6 months

Text

cook book author!Bakugou who comes to you, his next door neighbor, every weekened with a new recipe for you to try. He's always gruff and calling you dumbass, but you think he's quite adorably charming when he hands over the food with a simple, "For you." Doesn't hurt that he's drop dead gorgeous and seemingly interested in you. So, because you're interested in him right back- you stop buying food on the weekends because you know whatever Bakugou brings you will taste infintely better, and you won't want to eat anything else. Then one weekend-- there's no knock on your door. No food in your fridge. It takes 15 minutes for you to work up the courage to knock on Bakugou's door, and when he opens it you see he has his tiny kitchen table set for two and two glasses of wine on the table. "Took you long enough," he grumbles at you despite the twinkle in his eye. You smiled back and ducked your head. "Does that mean you're inviting me to dinner?" You can practically hear him roll his eyes. "Have been for weeks but thanks for noticing." He scoffs and it makes you laugh, all the worry melting away. "Then I accept."

taglist: @bakubunny

#katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #jasmina writes 🌸#domesticness <3 #cookbook!au

2K notes · View notes

yuujispinkhair · 7 months

Text

We never go out of style

The thing with Sukuna and you is that it's fun. It's fun to kiss him at parties and to take him home and sleep with him. It's fun to just have this casual little on-and-off romance with him because, after all, you both know that you will always come back to each other.

Aka, I listened to Style by Taylor Swift and got the biggest butterflies when I pictured a modern College boy version of Sukuna to this song.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut, College AU Word Count: 2k Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of sex at semi-public/public places. Reader and Sukuna have an on-and-off fling, but both develop feelings over time. During one of their breaks, they both kiss other people and get jealous about it. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

You aren't even sure how you got into that on-and-off fling with Sukuna. It was supposed to be just a little fun at a frat party. A few heated kisses in the kitchen while you were sitting on the counter, and he was standing between your legs, one large hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to kiss you in a way that made your head spin.

Just a little fun. Just a few sexy kisses with a sexy boy who had too many tattoos, too much confidence, and a reputation that should have sent you running.

You never planned to go home with him. But somehow you did, and somehow you ended up in his bed with him on top of you, in all his naked glory, tall and sexy with all those toned muscles and tattoos. And somehow, your hand was caressing his undercut and tangled in his slicked-back pink hair, ruffling it in a way that made him look almost cute. And somehow, the way he was grinding against you and fucking you into his mattress was the best sex you ever had.

Maybe that's why you walked over to him when you saw him on campus on Monday morning, leaning casually against a fence with sunglasses pushed up into his slicked-back hair, smirking that boyish smirk at you and lifting a large hand to wave you over with one long tattooed finger.

Maybe it was a combination of his skills in the bedroom and his confidence and boyish charm that made you agree to meet him again. Maybe it was the way he flashed you such an attractive smile when you said yes that made your knees feel strangely weak when you walked to your next class.

No matter what the reason was, ever since that day months ago, you have been in this little on-and-off fling with Sukuna.

Never quite the real thing, but also never not a thing.

Sometimes it's a few drunk kisses at a party, where you suck on his tongue and moan when he lifts you up to set you on the kitchen counter. Sometimes, it's loud, excited laughter and a fluttering pulse when he takes tequila shots where he licks the salt off your neck, letting his tongue-piercing glide over your skin. Sometimes, it's a wink and a flirty greeting while passing him in the hallway. Sometimes, it's a passionate hour spent in his bed, forgetting all the College stress when he dicks you down so good you almost cry.

Sometimes, you go weeks without talking to each other, both doing your own thing. But then you'll receive a text message at 3 a.m. asking you how you're doing.

"What's up, princess? Wanna meet up? I kind of miss your laugh."

You meet him every time. And it's always the same after a few weeks of not seeing each other:

A racing heart and a loud laugh when he stands in front of your door with a bottle of cheap wine and a single red rose. Needy, hungry kisses when you pull him into your apartment. Impatient hands tearing at each other's clothes as you stumble to your bedroom.

Your friends start to notice and ask you if you are dating Sukuna. You deny it, laughing and shaking your head. Who would be stupid enough to date him? You know this is something that only leads to a broken heart. No, Sukuna isn't someone for a relationship or anything serious.

But he is fun. So much fun. The bad boy with the charming grin. The arrogant asshole with the sweetest sweet talk you've ever heard. You know he is dangerous. A heartbreaker, a big flirt. Everybody wants him in their bed. He could have a pretty girl or boy on each finger.

You make sure not to get too invested. You keep it casual. A little fling when you feel like it. When you feel like getting fucked so good, you forget your own name. You make sure to push him away a little bit when things seem to become too intense.

You tell him you won't have time for him during the following weeks because you have to study. He doesn't have to know that, in reality, it's because you can't get his stupid charming smile out of your mind or because you catch yourself rolling over in your bed one night and sighing "Kuna" when you think you can still smell his cologne on your pillow where he slept a few nights ago.

This is dangerous territory. It's best to keep your distance for a while. You go out with your friends. You go to bars and clubs Sukuna doesn't frequent, meeting new people, flirting with someone new, maybe kissing one or two others just for the fun of it because you are young and free and you can do whatever you want. Or maybe it is to convince yourself you aren't falling for a pink-haired bad boy with the world's most charming smirk.

Your dormmate asks you if you and Sukuna broke up because lately, she hasn't seen him leave your room in the mornings with his hair ruffled and hickeys adorning his neck.

Another friend of yours approaches you with a sympathetic look and gently informs you that they saw Sukuna with some other girl last night, kissing her against the wall at a party.

You smile through all the comments, shaking your head and brushing it off.

"Oh, that's fine. We aren't dating or anything like that. He is just a little fling. It's not that serious!"

You try to ignore the uneasiness those comments cause. You smile and buy a new sexy outfit, and go to more bars to kiss more strangers, and Sukuna does the same.

Until you bump into him at another party. You turn the corner after grabbing a drink from the kitchen, and suddenly, you run into his tall, muscular figure, your face practically knocking against his chest. And he laughs and raises an eyebrow at you while his maroon gaze trails lazily over your body.

"It's been a while, princess. How was the studying?"

"It was good..."

"What were you studying again? Making out with strangers in bars?"

His eyes glitter challengingly, and his velvety low voice is carefully playful and teasing, but you can hear the edge in it. You glare up at him,

"Oh, you mean the thing you were studying too? I heard you were hanging out with some other girl."

For a long moment, no one says a word, and you just stare deeply into each other's eyes. But then Sukuna laughs and cocks his head,

"Well, it's true what you heard, but it was only two or three times. I'm not interested in her. Especially not now, when you seem to have time for me again."

You know he is leaning down on purpose, knowing full well how hot you find your height difference. You know he is brushing his lips over your ear with the intention of making you weak. You know he is calling you princess in that low sexy voice to make you come home with him tonight and forget all the dumb shit both of you did during the last few weeks.

You know now would be the right moment to tell him it's over for good. But you don't do it. You don't want to.

What you want is to put a hand on his toned chest and grab the front of his white shirt to pull him closer.

"I have time for you, Kuna. I have time tonight and maybe tomorrow, too."

You can feel his smirk when he kisses you, and his muscular, tattoed arms wrap around you and pull you against that tall, strong body that feels so fucking good against you.

"That's good, princess, since I couldn't stop thinking about you and me those last few weeks. It's more fun when you're with me."

The two of you are back at your typical shit again. Passionate kisses at various parties, loud moans, and entangled sweaty bodies in either Sukuna's bed or yours. Once a week, twice, maybe more often. Sometimes, he stays the whole night and makes your dormmate complain about him using up all the milk in the fridge.

The occasional late-night texts turn into nightly calls. Lying in your bed in the dark with a racing heart as you listen to Sukuna's low voice telling you random things he did today, smiling when he tells you to sleep well.

You go to parties together and make out on kitchen counters. You go to clubs and dance and kiss and make it look so dirty that strangers come up to you and tell you to get a room. You give Sukuna a good luck kiss in the morning before his exam and laugh when he walks around with your red lip print on his cheek.

People start commenting again on your relationship status, but you just laugh and roll your eyes.

Just like you roll your eyes when Sukuna pulls up at your place on a Wednesday at quarter to midnight, his car window rolled down, long fingers casually flicking off the ash of his half-smoked cigarette as he smirks at you,

"Wanna go on a ride, princess? Jump in. Let's drive to the beach."

"It's almost midnight, you idiot!"

"So what? I didn't say just for tonight, did I? We can stay for a few days, check into a hotel, have some fun tomorrow at the beach, go swimming, sip sweet cocktails at a shabby little bar, fuck in the warm sand, things like that. I know you want to."

You do.

You know you have an exam next week and really shouldn't miss any courses, but what can you do when Sukuna is here in front of you with his sexy smirk and that enticing sparkle in his maroon eyes, offering you the chance for a spontaneous adventure you will probably never forget?

You get into his car. You let him rest his large hand much too high on your thigh, and you let him kiss you breathless at every red light, giggling when he misses the traffic light changing, and the cars behind you honk. But Sukuna just grins against your lips and keeps kissing you while he lifts his hand to flip the guy behind him off in the rearview mirror.

You listen to him complaining about his teammates and his coach and make sure to nod understandingly and do the "Oh, no, he didn't!" and "Ah, that sucks!" at the right moments, earning you a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

You check into a cheap hotel down at the beach, feeling your heart beating like crazy because it feels like you are a criminal couple on the run in some noir movie. Or maybe two forbidden lovers meeting here in secret, far away from the cruel reality where everything is too serious, and people expect you to be a responsible adult.

Sukuna fucks you like he's starved for your body. Hard, deep thrusts and bruising kisses. Passionate sex that makes the old bed creak loudly while the sound mingles with your gasps and moans of Sukuna's name. Rough fucking that turns into surprisingly gentle lovemaking later that night, and Sukuna's soft moans against your neck and sweet little nothings whispered in your ear.

You return home two days later, feeling lightheaded and a bit sore from all the sex you had with Sukuna during those two days. On the hotel bed, in the shower, at the beach at night, on the drive home in his car.

His hand is on your thigh, slipping a bit under your short skirt, caressing your skin while he kisses you thoroughly in his parked car in front of your dorm. Maybe his hand tightens a bit on your thigh, not wanting to let go. Maybe you do the same, your fingers tangling in his soft pink hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away and saying goodbye.

When you finally exit his car, he grins at you with lips that are swollen from all the kissing and smeared with your lipstick. The red one that he likes so much on you.

"I'll call you when I'm home, princess. And let's meet again on Tuesday or something. I heard there's a party at Choso's dorm."

"Alright… or you could just stay the night."

The smile that lights up his face is enough to make your breath quicken. He is out of his car in a second, a large hand on the small of your back, steering you towards your front door. And you are grateful for the darkness of the night that helps you hide the stupid big grin on your face.

You don't know if you will ever be more than this on-and-off thing. You don't even know whether you would want it to be more. You don't know if you ever want to date Sukuna for real or if you ever want to call him your boyfriend.

But you know he is your boy, and you are his girl.

It doesn't matter how long your little fling will last this time, just a week or maybe a month. It doesn't matter if you'll go your separate ways for a little while again at some point. In the end, you will always come back to each other. Because one thing is for sure: Whatever the two of you have will never go out of style.

I HAD SO MANY BUTTERFLIES WHILE LISTENING TO THE SONG AND WRITING THIS AAAHHH!!! College boy Sukuna is my weakness. I'm so in love with him!!Help meee!!

So yeah, I decided that 1989 is a great College Sukuna album, and I will now go back to listening to it again and daydream about him.

I hope you enjoyed this little story and that it could give you butterflies too, maybe!! Please tell me how you liked it.

Comments and reblogs would be sweet.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #sukuna x you

1K notes · View notes

sonder-paradise · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭

◊ ft. xiao, venti, kazuha, wanderer, gn!reader

◊ genre. fluff, reader teasing anemo fools

— 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

he watches you carefully from the cooling shade of the tree above. whatever you're currently off doing, it seems to be entertaining you much more than usual. but there's something entirely charming about the way you find such joy in the timid moments teyvat gives you.

the gentle breeze sways past the two of you bringing in the salty scents of the nearby port and the mountainous ranges just beyond. he closes his eyes just a moment, soaking in the sound of your bubbling laughter and the symphonic winds.

