#(last one can be subbed for half full glass of wine) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghosty-writes-23 · 3 months

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Take Me Home To My Heart. - Ada Wong.

!TAGS!: Lesbian relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, NSFW Content, Sub!Ada, Dom!Fem!Reader, Rough, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body worship, Fingering, Eating out, Choking, Doggy style, Strap on, Hair pulling, Aftercare.

Pairing: OOC!AdaWong + Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Just Be A Good Girl, I Know You Can Take It.” Just when you thought your loving girlfriend Ada wasn't going to make it home for Valentines day, she surprises and you by coming home a few hours before midnight and you both spend the last remaining hours lost in each other in the heat of passion and even a little romance.

Word Count: 3.3k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, I decided I wanted to publish something for Valentines Day but of course I get sick at the same time, so I thought it would be a smart idea to write 2 one-shots while I had the energy to do nothing, so I am sorry if these feel rushed or a poorly edited, I wrote these in 1 day and slept for the rest, once I am feeling better I will be working on a P.t 2 of his Precious Dollface for next month crossing my fingers and I hope you enjoy these two holiday themed one-shots about our favourite Agent and Super spy.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

Leon's Version.

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18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Sitting in your apartment living resting on the couch, you were alone with a glass half full of red wine, a spicy enemies to lovers novel in your lap but you had lost interest in it as you glanced at the small clock on the couch side table. Today was valentine's day and your love was away on a mission fighting god knows what but that didn't stop the sad sigh that left your lips as you felt a slight clench around your heart.

When you saw all your friends posting online about there special valentines dates with their significant other, It made you want her to selfishly come home and spend valentine's day with you but that wasn’t possible, you weren't even sure if she was in the country at the moment, You understood her job and that there were times you wouldn’t see her for months on end, but there still doesn’t make the pain in your chest go away.

Taking a sip out of your wine glass you place it back on the table as you placed your bookmark in your book before closing it then placing it on the table, you glanced up at the TV seeing a random show playing you had put it on so it wasn’t completely silent.

Grabbing the remote you decided to flick off the TV and head up to yours and Ada’s shared bedroom to try and get some sleep, lately you hadn’t been sleeping well getting off the couch you started walking upstairs when you heard what sounded like the front door unlocking as soon as the front door opened your feeling as if it was beating out of your chest.

Ada walked through the door, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, she was holding what looked like a small bag and a bottle of something, she looked exhausted but she gave you a small smile you could see the tension melt from her body as her eyes met yours, closing the front door behind her and placed her things on the small table beside the door.

“Your home.” you say softly as you were slightly shocked but over the moon that she was home alive and safe, soon you found yourself running over to her and hugging her tightly, you heard a soft noise leave her lips at the impact your body hit hers but she wrapped her arms around you just as quickly.

"I’m home.” she softly repeated what you said as she gave the top of your head a kiss, you pull away slightly and go on your tippy toes and softly kiss her lips were soft and warm against yours, you could taste her sweet lip balm and the scent of her perfume filling your senses making you feel truly relaxed to finally have your love home.

“I have a gift for you?” Ada says making you look at her with a raised eyebrow, moving away slightly she handed you a small bag, inside was a small box, opening the small box was 2 lockets with your favourite picture of you both and both your initials engraved on the back.

“When did you have time to do this?” you asked as you admired the piece of jewelry. “I got it done just before my last mission, I was going to give it to you then but I got called away early.” Ada says with a sad look on her face but you smiled up at her as you took one of the lockets out from the box.

“This is so thoughtful.” you say looking up at your girlfriend who had a slight blush on her cheeks, they looked expensive and good quality. “So you can have a piece of me while I'm away on missions.” Ada says as she places a kiss on the top of your head then she grabs the locket from your hand and moves your hair before she clips it around your neck, the locket falling to the middle of your breasts.

“I love you.” you heard her mumble as she placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, then another just under your ear. “I love you too princess, now why don’t we go upstairs and celebrate what little time we have left of valentines day?” you suggested as you felt her nibbling on your neck, causing you to giggle softly at the feeling, once she nodded her head and laced her fingers with yours you grabbed the bottle she had brought and led her upstairs to your guys shared bedroom.

As you both walked up the stairs you both were locked in a heated and passionate kiss, your arms around her neck and legs around her waist she held you up by your thighs as she walked up the stairs and into your shared bedroom, once inside your bedroom she laid you on the big comfortable bed breaking the kiss you both were breathing heavily and there was a blush on both of your cheeks.

“Are you the dom tonight?” you asked in a teasing tone there was a sly grin on your face as well, it was a rare sight to see Ada wanting to take control in the bedroom. Usually she was your pillow princess, but it seemed a switch had flipped in her tonight.

Ada nodded her head as her gloved hand went under your shirt, the cold leather causing a shiver to run through your body before she tugged your shirt up to where it was just covering your eyes like a blindfold, leaving you in just your panties since you didn’t feel like wearing a bra tonight, the air was slightly chilly but your body felt hot as all your other senses were heightened due to your sight being taken away. You felt Ada’s lips on your neck causing a soft noise to leave your lips as she started to trail kisses and soft nibbles down your neck to your chest.

Her kisses were soft and gentle, almost teasing with how feather light they were as they travelled down your stomach to the top of your panties, your breathing had picked up slightly you wanted to touch her but you couldn’t as your t-shirt kept your arms in place above your head, but if you had to guess Ada had a smirk on her face. Her gloved hands made their way up your sides before she softly pinched your nipples causing a soft moan to leave your lips at the slight painful pleasure.

“You're teasing me.” you say as you found your hands softly gripping the pillow behind you so desperately wanted to see her you could feel your pussy clenching around nothing, soon there was the sound of material tearing and before you could ask Ada what was that, you felt her warm tongue on your heat collecting your slick and causing a soft whine to leave your lips as you bucked your hips.

“Shit.” you cursed softly when you felt her roughly gripped your thighs, her gloved fingers digging in possibly leaving bruises but you didn’t care, she feasted on you as if you were her last meal her soft groans as she pulled you closer by your thighs, her tongue circling your clit before she softy sucked, you so desperately wanted to see her face you wanted to see the blush on her cheeks, the glossy and hazy in her eyes as her tongue was buried inside of you wanted to see her bruised lips.

“Wanna see you.” you were able to breathe out in between your moans, you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, soon your t-shirt was fully removed from you and you took in Ada’s appearance. Her inky black hair slightly messy with some stuck to her forehead, her lips were bruised slightly but wet with your slick, her eyes holding the look of lust but warmth causing your heart to skip a beat and your pussy to clench around nothing.

“Happy?” she asked as she bites one end of her gloved fingertips and pulls the glove off with her teeth before you felt two of her fingers run up and down your slit collecting your slick, You nodded your head finally being able to see your girlfriend.

She grinned at you before you felt her two fingers sink onto your gummy walls causing you to bite down on your bottom lip, she always knew where your sweet spots were as she curled her fingers causing your toes to curl slightly. “So wet princess.” Ada says with a teasing tone but all you could do was nod your head, it felt different being the bottom or the sub this time but it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” Ada asked as she placed a soft kiss on your cheek as if she was trying to be sweet while her fingers were skillfully knuckles deep in your pussy.

“Yes, but it wasn’t the same, I couldn't finish.” you say bucking your hips slightly when her thumb started to rub your clit, you were close and she knew it you heard her softly chuckle as she kissed your neck no doubt leaving little love bites. “Couldn’t you come without me, your precious little princess.” she teases and you would have rolled your eyes at her comment if she didn't make you feel so good, she was being a brat and she knew it.

“Watch it sweetheart.” you warned her but you felt your eyes roll back when he curled her finger hitting your sweet spot more. “What are you going to do about it?” she grinned before she felt her gently nibbled on your ear, this was the final straw and you felt yourself cumming on her fingers.

Once you finally got your breathing under control you knew what you needed to do, reaching over you carefully grabbed Ada by the back of the neck and kissed her deeply, you could taste yourself on her lips but that was the least of your worries, right now you needed to tam your little brat, softly biting her bottom lip you heard her softly moan she make act all bratty and naughty but deep down you knew she just wanted to be your good girl, breaking the kiss you trailed your lips up to her ear before softly biting the shell of it.

“Go grab the box from the cupboard.” you whisper into her ear, as she got off the bed you decided to clean yourself and the bed up, soon Ada came back with the box and you couldn’t help but smirk because you knew what was in that box.

“Strip.” you asked, taking the box from her and placing it on the bed, there was a slight blush on her cheeks but she nodded her head and started to strip, you admired her body with all its curves and scars. To you she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen and sometimes you felt as if you didn’t deserve her. When her red dress hit the floor you walked over to her and gently cupped her face before kissing her softly, you felt her melt against you as soft noise left her lips.

When you pulled away a soft whine left her lips making you chuckle softly before you turned her around so she was facing the bed. “Since my princess is being a brat, i guess i have to make her my good girl now.” you say before you gently pushed her onto the bed she made a soft noise when she wet the bed before she turned her head and looked at you, passion, lust and love swimming in her dark eyes, she wanted this and you knew it. Opening the box you grabbed the strap on and the small bottle of lube, you didn’t want to hurt your girlfriend.

You stepped into the harness and strapped it around your waist and thighs, it was Ada’s favourite it was the perfect size and curve it always left her a mess, walking over to her you grabbed her by the hip and pulled her up so now she was on her hands and knees, glancing down you could see how wet she was it was partially running down her thighs kneeling down you placed a soft kiss on her back and trailed kisses down her body even giving her ass a little bite before you ran your tongue up her folds from the back.

Her taste makes your eyes roll back slightly feasting on your girlfriend was your favourite thing to do, you could stay for hours in between her legs if she would let you, but she gets too embarrassed especially when she squirts but that's a story for a different day, after having a little taste you felt Ada wiggle her hips showing she needed something more, grabbing the bottle of lube you reluctantly pulled away licking your lips and applied a small blob of the clear liquid, she was wet almost soaking but you wanted to be extra careful not to hurt her even if she thinks she will be okay.

Standing up you moved behind her and gently tapped the plastic strap against her pussy, Ada looked over her shoulder at you, her eyes where dazed her lips bitting slightly raw, she looked fucked out already and you hadn’t even touched her, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder you slowly slid in her a soft moan leaving her lips as she gripped the pillow underneath her, it had been a while since the last time you to where this intimate.

“Are you ok?” you asked wanting to make sure she was ok, you placed gentle kisses around her neck and shoulder as you waited for her to adjust to the size, you could hear her take a few breaths before she nodded her head and gave you a small kind smile. “I’m ok you can move now.” she says giving you the greenlight, smiling you softly began to move your hips in small movements as you softly bit into the soft flesh of her neck causing whine like moans to leave her lips.

Once you knew she was comfortable, you thought this would be a good time to get some payback for her being a brat, you moved and gripped her hips and started to move your own hips quicker causing your thrusts to do deeper, this caused her moans to become louder as she gripped the pillows beneath her.

“Are you my brat or my good girl?” you asked as you thrust into her quickly your hands finding their way to her soft ink black hair and tugging on it slightly, when you didn’t get an answer you stopped your movements causing Ada to whine softly and begin moving her own hips, but you spanked her ass causing a hiss through her teeth.

“I expect an answer princess, are you my brat or my good girl?” you asked in her ear before you softly bit her earlobe, you heard her suck in a breath when you trailed your hand around her neck and gave a soft squeeze. “I’m your good girl.” she says as you swear you could see hearts in her eyes showing you how fucked out she was, smiling softly you gave another squeeze ever so gently before you started moving your hips again, but this time you pulled her against your body, you could see a little bulge where the strap was in her stomach.

“Are you going to cum for me?” you asked as you thrusted into her quickly and used your hand that wasn’t around her neck to rub her clit, you could see her eyes were rolling back and her moans were getting more high pitched. “Yes.” she choked out in between moans, her body was trembling. You could tell this was going to be a big one, moving so now she is laying flat on the bed, you used the last of your energy to get her to finish.

“What do good girls ask when they want to cum?” you asked as you gripped the pillow just by her head, you could feel the burning in your thighs and your back, but you pushed those aside as you wanted to make your girlfriend feel good.

“Please can I cum?” she asks, looking as you desperately, sweat covered both your bodies and your hair stuck to your forehead, using the hand that was around her neck you used it to angle her head so you could kiss her. “Cum.” was all you said before kissing her, you swallowed her moans as you felt her body tremble as she came undone in your hands.

Once her trembling started to calm down you gently pulled away and rested your forehead on hers a grin on both of your lips. “Happy Valentine's Day princess.” you say as you move some hair out of her face, she nuzzled into her hand breathing heavily. “Happy Valentine's Day.” Ada says with a gentle smile as she leaned forward and kissed you again.

Half An Hour Later

You and Ada laid together in your bathtub as you finally cleaned up after a couple more rounds, both of you were sore and tried but so glad to finally have each other back, the tub was decorated with candles and rose petals every on brand for the day, placing a gentle kiss on Ada’s shoulder you heard her hum softly as she sipped on a glass of the champagne she had brought for you both.

“I almost forgot your valentine's day gift.” you say when you remembered about the small box in your bedside table draw, moving out the tub you heard Ada whine as you tied your bath robe around yourself and softly kissed her head as she stayed in the tub.

Going back into your shared bedroom you grabbed the small box and took a deep breath, this could either go really good or really bad you were hoping for the first option, walking back into the bathroom you noticed Ada was resting against the side of the table, a dopey smile on her face that you rarely get to see only when she is really relaxed and comfortable, her ears perked up when she heard you enter the room with a small box in your hand.

“I have something I want to ask you?” you say trying to hide the nerves in your voice, you didn’t know why you felt nerves it felt right you and her together forever but that still didn’t help the nerves, you saw Ada nod her head and slowly you kneeled down on one knee and opened the small box which contained a small diamond ring you knew she had been eyeing when you went out shopping together, you even got it custom sized and engraved.

“Will you marry me?” you asked her feeling as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you could see Ada thinking about it. “Are you sure you want to be with somebody like me?” you heard her ask her voice was quiet and small not what you were expecting, reaching up you gently placed a hand on her cheek.

“I couldn’t picture my life with anybody else, I want you Ada and only you.” you say to her and you could swear you saw tears in her arms before she hugged you tightly, the position was a little awkward but you didn’t care.

“So is that a yes.” you asked against her neck, she nodded her head as you pulled away slightly and took the ring out of the box, it had “Forever & Always’ engraved in the band of the ring. “Perfect fit.” she says, admiring the ring. “Just like us.” you say causing her to roll her eyes but her smile warms your heart, you made the right decision you wanted to be with Ada forever and always.

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kepamount · 2 years

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scary movie 👻

kepa arrizabalaga x reader x mason mount - a smutty ghostface one shot

warnings: explicit hard smut, sort of scary?? (y/n thinks she's being attacked by a murderer), potentially triggering content so please read at your own discretion!! sub!reader, dom!kepa & dom!mason, double penetration, anal, oral sex (m and f receiving), choking, slapping, dirty talk, degradation and praise, pet names, edging, overstim, crying, fingering, face-fucking, knife kink, mask kink, i think that's it but lmk if i missed something!

word count: 10.9k+ (she's big)

a/n: happy halloween bitches! i've literally been getting ready for a night out and i suddenly remembered that i wrote this lmao so here you go! this is not at all edited so pls be warned about spelling and grammar mistakes (i literally wrote this in a brainrot over night so it's probably almost unintelligible lol), and i don't have time to double check my warnings but this is kind of intense so pls pls be careful reading it! x

The shrill ringing of my phone breaks the calm atmosphere in the house, making me jump out of my skin. I pause the episode of Pretty Little Liars as I get up from the sofa, wineglass in hand, and I head into the kitchen, my phone sat on the counter. My heart lifts with the thought that it’s probably my boyfriend calling to let me know he’s on his way home from work, but disappointment floods through me when I see that the screen’s lit up with an unknown number. I reject the call with an irritated sigh before checking if Kepa’s texted me, but our last communication was a few hours ago.

I decide to distract myself by checking on the pasta in the oven (I always cover the top with a thick layer of cheese and put it in the oven for it to get nice and melty, just how he likes it). I don’t cook very often, but I thought I’d make dinner as a surprise for my boyfriend tonight. He’s been really busy recently – all the training and travelling and exhaustion from matches has meant we haven’t been spending a lot of time together. And the time we have managed to spend together is usually a couple hours with dinner in front of the TV until he’s snoring loud enough to make the neighbours’ dog bark.

To cut a long story short, I need Kepa to rail me before I lose my mind. They always say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but unlike other men, Kepa’s stomach leads to his dick. A good homecooked meal and a couple glasses of wine? The man’s ready to go all night. So I’m hoping a candlelit dinner tonight will lead to him bending me over the table. I even put on my good lingerie set, so I’ll be very disappointed if this doesn’t go to plan.

My phone starts ringing again, the unknown number persisting, but I reject the call. I don’t have enough patience to deal with a call centre right now. I knock back my wine, pouring out another glass and knocking back half of that too, my body full of impatient energy. I just want him to get home so I can touch him and kiss him. He’s been even sexier than usual recently, looking all big and hot in the goal, veins and muscles rippling whenever he saves a shot. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t having to press my thighs together during every match, praying I wouldn’t leave a wet spot on my seat.

The phone rings again, and I let out an annoyed huff when I see it’s the unknown number for the third time. I snatch the phone from the counter, pressing the green button and holding it to my ear. ‘Hello?’ I say, silence on the other side for a few long moments before I hear a low ‘hello’ in response. The voice is male and unfamiliar, sounding distorted. The line must not be great.

There’s another few seconds of silence after he speaks, and I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah?’ I ask, trying to keep my tone patient. ‘Who is this?’ he asks, and I frown. Does he not realise he’s calling me? ‘Who are you trying to reach?’ I ask, a low chuckle sounding in response. ‘What number is this?’ he asks, sounding amused, and I shake my head. Idiot. ‘What number are you trying to reach?’ I ask in response, getting another low chuckle in response, the sound making my pulse jump.

‘I… don’t know,’ he responds, and I can’t help but roll my eyes again. ‘I think you have the wrong number.’ ‘Have I?’ ‘It happens. Don’t worry about it,’ I say before hanging up, putting my phone back down on the countertop. I pick up my wineglass and head over to the sliding glass door that leads out onto the patio, my reflection clear in it. I really hope Kepa appreciates the effort I’ve made for him – this dress is sexy and not comfortable at all, meaning I look insanely good in it.

My phone starts ringing again, and I sigh deeply before picking up the phone, answering the unknown number despite my common sense telling me not to. ‘Hello?’ ‘I’m sorry. I think I called the wrong number,’ the man says, and I take a moment to compose myself. ‘So why did you call it again?’ I ask slowly. ‘To apologise,’ he responds, the smirk clear in his voice. ‘You’re forgiven. Bye now,’ I say chirpily, about to hang up before I hear, ‘wait, wait. Don’t hang up.’

‘Why?’ I ask, leaning against the countertop and running my finger around the rim of my glass. This guy’s probably just some perv trying to get off, but at least this is some entertainment until Kepa gets home. ‘I want to talk to you for a bit.’ ‘There’s trillions of numbers for that, creep,’ I respond with a small smile before I take a sip of my wine.

‘Yeah, but I called yours,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. This guy can’t have intentionally called me, can he? ‘I thought you said this was the wrong number?’ ‘I lied. Why don’t you want to talk to me?’ he asks, switching the topic before I can dwell on it too long. ‘I don’t know who you are.’ ‘You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,’ he says, and I let out a laugh despite myself. This guy’s deluded.

‘I don’t think so,’ I say, flicking the rim of my wineglass with a manicured nail. ‘What was that?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes again. This guy needs to learn boundaries. ‘My wineglass.’ ‘You’re drinking wine?’ ‘Mmhmm. It’s date night,’ I say happily, getting excited again at the thought that Kepa will be home soon. ‘Date night?’ ‘Yep. My boyfriend doesn’t know it, but I’m surprising him with dinner tonight.’

‘Just dinner?’ he asks, and I let out an irritated noise. ‘What do you mean, ‘just dinner’? I’ve spent ages making this.’ ‘No, I don’t mean it like that. Dinner’s great. It’s just… isn’t it usually dinner and a movie?’ he asks, and I smile to myself. I’m hoping we won’t have time for a movie tonight – I want to be preoccupied with other things. ‘Yeah, but I think we might skip the movie.’ ‘You can’t skip the movie! That’s the best part of date night. Especially if it’s a scary movie,’ he says, his soft voice taking on a sudden edge that makes my hair on my arms stand up in worry.

‘What? Don’t you like scary movies?’ he asks, no edge to his voice. I must have imagined it. I tell myself to relax, taking a deep breath. ‘I don’t mind them.’ ‘What’s your favourite?’ he asks, and I think for a moment. ‘I like Scream. Ghostface is a good villain. What about you? What’s your favourite?’ I ask, met with a brief silence before he murmurs, ‘guess.’

‘Um… Nightmare on Elm Street?’ ‘Is that the one where the guy has knives for fingers?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes for the twentieth time this conversation. How can he start a conversation about scary movies if he doesn’t even know Nightmare on Elm Street? ‘Yeah, Freddy Krueger.’ ‘Freddy, that’s right. I liked that movie. It was scary.’ ‘The first one was, but the rest were bad,’ I say, taking a sip of my wine before my eyes flit up to the clock on the wall. Kepa should definitely be back from training now.

‘So… you mentioned your boyfriend,’ he says, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Where is he?’ he asks, and I frown. Even he’s wondering where the hell Kepa is. ‘Why do you care, stranger?’ ‘That’s not my name,’ he says amusedly. ‘You didn’t tell me your name.’ ‘You didn’t tell me yours either. What is it?’ he asks, and I take another sip of my wine before I respond, ‘why do you want to know my name?’ ‘Because I want to know who I’m looking at,’ he responds, voice deadly soft, but the words have the effect of if he’d shouted them.

My blood goes cold, my eyes flitting to the back door. It’s pitch black outside, too dark to see if there’s anyone lurking. ‘What did you just say?’ I whisper, legs feeling weak as fear stabs through my body, my pulse skyrocketing. ‘I want to know who I’m talking to,’ he says slowly, as though he’s speaking to somebody stupid, and I shake my head, knowing what I heard.

‘That’s not what you said,’ I say shakily, rushing over to the door to make sure it’s locked, the handle not budging an inch. I feel a bit of relief flood through me – as long as the security system is working, no one can make it into this house unless their fingerprint is on the database. Perks of having a rich boyfriend. ‘What do you think I said?’ he asks, tone playful, but a sick feeling has already settled low in my stomach. This isn’t fun and entertaining anymore – I just want Kepa to get home.

‘I have to go,’ I say suddenly, and he chuckles lowly. ‘Your boyfriend isn’t home yet. Don’t you want the company?’ he asks, sounding mocking like he knows how scared I am right now. ‘No.’ ‘Are you sure? You don’t like being alone, princesa,’ he says, that one word making all the tension flood out of my body.

I’ve been waiting for Kepa to get home, but he’s the idiot on the other side of the phone.

‘Oh, thank God. Kepa, this isn’t funny,’ I whine. ‘I’m not your boyfriend, y/n. Don’t thank God yet,’ he teases, my relief tainted by a little bit of uneasiness. What if it really isn’t Kepa? But it has to be. He obviously has a voice distorter on, which is hiding the usual Spanish lilt to his voice, and princesa is his pet name of choice for me.

‘Cut it out, Kep. You’re scaring me,’ I say quietly, and he laughs gently. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of, baby. If you keep on being a good girl for me, I won’t hurt you,’ he murmurs softly, and I let out a little breath. It’s definitely him – no psycho murderer would be reassuring me. ‘Fine. I’ll be a good girl for you. Just come home,’ I say, the fear in my stomach subsiding, replaced by the desire that’s been sitting there for weeks.

‘I’m on my way. But I want you to be ready for me, princesa.’ ‘I am ready for you. I’m wearing… my boyfriend’s favourite dress,’ I say lowly, trying my best to sound all seductive, and I’m rewarded when I hear him take a breath to compose himself. ‘I can see that. You’ve put his favourite perfume on too, and you’re drinking the wine that gets you all worked up and desperate. I’ve been watching your every move,’ he whispers, the words making me a shiver run down my spine. My eyes flit up to security camera in the corner of the room, identical to the ones in the corner of every room in the house. Both of us can watch from them live on our phones.

‘You might want to answer that,’ he says suddenly, words followed by the doorbell echoing through the house, making me jump. I keep the phone to my ear as I head out of the kitchen and into the foyer, shivering from my bare feet on the cold marble floor as I walk to the front door. I open it without any hesitation, the empty porch making me falter. I thought he’d be stood there, but there’s nothing there except for my car parked on the driveway, his nowhere to be seen.

‘Who’s there?’ I call out in a sing-song voice despite the uncertainty still swirling around inside me. What if this is an A-grade stalker, who’s pretending to be Kepa to lull me into a false sense of security? And I’m the moron throwing the door open and shouting out to him. ‘You should never say ‘who’s there?’. Don’t you watch scary movies? It’s a death wish, babe,’ he says suddenly, reminding me that he’s still on the other side of the phone, and I quickly shut the door, making sure it locks afterwards.

‘Okay, enough’s enough. You’ve had your fun. Just stop now,’ I say quietly, chewing on my lip nervously as I head back to the kitchen. ‘Or what?’ ‘Or… my boyfriend’s gonna be home soon,’ I say with a small smile, his little laugh reassuring me. It has to be Kepa I’m talking to. ‘Oh, really?’ ‘Yeah, and he’s gonna be pissed when I tell him what you’re doing.’ ‘Will he?’ ‘Yeah. He’s 6 foot 1, and super big, and he plays football, so he’s athletic, and he’ll beat the shit out of you,’ I reply, my words met with more rich laughter.

‘I’m sure he will, baby. Or maybe I’ll gut him like a fish,’ he says sinisterly, striking fear into me again. Calm down, y/n. It’s just Kepa. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else. ‘What do you want?’ I ask, putting on the helpless damsel-in-distress voice, and he chuckles softly. ‘I want to see what your insides look like,’ he murmurs in a velvet voice, the words laced with a dirty innuendo that makes my underwear dampen considerably.

‘But first… let’s play a game. If you answer my questions correctly, I won’t lay a finger on you. If you get any of them wrong, I get to do whatever I want to do to you,’ he bargains, sparking my competitive streak. If winning means I don’t get his touch tonight, fine by me. I’m too competitive to lose. ‘Okay. Go ahead,’ I prompt.

‘Here’s your first question. Who’s the killer in Halloween?’ ‘Hmmm, I’m not sure I remember,’ I tease, and he laughs lightly. ‘Come on, princesa. You know this one. White mask, stalks babysitters?’ ‘Oh, right... it’s Michael Myers!’ I exclaim, as though the name only just came to me. ‘Good girl. You’re doing well. Ready for your next one?’ ‘Mmhmm.’

‘Who’s the killer in Friday the 13th?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes. He really thinks he can trick me with this? ‘Mrs Vorhees, Jason’s mother, followed by Jason himself in the sequel,’ I say happily, and he lets out a little sigh, disappointed I got it right. ‘You’re too good at this.’ ‘You know it, baby. Come on, give me another one,’ I say tauntingly, and it’s like I can feel the atmosphere shift over the phone.

‘Okay. Which door am I at?’ he asks, voice deadly soft again, and I freeze, uneasiness filling me. ‘Kepa…’ ‘I told you already, princesa. I’m not your boyfriend. Now answer my question if you want to win,’ he prompts, and I take a deep breath. He’s using my pet name to reassure me that it’s him without ruining the act. I’m not in any danger.

‘Um… the front door,’ I answer, waiting with bated breath for a response. But I’m met with a long silence, the tension multiplying with every second that goes by. And then finally he whispers his reply, the one word sending a shiver through me. ‘Wrong.’

I hear the door behind me slide open and I whirl around, ready to greet my boyfriend with open arms, a big smile on my face. But the smile on my face slips when I’m met with the sight of a figure stood in the doorway, dressed in a floor-length black robe, face covered by a white Ghostface mask. The figure’s hands are covered with black gloves, and in one of them, he’s holding a knife. A very sharp, very shiny, very real knife.

My mouth drops open in a bloodcurdling scream, and I run for the foyer staircase without a moment’s hesitation, the sound of my feet hitting the marble echoing loudly as I sprint up the stairs. When I hear his thundering footsteps, my heart misses a beat, fear filling my veins, and I can’t help but scream again when I turn to see him following me up the stairs.

I look ahead, knowing I’ll fall if I’m not careful, and I head straight towards mine and Kepa’s bedroom. Once it’s locked, only he and I can get in with our thumbprints, so it’ll prove if it’s him or not. As soon as I’m in the room, I shut the door and lock it with shaky hands, the silence that follows making me feel even more on edge. He’s probably stood right outside, just biding his time.

I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, and it’s only when my ringtone sounds out into the silence do I remember that my phone’s in my hand, the sound making me jump again. I answer without any hesitation, met with low chuckles on the other side. ‘You’d make a good final girl, princesa. That was a real scary-movie scream,’ he teases, and I let out a low sob, tears in my eyes.

‘I’m scared, Kep. Why are you doing this?’ I ask, sitting on the edge of our bed before my legs give way. ‘I’m upset with you, babe. While your boyfriend’s been working so hard, earning money for you to spend on whatever you want, you’ve been crushing on his teammate,’ he murmurs, confusion filling me. What is he talking about?

‘Don’t act like you don’t know, y/n. I’ve seen how you look at him. How your eyes are glued to him on the pitch while your boyfriend’s in the dugout. You stare at his thighs, his hands running through his hair, his neck when he shouts and his lips when he spits. You want him, don’t you, princesa?’ he asks, and despite the fear still making my heart race, I feel guilty that I know exactly who he’s referring to.

It’s been a tough couple months for me. We’ve only had sex once in all that time, and he barely participated because he was tired (I’ve never been the one to do all the work so I didn’t enjoy it much). I’ve been frustrated. And when Kepa was still on the bench every match, my thirsty mind had to find someone to ogle for the 90 minutes. And that someone ended up being Mason Mount.

He’s an annoying cocky little shit, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him, especially when he’s playing football. His corner kicks, his hair flicks, his spitting, his angry outbursts, his goals, his injuries. All of it is just so… hot. Kepa’s right – I’ve been trying to hide it, but I have a real crush on his teammate.

‘Kepa, I’m-’ ‘Don’t start trying to apologise now that you’ve been caught out, princesa. It’s too late for that now. And anyway, I feel for you a little bit. It must have been hard for you, with your boyfriend giving you no attention. I bet you’ve been trying your best to get yourself off. Do your fingers feel as good as his, baby?’ he asks, my underwear flooded with arousal now. He’s killing me – half of my mind is in panic mode, and the other half is thinking about dick. I don’t know which part I’m more annoyed with.

‘Show me, baby. Take off that pretty dress, lie down on the bed, and show me how you’ve been touching yourself, thinking of your boyfriend and his best friend,’ he taunts, my stomach clenching with nerves. One thing Kepa never does is call my pet names in English, yet the person on the other side of the phone has been calling me ‘baby’ and ‘babe instead of the usual ‘cariño’ or ‘querido’.

Before it can properly dawn on me, there’s a loud banging on the door, a startled scream escaping my lips. ‘I’m getting impatient, babe. Take off your dress before I come in and cut it off you with my knife,’ he threatens through gritted teeth, and I quickly get up off the bed. I put the phone on speaker, leaving it sat atop the sheets before I reach back to the zip on my dress.

My hands shake as I pull down the zip, my skin exposed to the room when I let the dress drop off me, leaving me stood in just my black lacy lingerie, suspenders and all. ‘Wow. Look at you, baby. So pretty. Did you dress up all for me? Or for your footballer boyfriend?’ he taunts, the cold air on my bare skin making me shiver.

‘Now lie down on the bed,’ he says in a gentle tone, and I do as he says, settling myself amongst the sheets, back against the headboard. ‘Spread your legs for me,’ he prompts, my actions following his words, exposing my clothed core to the room.

‘Slip your hand into your pants, princesa,’ he instructs softly, and I let my hand trail down my body before sliding beneath my underwear, a shaky breath falling from my lips when my fingertips brush against my clit. ‘So sensitive. I bet you’re so wet, so desperate for me to fuck you. Am I right, y/n? I’m right, aren’t I, baby? You’re so desperate for my cock, my fingers, my tongue. Anything I give you, you’ll be grateful for, huh?’ he asks, and I just nod, fingers ghosting across my folds, light tingles of pleasure running through me.

‘Are you gonna let me come in and fuck you, babe? I’m so hard for you, baby, so fucking hard. I wanna make you scream with my cock. Will you let me come in, y/n?’ he asks, and I shake my head, no. Despite my mind clouding over with a hazy fog, I’m still scared of the Ghostface on the other side of the door.