"xiao!"

his eyes flicker open and, in a moment, he's at your side. he seems rather alert for a second before he realizes there is a board smile dressed across your face.

"is something the matter?"

you shake your head; that odd, little grin neglects to fade from your features. he raises an eyebrow at your behavior.

"no, just wanted to see you. oh, here."

and suddenly your hand is reaching towards him and you're leaning in a little too close and his breath catches in the back of his throat and now he's debating whether or not he should lean in too and—

"you had a leaf in your hair."

xiao turns a brilliant shade of red as your hand pulls back and you reveal a little green leaf. he stumbles through a mismatched phrase before you stop him with that stupid grin.

"what? did you want something else instead?"

you can practically see the steam burst from his ears.

— 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

another night, another set of drinks for the anemo archon and his beloved. venti belts out a brilliant set of notes for just the two of you as you plop down beside him on the grassy hillside. the moonlight streaks down on you both through the stony fingers of the statue of seven.

"do you think master diluc will notice?" he mumbles aloud.

"notice what?"

"the wine we stole!"

you laugh, waving him off. "i left some mora on the counter, i'm certain he can put two and two together."

venti joins your laughter. then he strums the strings of his favored lyre. venti feels the buzz of alcohol hit the back of his throat and he's grateful for this brief moment of mundanity the two of you have been given.

"oh, venti."

he turns as you call him and it's at that moment he realizes just how close you've gotten to his face. his eyes briefly flicker down to your lips and the buzzed gaze in your eyes.

then you pull back, having grasped the bottle of wine behind him with a grin.

"another round?" you pause, noting the pink dusting his pale cheeks and the way he looks absolutely hypnotized with you."

"oh? did you think i was going to kiss you?"

venti seems to snap out of his trance and gives you an apparent pout. "of course! why else would you get so close?!"

"to get the wine?" you shake the bottle a little, raising an eyebrow at him.

"wah! then just ask me! now kiss me properly!"

— 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

kazuha's grown a little tired of your constant teasing for today. perhaps you woke up a little too mischievous this morning, but he's not sure how much longer he can tolerate your behavior.

once: this morning while attempting to wake him up, he was certain he caught you trying to kiss him. and yet, he was surprised to hear that you were just brushing hair out of his eyes.

twice: early in the afternoon when you grasped his waist and looked at him from over his shoulder. he even unconsciously leaned in towards you, but instead you moved in to your right in order to pass.

and now three times: after lunch, having just watched you walk away after cupping the side of his face and leaning in, only to be met with you wiping crumbs off his face.

"kazuha, is something the matter?"

he stares at you before flashing you a smile you're certain is bound to be trouble.

"not at all, but would you like to explain your actions today?"

"what actions?"

"are you playing coy with me now, y/n?"

"whatever are you talking about?"

kazuha leans in, reaching to grasp your chin and adjusting it to match your eyes to his. his eyes flicker down to your lips and the butterflies in your stomach swarm almost violently.

then, he stops, pulling back with an overly-sweet smile.

"still don't know what i'm talking about?"

you swallow thickly, taking in the peeved expression in his eyes. whoopsies.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 / 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞

he should be used to these types of long night chats. he wants to be used to the way your voice chimes about the challenges of the day or the pleasures of it. but he also finds it addicting all at the same time.

the light of the candles illuminate your face as he listens carefully to you. whatever you're talking about has to do with something he can no longer attempt to remember. but you haven't asked him any questions on his comprehension of the matter so he doesn't clarify anything.

instead he watches your lips. the way they look so kissable, so delectable, so... ah, what were you saying again?

scaramouche snaps out of his stupor upon hearing his name leave your tongue. but, even then he hopes his eyes weren't about to tell you what exactly he was paying attention to.

"what?" he spits out.

"nothing, you seem a little distracted."

"well, you're wrong. i'm just getting sleepy is all."

you chuckle, scooting just a couple inches over to him. "i think i understand what's going on."

your face grows nearer to his and he can feel his heart ready to beat out of his chest and his face turn redder by the second. his eyes flicker down to your lips once more and for just a moment, he has to snap those eyes down to prevent them from tattling on his intentions.

your lips just barely graze his own and by then his skin is bursting red. but, you stop and you grin at him.

"you want to kiss me, is that right?"

scaramouche's eyes light up in a strangling embarrassment, but instead of the words he's ought to say it comes out a sputtering mess of emotions and excuses.

"what!? no! of course not! you- i—" then he pauses, grasping onto your wrist, "stop saying stupid shit like that and just kiss me if you're gonna do it already, okay??"

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo @planetxiao @nonsense-corner @ireallylikehamsters @eccedentesiast-sapphic @rebeccka @the-lost-anime-dad @lettucecabbage-kun @irethepotato @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ajaxstar @plinkuro @kiraisastay @lilia-sspouse @straymoon96 @coquettemaiden @leweird @ash-astrophel @uchihaeirin @lemontum @willburzone @rocambolescomargot @aestellia @fpyura @cerisearan @rosemary108233 @abvolat @thenightsflower @sammybeefangirls @wonpielle

Wanna join my taglist? Comment under this post!!

4K notes · View notes

dolcettamagica · 1 month

Text

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮

gojo x virgin!reader x nanami

request: i deleted the ask by mistake. it contained nanami helping gojo to lose your virginity. tags: soft dom!gojo, mean dom!nanami, petnames, degradation, threesome (?), commands, established relationship gojo x reader, alcohol – all three are drunk, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, of course not beta read notes: this was my first time writing m x reader x m in one scene wc: 2.4k

In the intimate setting of your home, you and Gojo sat across from each other at the kitchen island, your friend Nanami perched on a stool nearby. Glasses of wine in hand, you chatted and laughed, the atmosphere light and easy.

As the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely, Nanami found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn't anticipated. Your laughter was infectious, your smile radiant, and with each passing moment, he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes sparkled under the soft glow of the kitchen lights.

The alcohol acted as a catalyst, dulling Nanami’s inhibitions and heightening his senses. He couldn't shake the feeling of attraction that simmered just beneath the surface, the way his pulse quickened whenever you leaned in close to share a joke, the subtle curve of your lips as you sipped your wine.

As the night wore on, the air grew thick with tension, a palpable energy that crackled between them. Nanmi tried to brush off his feelings, to ignore the heat that coiled in the pit of his stomach whenever your gaze met his own. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly difficult to deny the desire that burned within him.

As the conversation meandered from topic to topic, Gojo found himself playing a silent game of cat and mouse with Nanami, watching with amusement as his friend struggled to maintain his composure in the presence of your effortless charm.

And then, in a moment of mischief, Gojo decided to drop a bombshell that would change the dynamic of the evening entirely.

"Yo, Nanami," Gojo said casually, interrupting the flow of conversation. "Did I ever tell you that she’s still a virgin?"

The revelation hung in the air like a sudden gust of wind, catching both Nanami and you off guard. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, while Nanmi's eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, ‘toru!”

With a smirk, Gojo leaned back against the couch, relishing the opportunity to turn the tables on his friend. "She told me that she fantasizes about you helping me... you know, take her virginity."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implications, as both you and Nanami continued to stare at Gojo in shock. Your cheeks flushed even a darker crimson with embarrassment, your eyes widening in disbelief, while Nanami’s jaw dropped open in stunned silence.

Gojo couldn't help but chuckle at your reactions, thoroughly enjoying the sudden shift in dynamics. He had expected surprise, perhaps even a bit of discomfort, but the intensity of your reactions took even him by surprise.

The air crackled with tension as you and Nanmi exchanged a glance, both unsure of how to respond to Gojo's bombshell revelation.

Nanami couldn't shake the sudden surge of desire that pulsed through him. The playful banter had taken an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

Leaning in closer to you, Nanami's voice took on a seductive edge as he asked, "Is Gojo serious?"

His breath grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you met his gaze, your eyes dark with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his proximity stirring something primal within you.

Caught off guard by the intensity of the moment, your heart raced in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. You could feel the weight of Nanami's gaze, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with each passing second.

Unable to resist the allure of the moment, Nanami closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The air crackled with anticipation as your breaths mingled, the tension between you reaching a fever pitch. Slowly you nodded.

With a boldness Nanami hadn't known he possessed, he reached out and grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap so your back pressed against his chest.

YOu gasped in surprise at the sudden intimacy, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself enveloped in Nanami's embrace. The heat of his body seared through you, igniting a fire deep within your core.

Feeling emboldened by her response, Nanami's hands traveled along the curve of your thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through you. With a gentle yet firm touch, he guided your legs, pulling them up to your own chest, the fabric of your skirt bunching up around your waist.

Your breath caught in your throat as you surrendered to the sensation, your pulse racing with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension. The air crackled with electricity as Nanami's touch sent sparks flying, the boundaries between you fading away in the heat of the moment. Lost in the throes of passion, you leaned back against Nanami.

“I’ll help you.”

As the scene unfolded before him, Gojo felt a surge of desire unlike anything he had ever experienced. The sight of his lovely girlfriend, your legs spread open for him, ignited a primal fire within him, sending a rush of heat coursing through his veins.

With each breath, Gojo could feel the tension in the room thickening, the air crackling with raw, unbridled desire. His gaze locked onto you, your body glistening with anticipation, your eyes dark with lust as you lay in Nanami's embrace.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment, Gojo approached you slowly, his heart pounding in his chest with each step. He stopped right in front of you, between your legs, his eyes raking over your exposed form with hunger.

Your breath caught in her throat as you watched Gojo's approach, your body thrumming with anticipation at the promise of what was to come. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin, igniting a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you whole.

As Gojo stood before you, his presence looming over you like a tantalizing promise, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you. You longed to reach out and pull him closer, to feel his touch against your skin and lose yourself in the ecstasy of their passion.

“Gojo, start prepping her.”

As Nanami's command hung in the air, Gojo felt a surge of arousal course through him. Without hesitation, he leaned in closer to you, his lips trailing a path of fiery kisses along your collarbone and down your neck. With each tender touch, he could feel your body respond, your breath hitching with every caress, before he got on his knees.

Meanwhile, Nanami wasted no time in exploring your body, his hands roaming freely over your curves, igniting a blaze of desire wherever they touched. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of his hands on your skin.

Gojo shifted his focus to your most intimate desires. With tender care, he trailed his fingers along your inner thighs, feeling the shiver of anticipation that rippled through your body.

“Know you like being teased, princess.”

Your breath hitched as Gojo's touch grew bolder, his fingertips dancing tantalizingly close to your most sensitive areas. Each caress sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, your body responding eagerly to his gentle ministrations.

With a soft whimper, you parted your legs slightly, granting Gojo access to your already wet cunt. Encouraged by your response, Gojo leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your soft skin as he worshipped your clit with reverent devotion.

As the heat between you intensified, Gojo's touch grew more insistent, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as he teased and tantalized your senses. You moaned softly, your body writhing with pleasure to the overwhelming sensation of his touch.

As Gojo's hands worked their magic below, you felt Nanami's touch ignite a fire within your chest. His fingers danced across your skin with a confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

With each caress, Nanami whispered dirty secrets into your ear, his words sending waves of desire crashing over you like a tidal wave. His voice was a seductive melody, low and husky, as he painted vivid images of your shared desires, igniting a primal hunger deep within her core.

“You wanted me to help, huh? I didn’t know you were that dirty. Such a slut.”

Your breath hitched as Nanami's words washed over you, his dirty talk awakening a hunger you never knew existed. You arched her back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of his words, more of everything he had to offer.

“Bet you wouldn’t mind Gojo fucking your cunt while I thrust into your mouth, hm, little one?”

With each whispered confession, Nanami's touch grew bolder, his fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing your tits. His lips grazed your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to whisper sweet promises of pleasure and ecstasy.

Lost in the throes of passion, you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of Nanami's touch and the heady rush of desire that consumed you. In that moment, with his hands on your tits and his words in your ear, you knew that you were exactly where you belonged.

The contrast between Gojo's gentle touch and Nanami's dominant demeanor sent a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. With each caress from Gojo, you felt yourself melting into a pool of blissful surrender, Gojo’s fingers sliding in and out gently, slowly.

Gojo's touch was like a soothing balm, comforting and reassuring in its softness. He worshipped you with tender care, his fingers bending inside your pussy, hitting your sweetest spot. With each gentle stroke, you felt herself drawn deeper into the depths of ecstasy, your senses ablaze with the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

“You’re such a good girl for me, princess. Your pussy is soaking already, sucking my fingers in.”