‘Well, if you remember correctly, baby, you got one of the questions wrong, which means I get to do whatever I want to you. Maybe I’ll use my knife to make you scream instead of my cock. Is that what you want, princesa?’ he asks, and the fear takes over, making me remove my hand from my pants and grab the phone shakily. ‘No, please. I’m scared,’ I whisper, and he lets out a low chuckle that makes my stomach turn.

‘You should be.’

The door swings open, Ghostface stood in the doorway, the only light in the room streaming in around his big frame from the hallway. His knife is still in one hand, head tilted mockingly, and the mask’s mouth is open in its perpetual scream, as though it’s warning me what I’m about to be doing too. ‘You look so sexy when you’re scared, baby. Your eyes are all big and teary, your teeth biting your lip, your chest heaving with deep breaths. I bet you look like that when you’re getting fucked as well, huh?’ the voice on the other end of the phone asks, cold realisation hitting me.

Ghostface only has a knife in his hand, the other one empty. No phone in sight.

‘Oh, princesa, you’re so cute. For someone who likes scary movies, you clearly don’t pay much attention to them. It was never just Billy Loomis. Stu Macher was with him all along. It was how they managed to do all their killing,’ the voice on the phone says mockingly, and then I hear the handle on the bathroom door turning slowly.

My breathing falters as I wait for the door to open, my heart stopping when another Ghostface is revealed, both of them standing in opposite doorways, staring at me. The new one has a phone and a voice distorter in his gloved hands, held up to his mouth. ‘Two’s better than one, baby,’ he says cockily, voice echoing through my phone.

I cover my mouth, a sob escaping my lips, and my eyes fill with tears that begin to spill over. I’m terrified despite how I’m pretty sure I know who both of these Ghostfaces are, my eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. The first one walks across the room to me and I shrink away from him in fear, letting out a sob when his hand tightens around my throat and he pulls me closer to him. He lifts the knife to my face, gliding the tip across my skin, the cold metal making me shiver. The proximity means I can hear him breathing through the mask, and a familiar scent fills my senses.

‘What’s the safeword, cariño?’ a muffled voice asks from the other side of the mask, and I breathe a sigh of relief at hearing the Spanish accent, my nerves easing at him using one of his Spanish pet names for me. ‘Arsenal,’ I respond (hearing me shout his rival team is a definite way to get him to stop whatever he’s doing), and he nods, releasing my neck and lifting his hand to my face, wiping away my tears.

‘I like you scared, princesa. Your screams are so pretty,’ he murmurs softly, hand caressing my face with the most gentle touch before he reaches over to flick the lamp on. ‘I bet they sound prettier when she’s being touched than when she’s being chased up the stairs,’ the other Ghostface says, reminding me of his presence, and I suddenly realise what this is leading up to, the thought almost making me moan aloud. I’ve been desperate for cock for weeks, and now I’m gonna get two.

‘Much prettier. Come and find out for yourself,’ Kepa says, Mason stepping across the room to stand beside his teammate. My heart jumps at the two of them stood there in front of me, the two masks looking down at me with mocking screams. ‘Hands and knees, querido. Culo in the air for us,’ Kepa prompts, and I move into position, facing away from them and giving them a full view of my ass, supporting my body weight on weak arms.

‘I didn’t know it was possible to have a wet patch on black fabric,’ Mason teases, a gloved finger hooking through my pants and pulling them aside, both of them letting out appreciative noises at the sight of my soaked core. ‘Such a pretty pussy. So wet, babe. Is this all for us, y/n?’ Mason asks, his compliment making a thrill run through me. I let out a hum in response, a hand suddenly snaking around my neck, pulling my head back in an uncomfortable position.

‘Words, baby,’ Mason murmurs. ‘Yes, it’s for both of you,’ I respond, voice strained, and my neck is released from the hand’s tight hold. ‘Good girl. Do you want us to touch you?’ ‘Yes. Please,’ I whimper, feeling a finger ghosting over my folds a moment later. I bite down on my lip, embarrassed at how close I am to moaning when they’ve barely touched me.

There’s no more movement so I push my ass back, needing more contact, and both of them laugh, humiliation filling me and making me even wetter. ‘Our little princess is so needy for us, huh? Does our pretty girl want more?’ Mason asks, his dirty talk turning me on so much. Kepa drops a pet name or compliment (or insult – degradation gets me going) here and there, but he’s never been one for a running commentary like this.

‘Please,’ I whisper. ‘What do you want, baby? Tell us what you want, and we’ll give it to you.’ ‘Anything. Just something, please,’ I beg, the aching in my core thrumming through my whole body. ‘Shall we touch you with our knives, princesa?’ Kepa asks, and I take it as an innuendo before I feel the sharp tip of cold metal tracing down my spine, a harsh shiver running through me. ‘I did tell you I wanted to see what your insides look like, babe,’ Mason reminds me, smirk audible in his voice.

Even though I know it’s a joke, it sparks fear in me again, which only makes me gush with more arousal. Fear and desire have always gone hand-in-hand for me, which is how I ended up with an intimidating Adonis for a boyfriend. He scares me just as much as he turns me on, and that’s always been the case for everything. Whenever we watch horror films together, we end up fucking afterwards, because he knows how needy I get when I’m scared out of my wits. Halloween’s his favourite time of year.

‘Please don’t kill me, Mr Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel,’ I say breathily, quoting Tatum’s line in the film, both of them laughing in response. ‘Oh, baby, we’re not gonna kill you. We’ve gotta have some fun with you first,’ Mason murmurs in a low voice, my heart racing at the possibilities of where this is gonna go.

Before I can respond, a finger plunges into me, a moan escaping my lips as I clench around the digit, head falling forward against my chest. I feel a hand wrap around my hair before pulling harshly, keeping my head back, and the knife appears at my neck, the blade like ice against my burning hot skin. The finger inside me is joined by another, the friction from the gloves making me whimper, and I feel my stomach clench when the fingers begin thrusting in and out of me, trying to open me up.

I don’t even know whose fingers are inside of me, or whose hand is pulling on my hair, the ambiguity making everything even hotter, and I can’t help the moans and whimpers slipping through my lips every few seconds. ‘Fuck, you weren’t lying. She sounds so pretty. So pretty and good for us,’ Mason murmurs, the fingers inside me curling against my walls, the feeling taking my breath away.

A third finger pushes into me, the painful stretch making me whine in pain, and I feel a hand rubbing my ass soothingly. I pant as I try to adjust to the stretch, the fingers pumping in and out of me as soon as my breathing calms down, and the hand resting on my ass disappears before landing back down heavily, the slap reverberating around the room.

With the fingers thrusting into me, slaps landing harshly on my ass, my hair being pulled and knife to my throat, I’m losing my mind, all sense disappearing and melting down into nothing but overwhelming pleasure. When a thumb appears at my clit, pressing down roughly, I let out a loud moan, sounding pathetic even to my own ears, and my walls clamp down around the fingers, legs shaking.

‘I’m gonna…’ I trail off, already feeling the tell-tale signs of an orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening more with each circle being drawn at my clit. ‘You’re gonna what, babe? Are you gonna cum for us?’ Mason asks teasingly, the long fingers inside me curling against the soft spot that makes me cry out. ‘I think she’s gonna cum, bro,’ Mason says conversationally, Kepa chuckling. ‘Not without permission, she’s not,’ Kepa reminds me, and I begin pleading before he’s even finished talking.

‘Please let me cum. I need it so bad, please. I need to cum, please let me cum,’ I moan, not even thinking about what I’m saying before the words come out. ‘What do you think? Shall we let her?’ Kepa asks, as though he’s asking Mason whether he thinks it’s gonna rain, their indifference making me even more desperate for them. I’m a victim of the chase.

‘Hmm, I don’t know, bro. Has she earned it?’ ‘All she’s done is lie here and let us fuck her with our fingers like a dirty little slut,’ Kepa murmurs, sentence punctuated with a rough slap on my ass, his words prompting a moan to fall from my lips. ‘It’s like that? Baby likes being called a slut?’ Mason asks, sounding like he’s stumbled across a goldmine, and I can’t wait for the filth he’s gonna be saying to me tonight.

‘She loves it. Almost as much as she loves being a lazy little bitch in bed. I don’t think she deserves it.’ ‘Me neither,’ Mason agrees, their hands disappearing from me a moment later, my orgasm instantly fading away. I let out a whine at the loss of contact, even missing the feeling of the knife against my throat, and my whine is rewarded with another slap on my ass, the skin burning at this point.

‘Don’t be a brat, y/n. Thank us for what we gave you,’ Mason says, voice laced with malice, pushing me to see if I’ll do it. ‘Thank you for your fingers,’ I say pathetically, a light slap landing on my ass after I speak. ‘That’s better. You wanna be a good girl for us, don’t you, princesa?’ Kepa asks, and I nod, knowing I need to behave if I want to get off tonight.

‘Turn around, baby,’ Mason prompts, and I do as he says, tucking my legs beneath me as I turn to face them, my ass sore. I look up at the two of them, searching for their eyes behind the masks, nothing but empty darkness staring back at me, sending a shiver down my spine. Imagine if it’s not really them, and it’s two psychos imitating them, trying their best to sound like them. What if-

‘Are you still scared, querido?’ Kepa asks in the voice that always gets me going, his tone half-patronising and half-comforting, and I nod in response, looking up at them through my lashes. From this angle, I can’t even tell which of them is which, the two of them stood to close together to tell who each voice is coming from. The one on the left has the knife in his hand and he uses it to tilt my head up, my eyes on the ceiling.

‘Eyes on us, babe,’ Mason says, my gaze flitting down to the two identical masks again, sending a quiver of fear through me. ‘God, you look so hot when you’re scared. Just wanna fuck this pretty face,’ Mason says, a hand coming to tighten around my neck. ‘She’s all yours,’ Kepa says, one of the figures stepping back and taking a seat on the chaise lounge chair in the corner of the room, putting the knife down beside him.

The figure still in front of me – Mason – lets go of my neck and unbuttons his black robe just enough to let his hard cock spring free. He’s not as long as Kepa, but he’s still a mouth-watering size, thick enough that I know my jaw’s gonna ache after this. ‘Mouth open, baby,’ he prompts, and I part my lips enough for him to slide in.

But he only gives me two fingers, his other hand gripping his length and tugging on it a few times, the tip leaking with precum. It’s humiliating – I’m sat here in skimpy transparent lingerie with his fingers in my mouth, and he’s almost completely covered, jacking off right in front of my face. I feel my underwear flooding all over again.

Without any warning, he removes his fingers and pushes his cock into my mouth, letting out a low groan as he slides all the way in, tip hitting the back of my throat and prompting a loud gag. ‘Fuck,’ he moans, drawing the word out as he stills, my throat trying to reject the intrusion. I try to breathe through my nose, tears already collecting on my waterline, and when he finally pulls out, I gasp like I’ve been drowning.

‘Suck him off, princesa. Show him how good you are with your mouth,’ Kepa prompts from the corner of the room, drawing my attention back to him. The sight of him sprawled out on the seat, watching his girlfriend with another man is enough to make my stomach clench with arousal. The bedsheets are gonna be soaked if they go on like this.

I lean forward, looking up at Mason with big, innocent eyes as I press a kiss to his tip, a shaky breath audible through the mask, making me grin to myself. I place my tongue at the base, licking up to his tip against the vein on the underside of his cock before taking the head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him and sucking like he’s a lollipop, cheeks caved in. I look up at him as I take him further in, eyes meeting the hollow black ones on his mask, and another gag forces its way up my throat, a soft groan falling from his lips.

I set a gentle pace, slowly bobbing my head up and down, taking him in as far as possible, hand leisurely tugging at what I can’t reach. ‘Like that, y/n, just like that. Feels so fucking good, baby,’ he groans quietly, head thrown back, hand fisting into my hair as my eyes begin to water, and I hum around at him at the praise, the sensation making him moan softly, the sound going straight to my core.

It’s not long before his hips begin moving, his hand controlling my head movements, and I grab onto his legs as he thrusts slowly. ‘Gonna be a good girl for me, babe? Gonna let me fuck this pretty little mouth?’ he asks, and I hum in response, tears filling my eyes again. He doesn’t wait another moment before his thrusts speed up and I gag repeatedly around him. The sounds only spur him on, and tears run down my face as he looks down at me, watching me try to take him as far in as possible.

‘Fuck, you’re so good. Such a good little slut, letting me fuck your mouth, and taking it so well. Love hearing you gagging,’ he says in a strained voice, thrusting particularly hard to prompt a gag from me, the noise making him moan. ‘You’re so hot,’ he murmurs, the praise making me moan, the vibrations making his hips falter. Tears stream down my face, saliva bubbles around my mouth and drips down my chin and neck – I must look like such a mess right now.

And then I remember that Kepa’s sat in the corner, my gaze flicking over to him, stomach turning when I see that he’s jacking off whilst watching us. The sight makes me moan again, Mason letting out a choked groan, the noise only making me wetter. He pulls out of my mouth a moment later, breathing heavily, chest visibly heaving.

‘You weren’t lying,’ Mason says, Kepa chuckling as he gets to his feet. ‘I told you, hermano. She sucks your soul,’ he murmurs, standing in front of me and wiping my face clean again. ‘Lie down for us, princesa,’ Kepa instructs, and I do as he says with a weak and shaky body, tension flooding out of me as I relax into the sheets, lying horizontally across the bed with my feet dangling off the side.

‘Look at her. So pretty. What shall we do to you, babe?’ Mason asks, the knife in his hand. He rests the tip of it against my thigh before running it down my leg, the sharp point a cold sting against my skin. ‘Anything. Please,’ I whisper, body already so tired but desperate for both of them, for whatever they want to do to me.

‘Gonna let me eat your pretty little pussy, baby?’ he asks silkily, a moan falling from my lips at just the thought of it. ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he says amusedly, dropping to his knees at the side of the bed, disappearing from my view. I’m about to sit up so I can see him take off the mask but Kepa appears behind me, a hand on my shoulder to keep me lying down.

He taps my bottom lip, the message in the action clear, and I open my mouth for him. I watch him, my boyfriend upside-down in my vision as he opens his robe. I’m too distracted watching Kepa wrap his hand around his cock that I forget about Mason until he spreads my legs apart and pulls my pants aside.

He doesn’t waste any time, tongue licking a bold stripe across my core, prompting a breathy moan from me. ‘Mmm. You taste so good, babe. So sweet,’ Mason groans, lips against my inner thigh, pressing soft kisses to my skin. ‘Thank him for being kind to you, cariño,’ Kepa prompts, a mocking tinge to his voice, as Mason dips his tongue between my folds. ‘Thank you,’ I whimper, voice hitching when he presses his thumb to my clit, rubbing slow and hard circles that send shivers through me.

He keeps himself composed for barely ten seconds before he loses control, beginning to eat me out like he’s starving. Obscene wet sounds fill the room as he licks and sucks me, prompting desperate moaning from me. I reach down to thread my hands into his hair, the fluffy locks soft against my fingers, and when I tug on it, he lets out a gentle grunt against me, the vibrations making me squirm.

‘Ready, princesa?’ Kepa murmurs, reminding me of his presence, and I nod, opening my mouth wide for him again. He taps his cock against my tongue, the angle I’m lying at allowing him to push down into my throat and, despite my gagging, he slides all the way in until his balls tap against my nose. He pulls back out with a shaky breath, allowing me to inhale deeply before entering my mouth again.

He thrusts shallowly, not going too far into my mouth, and I’m grateful for it. With Mason eating me out like a man possessed, I’m already struggling to breathe, constantly moaning around Kepa’s cock which only gets him even more worked up. I try my best to engage my brain, sucking on his cock as best as I can whilst pulling Mason’s face even closer to my core. He flicks his tongue inside me, nose nuzzling against my clit in a way that makes me moan his name, but it comes out as gibberish with Kepa keeping my mouth full.

Kepa’s broken breaths and pleasured groans become more and more frequent, his gloved hands resting softly on my face as his hips move slowly back and forth. He’s doing everything in his power to hold back from fucking into my mouth as hard and fast as he wants to, that in itself making me even wetter, the squelching from between my legs getting even louder as Mason laps at me relentlessly.

‘Are you close, querido?’ Kepa asks, voice strained, but I’m too far gone to be able to respond, squirming on the bed with my thighs trying to close around Mason’s head, heels digging into his back. ‘I think she’s close. Shall I let her?’ Mason asks against my clit, my back arching up at the vibrations, a high-pitched whine escaping my mouth. ‘No,’ Kepa responds shortly, and I feel my eyes welling up at the thought of being edged again. The knot in my stomach is so tight, ready to snap, but I feel it loosening the moment Mason moves away from me.