Meanwhile, Nanami's dominant presence sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a primal hunger deep within your core. His commanding touch left no room for hesitation, his fingers moving with purpose as he claimed you with a confidence that set your pulse racing.

“Dirty slut, can’t wait for Gojo’s cock, huh?”

The contrast between their approaches sent sparks flying, each touch more electrifying than the last as they danced the delicate dance of pleasure and desire. Gojo's tenderness and Nanami's dominance blending together in a symphony of desire. You surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that consumed you.

With each passing moment, the tension between you three reached a fever pitch, the air thick with the promise of what was to come.

“Gojo, stand up.”

Gojo pulled back and stood up, an enormous bulge visible in his dark pants. You cried out due to the lack of your pussy being filled.

“Don’t cry, slut. Stand up, turn around and bend over.”

As Nanami's commanding voice cut through the air, Gojo's pulse quickened with excitement. With a nod from Nanami, he rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on you, who stood ready to follow their instructions.

You, too, complied without hesitation, your heart racing as you turned to face Nanami, your back now presented to Gojo. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation, you bent over as instructed, feeling a flush of heat spread across your skin as you exposed yourself to them both.

Positioned behind you, Gojo's breath hitched as he took in the sight before him. Your curves were tantalizingly close, your back arched in invitation as you awaited their next move.

With a confident stride, Nanami approached you, his presence commanding as he guided you into position. Gojo's pulse quickened as he watched Nanami's hands roam over your body, guiding you with firm yet gentle touches.

Meanwhile, your senses were ablaze with anticipation, your skin tingling with the heat of their proximity. You could feel Gojo's presence behind you, his breath hot against your neck as he waited eagerly for his cue. With a flicker of excitement, Nanami positioned himself before you, his gaze locking with yours.

“Fuck her, Gojo, show the little slut what a cock inside her cunt feels like.”

The knowledge that you were about to give yourself to him, to surrender your innocence in the heat of the moment, sent a rush of excitement coursing through your veins.

With a sense of urgency, Gojo stepped even closer to you, his hands trembling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. His touch was gentle yet firm as he guided himself towards you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he prepared to take your virginity.

Your body tensed with anticipation as you felt the weight of Gojo's desire pressing against your, his tip gliding up and down between your slit, feeling your wetness. With a final, longing look exchanged between you, you braced yourself for the inevitable, knowing that there was no turning back now.

“Going in now, princess.”

And as Gojo entered you for the first time, the world seemed to fade away around you, leaving only the raw, unbridled passion that burned between you. It hurt yet felt incredibly good at the same time. Gojo was filling you up completely as your pussy clenched around his hard cock.

“F–fuck, baby…ahh, you’re fucking tight.”

Gojo hips moved slowly but hard, thrusting into your tightness. God, how often has he dreamed about pounding into your puffy cunt? Making you scream and beg for him to fill you up?

As Gojo's gentle thrusts began, you were overwhelmed by a rush of sensation unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Each shallow movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of Gojo's touch, your body arching instinctively to meet his with each gentle thrust. The heat between you grew with each passing moment, fuelled by the raw, unbridled passion that burned between you.

With every movement, you felt herself drawn deeper into the depths of ecstasy, your senses ablaze with the intoxicating sensation of your shared desire. You almost forgot Nanami, almost.

Nanami stepped forward with a commanding presence. Your eyes widened as you saw his cock – big, thick, adorned with veins. Nanami’s hand reached out and he gripped your hair. With a firm, he pulled you closer to his cock, his larger and thicker shaft now in stark contrast to Gojo's.

"Thought Gojo would be the only one having fun now? Open your mouth, slut, I’m going to fuck your face."

668 notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 16 days

Text

Make Me Your Masterpiece

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

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

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

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

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

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

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

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d been a goner right then and there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

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

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

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

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

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

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

477 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 2 months

Text

thinking about being that one young mother that had a baby when she turned 20, and now walks around with the cutest toddler on her hip that looks just like her.

when it all went down you were isolated, abandoned by most of your friends and family. people talked about you, because that’s just how things were in the obx— word spreads and people judge. but never jj maybank, jj knew what it was like to be judged for his situation.

he’d always thought you were cute, and always defended you to those who had cruel words to say about your life, even thought he hadn’t really talked to you much since high school.

after the storm, he offers to do your groceries for you and deliver them. it was the least he could do, as everyone had taken a hit and you were already struggling. he was chatty, and to a girl who felt alone that was the best thing he could be. he’d swing by, carry all the bags up to the sixth floor of your apartment building when the elevator wasn’t working because no one around was paying generator money. your baby girl was always happy to see him, a giant toothless grin spreading on her face when he’d walk in, clumsily dropping whatever toy she was teething on and waving her fat fist in the air as greeting.

you’d smile from the sidelines as he’d gasp, elated each and every time — bending at the knees right infront of her. “there she is, the cutest toddler in the whole world. what we playing with today, huh? is that hello kitty? you know you’re just like your momma.”

he was charming, and you’d soften at the way he was with her. which is how you ended up looping him in to help you with just about anything else when he offered. complaining about car trouble? he’s telling you that he’ll take a look and fix things up for you. if he walks in and sees you struggling with some ikea furniture on the floor, best believe he’s staying an extra hour or so to set it up for you. he even uses his mastery in acting and manipulation for you on the landlord when the slight mould problem on the bathroom wall still hasn’t been fixed. it was nothing to him, he wanted to help. more so, wanted to be around you.

his favourite way to help you came later on in your ‘friendship’, on nights where your baby was allowed to stay with her dad. you’d always hated those nights, too used to her being around, too worried about her. it took you everything to not pick up your phone and text your babydaddy for the fifth time that evening just to check everything was okay. to stay occupied, you text jj — invite him over on a whim.

he turns up with a toolbox, thinking there’s something he needs to fix but instead finds you pacing your kitchen with a glass of red wine. jj being jj, knows just what to do upon hearing your predicament. you needs to relax, take your mind off things for a bit — which is how he ends up with his arms wrapped around your legs, with you naked and slightly tipsy sat on his face. after letting you grind your slippery cunt on his mouth he’s rolling you onto your back to finish the job, knowing you just need someone to take control to get you out your head.

“just gotta relax for me, mama. ‘think some you time is very much needed huh? want you to turn that brain off for once, okay. just… trust someone. let papa do the thinkin’, yeah?” he soothes you as he holds your thighs open, hole drooling and clenching around nothing.

“always look a—after me, jj.” you’re a little emotional, one mewl from crying but he understands. you must’ve had no idea how badly you needed this.

“i know. always will, uh— if you’ll let me.” he pulls his lips from you for a second to look up at you sincerely, backwards hat still shoved on his head.

“yeah.” you whisper and he grins, adjusting the cap in question before heading back down.

“well alright then. let’s get this pretty thing cummin’, how ‘bout that?”

#jj maybank prompt #has you saved in his phone as pretty mommy #and when he gets more comfy around you he greets you with ‘there’s my fav milf’

1K notes · View notes

setsugekka · 9 months

Text

❥business attire (m)

↳ You have no qualms with doing what it takes to get ahead professionally: a white lie here, a bit of cheating there—sleeping with your boss? Simple.

Until a business trip with a rival colleague puts quite a wrench into all of that.

bang chan x fem!reader — colleagues/rivals to lovers, romcom, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [12k wc] cws: alcohol drinking, themes of sexism in the work place!!, penetrative sex, body cum shot, oral sex (m+f), dirty talking (very mild condescension/humiliation), teasing, chan has a big dick of course because i wrote this.

Everything has led up to this moment.

Years of studying, internships, exams; grueling schedules and lost hours of sleep, not even accounting for the people stepped over and lost along the way. You had made the decision long ago that you were willing to do whatever it would take to make it to the top, to achieve the kind of success that you knew was waiting for you somewhere out and into the future.

You're no stranger to the CEO's office, all shining and glittering gold with accents and glossed, white marble, though you do have to admit, you're not used to being here with a third, as far as company is concerned.

No, typically you find yourself here in the later hours of the evening, partaking in a particular set of extra curricular activities that you know will bargain your way up the professional ladder. Ethical? Questionable. Do you care? Not even a little bit.

Granted, you can't imagine the other guy—Chris—to feel similarly about your leg-up on him, as it were.

Your colleague in question stands beside you with hands behind his back like he's a child waiting to hear his grades called out by the teacher. It's a little charming, you've got to admit, though nothing if not sad given the fact that he's awaiting something that was never really going to be offered to him to begin with.

And you don't know anything about this guy because you don't tend to bother learning much of anything about the people surrounding you in your workplace, outside of the smallest inkling of weaknesses that can be used to your advantage. Susan in accounting, for example, one to have something of an issue with getting to work on time in the mornings; no problem, the time clocks can be easily forged to make up for the discrepancy.

Except, of course, for the fact that it's against company policy to do so, and an offense that can find one terminated in an instant—it certainly was a shame the evening that the CEO had come to find out about that, after a bottle of wine and a particularly enthusiastic blowjob from you.

But Chris keeps to himself, and if not for this meeting here, you'd not even know his name. He works on business contact profiles not unlike yourself, which makes him someone that sits directly in your crosshair. You glance over his features for a brief second—his high nose bridge and his full lips, and acknowledge that he's sort of handsome for someone that you have to destroy the will of today. Well, it's not you destroying it, though you've more than put in the work to ensure it to happen.

The CEO of the company brings his attention up from the paper work laid out in front of him and finally grants it to the both of you. Your eyes meet with his in an instant and you try to bite back the knowing grin of victory that threatens to pull at the corners of your lips. Be mature about this, you think to yourself. Humility not a strong suit of yours, sure, but no need to rub it all into the wound.

"There's a massive account that needs an exquisite set of eyes and ears on it this coming weekend, this kind of business trip is the type that makes or breaks a company, a supervisor of the company." The man pauses, eyes falling back down to the papers as he shuffles them about lightly across the desk. "So, you understand that the utmost sensitivity and attention to detail is necessary when deciding who it is to send out on these sorts of things, but in the event of a net gain, then it's easy to understand that the trickle down effect is one that can be felt by everyone involved."

You smile, this time unable to hold it back.

He continues. "The success of this means the immediate success of the supervisor involved."

Then, he looks up to the both of you.

"Which is why I have decided to send the both of you out, and based on the return, I will make a decision in relation to who will be the benefactor."

Your eyes widen, smile falling, and in the moment you find yourself incapable of holding your feelings of unjust back.

"What? What do you mean you're sending both of us? What benefit could me or the company see in having this guy tag along?"

"Hey?" Chris cuts in, a little wounded. You ignore him for the most part.

"Chris does good work, has proven himself on numerous occasions. I think the two of you will work just fine together, and if that's not the case, then consider it a friendly workplace competition to get the fires really burning for results."

Jaw clenched and teeth gritted tightly, you take a step towards the man happily seated in his position of taking, and dare to point a finger out towards him.

"I've earned this."

But to that, a knowing, shit-eating grin pulls at a single corner of his mouth. An understanding of this, of the anger you're feeling and where it's coming from and how absolutely fruitless it will be.

"Have you?" he questions lightly, a disgusting chime in his tone that makes your stomach turn. His eyes drop back down to the desk, not bothering to even look at you for the following question. "And how is it that you've done that, exactly?"

Freezing in place, even just the question mortifies you. Chris' being there feels far too illuminating now in comparison to the emptiness that he carried before, and you know that this man knows that you are incapable of answering that as diligently as you may like to.

But still, the both of you know.

You close your eyes slowly, exhale steadily and try to center yourself into something more professional once more. "I've worked incredibly hard for this kind of opportunity, sir."

"And so has Chan! Sorry, I mean Chris. I'm afraid we spend so much time together leisurely that I often forget to address you properly in a professional setting nowadays!"

What's worse than the initial blow of this knowledge dawning upon you is the way that the man beside you laughs, like it's the funniest thing in the world that you're being made a fool of in front of these men. Granted, he doesn't know—does he know?—regardless, the humiliation toiling in your gut twists unrelentingly whether your colleague is privy or not.

You don't get a chance to respond before the man who has wronged you continues on with the thought, however.

"You are still getting the opportunity, it's just that you're sharing it with someone else. If your work continues to shine above and beyond your peers, then you have nothing to worry about, now do you?"