Kepa pulls out of my mouth a moment later, a shiver running through me at feeling suddenly empty, and I can’t help but let out a sob. ‘Turn over,’ Kepa prompts, and I roll onto my front, the man kneeling down in front of me. ‘Don’t cry, cariño. You’ll get what you want,’ he says comfortingly, running a gloved hand down the side of my face soothingly. His hand comes to rest over my eyes and a moment later, his lips meet mine in a soft kiss that tastes like my boyfriend – any doubt in my mind about who he is disappears instantly.

Before I can even deepen the kiss, I feel Mason’s hands wrap around my ankles, pulling me across the bed towards him. He flicks open my bra before flipping me over, his hands instantly grabbing at my boobs, gloved fingers tugging at my nipples, my head falling back against the bed as I let out a helpless whimper.

‘Gonna let me fuck you, baby?’ he asks, and I nod desperately, legs spreading unconsciously for him. His hands slide down my body to my pants and he pulls them down my legs, leaving me in just suspenders and transparent stockings, the rest of me on show for him. ‘Such a beautiful body, so pretty for us,’ he compliments, rubbing softly at my clit, and I let out breathy moans in response, tingles of pleasure running through me.

‘Does our pretty baby wanna be fucked?’ he asks again, clearly wanting me to say it, and push down the humiliation to reply, ‘yes, please fuck me. I need it so bad.’ ‘Good girl,’ he says amusedly, deftly catching the condom Kepa throws to him. ‘No condom, please. I’m on birth control,’ I say, his movements freezing for a moment before he looks at Kepa.

‘Are you sure, cariño?’ Kepa asks, out of my view, and I nod. Kepa and I almost never use a condom, and it’ll drive me crazy feeling Mason raw inside me. ‘Fuck,’ Mason curses under his breath, pulling my legs up to rest on his shoulders, insides of my ankles brushing against the cold plastic of the mask. He runs his tip up and down my folds before plunging in without warning, both of us moaning as he bottoms out inside me.

He’s thick enough for the stretch to burn but he rubs my clit to soothe the pain, hips keeping himself still inside me. ‘Please, I need it. Please fuck me,’ I beg desperately, and he doesn’t waste any time, pulling all the way out before slamming back in, winding me. He starts off gentle, his thrusts deep but leisurely, and it feels like the head of his cock is prodding against my cervix each time he slides back in, making me whimper pathetically.

‘Fucking slut,’ he murmurs, thrusting into me particularly hard, and my mouth drops open in a silent moan at the insult, back lifting up from the bed with his tight grip on my waist. He gradually picks up the pace, and I moan helplessly as his cock drags against my walls. I can’t help but clench around him, and I can tell he’s holding himself back from going harder, his breaths coming out laboured. He must be close to suffocation in that mask.

It seems he wants me to feel the same, his hand coming to my neck and tightening, cutting off my airways so a pleasurable haze clouds over my mind. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight,’ he groans, body tense with the effort of keeping himself together, and I let out a choked moan, eyes full of overwhelmed tears. He reaches to slip two gloved fingers into my mouth, and I can taste my own arousal on the material, the filth of it making me gush around his cock.

‘Fuck, you feel so fucking good. So wet for me. So wet for a man that’s not your boyfriend, dirty little slut,’ he taunts me, my brain barely processing his words, too focused on the tip of his cock scraping against the spot inside me that makes my eyes roll back, intense waves of pleasure rolling over my body.

‘Such a tight little pussy. Guess your boyfriend hasn’t been fucking you properly,’ he murmurs cockily, shooting a look over his shoulder to where Kepa must be stood now. ‘Watch it,’ Kepa warns darkly, Mason laughing at managing to piss him off. I can barely focus on their interaction, the knot in my stomach tightening again. I can’t even form words, babbling unintelligibly around his fingers, and both of them chuckle at the state of me. His pace slows down again, the boy leisurely thrusting into me, and my eyes fill with tears with the desperation for my orgasm, my vision blurred and head numb with pleasure.

‘Are you gonna cum, princess?’ Mason asks, and I don’t even nod in response, not wanting to be edged again. ‘That’s a yes,’ Kepa murmurs, and Mason pulls out of me straight away, a frustrated sob breaking free from my mouth. Mason’s hand comes down onto my pussy in a light slap, making me let out a strangled yelp and I shoot him a reproachful look, hearing a chuckle from beneath the mask.

‘Don’t give him that face. You should be grateful, cariño.’ ‘Grateful for what? Being edged a trillion times?’ I ask bitterly, and I can feel the sternness radiating from Kepa’s mask. ‘Don’t be bratty,’ he says, unbuttoning his robe and removing his gloves before pulling his mask off. His skin is flushed, curls unruly and eyes bright, my heart pounding at the sight of him. I beam, reaching a hand out to him and pulling him close to press a kiss to his lips.

‘Sit on my face?’ he asks against my lips, my pussy drenched at the thought, and I nod, ‘please.’ He comes to lie on the bed, his legs hanging off the bottom of it, and he’s wearing nothing but his boxers, relief filling me that I can finally see his face. I can’t see it for long though, as he pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms around my thighs to bring me close to his head, my body blocking the bottom half of his face.

He doesn’t even give me a moment to prepare before he licks a bold stripe across my slit, making my whole body quiver above him. ‘Joder. Sabes tan dulce. Could eat you all day, princesa,’ he says against my core, the vibrations making me whimper.

He starts relatively slow, tongue circling my clit before lapping up my slick and poking between my folds gently but it’s not long before he loses his self-control, abusing my heat with his tongue, hands holding me in a bruisingly tight grip as I squirm, unable to hold my weight up. My pussy must be suffocating him.

‘Please, please,’ I moan repeatedly, and I can see the amusement in his eyes as he breathes against my folds, his tongue circling my clit again and again. ‘Please, what? Words, cariño,’ he says against my folds, making me jolt forwards, head almost hitting the wall. ‘More, Kepa, more. I need to cum,’ I force out between moans, face contorted in pleasure, and he lets out a gentle chuckle.

‘My dirty slut wants to cum?’ he asks, words dripping with amusement, and I nod, mouth open in a silent moan as the waves of pleasure roll over me. He practically begins to make out with my pussy, lips moving against my folds as his tongue pokes into me every few seconds. And then he decided to torture me further, mouth moving to suck at my clit as he pushes two fingers into me and curls them, prompting a loud moan from me.

‘Let me fuck you then,’ he says against my clit, fingers disappearing from inside me, and I shakily lift myself up from his face, leaning down to kiss him briefly again, a soft smile on his face as he kisses me back. How can this be the man that chased me up the stairs with a knife a little while ago?

I move down his body, hovering over his cock and watching as he pushes his boxers down just enough to guide himself into me. I sink down onto him, the familiarity making me sigh as I take him all the way in, his length filling me up almost painfully. It’s like I can feel him in my stomach. I take a few seconds to adjust, suddenly remembering Mason, and I turn to see him sat on the chair in the corner, mask, gloves and robe gone, hand down his boxers and grin on his face.

I motion for him to come over and he stands beside the bed, turning my hand with a strong hand on my chin and pulling my face to his. Our lips meet in a messy kiss, teeth and tongues clashing, and I feel the thrill of kissing someone who isn’t my boyfriend, someone I’ve been secretly crushing on for a while. He bites down on my lip, making me moan into his mouth before he laves his tongue soothingly over where he just bit, my pussy gushing around Kepa.

I break away, remembering my boyfriend whose cock I’m sat on, but he’s watching us with an amused look on his face, leaning on his elbows for a good view. ‘I think I like seeing you with other guys,’ he admits with a grin, Mason laughing, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘Are you a dirty voyeur, papí?’ I tease, his gaze hardening and eyes narrowing, scaring me just as much as when he had the mask on, making me wetter again. ‘I’m gonna fuck you hard for that,’ he says darkly, arousal pooling in my stomach.

His hands tighten on my hips and he lifts me before pushing me back down onto his cock, thrusting up at the same time, making me moan with my head thrown back, almost falling off the bed but bumping into Mason instead. He presses kisses along my neck, biting colours into my skin as Kepa lifts me up and down on him, fucking up into me in a way that makes me whimper his name desperately.

He sits up after a few moments, my body sandwiched between theirs, and I grind down onto him, my clit rubbing against his skin, head going light at the pleasure. He dips his head to suck at my nipples, nipping at the flesh of my breasts as I try my best to ride, relying on him lifting me up and down. ‘Good girl, bouncing on my cock,’ Kepa murmurs as Mason’s hand slides around me to rub at my clit, my head falling back against his strong chest.

Kepa’s tip scrapes against the spot inside me that makes my back arch, and his lips stray up to my shoulder. The feeling of both he and Mason’s kissing and biting at my skin, Mason’s fingers at my clit and Kepa’s cock buried inside me, it’s all too much. I’m so close to my orgasm that I can almost feel the white-hot pleasure washing over me already.

‘Can we try something, cariño?’ Kepa asks with his lips at my jaw, his hands stilling my hips, and when I feel Mason’s hand on my lower back, a nervous shiver runs through me. I’ve only let Kepa in the back a couple times and it was… an experience, to say the least. ‘We don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ Mason says softly, mouth moving against my skin, but I shake my head. ‘No, it’s okay. We can try,’ I say quietly, Mason turning my head to kiss me again, the feeling so foreign and thrilling.

‘You’re so fucking cute. Such a good girl,’ he murmurs against my lips before breaking away. I watch as he spits, the parallel between this and watching him spit on the pitch almost making me laugh, and I feel his saliva land at my back entrance. He pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock and he uses the head to spread his spit around, lubing me up.

‘Safeword if it hurts,’ Kepa reminds me and I nod, letting him capture my lips with his own as Mason gently pushes into me. He takes it slowly, the stretch of each inch burning more and more, but his and Kepa’s lips kiss the pain away. My breathing is laboured, head dizzy, and when Mason bottoms out, they both shower me in praise that makes me wet, my clenching around them making them both groan in pleasure.

‘Can I move?’ I breathe out after a while, feeling adjusted to them inside me, and they both tell me I can. I use my hands on Kepa’s shoulders and my knees resting on the bed to lift myself slightly before letting myself fall back down, all three of us moaning at the feeling. Mason’s mouth comes to my shoulder and bites gently, my head falling back against him as Kepa watches me intently to make sure I’m not in pain, his hands resting on my waist.

He quickly takes over, lifting me up and down with a gradually increasing pace, both of their cocks scraping against my walls, making me lose my mind. The sounds of wet squelches, moans, grunts, groans and skin slapping against skin fill the room, Kepa’s hands gripping my waist tightly, Mason’s hands sliding around my body to play with my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers.

‘Faster, please,’ I moan, Kepa obliging, the three of us letting out more moans at the faster pace, my nails digging into Kepa’s back. Mason’s fingers stray down to my clit again, just as Kepa’s tip scrapes against my soft spot. Without an inch of warning, my orgasm washes over me, mouth open with a high-pitched moan, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back against Mason.

Hot pleasure burns through my veins, my head spinning and body convulsing, the two of them working me through my high with their hands, mouths and cocks, the sensations only prolonging the bliss. My legs shake as I come down, walls clenching to reject them, my body curling in on itself to try and give myself reprieve, but no such luck – the two of them are still rock-hard inside me, and I know they won’t be done with me until they’ve filled me up with their cum.

‘You’re gonna regret cumming so fast, baby,’ Mason murmurs lowly against my neck, an evil grin on Kepa’s face, and I let out a tired sob, tears in my eyes. ‘I can’t handle any more,’ I whimper, Kepa raising an eyebrow as he starts fucking up into me, Mason matching his pace, my body twitching with overstimulation, pained whines escaping my lips every few seconds.

‘Yes, you can, cariño. You’re a big girl. You’ll take whatever we give you, and you’ll thank us for it too,’ Kepa says in a soothing tone, kissing along my jaw, and I slide my fingers into his hair, head resting against Mason’s shoulder, heat radiating from both of their bodies. We’re all so hot, skin covered in sweat and desire, and I can’t help the tears running down my face as they continue fucking into me for their own orgasms, my body so overwhelmed.

I let out desperate moans of their names, both of them groaning in response, and I know they’re close. I am too, the sensitivity of overstimulation ebbing away into the build-up of another orgasm. ‘Rub yourself, baby,’ Mason prompts, hands playing with my tits again, and I shake my head. ‘I can’t… it’s too much,’ I whimper, Kepa’s gaze on me hardening as his hand tightens at my neck.

‘You can, and you will. He won’t ask you again, princesa,’ he says, tone laced with sternness, and I let go of one of his shoulders to reach down and rub at my clit again, sparks of pleasure lighting inside me, more tears running down my face. He kisses them away before his lips find mine, the saltiness of my tears finding my tastebuds as well as the faint taste of my own pussy, a whiny moan sounding from low in my throat.

I can feel their paces becoming sloppy, their thrusts erratic and their hands frantic on me, like it feels so good that they don’t know what to do with themselves anymore. ‘Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Such a good girl. I’m not gonna last,’ Mason says between deep breaths, voice strained. ‘Joder. Me neither,’ Kepa says unevenly, slapping my hand away to rub at my clit himself, his faster and harsher pace making me scream, body thrashing at the overpowering pleasure.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, mind too numb to think straight. ‘Go on, querido. Cum for our cocks.’ ‘Does our little slut feel good? Are you gonna cum for us, baby?’ Their dirty talk almost finishes me off, but it’s an in-sync thrust from both of them that pushes me over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as my high hits me, body tensed and shaking. Mason’s orgasm follows close after, the boy burying his head in my neck as he cums with a low moan of my name, and Kepa’s is last, my boyfriend holding me down on his cock as he cums deep inside me with his head thrown back.

We stay like this for a few moments, breathing heavily as their cocks soften inside me. I shudder when Mason pulls out, feeling cold and empty when Kepa lifts me off him to lay me down on the bed, tension flooding out of my body and replaced with relief.

I spot one of the masks on the pillow and I reach for it, holding it and looking at it, paying no attention to the two of them as they move around, talking lowly. I stare into the dark eyes of the mask, a low thrill settling in my stomach at the sight of it. I always found Ghostface hot, but now? He’s number one on my crush list and I think it’ll take a lot to replace him.

‘¿Estas bien, mi amor?’ Kepa asks softly, and I put the mask down, looking at him with a tired smile on my face. His hair’s all fluffy and he’s put on some pyjama bottoms, the sexy checked ones I love on him. His top half is bare, though – I already know I’ll be tracing my fingers over his muscles before I fall asleep tonight.

‘I’m okay,’ I reply in a hoarse voice, my boyfriend coming to sit on the bed beside me, a wet towel in his hand. He cleans me up with a gentle touch, running the towel up and down my body to soak up all the sweat. Mason comes out of the bathroom a moment later, also wearing a pair of sexy checked pyjamas bottoms with no top, his hair just as fluffy. He comes over to the bed with a handsome grin, pushing my legs apart.

I feel shy as both he and Kepa look between my legs, both groaning at the sight. I can feel their cum dripping out of both holes, the sensation only making me wet again. ‘Fuck, that’s so hot,’ Mason says, scooping up their cum and pushing it back into me with two fingers, making me hum in pleasure, walls clenching around him.

They both get me ready for bed, Kepa cleaning my makeup off with a wipe as Mason takes off the remainder of my lingerie before handing me my Ghostface pyjamas, making me laugh at the irony of it. ‘Are you hungry, mamí?’ Kepa asks, suddenly reminding me of my cooking. ‘I put a pasta bake in the oven. It’s probably burnt to a crisp now,’ I say miserably, both of them laughing. ‘I turned the oven off before I chased you up the stairs,’ Kepa says, his responsible behaviour making me smile amusedly.

‘It still won’t be good to eat now though.’ ‘We’ll order pizza. Still Italian,’ Kepa says, and I roll my eyes but nod anyway – I love takeaway pizza. Kepa taps away at his phone as I settle into the sheets, already feeling myself drifting off to sleep. ‘What toppings do you want, Mase?’ Kepa asks, Mason looking surprised. ‘I was gonna go.’ ‘No, stay the night, please. I want morning sex,’ I say tiredly, the two of them laughing again.

‘How can I refuse you, babe? I’ll have whatever, I’m not fussy,’ Mason says, directing the last part to Kepa who finishes the order as Mason climbs into the bed beside me. ’30 minutes,’ Kepa says, and I let my eyes flutter shut. ‘I’m gonna have a little nap,’ I yawn, Kepa chuckling softly as he runs a hand over my hair, sending tingles through me. I snuggle down into the sheets, resting my head in Kepa’s lap and throwing my legs over Mason’s, my boyfriend playing with my hair as Mason massages my feet. This must be heaven.