It takes everything you have inside of you not to snarl out a reply. "Yes, sir. I'll see to it getting done."

"Excellent news! You and Chan are set to leave tomorrow, a red-eye to Los Angeles for three days. I trust that the two of you can have it settled in that time?"

"Yes, sir," the both of you reply in unison, and even just that twists like a dagger in your back.

The airport terminal is busy, too much, for your liking.

There are perks to being in such places, though, and you choose to revel in those small things. No one is interested in you or what you're doing. No one around you cares about your immaculately pressed garment or the fact that your luggage is slightly scuffed. They pay you no mind as you look up from your phone and towards the screen sitting atop the gate entrance as you await your boarding signal.

"Hey."

You sigh aloud at the simple word, easily recognizing the voice that carries it through the crowds. Glancing to your other side, your colleague stands with phone and luggage in hand; a suit jacket just ill-fitting enough that it perturbs you that much more.

So, you don't reply. Chris sits next to you and settles his belongings in such a haphazard way that it grates on your nerves—much like everything that he seems to do, does—and you silently await for him to make his presence unknown to you for what you hope to be the rest of the near week that the two of you are forced to spend together.

Not so lucky, however.

"I think it's going to be good that we're working on this together," he says cheerfully. Annoyingly. "By the way, you can call me Chan. Chris is so formal and professional."

"Well, Chris, we are workplace colleagues, so it only makes sense that we remain professional," you respond.

He leans in towards you, "Our work place isn't that professional, I'm sure you've noticed."

You don't like the sound of that, though it could very well be more of your hurt feelings and humiliation taking the driver's seat. Thus, you temper the anger that threatens to burst out at what you think could be certain implications and simply meet his eyes with a glare.

"So I have."

Chris, Chan, whatever—leans back in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest before continuing on with the thought that you don't care to hear more of but know you're going to be prisoned with, regardless.

"I think we can learn a lot from one another during this."

"And what is it that I can learn from you that I've not yet gathered from years of study, internships, and work in the field? Do you think it's an accident that I've landed myself so far up the corporate ladder?"

His head cocks to the side, and for a moment, you think it to be daringly condescending.

"No, but it's no accident that I've landed myself here, either."

You roll your eyes and focus down on the phone in hand.

"The truth of the matter is that in a lot of cases, the best way to get ahead is to take everyone else down around you," he carries on, voice dropping down to something more akin to a whisper. "Playing nice only gets you so far."

The snort of a laugh that escapes you is so quick you don't have a chance in fighting it back.

"If you think you're going to be conniving enough to wrestle this out of my hands, then I'm afraid you've been paired up against the wrong adversary," you reply. "Better, stronger, smarter men than you have tried, and failed."

Chan's eyebrows perk at that, like he's amused by the comeback. There's a part of you that appreciates the fact that he doesn't immediately wither in the shadow of your toughness, though you're far from desiring a fight for this trip as it carries on, either. Withering, in some cases, might be best.

"You don't know anything about me, yet you're so willing to assume I'm unworthy of the challenge of taking you on. Unfortunately for you, I love a good, friendly competition."

To that, you huff out yet another mildly amused laugh.

"It will be anything but friendly."

The flight to Los Angeles gives you plenty of time to conjure up a game plan, not that you think you're going to need anything all that involved to conquer your adversary.

Chan enjoys the in-flight entertainment alongside of you as you do—laughs along to the film that he's watching and orders himself a drink to truly settle in. You do neither. Instead, you crack open your laptop and mull over the numerous documents and spreadsheets of information that you'll want to know like the back of your hand by the time that you land.

As well as how best to handle him.

Thankfully, your colleague seems whimsically dim despite your earlier conversation in the airport. He talks a big game as far as a competition and winning is to be concerned, but you rack your brain trying to recall a time in which his name has ever come up at work previously; no accolades, no parties thrown, no cheers for a job well done. In fact, the majority of those moments have been granted to you, and incredibly hard-earned, at that.

But, you have to give it to him: he doesn't appear frightened by you. Chalk that up to naivete, sexism, or stupidity—you couldn't care less which pin it is that he lands on, because either way, the outcome will be the same.

So sure of himself, and yet nothing to show for it besides a bizarrely personal relationship with the CEO. Well, you have that, too.

With the way that things have played out, you want to call things off, however. This man back at the office has humiliated you and taken from you but not held up his end of the bargain. Is it worth it to continue carrying on? Will it harm your career if you don't? Probably best to maintain the status quo as far as sexual endeavors go. Besides, the sex isn't half bad, either.

When you and Chan land in Los Angeles it's far too early for your liking and with how little sleep you are now on, but the thrum of the bustling, awaiting city excites you. This opportunity is going to be everything—is going to grant you everything—and in all likelihood, you wouldn't be able to sleep if you were to try.

Chan attempts to take your bags from you once you're both walking the busy halls of LAX and you fight him off with every try. He smiles and laughs and rolls his eyes at your unwillingness to cooperate, but this is no comical matter to you. Little does he know how close to danger he sits at every passing moment.

One taxi down and making your way to the hotel, Chan rushes his way out of the car and around to the back so that you have no hope in fighting him this time. He is so insufferable, you think to yourself, though you can't deny yourself the joy of having him hauling your luggage about. Good, perhaps you will be useful to me, after all.

The hotel is a lavish one; all white marble, silver accenting and lush green foliage at every turn. You're thankful for that much, because in so many ways there is nowhere else that you wish to be less than here.

You spot a bar down the corridor just a bit and make a mental note of it, as you may be spending ample time there when not constructing the professional downfall of your idiot colleague. In that moment, Chan forces himself into your line of vision with a wide grin and nods his head over towards the elevator.

"Floor seven," he says, handing you one of the room keys.

You look at it, sitting thoughtfully placed inside of its red paper envelope with a number written on in gold ink. Then, you glance at his, still remaining in his hand.

The same number.

"We don't have separate rooms?" you question, though you're capable enough to already know the answer to such an asinine question. Thus, you move onto the next most obvious one. "Why don't we have separate rooms?"

"There's two beds, it's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," you all but shout, forcing the tail end of your anger back as to maintain a semblance of professionality. "We need to go back down and get this sorted out. I'll handle it."

Chan laughs under his breath, watching the number on the LED change as the elevator rises.

"You won't be sorting anything out. There's about five major conferences in the area this weekend and this place is heavily booked, as is everywhere else decent in the region. You're just going to have to put your big girl pants on and deal with it."

You don't know Los Angeles well enough to hide a body. Unfortunate.

Though your fingers tingle and your head throbs, you don't bother fighting the fact any further. You are a logical woman, and you're perfectly capable of understanding the concept of there being no further vacancy in a hotel. Thus, you sigh, clench your jaw, and drop it altogether.

When the elevator stops with a ding, you couldn't feel more relieved. You rush out from between the metal doors so quickly that you nearly shoulder it as it continues its momentum. Down the hall and pausing in front of your shared, temporary residence, you press the key to the reader and push inside without even so much as a thought about where Chan is or how he is fairing with the baggage load that he has taken upon himself to deal with.

The door nearly shuts him out, a leg craned in through the crack as he fights it without a word to you for help.

It is spacious. Bright and clean and smells of new linens like no one prior to the two of you has ever actually stayed in here before. The bathroom is large and pristine in the way that it glitters. A wide enough working space with two chairs and not nearly enough coffee offered straight away—though that's a simple enough fix as far as you are concerned.

"Pretty nice!"

Ah. You had nearly forgotten about him, but Chan always has a way of making his presence known. He hands you your bag and you pull it over towards the side of the bed that faces the large window, blinds drawn. Reaching towards them, Chan offers up his expertise once again.

"They said there's a balcony."

"Surely I could have gathered as much for myself."

He rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of his bed, intent on unpacking. You continue on towards the balcony, pulling the fabric away and gazing out through the massive, glass panes.

It's Los Angeles. Not a whole lot to offer as far as views go in the major city areas, but suppose it will have to do.

"We should get dinner tonight. Look over our plan of action for the next couple of days with these clients and get to know one another a little bit better." Chan isn't looking at you while he says it, but you can hear the hopefulness in the sound of his voice without necessarily seeing it on his face. "Besides, it's on company dime, might as well go all-out!"

While the idea of spending somewhat intimate, one-on-one time with this man is not something that excites you, suppose what does excite you is the possibility of putting your devilish little plan of hostile take-over into action. Unfortunately, what this also means for your future, is something that will be much, much more difficult than simply defeating him.

Being nice.

"Yeah, that sounds good, actually." You hope the sudden change in your demeanor doesn't raise any red flags in his mind, but you don't think him to be smart enough to consider the fact. "There was a nice looking place downstairs in the lobby, maybe we should go there."

"Perfect!"

He's so happy that it almost makes you feel guilty about the whole thing.

Chan continues on. "It's early and I've got a few things I want to get ahead on. I'll get out of here so that you can sleep, just in case that's what you'd like to do, but feel free to send me a message if you need me for anything. I'll just be downstairs."

He's so kind. How unfortunate.

"I will, thank you."

Chan grabs his work bag and scurries out of the shared room. How disastrous this whole thing is for him, a monumental case of wrong place, wrong time.

Dinner is good, but your trickery is far more delicious.

There's a stack of envelopes with paperwork inside of them sitting on the edge of the relatively small table, barely enough room for it now that entrees and glasses of wine have been poured, but now that the business portion of the evening has come to a close, the two of you are able to enjoy the perks that going on these sorts of trips often has to offer.

Chan sits ahead of you with a glass full of white wine and a nicer tie than the one he arrived with. He looks handsome–that, you can't deny—though it's something that will have to sit ignored in the back of your mind with far more important matters to consider.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

You're lost in your thoughts when he asks the question suddenly, and it jars you back into the present moment with what you imagine to be an incredibly evident startle.

"I'm not sure that's any of your business," you reply quickly, but on second thought, you remember that your plan is to reel him in. Thus, you amend the response. "No, I'm not. I'm much too wrapped up with my career for that."

Chan pouts, like he's sad about it for you. "Still, it gets lonely, yeah?"

He looks and sounds sincere in a way that you're not expecting, and suppose a little honesty won't completely hinder your end goal.

"It does, sometimes, but that's what I've chosen. Once I'm comfortable with where I am professionally, then I'll carve out time for dating." You look up at him, pointing your fork straight at him, "this isn't some thinly veiled commentary about how I'm getting too old to find someone, is it?"

And though you're somewhat joking in saying it, horror strikes through each and every one of Chan's facial features upon hearing the words.

"What? Oh, no! God, no! I was just thinking that working long hours like we do can be isolating, so it might be nice to have someone to go home to at the end of it all, you know?"

You do know.

"It's not that I don't get out and meet people, do things," you say, taking a sip from your glass to wash away the humiliation of honesty that lingers in your throat. "They're just not…long term acquaintances, if you will."

Chan grins knowingly, and you don't particularly like that look on him. As if you've not been the one giving up the information freely to get him to this point.

"Ah, I see," he says in an exhale and an accompanying nod, "just enough to keep the bed warm next to you sometimes, huh? I'm no stranger to that arrangement, myself."

This is far more information than you find you ever need to know about any of your colleagues, though the same could be said about anything at all regarding their personal lives. Spouses, kids, pets, what kind of car they drive; it's all more information than you care to know about any of them, though you can't help but feel the sizzle of intrigue inside of your chest at his willingness to offer up such particularly intimate knowledge in regards to his late night activities.

Perhaps playing with this guy will be more fun than originally considered.

And thus, you take something of a gamble in relation.

"To be honest with you, I've been seeing someone casually for a while, though I'm not sure if that arrangement is working out for me any longer."

Both of you take another sip from your glasses, but Chan's gaze lingers on you for an especially lengthy amount of time. He sets his glass down calmly on the table, sighs aloud, and then settles himself casually against the back of the chair.

"I know you've been sleeping with the CEO."

You are thankful to no longer be in the middle of your drink, because you'd certainly be choking on the swallow right about now.

There's an attempt to maintain your composure—something that you're quite adept at—though in situations like this you have far less experience in doing so. You're not quite sure whether or not the shock is obvious across your face, but it certainly feels like it is.

No point in lying, the both of you are already here, after all.

"Is that so." Not a question, a statement.

Chan shrugs, all nonchalant in a way that you don't really appreciate, either.

"Yeah, he let it slip one of the nights we were out late playing darts with the guys from the office. Sounded a bit like he was boasting, like I was supposed to be impressed with him for it, or something."

"I take it you're not the only one who knows then?"

"Nah, I don't think he told everyone. It was a moment where we were alone, I don't really know why he told me. I was just like, that's great, man, and then we started talking about the game."

Slumping into your chair, it's the first time you've felt well and truly defeated, and especially when it comes to any and all matters such as these. While you're not ashamed of the lengths gone through in order to attain what it is that you intend to attain, it is far from ideal for the entire office to be aware of it.

"Amazing, you didn't even have to sleep with him to get put on this assignment," you sigh, arms crossing over your chest. "Suppose I look foolish now."

"I don't really care about that, about you doing whatever you think you need to do to get ahead in life. If you want to sleep with our boss to do that then that's your prerogative," Chan says, tone simplistic and plain. "Where I do care is that you seem to be under the impression that you're the only person in the office who is worthy of anything, and that no one else is working hard in order to achieve anything. I am, we are, just most of us aren't going to the same lengths that you are."

A beat of silence passes between you, and in perfect timing, the waiter comes with the check and disappears just as swiftly. Once he disappears from the table side, Chan leans forward, dropping his volume even more in a way that expresses so wholly that the next words spoken are truly only meant for you.

"I've seen your work, I know you have what it takes to be a top executive in this company, and that's without all of the extra shit like fucking some rich scumbag who's just going to turn around and throw the fact back in your face." He leans back again, signs the receipt, and then begins reaching for the stack of papers. "But you're not the only one who works hard and puts in crazy hours to earn a place here. Let's work this case like the team we're meant to be, get it done like I know that we can, and shove it in that asshole's face once we get back."

It's a plan that seems so pleasant on the surface: working together with a colleague who you now have nothing to hide from, who knows all of your dirty little professional secrets and still appears to respect you in spite of it.

You watch Chan pack all of the belongings into a briefcase and can't help but wonder, why don't you care? Why would someone in direct competition with you not seem to be bothered by the fact that you're extending yourself well beyond a professional setting in order to no longer have to compete with him on equal footing?

Rather, you can't help but feel as though the tone of the conversation has taken a turn, almost as though Chan respects you and your work ethic more after the discussion of it all. With everything laid out onto the table, this man knows and understands you in a way that no one else really does, and beyond all of it—he still sees you. He sees how important all of this is, how you're capable of doing just about anything to achieve your purpose no matter how looked down upon it often is, and no matter how humiliating it has thus turned out to be.

Chan just sees you.

"We have an early morning tomorrow, I know these guys are going to want us there at least twenty minutes before the time, so we should plan to have our coffee and look over the documents well before we're meant to arrive."

You glance up at him as he stands, baggage in hand and a smile that says all of the very same things you've just come to realize about him. It's back to normal, like nothing has happened, no conversation about any ethically questionable goings on has even taken place.

Back to regularly scheduled programming.

And you kind of like that.

Twenty minutes early becomes thirty minutes, due to your insistence. With a coffee in hand and perfectly manicured nails, you step out from one of the back doors of the taxi and leave the dealing with briefcases and paperwork to the guy who insists on going above and beyond to make himself useful to you. Good.

It's an early morning, but you find some comfort in that. Los Angeles never really turns off, but at least for now the sidewalks and streets are just a bit quieter than they will be at any other hour of the day. The weather is beautiful—perfectly breezy in just the right amount, with the sun coyly peeking through the clouds edges up above—and you can't help but think to yourself, no way that this day could possibly go wrong for me.

The office building that the two of you stand in front of is nothing special, as far as appearances go. Most in the surrounding area look much the same; worn down from the elements and barely seeing any architectural upkeep, but the spinning, glass front doors standing just a few paces ahead tell a different story of the interior. In ways, it brings a sort of feeling of the illuminated beauty of your professional future, standing between you, and there.

You're in your best set of dress. Black and white with a long skirt fitted just right. Chan is much of the same beside you in his immaculately tailored jacket, accentuating the wide slope of his shoulders and sleeves cutting off perfectly at his wrists.

He turns to look at you, and then smiles with a cute cock of his head.

"Ready to smash it?"

And not that you needed the added boost, but hearing the words vocalized from him adds just that much more fuel to your fire.

You nod. "Absolutely."

Hands are shaken and pleasantries exchanged once you and Chan are invited upstairs and into a large, white conference room that feels far too sterline and uninhabited for your liking. The place feels open, yet uninviting in a way that grates on your nerves and incites the kind of anxiety that you've not felt in these situations for many, many years.

One positive, is that the three men that you're meant to be working with today seem relatively uninterested in you, particularly. From one head of the table, you set your coffee down and begin unpacking a briefcase full of paperwork, envelopes, and a laptop crammed full of numbers and offerings and statistics meant to make this a home run. You know that it will be, you believe wholly that it will, but as you glance up and across what feels to be an impossibly long table towards the grouping of men chuckling and laughing amongst themselves, you can't help but feel something else that you've not felt in such a long time.

The all-encompassing suffocation of male cliquiness.

The Boys Club. They exist in so many spaces, and far from unheard of in your particular line of work. You watch on—particularly at Chan—as he smiles and laughs along with men that take absolutely no interest in you, your work, or what you bring to the table. They all playfully slap each other's arms and nod along to their stupid jokes like they've been best friends since the playground, and you are left out of it entirely.

Once you're settled, you stare at them and their childishness for what feels like an eternity, until finally you decide upon being the bad guy and taking matters into your own hands.

You clear your throat, "mind if we get started?"

The laughter stops dead in its tracks, all joy seemingly sucked out of the room at a lightning quick pace, and the men slowly turn to grant you their obvious looks of abject disapproval.

Though, you can't help but wonder which part they are disapproving of, exactly; be it the fact that it is time to begin the meeting, or the fact that a woman has the audacity to tell them as much.

Still, they follow suit without a disgruntled word. Chan makes his way around the table to meet you where you stand, but as the two of you meet eyes, he nods at you. The quiet insistence for you to take the lead. Not that you had any plans otherwise.

So, you do. With the laptop hooked up and the projection upon the wall, you begin going over statistics for the men to look over, take in, eventually discuss amongst themselves. It's easy work for you, knowing all of this information and all of the inner workings of your profession like the back of your hand.

One man raises a hand slightly into the air, a pen perched between his fingers as he nods towards the projector.

"What was the annual turnover for 2019 and how did that impact the immediate years going forward?"

He is looking at Chan when he asks the question, though your colleague has not said a word the entire time. You want to be better than the urge to present yourself in a way unbecoming of women in your position, because you know that anything you do can be interpreted as such, but the anger and desire for hostility gets the better of you when you reply back to him.

"2.3%, and the impact was minimal, easily dealt with internally with very little felt as a result of it throughout other sectors of the company."

The man asking raises his eyebrows, as if surprised by the fact that you have spoken. You've swallowed down your pride that would come out as far more aggressive than simply answering the question, so if he has an issue with you doing so now, you know precisely what to chalk it up as.

He turns to look at his colleagues first, then his attention falls back to you with a foul curl to the corner of his lips.

"I asked him," he says, pointing his pen at Chan. "Not you."

To this, Chan reels physically. You're not looking at him, not paying him any mind in particular, but you can see as much out of the corner of your eye from where he stands beside you. Now, your eyebrows perk up at the insidiousness of what's so outwardly and openly taking place here, but not so willing to take it on as a defeat just yet.

"With all due respect," you reply, calm and unshaken as you can be. Practiced, throughout the years. "I've been working at this company for six years, been through the lowest of the lows and had a personal hand in ensuring that it reached its highest of highs. While my colleague is knowledgeable and well-respected, this meeting is being led by me, so I would appreciate it if any questions be directed as such."

This feels good. Far from the first time you've had to stick up for yourself in such a way, you exhale the nerves through a semi-shaken breath and settle yourself where you stand. You're still not looking at him, but you do notice the fought back creeping of a smile across his lips.

The joys of victory end quickly, however.

Another man speaks up, this one seated across the way from the first indignant fellow.

"With all due respect," he begins, mocking you. "I believe I speak for all of the men in the room when I say that the only questions we're particularly interested in asking you relate to the snugness of your skirt around your hips and ass, and if there are ever questions relating back to the professional aspect of this engagement, we will be addressing your colleague."

The mixture of emotions that course through you is electric, impossible to parse through and pick just one out to focus on. Anxiety, anger, humiliation, regret, terror, sadness; they all rage through your nerves. Your skin feels hot, a sort of dizziness coming in on you quickly that you don't appreciate, because now is not the time to be experiencing weakness. Your lips part to speak, still unsure of what to even say. Flabbergasted, you attempt to find the words—some words—to fire back at these horrible men, but your mind feels simultaneously full and empty. How can that be.

A woman who prides herself on being the best and brightest in the room, dwindled down to nothing at the hands of useless, pathetic men who bring nothing to the table besides those already aforementioned.

"Alright, let's not get out of hand," Chan says, cutting in through the awkward silence. This appears to appease the men, which you dislike even more though you understand his reasoning for doing it. "My colleague is very well-respected in her profession and incredibly knowledgeable. Perhaps it would be best if we make quick work of wrapping this up and heading off on our separate ways."

For the rest of the meeting, Chan takes the lead. The men down the way open up splendidly, laugh and have a wonderful time with another man in charge, saying all of the same things you had said, reading off of all of the sheets of information that you compiled, that you slaved away at for weeks, for months at a time. Countless late nights with nothing more than the television for company in the background and a frozen pizza in the oven in order to make sure that you will never, ever be the recipient of the kinds of unreasonable lashings that you have taken on today.

All for nothing.

You don't dare speak another word, and sit in the shadow cast by your colleague. When the meeting concludes, the business men are happy; smiling and laughing along with any and everything Chan says. They love him. They love him not because he is knowledgeable, or good at his job in a way that is particularly extraordinary, but simply because he is not a woman. Simply because he is not you.

This sort of dichotomy has always existed, and in every facet of life, too. When buried into your work and the insular walls of your typical professional environment, suppose that it's easy to forget what it's like out here, in the real world. Where men do not respect you whether you're better than them or not, all in all, the result is the same, anyway.

Suppose the CEO has prepared you for this moment, a smaller humiliation only to set you up for one much larger and harder to swallow down the pain of.

Chan handles these men—the situation as a whole—as well as he can, you suppose. There is a kind of pain that settles in your chest at his unwillingness to turn it into a fight, though logically, you understand how pointless this might be for everyone involved. How short-lived the joy of bombing this meeting might be, only so that the suffering of your ego-death be even shorter-lived.

Just get in, and then get out, as relatively unscathed as you can manage. Chan has picked up the pieces left scattered around to the best of his ability and really, with flying colors.

It does not change, however, the deeply nestled pain of being on the receiving end of such corrupt wrongdoings.

The taxi ride back to the hotel is silent, and you're thankful for the fact that Chan does not make so much as an attempt to say a word.

On the small table just beside you, there sits a tall, green bottle of wine with no glass to accompany it. You've decided against it, and that drinking straight from the source will suit you just fine as a consolation prize on the balcony tonight.

One of the charms of Los Angeles, you find, is the weather in the evenings. A cool breeze that gently carries over your features and through your hair as you stand against the railing and gaze out at the still-busy streets down below. There's a part of you that wishes to have the will to go out and enjoy the city on the last night here, and with your work responsibilities settled, but the mood of previous encounters still sits heavy on your chest, dampening any hope of enjoying yourself before your flight tomorrow morning.

Though many, long hours have passed since the morning, conversation between you and Chan have been few and far between. You understand it well enough as him, knowing the time and place to engage with a person after being so horrifically wronged, so when the glass door slowly slides open and he brings himself outside to join you, your heavy heart welcomes the intrusion, rather than resents it.

"Hey," he says, barely above a whisper. "Mind if I come out?"

Your smile is thin and straight, hardly able to be called such. "Sure, take a seat."

There's only one wobbly wooden chair next to the table. A ridiculous design from all angles of consideration, but Chan doesn't bother arguing with you and slowly slinks himself down into what it has to offer him.