‘Sorry for scaring you, babe.’ ‘Don’t be. I loved it. You’re great actors,’ I mumble, getting chuckles in response. ‘Liar. You knew it was us.’ ‘I doubted it a few times though. I really thought you were Kepa on the phone. Your Spanish accent is great,’ I say, Mason looking proud of himself. ‘I’ve got a good teacher,’ he says, the two of them bumping their fists together with big grins at each other, and I roll my eyes at their weird little bromance. Though, I suppose, if it weren’t for their bromance, I wouldn’t be nearly knocked out after the fucking of a lifetime.

‘I do have to say, though. You two have nothing on Billy and Stu,’ I say tiredly, the two of them scoffing. ‘Billy and Stu wish they were us,’ Mason says confidently, and I raise a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Okay. Which one of you is which then?’ I ask, both of them answering, ‘I’m Billy.’ I laugh as they bicker over who’s who, both of them making compelling arguments, but by the time they ask for my opinion, I’m almost fast asleep, a contented smile on my face.

#kepa arrizabalaga #mason mount #chelsea fc #kepa arrizabalaga smut #mason mount smut

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skarlette1 · 1 year

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Pearl Girls: Trustee's Ball Buster

–Part of the Pearl Girls series, picking up very shortly after “Trustee’s Balls to the Wall”

“I’m so glad my lectures will be paying off for you tonight, Alexis,” Dean Dickinson said as he led me downstairs into the private rooms hidden beneath the historic administration building of Skarlette City University—the domain where faculty, staff, and students were not allowed. We passed through two cypher locks and a retina scanner. For a moment, it felt more like a supervillain lair I might have faced in my days as the heroine Argent, rather than a sub-basement of a campus building frequented by Alexis Ames, PhD. These pearls around my neck did more than mark me as a Pearl Girl, they opened up entire vistas of erotic adventure!

“Your feedback on my … oral examinations will certainly serve me well tonight, Dean,” I said.

“You can thank me later, in my office,” the Dean chuckled. “More than that, I’ve used my considerable influence to secure you a reprieve from whatever retrograde Pearl Girl rule has kept you from your climax these last few months. I firmly believe that even for those of your … calling, the most sexually exciting partner is the one enjoying herself. The trustees will enjoy you and you will enjoy yourself tonight. Won’t you, Alexis?”

Despite the Dean’s request, Mistress Treasure had not actually granted me that reprieve from orgasm denial. She’d ordered me to fake as many climaxes as would please the trustees. If I actually came, I’d never get a chance to kiss her unspeakably luscious lips. Of course, I couldn’t let the Dean know that where it mattered, he had no influence. He was a pearl-level member of Club Absinthe and needed to be pampered in every way, especially his ego. “I am certain tonight will be truly exceptional. Thank you so much, Dean.”

The Dean led me through a crowded wine cellar laden with expensive vintages. At the back, the pull of a concealed handle caused a section of wall to swing open and reveal a secret passage. From within, I could hear the chattering of deep male voices and the echoes of wanton female moans. At the end of the hallway was another hidden door. Within was a large smoking room with dark paneling, chairs and benches upholstered in black leather. More than a dozen men mingled in the space—all of them old, all of them white, all of them with a beautiful college girl servicing their cock.

Not just any college girls. Nearly every member of the Chloros Neriada Sorority—except for sorority president and irresistible sex goddess Treasure Tartarus—was kissing, cuddling, sucking, or being fucked by the school trustees. A room full of Pearl Girls meant that the trustees wanted for nothing. Their every lascivious desire was fulfilled by eager girls a third of their age.

One of them caught sight of me. “Look what the Dean brought us, fellas. Professor Pearl Girl is here!”

While I hand never been one to seek out the spotlight, being a Pearl Girl had taught me how to play to an audience. Cocking my hip, I smirked at the trustees. “I hope you boys have boned up on the material. I give a very thorough oral examination!”

Over the next few hours, I became a dervish of debauchery, catering to every fantasy the trustees had nurtured about a sexy college professor. One produced a pair of glasses he wanted me to wear so he could cum all over them. Another wanted me to gaze deeply into his eyes while I recited Rosetti’s Goblin Market while he fingered me, so he could watch me fake an orgasm as I gasped out “Eat me, drink me, love me.” Two other trustees wagered ten thousand dollars on who could make me cum quickest on his dick (I faked it for both, but a little later for the one that ruined my French twist by trying to pull my hair).

Perhaps the strangest request was the trustee in his eighties who carefully unfolded a handwritten essay that had to be a half-century old. He lay back and wanted me to ride his Viagra-hardened cock while I read the the teacher’s comments on what must have been his college economics homework. I gasped and moaned as I read the faded red ink in flawless penmanship. While his economics professor had given his homework an A+, I could barely award his cocksmanship a D. Regardless, I faked two climaxes by the time he reached his own.

Faking an orgasm when you were truly, deeply desperate for release was quite difficult. The more I moaned, the better my body felt. The more I screamed, the hotter my actual desires burned. The more I writhed and squealed “I’m cumming for you, sir,” the more my actual orgasm threatened to overwhelm me with pleasure too powerful to deny.

But Mistress Treasure’s rules allowed no exceptions: No orgasm tonight.

By the time most of the trustees had sated their appetites and drifted to sleep, I was acting more by habit than by any plan to please them. I was so busy sucking whatever dick still had some firmness to it that I didn’t even hear the hidden door open. The trustee whose dick I was sucking gave a shout. “Hey! No women allowed in here!”

A feminine voice replied, “Really? Tell that to the exploited young female tickling her tonsils with your dick, Connor.” Even from behind me, with my face pressed against Connor nest of gray pubic hair, something about her voice sounded familiar.

“Unless you’re here as entertainment, Lyta, you need to leave.”

Lyta? Behind me was Hipolyta Leasch, the woman I’d humiliated just a few hours ago by all but bragging about how I’d seduced her husband. I slowed the bobbing of my head so that this trustee could focus on getting rid of her, rather than relishing my hot, wet mouth.

Before he could push the issue, Lyta Leasch responded. “I’m a trustee of this school, Connor. Same as all of you. My family foundation and I have given millions to this school’s endowment. I have as much right to the perks of being a trustee as anyone. … Unless you really want to face a discrimination lawsuit that will drag all these student extracurricular activities out into the open?”

Connor pushed my face away from his shaft. “There’s no need to get catty, Lyta. It’s just that you haven’t been down here since you got married.”

“Wedded bliss is overrated,” she growled.

“We all learn that sooner or later. If we’d known you were coming, the Dean could have made arrangements. As it is … well, it’s just that we only ordered Pearl Girls for entertainment.”

Lyta laughed. “Don’t worry, Connor. I’ve had my fill of dick for a lifetime. I’d much rather unleash my lust upon one of these high-spirited young ladies. Which of you little sluts wants to play with Lady Lyta?” Her voice came closer. Still on my knees, I tried to crawl away as discretely as possible. Hoping to avoid her attention, I ducked around the far side of a divan …

Only to find myself facing a full-length mirror.

In reflection, Lyta Leasch gazed down on me with a cruel twinkle in her eye. “Alexis Ames? What a surprise to see you here. Faculty aren’t normally allowed to even know about these little get-togethers, let alone participate.”

Maybe I could spin some sort of story to salvage what vestige of dignity I had left? Worth a shot. Rising to my feet, I turned to face her with chin held high, despite my cum-spattered nakedness. “That’s a funny story, Lyta. It all started—”

“She’s not faculty tonight, Lyta. She’s a Pearl Girl,” Connor bellowed. “Damn fine cocksucker, too.”

“A Pearl Girl? She’s here to entertain the trustees?” Lyta said in a tone of mock-surprise, cruelty never leaving her eyes. “Is this true, Alexis?”

I knew my necklace wouldn’t allow me to lie to a direct question from a trustee, not tonight when she was effectively a pearl-level member. Maybe I could evade? “Don’t you find the issue of identity to be one of endless nuance, Lyta? One might say that—Oooohhhh!”

Lyta’s sharp nails seized my nipples, jolts of burning pain-pleasure surging through my body. I’d barely seen her take a step toward me, but now her lips were at my ear. “It’s a simple question, Alexis. Are you here to entertain the trustees?”

The intense sensation wouldn’t let any words past my lips but the truth. “Y-yes, I am. Aaahhh!”

“Good. You’re going to be very entertaining to me, you fucking home-wrecking slut!” She slapped me across the face. The truth of her words added a sting to my cheek that I hadn’t felt in battles against super-powered foes. I had destroyed this woman’s life and now I was at her mercy. There was a certain dark kismet to the whole thing.

“Let’s just have a look at what kind of trash tempted my pathetic husband. Hands behind your head, Pearl Girl.”

“Of course, Lyta,” I said, raising my arms and lacing my fingers behind my neck.

Smack! She slapped my naked tit. “Don’t speak to me like we’re friends, Alexis. I know your Pearl Girl rules. You have to treat me with respect.”

How could she know tonight’s rules? Was she bluffing? I couldn’t chance calling that bluff. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Not yet, Lexi, but you will be sorry before I’m done with you.” She looked toward the nearest sorority sister.

Mandy was tucking a blanket around one of the trustees. He’d just emptied his balls inside her and nodded off for a post-orgasmic nap. Lyta pulled Mandy up by the ear. “He’s got no more need of you, Pearl Girl. You’re with me now. Get me out of this dress.” Mandy scurried behind the surprisingly kinky archaeologist and busied herself with the clasps.

Lyta glared at me. “How did you do it, Lexi? Did you get him drunk? Read him Shakespearean sonnets? Or did you just show Grant your pathetic tits and he was so tired of fucking his fist that he leapt at the first trim on offer?”

While I couldn’t lie to her, I could spin the truth in the most hurtful way possible. “Grant came to me. He found out that I was a Pearl Girl. Frankly, I don’t think he could help himself.”

Lyta scowled at me as Mandy helped her step out of the red silk gown. Underneath, Lyta wore an ornate black leather corset with matching panties and tall black leather boots. “You Pearl Girls think you’re so irresistible, don’t you? Think you’re the sexiest thing mankind has ever seen?”

“We do leave a trail of very, very satisfied pearl-level members in our wake … and the occasional neglected English nerd.”

Lyta unlaced one of the many leather cords out of her corset. “The more venom you spit at me, Lexi, the more you’ll need to swallow. I know your weak points and will strike them relentlessly.” She walked behind me as she spoke, fiddling with my wrists and brushing my hair away from my neck.

“Lexi, turn and face the mirror,” she said. I had little choice but to do so. “You’ll notice that I’ve wrapped a thick cord of leather around each of your wrists. I slipped the other end of each loop underneath this outre pearl necklace you’re so fond of. If you move your hands it will be a contest of strength between that thick, seasoned leather cord and the soft gold chain links holding your necklace together. My money’s on the leather, but if you want to test it, go right ahead. I’m sure your Pearl Girl mistress will be so happy if you let her precious pearls scatter across the floor. Unless you think you can prove me wrong, Lexi?”

Studying the reflection, I could tell immediately that she was correct. If I moved my hands away from the back of my head, it would be my precious pearl necklace that would pay the price. Damaging the necklace in any way would surely end my life as a Pearl Girl. A sense of dread buzzed from my neck to my toes. I moved my hands lower, to the base of my neck, to lessen any stress on my necklace. “No.… I mean, no, ma’am.”

Her eyes glinted evilly. “Look at that! When I put something you care about at stake, suddenly you learn how to treat me with respect. Too bad for you that you didn’t respect my marriage, Lexi.” Without breaking eye contact with me, she snapped at Mandy. “Little slut, fetch me that leather case and then lie on your back on the floor, your head between Lexi’s feet.”

Mandy hurried to comply with Lyta’s orders. Soon she was looking up at my naked body from below.

“Lexi, squat down so your little friend can lick your filthy, cheating little twat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I lowered myself over Mandy’s face, careful to keep my balance. I couldn’t risk toppling over. Any instinctive movement to catch myself with my hands would end my life as a Pearl Girl, and destroy my only hope of ever kissing Mistress Treasure Tartarus.

“Little slut, start eating Lexi’s worthless snatch and don’t stop until I tell you to. Do everything you can to make her cum.”

Mandy’s tongue was as talented as any Pearl Girl’s, nuzzling and nibbling my sensitive folds with great skill. Every lick sent a wave of bliss threatening to overwhelm me. Mandy didn’t know that Mistress Treasure had forbidden me from cumming tonight. A trustee had ordered her to make me cum and she was doing her best. I’d need to put on a good performance to fake my climax to Lyta. I let out a blissful moan that was only a bit louder than my pleasure demanded.

Lyta opened the leather case she’d brought. “Earlier tonight, Lexi, you asked if I had found any fertility statues on my dig. I didn’t, but what I did unearth is far more valuable.” From the case, she drew out a wooden rod, perhaps twelve inches long. Its surface had been intricately carved in an undulating, abstract pattern that almost seemed to pulse in her hand. The surface had been stained a deep red color, with a rich patina that attested to its age. Strips of dark leather, obviously new, were woven around each end, with a single, ragged strand of ancient horsehair dangling from one end. “My primary research interest is in an ancient warlord that most scholars consider mythical. What sources we have refer to him as the Lord of Rutting, or the Sovereign of Copulation, or the He Who Rules the Thirst of the Loins. Those may be more exact translations, but I prefer the more poetic one: The Lust King. Ancient tales tell of his empire held together by primal human erotic desire. He is said to have ruled with an enchanted implement. The translation is even more unreliable. Some call it the Rod of Pleasures Beyond Number. Others say it is the Flail of Dominion or the Lash of Lust. Again, I prefer the more poetic term: the Blisswhip. During my excavation, I discovered where it was buried, untouched by human hands for more than five thousand years. With just a bit of restoration, I think it makes quite a thing of beauty, don’t you?”

Lyta’s long speech showed just how far over the edge of reason she had plunged. Taking cultural artifacts for personal use was a crime! However, her lecture had been helpful to me in obeying Mistress Treasure. In listening to Lyta’s lecture, my attention focused on following her absurd chains of logic, rather than succumbing to the pleasure that Mandy’s tongue was painting on my cunt. Although every cell of my body thirsted for the release of orgasm, Mistress Treasure had forbidden it. I held myself at bay, just as I had for so many months.

But perhaps letting Lyta think that I had succumbed would get her to direct Mandy’s attentions somewhere else. “Y-y-yes, ma’am! So … oooohhh … beautiful … oh … fuck … I’m cumming!” Careful to keep my hands tight to my neck, I shrieked and shook as though I had given into the powerful climax I so desired.

Crack! A sound cut through the air like a breaking bone. “That’s the first lie you’ve told me, Lexi. You faked it, just like you faked it with these limp-dicked old men. For one thing, I know that your mistress denied you permission to cum tonight. More than that, there is truth in pleasure and in pain. This beautiful artifact is infused with ancient magic. The Blisswhip can sense that truth of pain and pleasure. Beyond just sensing that orgasm you didn’t have, the Blisswhip can elicit pleasures and pains that have not coursed through human flesh since the pyramids were built.”

Now I remembered seeing Lyta’s red silk dress at the doorway when Mistress Tartarus had reminded me of the rules. She must have overheard our conversation and suspected my duplicity. I would need to make sure my next “climax” was more convincing (even as Mandy made it very hard to keep myself out of the true abyss of bliss). It was almost a shame that her husband’s infidelity had broken Lyta’s sanity. That a brilliant scholar could believe a historical artifact had actual magical powers was rather pathetic.

Crack! A stripe of searing ecstasy cut across my naked back. I shrieked.

Crack! The Blisswhip fell across my back again, its kiss like fire and passion in a single sensation. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I’d faced alien sex conquerors, seductive robots, and amorous demigods, but nothing compared to the Blisswhip. Each stroke made my flesh cringe in anticipation of the next one at the same time that it hungered for that sweet sting. Coupled with my months of denial and Mandy’s talented tongue, my body burned with lust, hotter than I’d ever imagined.

Crack! The Blisswhip struck my naked tits, pleasure-pain exploding throughout my body. It took every ounce of willpower to keep my hands clamped behind my neck and to keep myself from plunging over the edge of orgasm. “Please! Please, Lyta! Please, I mustn’t cum. Please don’t make me cum!”

“You think begging will save you, Lexi? Would it have saved my marriage if I’d begged you to please don’t fuck my husband? Fuck your please and cum for me, you worthless little slut!”

Crack! She struck my nipples again. They stood straight up like two lightning rods channeling the pleasure-pain right into my soul. My whole body trembled, the pressure of release building higher and higher. If I covered my tits with my hands, maybe I could hold my orgasm at bay another few strokes.

If I did, my pearl necklace would shatter.