His hair is damp and freshly toweled off after a shower—loose curls sticking up every which way as if looking for a means to escape from his head. You smile at the sight, appreciate how approachable and kind he appears when he isn't done up in a professional setting like you're used to seeing. There's a realization that has dawned on you at some point during the day, though you have difficulty in pinpointing the precise time, where you come to accept your softening heart towards your colleague.

Perhaps on account of your forced togetherness, perhaps aided by his willingness to diffuse a situation in what might have been the best way that he knew how in the moment. No, he didn't enact violence upon those men in that office space, and yes, it would have been nice to see, but solve something, it wouldn't have, and suppose all you had really hoped to do was escape further escalation as quietly as the situation would allow for, anyway.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier." Chan is the first to speak up since seated, the first to bring up the whole thing since its having taken place. "It's so fucked. Simple, pathetic men with a chip on their shoulder who can't handle acknowledging that a woman is capable of doing their job, and more."

"Yeah," you sigh, turning towards him in an effort to grab the wine bottle once more. "Guess it's not anything I'm not used to, though it's been a long time since it's so blatantly been shoved in front of my face."

You take a large sip, and then laugh to yourself before continuing on with a similar thought.

"Actually, I guess that's not true, considering our boss pretty much did the same thing right before sending us out on this mission."

Turned to face him now, you watch Chan's features scrunch like he's fighting back the urge to speak his mind plainly, though evidently, it is a fight meant to be lost.

"Look, it's really none of my business what you do," he says, a seemingly rattled hand rushing to run fingers through his hair, "but do you really think it serves you to keep seeing that guy? God, he's such a fucking asshole, airing out your personal business to other colleagues and then waving it around in the office right before sending us on this trip—I wouldn't be surprised if those guys were friends of his, too. Birds of a feather, and all that, you know?"

Another sip, though now you're looking down at Chan with a kind of surprised gratitude.

"No, I don't think it does, though it'll be mighty interesting finding out how navigating those professional waters will work out for me. Suppose that's the position I've put myself in, though."

It's then that Chan stands, all white bathrobe and silly hair that warms your heart as he closes much of the small amount of distance that previously would sit before the two of you. With this new, closer proximity, it's easier to take in the charming slope of his nose and the plump, pretty fullness of his lips.

"The only people in this equation who are wrong for what they've done is him, and those pieces of shit from this morning." He pauses—the both of you do—and for a moment you think each of your breaths to be held in suspension as to what it is that's going to happen next. Chan's eyes remain fixed on yours for so long, and as you feel your temperature rise across your skin and the beat of your heart pick up in some unfamiliar sort of anticipation, you're able to see his gaze flicker down to your lips for just a second before once again settling on maintaining eye contact. "Yeah, you've been kind of an asshole to me, to other people in the office, but that doesn't mean you're deserving of this. No woman is deserving of being subjected to this, regardless of who it is that you decide to sleep with, and for what reason."

If not for his soft demeanor standing right before you, you might believe him to be angry with how he sounds. He must be, though he carries himself well enough as to not let it come out in ugly and unpleasant ways; and as a result, the quick and hard beating of your heart within your chest only picks up that much more. Since when does this guy have such an absurd effect on you?

"I've seen the work you put in, so I'm in a pretty good position to make the call," Chan says, inching himself just ever so slightly closer to you. His voice drops lower now, and accompanying it, the less subtle eyeing of your mouth in relation to his. "You're better than this, you're better than probably all of these blokes here."

"Is that so?" you whisper in response, and though the sentiment is appreciated, you must acknowledge within yourself that the topic of conversation has fallen quite a bit to the wayside in favor of something far more intriguing, something far newer, and more enticing.

"It is." He inches closer yet, only suspected millimeters of distance still held between your mouths. "I'm a pretty good judge of character, you know."

"Says the guy who used to hang out with our boss to get ahead."

Chan grins at your playful combativeness before replying, "Just doing what it takes, I'd have slept with him too if the opportunity were to arise."

Free hand coming up to feather over the softness of his robe, your palm smoothes across his chest and the definition that lies beneath before speaking.

"You know, I'm technically your superior, too."

"Oh?" he chimes, eyebrows perked. "Is that so?"

"Technically," you answer with a small shrug. "I've got you on length of employment, by a couple of years."

Caged in against the railing of the balcony, Chan's lips reside so close to your own that they nearly ghost over the flesh. He smells of mint and rosemary from having been freshly washed—all the more damning for you and your budding curiosity about him.

"Should I give up on trying to sleep with him, then?" Chan asks, a seductive playfulness laced throughout each and every word. "Move on to different, more promising prospects?"

"Only one way to find out."

When Chan finally closes the distance fully and kisses you, it's not as hard, not as rushed as you previously had anticipated it to be. The kiss is careful, a want that resides deeply nestled beneath it but far from the thing that grants unbridled haste and need. His lips are soft, the tug of his teeth at your bottom lip experimental as he tests the waters in regard to what he should or should not be doing, but it's a kind of trepidation that only has you eager for more from him. Your fingers grip tightly into the robe, a light pull in order to have his body more firmly and intentionally against your own, and it must be precisely the sort of green light he had been looking for, because the delicate slide of his tongue to find yours enters into the mix, and now you have no other choice but to accept that your original plan in hostile takeover has ultimately ended up in yet another failure.

Though this one is far more appreciated, and you've got to admit, you're happy to go home tomorrow with this sort of loss sitting on your scorecard.

The day of your return home is long and full of travel, though this does little to stave off all of the thoughts of what could, and might be.

Falling hard and fast has never been you. Through the years you've dedicated to your professional development, you've met people, shared bed and intimacies with people that never were to develop beyond the simple gratification that the two of you granted each other in those moments. You try to think back to the last time you really wanted someone; not physically, not sexually, but as a larger and more intrinsic part of your life.

But you can't, not until now.

Chan offers you a ride back to your home from the airport once the both of you land. The taxi is long and expensive, and while money is of no consequence to you, there is a much firmer inkling within that wishes to have just a little bit more time together that isn't set between the walls of a stuffy office that you now have come to have great disdain for.

Driving on the highway, you roll your window down slightly and enjoy the breeze as it's offered to you. The horizon paints itself with colors of pink, purple, and orange as the sun begins to set; normally something of no interest to you, but now? Now, a newfound beauty in all of it.

You barely know Chan, but what you've learned in a short amount of time has you eager to find out more. You can't help but wonder if he feels the same.

"Hey, uh."

As if reading your mind, Chan pipes up from the driver's side, a nervousness in his voice that you aren't quite familiar with but has you eager to hear more.

"Look, no pressure, yeah? But…think you might be interested in coming back to mine and having a drink, or just to talk?"

Thank all of the powers that be, you think to yourself.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," you say, trying to temper your interest. "Let's do that."

Chan's place is nice. Comfortable, cared for, but cozy.

As you step inside and remove your shoes, you look around to take in your surroundings. The furniture is nice, but not lavishly so. Pretty vases with flowers and hanging picture frames showing memories of friends and family adorning his walls that come off as inviting, and not showy. In juxtaposition, you find yourself thinking back to so many other places that you've visited in the past—homes that feel far less like them, and more like museums. Do not touch. The empty atmosphere of being unlived in.

A cork pops off from a bottle just a bit inside and around a corner, thus, you follow the invitation of it. Chan stands in his kitchen pouring two glasses of wine, and you take a seat at the small, glass, dining room table in wait.

"Workplace romances are forbidden, you know."

Well, that is certainly one way for you to broach the topic.

And while you've been mulling it over the whole day, you had decided upon this as the best route. It's simplistic enough to get the point across, but also light-hearted in a way that it doesn't need to be taken too seriously in consideration by Chan. The concept of an office romance being so broad that there is difficulty in necessarily pinpointing what does, or does not, fit within the definition.

But the two of you have kissed, and there is clearly some degree of interest. So, it applies well enough to be used as the shoe horn.

However, Chan only smiles as he finishes up the task of pouring the drinks. He glances up at you briefly, then carries on with what it is that he is doing before replying.

"Okay," he says. Not giving you much to work with until he comes around the table and sits beside you, wine glasses set onto the tabletop. "Then I'll quit."

"Wait, what?"

You don't expect this answer, and it certainly doesn't make any sense to you, either. Yes, things have been moving relatively quickly in your own mind, and as far as your own feelings are concerned, but has the same been true for him? To this degree, at that?

He shrugs. "I'll quit. It's not a big deal, I don't even like that place, and I sure as hell don't like our boss, so I'll just find another job if it means we can keep doing this comfortably."

Chan punctuates the thought with a sip of his drink, so nonchalant. Like the most absurd thing hasn't just come out of his mouth with incredible conviction.

"I…but…" you stutter out, trying to gather your thoughts. "You barely even know me, and if I'm being honest, it sounds a little crazy to be willing to give up such a huge position at a company just to date a colleague that wasn't even that nice to you only a couple of days ago."

"Yeah, I suppose when you put it like that, it does sound a little crazy." Chan takes another bored sip of wine. "I did tell you I'm a pretty good judge of character, though."

A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and you take it as an opportunity to bring your own glass up and to your lips before speaking into the rim. "Going to give up your job so you can sleep with me."

"Well, not just sleep with you, though I guess that depends on how good it is."

You choke on the sip.

"I'm a big boy, I can make career decisions for myself, even if that decision is to effectively and temporarily blow mine up." Chan's hand finds your thigh beneath the table then, fingertips gently digging into the flesh of the inside. "The rest is up to you, though. We can call all of this off right here, right now, and go to work tomorrow like nothing ever happened."

With the back of your neck heating up and the light prickling of goosebumps across your skin, you set your glass down, inhale deeply, and then look Chan square in the eyes.

"Maybe it's about time you earn that next promotion."

"You know—"

Chan whispers the words out and against your lips, through fervent kisses so quick and needy that he's barely able to say anything, at all. Hands are busy at work to slip the both of you out of your business attire from the day; button down shirts, belts, slacks, and skirts strewn hastily about the hardwood flooring of his bedroom while stumbling desperately towards the bed.

"I never thought my next promotion would be getting myself fired."

"Life is just full of surprises," you say, pushing him to the edge of the bed and gently down on top of it. "Isn't it?"

He doesn't bother responding, however, instead fixated on the way you drop to your knees between his legs and lightly graze a palm over the tenting at the front of his undergarments.

Fingers hooking into the elastic sides, you drop them down his thighs, freeing what it is that you really wish to see of him. You wrap a hand around the thick base of his length, gently stroking him to a fullness that was already so close to being reached. Chan sighs into the touch first, then a light groan that catches in his throat at the feeling of your tongue traversing up the underside of him, only to curve around the tip and then sink down whole to take him in.

One hand comes up to find the back of your head, though there's no force behind the gesture as you work him with your mouth. The wide stretch is enough to already have you feeling the fatigue of such an offering, but the heavenly sound of Chan quickly unraveling beneath you is enough to have you ignoring the ache that comes along with the wonder of such a large cock.

"Fuck, you feel good," he exhales, hips ever so slightly canting up to meet your mouth as you take him deeper in.

You pull off slowly, looking up the length of his perfect, toned body to meet his heavily lidded eyes. Hand still stroking him as you do. "You know what feels better?"

"I can guess."

With that, Chan leans forward and grasps you by the wrist—pulls you up and onto the bed with the kind of strength you couldn't dare fight against if you wanted to. Swapping your positions, you find yourself splayed out against the mattress and with hands already busy prying your thighs apart to accommodate him before you're even able to gather your senses.

A lone finger slides up your wet crease, stilling at the most sensitive part of you. Your body jolts at the feeling, looking down as Chan grins only inches away from the place where you want him the most.

"Would you hold it against me if I told you I wanted to fuck you the moment we landed in LA?" he admits, and punctuates the thought with a languid stroke of his tongue following where his finger has just traveled. "Never would have said anything in a million years but—God, the way you look dressed for work like that? So professional and serious, couldn't stop thinking about what you'd sound like if I just—"

Chan pauses the thought, digs his tongue and the plush of his lips more firmly against your clit and gently offers the sensation of being filled by two fingers simultaneously. You can't help the whine that falls from your mouth, though you make a half-hearted attempt to catch it before it does. One hand of fingers curling into the bedding below, the other finding Chan's hair to wrap the curls up and between; he wastes no further time showing precisely the kind of want that he has quietly carried for you. Dizzying and electric beneath your skin, hips bucking up ever so slightly and without conscious thought to find more of him as he grants it to you.

"I was so mean to you, though," you manage to say through heavy breaths and moans, "would you hold it against me if I told you I considered fucking you to try to ruin you? Professionally, of course."

The sounds that this information musters up and out of Chan can only be described as the most animalistic, primal groan of hedonistic want that you've ever heard.

"Yeah? You're going to ruin me?" he replies, fingers still pressed inside of you and a thumb firmly sitting at your clit. "Might have to revisit who's going to be ruining who."

Disappearing off and to the side, Chan makes such quick work of dealing with the necessities that you almost don't even notice his having done so. He stands afterwards—all but hauls you further up the length of the bed to accommodate his being there as well, and then positions himself between your legs once more as he drags the thickness of his cock through the wetness that awaits him.

"Maybe I sort of like it when you're mean to me, ever consider that?" Chan asks, coy in tone. One hand gripping into the soft flesh of your thigh as to hold you open for him while the other sits firm at the base of his cock, blunt head only slightly pressing at your opening. "Maybe it was all just a plot by me to get you to talk to me like a piece of shit so that I could then, in turn, fuck you stupid like we both want."

And while you would love to fight the point, the steady drive of Chan's hips forward makes for that to be an impossibility. The stretch of him carving out space inside of you for his cock is dizzying, slow and careful as he does so. You whine and sigh out as he pulls your body onto him until he rests fully inside.

"You talk a big game," Chan says then, gently fucking into you as his hands slide down and settle around your hips for leverage. "But at least you can take a big dick too, can't you?"

It's so much happening all at once, your senses in overdrive at the way that he's speaking to you almost condescendingly, paired with how pulled apart from the seams your body feels in order to accommodate his thickness. Once settled into more of a steady, offering drive into you, the friction is mind-numbing—feeling so full that not one single nerve ending finding reprieve from the hug of your body around his cock.

You reach forward with one hand, grasping at a strong, tensed arm that shows beneath the flesh each and every muscle he has worked so hard for. Your nails dig in, and as a result, he fucks you harder, faster; hips snapping roughly against the undersides of your thighs.

"Fuck, Chan, don't—don't stop."

"Yeah? Like it that much, huh?" His grip on your hips gets harder, and the strength in his upper body now fully used to pull your body down and against his cock with every drive. "You're taking it so good, maybe one of these days we'll see how good your pretty body can take it when I fill you up with my cum, yeah?"

And you want to be better than this, stronger than this. Stronger than the way that the words go straight into your already pained and needing arousal—tightening around him, an orgasm now threatening on the horizon much faster than originally anticipated.

You gasp out his name, repeating expletives in droves like a hopeless chant that you have no control of as a knowing smirk paints across his lips and he continues on with the work he is putting into your body.

"Want that," he says, breath shaky. "Want me to come in you. Now who's the one of us earning something?"

Grip into his skin tightening just that much more, your back arches up and off of the bed; thighs shaking and muscles tightening as you grit your teeth through the way that your orgasm shakes you. Chan never stops, the glide of his cock so smooth and easy between your walls that even through the stiffness of your body as you come, the strength that he holds makes it easy to use your form to fuck himself with as he watches you release around him with enamored appreciation.

It doesn't take much more from him, and you feel the way he fucks into you becoming more erratic, more needy and without plan as he aims to find his release. Though you've just finished, and need and want for him still courses through your veins at a lightning quick pace, and thus, when you beg for him in a whine to come on your body, it's a kind of humiliation that you'll have to deal with only after the fact.

But not now.

Chan groans, deep and nestled into his chest as he pulls himself from the warmth of you and pulls the condom off—you watch him stroke over his wet, thick cock by hand quickly—taking in the sight of how the definition of his abdomen and chest flex as he reaches closer and closer to his end.

"Anything for you," he says, though the words are barely audible and totally destroyed in the dryness of his throat. "Little cock-drunk, are you? Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you want."

While his tone is just ever so slightly condescending, there's a sort of sexiness in the confidence of it that does, indeed, drive you even crazier with each and every utterance of it. Chan strokes himself to completion shortly after; free hand coming up to find your clit and carefully rubbing you along with him as he comes. The both of you moan in unison, watching the way his cum paints your chest and stomach in such a lewd fashion before the momentum naturally slows, as does his hand.

Chests heaving, Chan is the first to cough out a laugh in the aftermath of it all.

"Did I get carried away?"

"No," you say through a heavy, exhausted exhale. "No, not at all. Fuck."

"Good?"

You give him a tired look in response, not wanting to give him the pleasure of acknowledging it with words.

Chan appears to accept this with a smile, leaning down and capturing your lips with his own. It's not needy, not full of lust as before. Now, laced within it is something completely different, and not unlike the first time that the two of you shared a kiss together.

You opt out of spending the night together, on account of having work early in the morning and wanting to be proper fresh for the occasion. None of your belongings are here, none of your work clothes—only items hours traveled in and then lightly carrying the musk of two people far too hasty in going at one another.

Still, you can't help but consider what the aftermath of this truly looks like for the both of you in the workplace. Of course, Chan admits a willingness in the moment to quit his job for the opportunity of the two of you exploring this—but how much truth could really be lying within those words?

A man who barely knows you, who has no real reason to be willing to do such a thing for you. What makes you so special, anyway?

Suppose the next morning in the office will tell.

Stepping into the office, you aren't so sure what you expect to find, only that what you have found is most definitely not it.

People are running all about, through the corridors, in and out of cubicle spaces, phones ringing and ringing for what sounds like forever with the sound of shouting into receivers coming from every single direction.

You walk in further, down the hallway towards your own personal office—but just before you make it there, your boss cranes his head out from his own just a bit further down the way and shouts at you for the world to hear.

"You! Get in here, now! What have you done?"

Eyes wide and eyebrows pressed up towards the ceiling, you can't help but wonder to yourself; what have I done?

Once you make it inside, you don't even bother closing the door behind you. Privacy isn't needed now, in part because a new side of you has been unlocked since this trip—a part of you that doesn't care. A part of you that has long since resigned yourself to simply not giving a shit about any of this. Not like you used to, not in the same way that once allowed for it to take, and take, and take from you without ever truly giving back.

You're free now.

"Did you know that Chris quit?" the man shouts, hair tousled and random papers lying thoughtlessly around his desk. "What did you do on that trip? What did you do to him you little—you little…bitch."

These words, once upon a time that is not even all that long ago, might have hurt you in such an inexplicable way, but now, the concept of such a thing seems so unfathomable, so far away from you. The cutting edge of a knife meant to maim, only now it slides off of you effortlessly—this man can no longer hurt you, and soon, you have decided, he can no longer take from you, either.

"I didn't do anything to him, sir." You smile, accompanying the words. "Though I don't think the same can be said for me. I think he's done a lot to me in a very short time, and for that, I am incredibly thankful."

The man pauses, looks at you with an empty stare before his eyebrows firmly knit together in a grimace. He intends to speak, but you are no longer interested in hearing anything from him.

"I quit, too."

Turning back towards the door, you hear the man stumbling over his words in an attempt to get something of use out. For once, it would seem, he is left speechless. The ideal version of him, you can't help but think.

"You can pay out my severance as intended under typical circumstances, and if you don't, I'll send everything to HR and contact a lawyer to take you for everything that you're worth," you add in, glancing back over your shoulder. "And I will win."

"Oh, and thanks for fucking me over so exquisitely on this work trip, I actually think it worked out in everyone's best interest."

Halfway out of the door, you hum, then turn back towards him for the last time with a smug, gratified smirk.

"Well, except maybe for you."

Your hectic surroundings as you leave the office for the very last time feel like nothing but static noise. Inconsequential and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. You don't know what the future holds for you, or for Chan, or for whatever it is that the two of you might have budding and blossoming together. It sort of doesn't matter, which you find to be the beauty of a new beginning.

When the elevator sounds off upon reaching the bottom floor, the metal doors part, and standing in the marble lobby is a familiar face that you're certainly not expecting to see.

Chan stands there before you; all fitted jeans and comfortable black hoodie. A casual side of him that you've not seen before, but are so delighted to be able to that it ignites a fluttering in your chest that perhaps you've not felt since grade school.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

He tries to fight back the smile, but to no avail. "I knew you were going to quit, so I figured I'd be here to get you when you did."

"I didn't come here this morning with the intention of doing that."

"I'm sure you didn't." Chan swings the loop of his keys around on a finger nonchalantly. "But I still knew you would. Breakfast?"

Three days isn't long enough to say I love you, but there's a previously locked away, fairytale side of you that's certainly thinking it right about now.

"We're both unemployed, should we be going out and getting breakfast?"

Chan tsks at that, "we're top executives in our field, we'll both be head-hunted before we even start looking. Besides—"

Reaching down, Chan takes the hand not holding a briefcase into his own, pointedly fitting fingers in between your own and looking straight into your eyes.

"Can't a guy take his girlfriend out for a waffle?"

Yes, yes he most certainly can.

♡ hope you enjoyed.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz imagines #skz scenarios

2K notes · View notes

pheonixgrave · 9 months

Text

Softer Now (18+)

Ahh! You guys seem to be really enjoying these. I realized I was just writing the same Tav so there's that

Warnings: Soft smut, definite voyeurism, a decent amount of blood drinking, Soft!Astarion, pre-Act III, post-Act II

“Aren’t you just a little jealous?” Karlach asked, joining Astarion near the stash of wine they found.

“Why would I be jealous of the walking encyclopedia?” He smirked, watching a certain elf interact with a certain wizard.

“Oh c’mon! He’s flirting with her and you two are a thing, right?”

“I find it rather charming, actually,” he took a swig of the awful wine in his hand.

The Tiefling looked from the vampire spawn to the pair looking over some old tome whose name no one else could pronounce. “Charming?”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he set the bottle down to face the barbarian. “To you and I, Gale is obviously flirting. In a very clumsy manner, but flirting all the same. Our fearless leader, however, has no idea. To her, he is as much of a friend as Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet, he keeps trying because he has no clue that she simply isn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t make you angry?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, “I can barely believe he managed to bed a goddess with how he flirts.”

“It does seem pretty out there, as far as stories go,” Karlach crossed her arms and continued to watch the pair.

“Anyways, I know there’s no competition.”

She smirked, “You do sound a teensy bit jealous.”

“My dear, I do not get jealous.” The more he thought about it, the more pause it gave him. Their resident wizard does try to hold her attention more often than he should. But Tav’s time was her own. He knew he had nothing to worry about. After everything they’ve been through, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind at the last moment. Right?

Tav, on the other hand, was enjoying pouring over the old tome they had found. It gave some interesting insight into Illithids and their reasonings. Unfortunately, she was unable to read the language it was written in. She was thankful for Gale in that sense. Who knew he spoke Deep Speech? Granted it was written in Espruar but the script itself was odd. The wizard had helped her decipher a few pages about psionic energy and how they have mastered it. It truly was fascinating.

“This is nice,” Gale spoke from next to her. He was holding the dusty tome in his hands with the bard sitting near him, using her mage hand to scribble any notes she’s taken.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “I suppose it is! I’m very happy we found this book.”

“It truly is remarkable,” he swallowed, “It’s also a nice excuse to spend more time together in the midst of all this madness.”

“Oh! I suppose it is nice to sit with everyone.” She didn’t fail to notice him scoot slightly closer. Just a hair between them now.

Gale closed the book and turned to look at the elf next to him. “I’m afraid I must ask you something.”

Something in Tav’s mind warned her to walk away. But she was still getting used to that voice, so she elected not to listen to it. This was Gale. This was her friend. “What’s on your mind?”

He grabbed her hands in his, “I have noticed you and Astarion getting rather close recently.”

Tav wasn’t sure how to react. She was already flustered by the sudden turn of the conversation. She was more than happy to keep speaking of the Illithid empire. “Where are you going with this, Gale?”

Gale’s eyes never left hers. It was like he was trying far too hard to bear into her soul and she simply…didn’t want him to. “I told myself it was casual, not a matter of the heart but…clearly I was wrong and it looks like I am the last to know. I know how close you two have gotten, I just thought you would show me the respect of telling me first.”

The Elf’s jaw dropped, “Tell you? Tell you what?”

“But you can tell me now. Who is it to be? Me or him?” The look in Gale’s eyes was nearly as serious as when he was told he’d have to become a bomb.