Lyta raised the Blisswhip again and I needed to choose: Obeying Treasure by not cumming, or cumming like a slut but remaining a Pearl Girl.

Crack! I clamped my hands tight behind my neck as the stripe of burning, stinging, tingling ecstasy broke across me like a tsunami, too powerful to resist. I screamed and came harder than I had ever cum. The months of denial, finally released, turned my body into a single, raw nerve of sensation. I rode Mandy’s tongue as I writhed in helpless ecstasy. Every stroke of the Blisswhip drove the climax deeper into my soul.

Once I’d given into one orgasm, stopping was impossible. Lyta drove me over that edge again and again and again. When I tumbled off Mandy, collapsing to the floor, her whip still found my unprotected flesh. I heard a spineless, high-pitched voice thanking Lady Lyta for making her break the rules and barely recognized it as my own.

When Lady Lyta finally let me stop cumming, I could only gasp like a fish while my whole body throbbed. Somehow, I had kept my hands clamped behind my neck the whole time, so my pearl necklace had weathered the ordeal better than I had. It was one small bit to be grateful for.

It was the only thing be grateful for, as Lady Lyta visited every humiliation upon me that night, driven by a cruelty worthy of a supervillainess. I promised to never speak of Lady Lyta to Mistress Treasure. I begged to worship every inch of her body with my tongue, letting her ride my mouth until I nearly passed out from lack of oxygen. I confessed that I had seduced Grant and blackmailed him. I pleaded to be punished with the Blisswhip for my crimes. I counted out strokes and orgasms until even my superheroic stamina ran out and I succumbed to a red-dark unconsciousness.

When I awoke in the late morning, naked and sticky on the thick carpet, Lady Lyta was nowhere to be seen. For all its ferocity, the Blisswhip had left no trace of my ordeal on my flesh, only on my soul. Nothing proved that the dark lady had ever been here, except for the leather cords that still looped around my wrists and necklace. I had to nudge Mandy awake and ask her to untie the thin, strong cords.

As I gathered my clothes, I was filled with shame for so many things: breaking Mistress Treasure’s rules, failing to learn anything useful from the trustees, destroying Lyta’s marriage, succumbing to my simpering thirst for climax, submitting to Lady Lyta and her cursed Blisswhip, failing to protect Yvonne and Thora from a misogynist monster.

I knew I still had farther to fall. For one thing, I needed to confess my failures to the sexiest girl I’d ever known: Mistress Treasure. My blood ran cold at the thought of how she would punish my failure.

The worst part was that just thinking about how low I had stooped made my pussy run hot, awaiting the next fall.

–To Be Continued

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

#skarletteone #mind control #flash fiction #superhero

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

Text

#1 Fan [Part 1/2]

Summary: Spencer knows he’s seen his new neighbor somewhere before.

A/N: This was a blurb request from my sideblog that got completely out of hand so here she is as a full fic! (We’re gonna pretend like I know how OnlyFans works)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff & Smut

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, masturbation (male & female), voyeurism(?), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 2.9k

Request: “Blurb about basically the same fic as the other one except she just moved in and he recognizes her as the person he subs to on OF. She’s describing her hot neighbor- and yeah” from @thatsonezesty13

Masterlist

Read Part 2 Here

The first time Spencer sees her in the lobby grabbing her mail he thinks he’s in a dream. Or maybe he’s seeing things. For a second he’s terrified that he’s having a hyper-realistic, yet somehow mundane, wet dream.

He’s been subscribed to her for a while. To be honest once he’d found her account he didn’t have much of a need to subscribe to anyone else. She was almost tailor made for him, it was sort of scary.

So when he saw her that day, and she smiled at him, giving him a small wave as she passed him in the hall, his heart all but stopped.

That night he checked her page. He compared the pictures of the sweet girl in the hall with the ones in front of him. The photos where she was wearing next to nothing, or sometimes nothing at all. The ones where she had her fingers inside of her panties, or her mouth.

He ended up spiraling that evening, partially forgetting why he was even looking in the first place. Until he was watching videos of her, fucking into herself with a toy until she was squirting onto her bedsheets.

The following morning when he woke up he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t her. How could it be? And if it was, would he have to stop looking? Something felt a bit perverted about that.

So he pushed the thoughts from his head. And that lasted all of 10 seconds because there was a knock on his front door. When he opened it up it was her standing there, the girl from the mailboxes, and the girl from the videos. He knew they were one and the same, who was he kidding?

“Hi!” She sticks out her hand to introduce herself, “I think I saw you the other day, I’ve just moved into the building, Y/N.”

He knows her name already, well he knows her first name, and part of him’s a little surprised it’s not fake.

He takes a moment to consider her hand, he wouldn’t usually shake a strangers hand like this but for some reason he didn’t feel like she was a stranger. The real reason her didn’t want to shake her hand was because of all the things he’d pictured her doing with them. Touching herself, touching him.

But he’s hesitated for too long, so he takes her hand, shaking it gently, “Spencer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Nice to— uh, meet you” he has to force his breaths out or they might not come. Looking at her up close, in person, she was too beautiful. And he already thought that about her pictures.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, I always like to know the folks in my building. And especially you if we’re gonna be neighbors”

“Neighbors?” He tries to stop his eyes from popping out of his head but she doesn’t seem to notice. She just nods happily.

“Yup, I’m right on the other side of that wall” she points to her right and giggles, “knock if you need me” she jokes but Spencer’s breathing stops entirely and he can only nod.

“So um, if you wanted to hang out or anything you know where to find me” she smiles at him and starts to head back to her apartment.

He’s not sure what’s come over him, but it feels like adrenaline is coursing through his entire body as he speaks.

“I’m free right now if you’re not busy?” He asks before she can get too far away but she shakes her head.

“I’ve actually gotta head out for a bit but if you’re free tomorrow do you wanna come over and see my place. I’m sure it’s probably the exact same as yours but—”

“Yes!— I mean, um, yeah, that sounds nice, cool” she laughs at him a little, probably at his eagerness, or maybe at the way he’s blushing, he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks.

“See you then Spencer, Dr. Spencer Reid” she giggles and he’s smitten already.

— —

He’s pretty much counting down the seconds until the following evening. His mind is completely restless, he’s got no idea what to wear or how to act, or what to say.

She was just so pretty, he could barely have a 2 minute conversation with her in the hallway. How was he supposed to hang out with her for an evening.

She slips a note under his door the following afternoon:

I’m on my way out but I should be back around 8! See you then x

He wishes he didn’t stare at the little ‘x’ on the note for quite so long but he couldn’t help it. Even her handwriting was cute.

He doesn’t want to think about why he knows her already but he can’t help it. He decides that he’s not going to look at her page again, taking a cold shower as part of his preparation for that evening before agonizing over what to wear.

He settles on a purple sweater and he already feels like he’s made the wrong call somehow as he’s knocking on her door at 8pm on the dot.

“Well aren’t you punctual” she smiles at him as she pulls open the door. His stomach drops when he realizes that he recognizes the little dress she’s wearing. He’s seen her take it off before. He tries to steady his breathing but it doesn’t work super well so he just waves hello as she ushers him inside.

“I guess you got my note then” she smiles and he smiles back.

“Yeah, your— um— handwriting is really nice” he wants to slap himself in the face. What kind of complement was that?

“Thank you?” she giggles at him, “no ones ever said that before, you’re a bit of an oddball” she points him to the sofa so he sits.

When she comes to sit next to him she’s holding a bottle of wine and two glasses and he has to stop his eyes from bulging out of his head.

“Would you like a glass?” She asks and he nods his head, it probably wasn’t a great idea, but neither was any of this. She hands him a glass of wine and takes the seat next to him on the couch, turning to face him as she tucks her legs up under herself.

“So Spencer Reid, what kind of doctor are you?” she asks as she takes a sip from her own glass.

“I’m—um— I work at the FBI actually, I— I’m a profiler” he’s already conscious that he doesn’t want to bore her by harping on about work, or by rambling like he does right before people usually roll their eyes. But she doesn’t, she leans in.

“That’s so cool, well it sounds like it is anyway? Does that mean you read people or something?” her eyes look like they're after lighting up and she's smiling at him encouraging.

“Y-Yeah? It’s sort of like reading people I guess. We catch killers by getting inside their heads in a way, trying to figure out why they’re doing what they’re doing, and hopefully what they’re gonna do next so that we can stop it. It’s a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist” he’s smiling now too, the way she’s looking at him makes him feel like he’s actually doing a sort of good job not embarrassing himself.

“So you said my handwriting was nice” she says, gears clearly turning, “Can you read anything about me from that?” she looks like she's challenging him, if he didn’t know better he might call it flirting.

“Well actually graphology—sorry— handwriting analysis has been deemed a pseudoscience by most, the validity of handwriting as evidence in court has always been dubious and many of the techniques used today are the same as those employed in Renaissance England.” he rambles but she’s still engaged when he stops speaking.

“So you’re smart smart, huh?” she smiles at him, and he nods.

“I don’t believe intelligence can be neatly quantified but I do have an IQ of 187” he feels paradoxically stupid saying that, it feels like bragging or something and he already wants to take it back.

“Wow, a doctor with an IQ of 187” she takes a second to mull it over, “What are you doing hanging out with the likes of me?” she jokes, but his eyebrows knit together, he had no idea what she did, other than that thing he knew she did.

“I wouldn't sell yourself short like that, what do you do?” he asks her, at the very least it’ll stop him from spiraling.

“I work in a vintage bookstore, the one two blocks over?” She motions behind her as she tells him, and he knows it well, in fact he spends so much time there that he’s shocked he’d never seen her before.

“You work there? I’m there all the time, how have I never noticed you before?” she chuckles at him.

“I’ve only just started, I just moved in, remember?” and he wants to slap himself again, something about being around such a pretty face slashed that impressive IQ in half.

They spend another while and the rest of the bottle of wine getting to know each other before Spencer has to call it a night. Part of him wished that she was boring, or rude, or hated him, then maybe he’d be able to quell his infatuation. But this just made it worse, now that he knew her, now that he had spoken to her and she was so sweet, so smart, so funny, and still so damn pretty. He was absolutely fucked.

— —

He swears to himself that the wont look at her page again. Now that he knew her and he liked her more than he even did before, it felt like a real invasion. Part of him still felt bad about it in general, like he should've told her right away, been up front. But the moment for that had already passed so this was his next best plan.

Until he returns home the following Friday. He’s exhausted when he crawls into bed but he’s still somehow restless, the gears still turning in is brain. So he does what he always does when he wants to forget about everything else in the world.

His muscle memory opens it up, and he’s on her page before he even realizes he's done it. And she’s posted a few new videos this week. He wishes he had better willpower, or any willpower at all, but he can’t seem to stop himself from clicking on one.

It begins with her kneeling on her bed, wearing lingerie he’d seen before, it was baby pink and it was one of his favorites. She starts by dipping her fingers into her panties, teasing herself as little moans toppled from her lips. Then she started talking.

“I’m gonna tell you guys about a little dream I had last night, well, I’ve been having it all week really” she continues to tease herself a little, her other hand coming up to grab her breast over her soft pink bra as she speaks. Her voice is smooth and perfect, if he only had the audio he’d still be turned on right now.

“It goes like this. I’m lying in this bed right here, doing something a little like this, when there’s a knock at my front door. When I get up to answer it he’s there, with his shaggy brown hair, and his huge doe eyes, and he’s got these lips that are just so fuckin’ pink. I want them all over me. He comes inside and he grabs me with those huge hands of his and he pulls me right into him before he kisses me.” she moans a little as her fingers brush right up against her clit, but Spencer’s vision has almost gone blurry.

He’s not sure he’s even breathing when she starts talking again. “Then I lead him to my bedroom, and I get him out of those clothes. He dresses like an english teacher and I wish I didn’t find it so fuckin’ hot. Sometimes in the fantasy I take his cock in my mouth, I suck him off until he’s whimpering. Other times I can’t wait, I just need him to fuck me right away.” she takes off her panties then, leaving them to one side, while she grabs a toy from her bedside table.

“I like to fuck myself with this, but all week I’ve just been imagining that it’s him. He’s just so pretty, I know his cock has to be too. I want to know what it feels like when he’s buried inside me, so fuckin’ deep” she continues to fuck herself with the toy, and he’s tuned back in now, he’s achingly hard without even noticing, his hand wrapping around his cock as he pictures the other side of that fantasy.

It doesn’t take long before he's releasing, spilling all over his hand in tandem with the video. She takes a moment to relax, steadying out her breathing before she speaks to the camera again.

“I think I have a crush guys” she gasps out, “I moved, and I think I’ve got a crush on my fuckin’ neighbor already”

Not that he needed any more confirmation, but those words hit him like a fucking train.

It’s already midnight, it’s not so late that he couldn’t go over there, but it sort of is late enough that he shouldn’t. He really can’t bring himself to care though, getting out of bed and cleaning himself up he decides to ride this uncharacteristically confident wave as far as it’ll take him.

He’s knocking on her door before he’s had a chance to second guess himself. When she answers she’s in a little robe, it’s ivory and satin, and he recognizes it too. He doesn’t say anything, neither does she. They just look at each other for a little too long, eyes taking each other in. He wants to lean in and kiss her, just like in her fantasy, but he’s not that guy.

“Hi” he breathes out instead, “I know it’s late, sorry, I shouldn’t be here—but I— I just wanna say” he pauses to take in a labored breath, “I like you a lot and I think you’re really pretty and funny and smart and would you wanna go out sometime? With me? Maybe?” he doesn't realize he’s closed this eyes until he’s got to pry them back open.

“Well that’s not how the fantasy was supposed to go” she giggles, her eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at him and the blush that’s steadily spreading up his face and neck.

“What do you— I don’t— what?” he’s stammering, doing a god awful job of playing dumb.

“In my video, you were just supposed to kiss me. This isn’t as sexy but it is a hell of a lot better”

“I don’t— I’m not—” he can’t get a sentence out, he’s got no idea what’s happening right now.

“It’s alright Dr. 187, I know it’s you” some part of him genuinely wants to throw up. Why did he think that would be an innocuous username. He was the stupidest genius alive.

“I’m sorry, I should've told you. I had no idea how, I just never thought— how could I have known you’d move in next door to me? And that you’d be even prettier in person but you’d be so cool too” he’s got to cut himself off before he really starts apologetically rambling.

“Spencer stop. It’s fine. I make that content for people to enjoy, you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. I made that video because I wanted you to see it, that was intentional.” she reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, and it’s more comforting than it has any right to be.

“Was that—your fantasy—the uh the video—were you telling the truth?” he can feel his heart absolutely racing in his chest as he waits for the answer. And she breaks out in a huge smile, nodding up at him.

“Every word.” he doesn’t let himself overthink it this time, he just leans right in, pressing his lips to hers. It’s soft and gentle, a sweet kiss rather than a heated one, it’s not just infatuation, there are feelings behind it now. He can feel her lips smiling against his own and his heart’s fit to burst now.

When they break apart she looks giddy with excitement, her hands come down to the little bow that holds her robe closed, toying with the ends of the tie. “I’m actually about to make a video now if you’d like to see behind the scenes?” she asks and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

“Fuck” he rasps, “You’ve got no idea how much I want to do that” he pauses, scolding himself in his head already, “But I think I wanna take you to dinner first, if you still want that?”

She’s grinning at him again, “I still really want that, tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night.”

-- --

Comments, reblogs, and tags are always appreciated, I love you all x

Masterlist

Read Part 2 Here

Permanent Taglist:

@pinkdiamond1016

@shadyladyperfection

@catlynhoss05

@ld-1204

@jared-19-cant-reid

@lvndrmenace

@n-ecessity

@aubreyxanne

@spencereidshoe

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thenightling · 3 years

Text

The menu of a Dreamlord

I have decided to compile every instance of Morpheus eating and drinking in The Sandman comics that I can recall. Some of this is assumed and we’re not directly told he ate it.

First: The binge after the seventy-two-year fast.

After Morpheus escapes from his near century of captivity, the very first thing he does is seek out food in someone’s dream. This food is likely made of the same substance as dreams and as Morpheus is the embodiment of dreams it could be assumed that every time he eats in The Dreaming he is actually re-absorbing some of his own power. But it induces in him a sense of satisfaction similar to, or identical to, physical food digestion. It seems unlikely that he would or could starve to death but he clearly feels hunger. Now let’s analyze what he ate of that dream feast when he escaped.

1. Frog legs (probably uncooked) in a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC). In a later panel we see what look like actual chicken legs in his hand, along with a hero (also known as a sub or grinder) consisting of a long loaf of bread with tomato, lettuce, and what may be American cheese. There’s a slice of pizza falling loose from his hands. He may have already eaten one. There’s something in there that looks like it might be a rabbit or deer’s leg. He’s not picky and this was a buffet in someone’s dream, there’s some random things here.