“What exactly am I choosing here?” Tav blinked, glancing down at the wizard’s hands that completely enveloped hers. It took her a moment before her brain caught up. “Oh! Oh, Gale! I had no idea you felt this strongly.”

A glimmer of a smile reached his face, “Well, perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” His face dropped looking at hers, “Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. But you must choose. You cannot have us both.”

Tav made a choked sound in the back of her throat before clearing it. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think it’s for the best that we aren’t involved like that. I want to be with Astarion.”

“I see. I suppose he does have a certain charm about him, if you’re into that sort of thing.” He sighed, “I’ll just put my feelings to one side. I think that’s best for everyone. It’s certainly the best thing for me. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Or until fate forces my hand, your friendship is all we have. And I will be happy to have it, eventually.”

Tav’s heart broke for the man. It must be quite painful to not have those feelings returned. For a moment, she thought about what she would do if Astarion ever stops feeling the things he says he feels for her. And the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hide the crack in her voice. But Gale was never going to be the cause of it.

“Worry not. I carry my regrets wherever I go and I am used to their weight. One more will not break my back.” He gripped her hands one final time before she pulled away.

She gave him a sad smile before walking over to where Karlach and Astarion stood. Grabbing the bottle from Astarion’s hands, she drank deep for a moment. They both glanced at each other before turning back towards the Elf. She handed the bottle back to him before smiling at Karlach, “Is there anything you have to admit to me? Any deep romantic feelings or attachment?”

Karlach laughed, “What? No, soldier!” She put her still warm hand on the much smaller elf’s shoulder. “You’re a dear friend. More than that, you’re family.”

Tav’s shoulders dropped, “Oh thank the Gods.” She turned to Astarion who was watching her with raised eyebrows, “Bed?”

The moment they were inside his tent, she buried her face in his chest with her arms wrapped so tightly around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did the mean mage say something he shouldn’t have?”

She didn’t want to pull far enough away to answer him. She didn’t want him to see her start to cry. She just shook her head and held him as close as she could. She wasn’t sure how to process these feelings. The vampire spawn just wrapped his arms around her trembling form.

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head. Did Gale hurt you in any way?” She could hear the growl in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than normal.

She pulled away with a deep inhale. She looked up at him with tears already streaming down her face. With a sniffle she whispered, “Gale admitted he had feelings for me, yes. But then I thought about how miserable life would be without you in it.”

Astarion froze, his body tensed. “So let me get this straight,” he swallowed, more nervous than he’s ever really been before. “You told Gale you’re not interested just to be with me? I do come with my complications, my love.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “I told Gale I’m not interested because I’m simply not interested.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, “I just don’t ever want to imagine a life without you again. A world where you’re not with me. Because you’ve always been near, even if I didn’t know it.”

He remembers the night he told her about Cazador. The night he told her about the Szarr palace was also the same night she had told her about her tower. And how she could see the palace from her desk. It was true, they really have always been close in one way or another. “And you got that worked up because…?”

“I wouldn’t even know what I was missing,” she smiled at him, eyes still full of emotion. “You’ve been all of my firsts. First kiss, first night together. Hells, the first time I’ve held someone's hand was with you. This is all still very new to me. And the moment I thought about you not being with me I-” she let out a choked sob before gripping his shirt in her fists and burying her face in his chest once again.

For a moment, the vampire spawn didn’t react. It still takes him a moment to return affection but he managed to wrap his arms around the trembling bard. He swallowed before gently rubbing the small of her back. The thought of someone wanting him this badly was…daunting, to say the least. He knew if they had met before the nautiloid, he’d mark her as a victim. She was pretty and just naive enough to fall for him. Hells, he had even known her parents. Cazador loved having the city’s nobility over, but never her.

She was always the princess in the tower. Always there but never seen. Even Cazador had thought she was a mere rumor and nothing else.

For a while, he just held her while she cried. He wasn’t sure what else he could do besides hold her. Nothing he could say would comfort her. They weren’t even sure if they would survive this mess. So he pulled her closer. The rest of the night passed as they were wrapped in each other’s embrace. Soft, whispered words of a future sprinkled with hope. For the first time in his unlife, he had more than just hope.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. They were only traveling, plain and simple. Onwards to Baldur’s Gate. Where all of their dooms or salvations lay. In the gloom of it all, Tav wanted some fun. She had gone to Shadowheart and pilfered some of her extra blankets with promises to replace them once they reached the city. As they set up camp yet again, she made her way towards the lake side. She laid out all of the blankets in a large square before finding the extra food she had squirreled away. And pulled out the best wine she could find. It was an obviously aged bottle still covered in a thick layer of dust, but the label looked fancy. She truly knew nothing about wine so she prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t swill. She then adjusted her bustier in an awkward manner before smiling to herself and searching for the vampire spawn.

He wasn’t hard to find. No one heard what she whispered in his ear. But they certainly noticed the fond smile and raised eyebrows as she dragged him away from the camp. Astarion looked at the little picnic she had put together, his hand in hers before kissing the top of her head. “And what’s the special occasion, darling?”

She smiled up at him, unabashed emotion in her eyes with a grin on her face. She was truly divine in the moonlight. She shrugged, “I just wanted to do something nice for you. We reach Baldur’s Gate in a couple days and we have to hit the ground running soon. I just wanted to take a moment, just for us.” She picked up the bottle of wine she had found, “I hope it’s okay. I know it’s old but I don’t know if it’s good.”

He smiled and pulled her close. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

The tips of her ears flushed as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. And then they sat and talked and ate and drank. They spoke about the Gauntlet of Shar, about the monastery, about the Moonrise Towers. And the conversation drifted to their party as Tav slowly became more and more tipsy. She talked about Wyll and his obvious daddy issues. Shadowheart and her love for more adult literature. And Astarion was all too happy to sit and listen to her. It’s one of the things that drew him to her, after all. She could read people like they were a book she was all too happy to read.

As the evening turned into night, the pair ended up against a nearby rock. Tav sitting on his lap as he peppered her neck with kisses. And as Tav’s giggles turned into soft moans as his hands started to travel to her waist. “You should keep quiet, my sweet, we wouldn’t want to wake the entire camp up. Would we?” He whispered before nipping at the base of her neck.

“I-I think you’d like that far too much,” she managed to gasp out as he helped her rock her hips back and forth against him.

He chuckled against her neck, leaving trails of almost bites with his fangs. “What ever makes you say that?”

“Astarion!” She moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he finally sank his teeth into her neck. She gripped his curls in one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. Her hips moved on their own as he slowly drank from her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her up. Between the wine and him drinking from her, she felt lightheaded. But that made the friction between them feel all the more intense.

“You always taste just so perfect, my love.” He slowly released her neck before slamming his lips against hers. He knew he was being needy but he craved her. As his lips melded against hers his nimble fingers went to work on the knots of her bustier. It never took him long to get her out of her clothes and tonight was no exception.

She grabbed his hands before he could fully remove her bustier, cradling his hands in hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? We really don’t have to. I’m happy to just sit here with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something meant just for him.

He smiled at her before kissing her again, “Darling, if I didn’t wish to have you, I wouldn’t have you half dressed sitting on my lap.”

She smiled and let go of his hands and let him return to practically tearing off her clothing. He wasn’t satisfied until she was sat on his lap in nothing but her underwear. His face buried in her breasts, leaving small little nicks with his teeth as he made his way back up to her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he snaked his hand down her body. He made sure to feel all the softness that was still on her body, never failing to trace her curves.

Tav was small but years in a tower had made her body gentle. Her hands were rough from her instruments, yes, and she did have a lot of skill with a blade. But she was in no way muscular. And Astarion enjoyed that more than he could say. He enjoyed being able to almost see the tremors in her thighs before he felt it. Gods, he needed her.

It only took him a moment to find her clit and draw slow, gentle circles around it. Never quite touching it directly. “Darling, you’re already shaking. Did you miss me that much?”

“Yes!” She cried into his ear. “Y-you’re teasing me.” Her head fell against his shoulder as her body trembled against him.

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing,” He smiled and buried his hand in her hair. “I simply want to take my time enjoying you.” The vampire spawn slowly filled her cunt with his fingers, his palm grinding against her clit.

She tried hard to keep quiet. Really she did. But when his fingers curled inside of her? She couldn’t help but cry out his name. How was he so patient? All she wanted was to have him inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt so painfully slowly.

Now, Tav may have been too focused on the rogue’s hands to notice anything else. But Astarion wasn’t. He knew Halsin and Gale were keeping watch tonight. He also knew it was far too late for anyone else to be awake. Which is why his hands didn’t stop when he noticed the bushes across from them moved. It was so subtle that he almost missed it.

Almost.

Someone was watching them. And he had an inkling he knew exactly who it was. The thought made him grin against Tav’s bloodsoaked neck. He sped up his fingers, holding her as she writhed against him. “That’s it, love, don’t hold a single thing back.” She came with a cry of his name. She was still trembling as he made a show of licking his own fingers clean. “I do so enjoy how you taste, my love.” He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted the wizard in the bushes to hear.

With shaking hands she went to untie the knots on his trousers. He leaned back against the rock, letting her take his length in her hands. “M-may I?” Her neck was stained just as red as the flush on her cheeks. Her big blue eyes wide in anticipation.

“May you what?” His hand went to her throat and he felt her breath catch.

“M-may I ride you?” It really was endearing how she asked. Her voice was breathless and her chest was heaving. He had never been overly rough with her. But with a voyeur in the bushes? He was more than tempted to lay claim to the nearly virgin in his lap.

He pouted at her, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, darling.”

Her eyes went wider than before. “W-what?”

She was so innocent. So pure, he had never even heard her swear before. “What is it exactly that you would like to do?” He purred, his forehead meeting hers. “Don’t play coy with me now.”

She swallowed, the tips of her ears matching the rest of her face. “Astarion,” she whined.

“If you use your words, love, I’ll be happy to give you anything you want.”

She whined again when the grip around her throat tightened ever so slightly. “I-I want-” another swallow, “I want to ride your cock.”

He smiled, “See? Now was that so hard? You did so well,” he whispered against her lips. She adjusted herself over him, still holding him in one hand while the other braced herself on his shoulder. His hand still held her throat, not quite squeezing just letting her know he was there. The bard lowered herself onto him. He groaned as she sank down. “Perfect.”

Her other hand flew up to his chest while she gripped his blouse so tightly that her knuckles were whiter than before. Her head spun while the wine loosened her tongue. “Gods, Astarion.”

“Use your words, darling,” he moaned against her neck, his eyes keeping an eye on the bush yet again. He wanted the wizard to see how good he could make her feel. He wanted him to see that he wasn’t even a thought on her mind. He wanted him to see that she wanted him and not Gale.

She sat for a moment, adjusting to his size before rocking her hips back and forth. Astarion’s hands flew to her hips to help guide her movements. “Feels so good,” she whimpered, still clutching at his blouse.

“That’s it, pet. You can take it, I know you can.” Her movements were entirely her own. She gradually went from rocking to bouncing. His body told him to throw his head back but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe now Gale would realize she was his. Maybe he had more of a possessive streak than he thought.

“Your hand, put it back!” She used his chest as leverage for her movements. He could feel her getting close and who was he to deny her? He instinctively put his hand back around her throat and squeezed. He had never felt her tighten around him harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He let her sit like that for a moment as she started to relax once again.

Whoever was in the bushes was gone now. Either too riled up to stay or too heartbroken to watch. Either way, Astarion found it satisfying. Satisfying enough to toss Tav on her back and put her ankles on his shoulder. It was something about knowing Tav not only trusted him but chose him, drove him wild. Far more than any lover he’s had in the past. Even through her half opened eyes and her mind filled with wine and pleasure, her eyes were still filled with that emotion. That feeling that he wouldn’t dare put words to yet.

She was his. And he was equally hers.

Her moans and whimpers filled the air but he felt so far away from her. Too far. She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, lacing her hands with his. “Beautiful,” was all she could whisper before she clenched around him. This time, he wasn’t far behind her. They laid like that for a while. Him on top of her, her tracing small patterns on his back. The scars were a reminder of what awaited them in Baldur’s Gate. But it could wait for now. For now they had each other.

“Did you see who was in the bushes?”

He immediately met her eyes, “You knew?”

“I’m naive, not stupid.” She giggled, rolling over to her side.

“I believe we just gave the magic eater quite the eyeful.”

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #fem!tav #cucking Gale #not my gif

2K notes · View notes