2, Water in The Soft Places. On his way home Morpheus got lost in The Shifting Zones before being rescued by Gregory. While here he ran into Marco Polo, who had wandered in from The Waking World. Marco Polo was kind enough to give Morpheus some of his Waking World water. Morpheus was thirsty but too proud to admit it. In gratitude Morpheus used his last bit of strength to send Marco Polo home.

3. Mystery meal.

While Morpheus is recovering at The House of Mystery Cain prepares him a meal. We never see what that meal precisely consists of... It’s a mystery. But I imagine it was some kind of breakfast. But metaphorically the keeper of mysteries did feed him a mystery. So after his years of starvation he had food made of dream-stuff, waking world water, and a mystery.

Based on the dishes, I think it’s safe to assume part of that meal consisted of a soft boiled egg (see the smaller dish) and the glass might contain some kind of juice. I’d think orange juice but the color isn’t quite right. Perhaps apple juice? I’d wager a guess possibly non-alcoholic sweet apple cider (clouded apple juice), a popular Hallowe’en / autumn drink in the US that can be served warm or chilled. Cain is still very much a Hallowe’en-y character.

It’s possible he also had tea while recovering at The House of Mystery. Cain and Abel love to serve tea and biscuits or cake.

Cain also seems to like bottled soda like Coca-Cola and Ginger Ale. We see him drinking from a glass soda bottle while Morpheus is heading toward his castle.

4. The next time we see Morpheus eat or drink anything it is during Men of Good fortune. Here we see him drink ale and wine respectively.

5. In the sixteenth century, though Hob has ordered wine for them both it also appears he had a full meal brought for them. It’s in the middle of the table so probably not just for himself. They’re to spilt a roast chicken (or goose) and perhaps some sort of salad or other green vegetable? Boiled cabbage (or Spinach), maybe? There’s also apparently some sort of bread (or dinner roll) or meat pie but Hob might be eating that for himself.

So we have ale, wine, and probably some sort of poultry in The Waking World.

They also had white bread but Hob may have hogged it.

6. In the nineteenth century Hob and Morpheus appear to be having tea.

7. Later when Morpheus meets up with Hob in Season of Mists it’s wine again. This time not of the waking world though. But he does leave the half-finished bottle in the waking world for Hob.

Chateau Lafitte 1828.

8. Near Morpheus’ “Nightmare throne” we see what may be wine and apples and bananas.

9. Morpheus is apparently drinking red wine again while watching Emperor Norton.

10. Now for the first meal we actually see Morpheus specifically pick the dishes of, which makes this one significant because it suggests these are foods he definitely likes. An omelette (probably with cheese), a light salad, and white wine. This is while Morpheus is grieving his breakup with Thessaly. Probable confirmation: Morpheus likes omelettes.

11. Morpheus wanted dark mead but settled on Scotch. By the way, Hob, Dark Mead still exists so WTF, man?!

12. A vegetable dish and plain rice.

13. Sausage? I don’t know what he’s roasting here but based on the context of the scene I’ll say either the alien equivalent of sausage or hotdog. Some sort of space knockwurst? Though he might be preparing it for Hope.

Bonus: He’s also conjured bread, and for the children in The Kindly Ones, he produced ice cream and exotic fruits.

#The Sandman #Sandman #Morpheus #Dream of The Endless

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healpeony · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 | 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐭. 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐈. 𝐈 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; After having that little talk with Armin in the party, Y/n just have to remind Eren who he belongs to.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 + 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠; mature, 18+, series, fanfiction.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; Profane, reader gets called mistress, slapping, degradation, vaginal penetrative sex, hand job, edging, pet names, alcohol, sub Eren, dom reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3.5k

Notes; this took longer to write than I expected, I wanted to try and use new words and not the same ones each time so it was a little difficult xd. I hope you guys enjoy reading it. sorry for any mistakes.

THE RESTING BITCH FACE THAT YOU HAD wasn't caused by the loud music that was going on in the party busting loud through the speakers, it was the fact that Armin was speaking to Eren making those lovely (and lust) filled eyes that the brunette failed to notice. You hated how the blonde looked at Eren, couldn't Armin understand that Eren was yours?

"Y/n, are you listening?"

The sudden sound of your name coming out of Eren's mouth took your attention away from Armin — who you realize was making eye contact with you returning the same look you were giving him — Eren of course not noticing. Turning towards the teal eyed boy, you stared at him with an apologetic look for not having heard him.

"Sorry, what was that, love? I didn't quite catch it"

"Armin was asking if you would like a refill of wine?" Eren asked putting an arm around your smaller frame

"Sure, Armin!"

You smiled, a little too sweet. Armin returned the same smile before looking at Eren "What would you like?" his voice as soft as a feather

imbecile.

"I want a glass of whis-"

"I think that is enough Eren, you have drunk way too much already"

Eren was about to protest, but when you gave him a stern look it made him shut up immediately. Armin didn't fail to notice this, softly humming at the realization — Eren was submissive towards you despite his stubborn and dom energy infront of others.

"I'll get the drinks for us then" Armin said before leaving the you both alone

"Y/n...." Eren whined "Why can't I drink?!"

"Because I said so, don't get started with that bratty attitude"

"But I just had two glasses of whiskey! That is not even a lot.." he continued "You can't always tell me what to d—"

You didn't bother to look around to make sure nobody was watching — before you grabbed both side of Eren's cheeks squeezing them with one hand. You were already angry enough and here Eren was making that emotion grow with that attitude of his.

"If you don't stop right this instant, you're going to be punished right here" you told him through gritted teeth

Eren immediately shut up, only opening his mouth to let out a submissive "Sorry mistress" hanging his head low when you let go of his face

"Good boy" you murmured, taking his face in both of your hands more gently than before and kissing him sweetly on the lips

"I'm going to check if Armin needs any help"

You were absolutely not going to let that happen. The thought of Eren alone with that man made you feel something so pathetic and childish, Jealousy why would you feel that, when the blonde can't never take Eren away from you.

Eren did not feel the same for Armin. That was what you kept telling yourself.

"I'll check, you stay here"

You stood up walking towards the kitchen passing by a lot of the drunk young adults. The smell was disgusting, you obviously expected that since the party have been going on since the afternoon and it was already night outside. Sasha sure loved planning long lasting parties, it has happened two times this month.

As you neared the kitchen you caught a glimpse of the unmistakable blonde man, he was pushing people out of his way with just a glare to get to the cabinet where the wines were located, the sleeves of his button up shirt were pushed up to his elbows.

Armin Arlert was an attractive man, anyone was lying if they said he wasn't, including you. Most of the time half of his blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, some strands falling on his face making his beautiful — yet intimidating to some — ocean eyes stand out, his signature colors being black and dark blue, those colors did made him more handsome then he already was, always making even the smallest of his features stand out.

"Are you going to stand there and glare at me forever or what?"

You rolled your eyes at the man, walking around to the other side of the kitchen counter where he was pouring some whiskey for himself while your already filled glass of wine seated in the counter. You took it bringing the blood red drink towards your lips while looking right into Armin's eyes.

You loved drinking wine, you had always liked the bittersweet taste it had and no matter how much glasses of wine you drank, it never made you that drunk. You were used to it by now.

"So what are you doing here?" he rested his hip against the counter, one arm crossed around his chest with his whiskey in the other hand

"To help, well Eren wanted to come. We both know you didn't need help bringing Whiskey and wine"

You knew exactly what Eren really wanted, you know your brunette lover like the back of your hand. For you he was an open book, It was stupid on his part to assume you didn't know why he wanted to go into the kitchen.

When the boy wanted something he was way too stubborn to let anyone tell him no, including you. He wanted to come and drink the whiskey in the kitchen while you waited for them to return in the living room couch.

Armin studied you while you were lost in the sea of thoughts, you were so easy to read even when you thought otherwise, he knew how much you disliked him and how you wanted him far away from Eren — that obviously wasn't going to happen, he knew Eren first, if anybody had to leave it was you — sometimes he would notice how you would get scare of his intimidating aura, and then cover it up with a comment.

That couldn't make him more satisfied, knowing how he can easily get a reaction from you.

"Yeah, pretty smart guy huh?" Armin said sarcastically, a chuckle coming out of his throat before drinking from his whiskey and continuing with a taunting look while gazing at you "tonight he looks really handsome, don't you think?"

He had done this many times before, he would wait until you both were alone and would tell you what he thought of Eren's looks. It was irritating and made your jealousy grow, but you always kept yourself as calm as you could just like in this situation.

"Yeah, he really is. I'm pretty sure a lot of people are jealous that I have him. Don't you think?" you smirked at him, mocking his tone

"Yeah, I'm sure. But Eren isn't an object, you don't own him and you don't have him. He's a human being" this time his voice had gone back that innocent one that made your blood boil and the intimidation seem to have disappear from his eyes

"Please tell me you two aren't fighting again"

You felt stupid. of course that was the reason of his sudden change of demeanor, Eren was there. Armin did this frequently, be talking to you in his “true self” then put up the timid and good boy facade whenever the brunette walked into the room.

"I thought I told you to stay in the living room"

Your voice was low and Eren could clearly hear the anger behind it, you didn't do this often, you would always keep your cool and never let him know about your negative feelings. It was like you wanted him to hear the anger in the tone you used, and that did nothing but scared him.

"Yeah, but you took too long..."

Eren was beginning to regret coming to the kitchen, the glare he was receiving making his knees weak, he wanted to drop down on the floor and humilate himself by apologizing to you over and over like you were his god, but his pride was too big. You mentally smirked in satisfaction when you noticed this, but your eyes remained in a glare, you loved the effect you had on him.

"I think it's getting late, we should go back home right, baby?" you had walked closer to you poor baby, playing with his key necklace

"Y—yeah, I think we should" he anxiously said, Eren knew he couldn't say no to you anyways

"Armin, it was a pleasure to talk to you" you said turning to the blonde and hugging him, whispering in his ear "Don't worry about Eren, he's going to have an incredible time for the rest of the night" you pulled away giving him a smile

You grabbed Eren's arm not giving him a chance to properly say goodbye to Armin, walking him out the kitchen and living room, making sure to avoid any of your friends on the way.

Armin stood in the kitchen holding the glass of whiskey tightly, his lips pressed hard together. Words couldn't describe how much he disliked you, from the moment he met you — since Eren had already told him, he had a crush on you before you two met — to this moment now. But there was something about you that was intoxicating, he found himself doing things that annoyed you on purpose, innocently flirting with the oblivious Eren for example.

The blonde couldn't deny the fact that he felt an attraction towards you, he wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of you, to see you falling apart on his arms — moaning, screaming, crying his name while he fucked submissiveness into you —he wanted to see you begging for him. But he also wanted Eren, the boy looking at him with his teal eyes full of tears, needing his cock, just imagining the boy following his every command made him go hard.

But again, Armin could only imagine what you were going to do with Eren tonight.

Meanwhile you and Eren were already in his car, you in the passenger seat while the latter was in the drivers seat. The ride as been filled with a silence in it, so far only the soft music coming from the radio — which Eren was too nervous to change — made the car ride comfortable, but the tension was still there.

That was until you started humming, which you only did when you needed to calm yourself down.

The two hands Eren had in the steering wheel tightened their grip on it.

"Do you know why I'm mad Eren?"

Your voice was firm, no emotion detected in it. That trait of yours never failed to make him feel small, but he loved the sound of you voice, he found it soo graceful, he felt so lucky to have you as his girlfriend. The fact that he knew what was about to come after they have this conversation, where he explains what he did wrong — made his cock stand up for attention in his pants, he was so ready for you.

"Armin."

"What about Armin?"

He had no idea on how to answer that correctly, you would always complain about the blonde accusing him of acting differently when Eren wasn't there even to the point of saying Armin wanted to fuck him. Of course he didn't believe that, Eren was aware that Armin was an adult, but the blonde would never think of doing that with him — his best friend — he was sure that it was only your overpossesiveness and jealousy.

"He made you mad" the brunette said truly hoping you would like his answer

"How did he made me mad?" you kept pushing, leaning back on your seat vicious eyes looking right at him ready to jump at him at any second while his knuckles became white

"He made you feel jealous, mistress" he elaborated, although he didn't quite understand how him speaking to Armin made you jealous

"Yes he did, what else did you do?"

"I disobeyed a direct order"

"That's right. Now tell me Eren, what happens when you break my rules or make your mistress mad?"

"I get punished."

"You have been such a bad boy, Eren."

"I thought I told you that when I came back from the bathroom that I wanted to see you naked"

You had your hands on your now unclothed hips, a lingerie being the only thing you had on. Eren was laying back on the bed with his underwear still on before he heard your voice and rapidly sitting up.

"I'm so sorry, mistress!"

You tisked shaking your head "What's wrong with you today? You're being soo disobedient..."

Eren stood up from the bed, walking towards you and dropping to his knees, tears in his eyes, he didn't want you to not let him cum tonight.

"I promise to be good for you, I'll do better!"

You bend over grabbing his chin softly stroking it with a sadistic smile, "I'll be soo happy the day I see you being a good boy"

Your teeth made contact with his bottom lip pulling it, Eren moaning at the feeling and smiling up at you when you let go.

"You're so pretty. I love having such a pretty looking thing all to myself.."

"All yours, Eren"

That was the end of the little moment, because of the slap sound coming from your hand making contact with the brunette's cheek.

Eren felt tears already forming in his eyes, but he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of crying too fast. Hiding his teary eyes from you was useless though, since you took a hold of his hair squatting down behind him.

"Don't think the that would've gotten you a way out of your punishment. You're pathetic" you whispered in his ear, your hot breath fanned over his skin making shivers go down his spine "Take those off for me, kitten" you told him motioning to his underwear while getting back up

Eren stood up taking off his underwear as fast a he could, his cock slapping his pelvis, excitement shooting through his veins for what was about to come.

You looked at him up and down making his cheeks go red, even though you have already seem him like this many times.

"Aww, is my baby blushing?" you pouted taking a hold of his cock making him let out a surprised gasp

"Y—Y/n" he moaned when you started moving your hand up and down, from his tip to his balls

"What was that? What did you called me?" you asked, the pace of your hand being painfully slow, glaring daggers at him while pushing him towards the bed making him sit down

"Mistress, I'm sorry..."

He wished your pace would be faster, you of course continued to torment him keeping the same pace for a while.

"Why are you being like this, Eren?"

"I don't — ahh — understand, mistress."

"Breaking rules, letting Armin flirt with you, everything that you have done today..."

With each said word the pace increased, your hand moving faster making Eren let out loud groans that echoed on the walls of your bedroom.

"Quiet! I have heard your stupid voice more than enough today."

Eren nodded, if you wanted him to shut up you obviously didn't want him to answer verbally.

You were the love of his life, the one person who knew how submissive he actually was. Someone who could give him the relief he needed, but also the one who could add more pressure to him. Someone who showered him with kissed, but also punished him for his bad actions.

You were his balance. The reason behind his now stable life. No matter what happened or how much you two argue, you were always there for each other.

Just like he was there for you to take out your frustrations, by obeying you and comforting you.

Your hand were still on his cock, and your lips were now rather occupied. Biting, sucking and kissing the soft skin of his neck, making sure to leave the marks on places that were noticeable.

Eren was a whimpering mess, gripping your left arm trying to pull you closer, but you ended up freeing your arm and pulling his hair to make him stop from doing it again.

Even though he was a sub, he never submitted completely, always tried to have some control over you thinking that he can just do whatever he wants whenever you're punishing him. He knew it was a lost battle, you never let him feel any power over you. You had the control of his entire body — you decide when he cums, you decide what he calls you, you decide when he should or shouldn't masturbate, you decided what he was going to be looking at, you decided what he should wear.

You were his mistress and he was there to obey you.

"I'm close.." he moaned, his head thrown back

You immediately pulled away, standing up with your tongue licking your fingers taking the remaining of pre cum into your mouth. Eren led out a whine, looking up at you, now he had let the tears fall down freely.

You chuckled shaking your head.

"You seriously didn't think it was going to be that easy, kitten"

"please" he begged "I'll do anything... I will be good, I promise!"

"sure, sure. I don't believe that words speak better than actions crap, Eren. You have to show me that you are going to do better"

You smirked before saying "In the mean time, you should face the consequences of your own actions, don't you think?"

Eren let out a sob as you edged him for the fourth time of the night, his hands and legs were shaking. Tears were running down his faces, some were dry, and some were being kissed away by your lips.

You were now sitting on his cock your hips moving at a agonizingly slow pace, one of your hands was on his cheek caressing the soft skin under his eye with your thumb.

"It's ok now, baby. You can cum” you smiled down at him while the pace of your hips kept getting quicker

“Thank you, mistress... thank you...” he breathlessly keep murmuring the two words while his cum painted the walls deep inside of you

You threw your head back moaning getting off at the feeling of his cum in you. slowly you came down from your high letting out little pants, while Eren did the same trying to catch his breath.

“Are you ok?” you asked pulling yourself off of him, missing the fullness of his cock in you as you did

“Yeah, thank you.” he lazily smiled, his voice husky and eyes fighting to stay open

“Eren, you won't sleep with all that sweat and cum on you. I'mma run you a bath, don't fall asleep” you commanded before standing up from the bed feeling his cum tripping from inside of you and onto your thighs

You look back towards the bed and chuckled when you saw that Eren had closed his eyes most likely already sleeping.

You of course weren't going to allow him to sleep like that still.

Armin looked at the blonde girl under him, the movement of his hips making her boobs jiggle. He didn't even remember her name, he had seen her talking to you a couple of times, she was soo feisty and not easy to get, refusing to even flirt back with him — his manipulative persona did wonders on people, and that's what changed her mind — in some way it reminded him of you, that might be the reason why you two have spoken before.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why he choose her to get his dick wet.

Her pussy was tight barely letting him move and he could only guess that she didn't do this often. He was unsatisfied.

However everytime he looked down at her it wasn't her face he was seeing, it was yours, the moans of his name that she led out were replaced with your own moans — the ones he created in his head when trying to imagine how you sound like — when she scratched his back all he could imagine was your pretty hands and nails doing that to him. And that made him feel good enough.

This has happened before, but what he said next has never occurred and it shocked him as much as it shocked the girl.

“y/n...”

he had moaned your name.

©healpeony 2021

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠; @mallang @namrekcaivel if you want to be added or removed let me know!

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot x reader #aot oneshots #armin arlert #aot #eren yeager #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren jaegar x reader #armin smut #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #eremin smut #eremin

306 notes · View notes

stickyy · 3 years

Note

if it's not too much of a hassle,you can write about hawks with a SugarBaby (reader) because he's like a SugarDaddy BUUUT Instead of being the one who dominates,¿is the reader who does it? hawks only gives her money and gifts as payment for a little of your attention,hawks pays the reader to dominate it and pay for his company,if you step on his crotch he will surely thank you (femdom and ¿mommy kink?). I was thinking a lot about this dynamic and I found it VERY interesting,¿what do you think?.

warnings: sub!hawks degradation, findom, femdom, mommy!kink, cock stepping, spit kink, an instance of face slapping, hawks is a little bitch simp with a fat wallet, reader is kind of a bad bitch ngl

wordcount: 2340

notes: anon this is IT this is what im mf talking ABOUT!!!

PERFORMANCE

Keigo all about spectacle. Chaotic destruction in the pursuit of a villain, the dramatics of combat, blinding camera flashes, cacophonies of squealing fangirls, the sheer wealth that comes with the exclusivity of the top 10- he’s no stranger to the limelight. Popular for a reason, he’s young and powerful, deceivingly coy despite it all, and it drives the public wild. He has them in the palm of his hand. A playboy poster child, spectacle is his middle name, and he wears it well.

He gives you a different performance behind closed doors.

You’re working, finishing an uneventful shift at your dreadfully mundane day job. You’ve been counting down the hours, which, ironically, causes time to slow down. Scrolling through your social media feed, you just want to pass the time. You’re skimming an article about music when your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘heyyyy :)’

A grin spreads across your face. The number is unlisted, which is exactly why you know who it is. Excitement bubbles in your chest, the monotony of the day suddenly shattered. Keigo must be in town; he knows not to contact you unless he has something to show.

You check to make sure your read receipts are enabled, before staring at the message on the screen, not bothering to type a response. It’s a waiting game; you want him to work for it, to put on a show only for you.

Two whole minutes pass before you receive another.

‘i’m back in town tonight! :D’

You make no move, not yet appeased. It takes five minutes for him to cave:

‘can i see you?’

‘i need to see you’

‘missed you so much, mommy’

‘let me take you out to dinner? please?’

The prospect of a nice dinner outshines the takeout you were planning to order. A quick google search gives you a few options, and you decide on a steakhouse. They have wagyu, which you’ve been dying to try. Of course, coming in at $120 a steak, you hadn’t gotten a chance to yet.

You send him the link, along with a short message:

‘8 pm, wear something nice.’

He instantly responds with a ‘thank you mommy :)’. You can’t help the the giggle that comes out of your mouth.

Keigo takes you back to his place after dinner. You make a point to keep your red-bottomed heels on, the click-click of your stride setting the tone for the night. He slips into his role easily, taking your coat and purse (both gifts from him; $1,790 and $2,850, respectively) to hang up. You take your place on the plush couch in his living room, legs crossed as you lean back, thoroughly satisfied from your meal. You never pay, of course- you don’t even go out of your way to acknowledge the check, but you were able to sneak a peek at the tab, which came in at a whopping $459.85. You didn’t think that two people could spend so much on a meal, but Keigo always found a way to spoil you.

He comes back into the room with a bottle of wine that you had requested last time you saw him (1990 Château Haut Brion, $875; even you had to admit that was ridiculous), handing you a wine glass and pouring your drink. He moves to fill his own, but you stop him.

“I didn’t say that you were allowed to drink tonight,” it’s a casual statement, but your pleasure ignites at the slightly dejected look on his face as he closes the bottle. It’s such a contrast to how you see him in the press. He never stops performing, you know, but this act is different. His fans see his chest puffed and wings flared, you get to see him on a leash.

“Why don’t you come sit next to Mommy?” you offer, Keigo perks up, meeting your gaze as he moves to take a seat next to you on the couch.

“The floor,” you correct before he can do otherwise. His breath hitches and he hesitates for a moment, but he kneels next to you anyways. He’s so pretty beneath you. It minimizes him, his usually proud aura squandered from your elevated point of view. It doesn’t help that he loves it- loves slipping into his role of being lesser. It excites him, and that, in turn, spurs you on. You thread your free hand through his hair and he visibly relaxes, pressing into your palm as his wings unfold slightly. The two of you stay like that for the moment as you sip on your wine, the luxury made so much sweeter by the hero in your company.

“Did you miss me?” you break the silence with your question, tilting his head up toward you to make eye contact. He nods enthusiastically, subconsciously scooting closer to you.

“Yeah,” his voice is saccharine, gaze full of adoration, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Of course, you sick freak. You’re supposed to be off saving the world, and you’re thinking about the girl who won’t even fuck you if you don’t pay up first,” you tug on his hair roughly, causing him to hiss in pain. A grin graces his features despite the abuse.

“You know I can’t help it, you drive me crazy.”

He shifts, and you can see the outline of a bulge in his pants.

“You’re fucking kidding,” you scoff, “all I’ve done is play with your hair and you’re already hard?”

He’s so easy to fluster when he’s like this, willing and pliant in your hands. He nods again, always so unashamed in his perversion.

“I didn’t touch myself at all, like you told me to, and it’s been so long,” his eyes plead with you, slightly rocking his hips for any kind of relief. He wasn’t allowed to jerk off so long as he was seeing you.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re easy for it, baby. All it takes is a little affection to get you to empty your wallet. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

He whines quietly, pupils visibly dilating . “Yeah, I’m pathetic, just a slut for Mommy.”

With a hum, you set your glass down and uncross your legs. “Unzip your pants.”

He obeys, getting the zipper stuck twice in his haste. Cute.

You press the flat of your heel against the tent in his boxers. The moan he lets out is sinful, grinding up against you in search of any sign of relief.

“These heels are so nice, aren’t they? Probably one of my favorite gifts,” you reminisce, admiring the way the shiny leather contrasts against his skin. You can already see a wet spot forming on his boxers. “Do you remember how much they cost you?”

He’s lost in the sensation, too preoccupied to answer your question. You step down slowly, watching his face contort into one of pain, though the grinding doesn’t cease.

“Answer me, Keigo.”

“F-fuck, what was it, like $700?” his voice cracks, his breathing labored.

“Close enough. Aren’t you embarrassed, spending all that money on shoes just so you can rut against them?” your words send a shudder through his body. The act is starting to fade as he nears his orgasm, his playful exterior melting into one of desperation.

“I’m close, fuck I’m close,” Keigo almost sounds panicked, his hips desperately bucking in pursuit of his first release in a long time. You remove your heel abruptly, pouting at him. He lets out a pitiful gasp as the loss of sensation, a sob making its way out of his throat.

“You know what you have to do if you want to cum,” you say sternly, feigning disappointment. He jumps up, stumbling across the room for his jacket and reaching for his phone in the pocket. You notice his hands are shaking as he taps his screen a few times, before your phone chimes in its place next to you. You look over, and grin at the Cash App notification.

‘birdbrains🐤 sent you $1,430 for i love you mommy <3’.

“Holy shit, Kei, you’re that desperate to cum? If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d assume you can’t get anyone else to fuck you,” You’ve always made his pay before he touches you, but he’s never broken a grand for just an orgasm.

“Please, Mommy,” is all he gives. He’s already back at your feet.

You spread your legs, unable to contain your arousal at this point; seeing the winged hero so broken always sets a fire in your stomach. “Make Mommy feel good, and I’ll let you stuff that needy cock inside of me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He’s immediately between your legs, pulling your lacy panties to the side (one half of a custom made designer set, $650) and shoving his face between your thighs. He always eats you like his life depends on it, obscenely slurping on your gushing entrance. He’s good at it too, expert tongue on your clit, pushing two fingers inside and prodding at your velveteen insides, causing you to bury your hands in his hair to keep him in place. You moan loudly, not bothering to hold back your noises. This is always about your pleasure, and you make sure to remind him of that first and foremost. It’s not necessary, though; you're convinced that he’d go bankrupt if it meant he could have even an hour of your time. You can do anything to him, say anything to him, and it only drives him crazier.

To prove your point, you squeeze your thighs against his head, effectively suffocating him. He doesn’t let up- if anything, he begins to lick and suckle more enthusiastically, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You keep him there for a solid minute, watching him struggle in your grip. It’s enough to push you over the edge, and you shout as you grind against his face, riding out your first orgasm of the night. You let up, spreading your legs again and he gasps for air, tears flowing freely as he catches his breath.

“Thank you Mommy, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he huffs between gasps, face glistening with your juices. You grab his chin and lean down to give him a kiss, feeling him melt into you as he lets out a little moan. The taste of your arousal on his lips causes you to shiver in pure euphoria. You pull back but keep his chin in your hand, coaxing his mouth open before you spit, tilting his head back and watching your saliva slide down his throat.

“Good boy,” he perks at the praise, smiling despite himself.

“Go ahead and strip for me, and I’ll let you have that orgasm you want so bad,” you say as you stand, peeling yourself out of your dress. He obeys, albeit slowly as he’s more distracted watching you strip in front of him, eyes tracing your curves as you undo your bra and slide your panties down, opting to keep on the heels. You notice, but decide to let it slide this time. You gesture for him to sit and he obeys, grabbing your hips as you straddle his lap. His cock curves against his stomach, an angry red and damp with the obscene amount of pre dripping down his length.

“This looks like it hurts,” you lilt mockingly, gently running a finger up his length to gather some of his pre. You smear it on his lower lip, raw from your earlier abuse.

“It does, fuck- Mommy, please,” he’s back to begging, eyes misty, “Please let me fuck you Mommy, I promise I’ll make you cum again, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want-”

“Shh,” you stop his babbling, positioning yourself over him, “keep your hips still for me, okay?”

He nods, and you begin to sink onto his length, slowly.

He moans, eyelids fluttering as your gummy walls begin to constrict around his length. He struggles to keep himself from squeezing your hips and fucking up into you, but he manages in fear of a punishment. You take your sweet time before bottoming out, staying completely still. Keigo chokes on a sob, thighs quivering with the effort to stay put, and you watch him for just a moment longer, revelling in the sight. He’s flushed down to his chest, eyes lidded and pupils blown, skin dewy with sweat and tears and your slick, wings fluttering behind him.

If only his fans could see him now.

You take pity on him and start to move, allowing him to take your weight in his hands, bouncing you on his cock. It takes a lot of focus not to get lost in the sensation, squelching noises filling the empty air as your mind starts to blur, his cock rubbing against the spongy walls of your pussy. He’s nothing if not enthusiastic, moaning unabashedly, eyes trained on your face. He’s already close, but there’s a determination in his eyes that confuses you slightly; he has permission to cum after all. It’s when the blunt head of his cock hits something gooey inside of you that it makes sense; of course he’s making good on his promise to make you cum first. He’s a good boy, after all. It doesn’t take long, his hips jackrabbiting as he abuses that spot in you, forcing the pressure in your stomach to pull taut, and eventually snap. You cum with a squeal of his name, vision darkening as you watch him finish, stray tears flowing down his cheeks. You catch a few with your thumb and lick them up.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he’s breathless, but you can tell he’s not totally satisfied; it’s been weeks since he’s seen you, after all. He begins to roll his hips again, face scrunching in the sweet torture of overstimulation.

You land a firm slap on his cheek and he gasps, giving you a surprised look.

“You know what you have to do if you want another orgasm.”

The show goes on.

387 notes · View notes

inkedtae · 4 years

Text

fountain of fantasies ⇾ jjk. [M]

⟶ from the eros universe; you do not need to read eros to read this one shot

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ god!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2l, greek mythology au, circa. 1800 au, historical au, light fluff, angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you rather be engaging in heart racing activities than in heart breaking ones

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 15.6k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!jungkook, bigdick!jungkook, buff!jungkook, winged!jungkook, longhair!jungkook, ponytail!jungkook, sub!reader, slightly insecure!reader, shy!reader, mentions and consumption of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, playful-ish sex, semi-public sex, fountain sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, slight degradation, overstimulation, exhibition, a lil voyeurism, praise kink, anal, edging, squirting, choking, hair pulling, bodyworshipping, a lil motorboating, a lil begging, water play, a lil spit play, a lil breast play, ass play, a fountain of filth :)

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m too much of a hoe for greek god guk not to turn this into a mini-series...

⤜ banner by ↠ @thebannershop (thank you dearie~)

⤜ beta’d by ↠ @moonmintrails (my soulmate~)

⤜ le playlist ↠

Plump plum juices leak from your violet stained lips. You watch the storm rage through the balcony windows. Flashes of lightning, streaks of raindrops and the wall-rattling thunder only stares back at you. The noise of the world around you would be just the perfect cover for all the sounds he draws out of you. Teeth sinking into the fruit’s flesh, you take another bite and fix your stockings. Topless, you lean back in your plush seat and cross your legs.

You know he’s not coming. It’s been a week since his last visit, a week of staying up late only to fall asleep and wake up to a new toy. You glance at your bed. The collection of gifts under it do not compensate for his absence. You don’t want the ruby dildos or golden anal plugs. You can live without the silver tit-clamps and sapphire pearled whips. It’s him you won’t do without.

But tonight would be a perfect night of fun. You swallow your bite before taking another one as your mind circles every dirty thought you’ve been wanting to entertain for the last seven days. Staring out the rain stained windows, the one that appeals to you the most for tonight would be on that balcony, where it started all those months ago. The thought of being drenched in rainwater while he bends you over the railing makes you squeeze your crossed legs together. And the fluttering flap of his wings as they shake out the storm prickles your skin with goosebumps. Wet hands tangled in your wet hair. Loud moans blended in the loud thunder.

An urgent knock raps on your door. You sit up, letting out a shaky breath from the remnants of that fantasy. As you set your plum down by some grapes on the side table, you shoot to your feet to grab your robe.

“Bunny,” Mary, your sister, whispers from the other side.

The little childhood nickname brings a smile to your face. The two of you would play Wonderland in the garden as children and Mary would have you, Bunny, guide her down the right path. Now, she only ever calls you that when she’s nervous and struggling to admit it.

Tying the robe around your waist, you eagerly let her in. “What is it, Mary?” You smile as she rushes past you.

She doesn’t take a moment to properly greet you, darting to your little library instead. “Do you have that book about Mount Olympus?” She asks. Her freshly painted nails scrape over the spines of each book as you part your lips to reply. “Oh! Here it is!”

Returning to your seat, you watch your older sister skim through the pages. “Why the sudden interest in Greek gods?”

“Michael mentioned something about Hera and I just wanted to- I knew it!”

Chewing on another bite, you raise a brow at her. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that tomorrow,” you chuckle around your food.

Mary pauses. Her eyes, previously gleaming with excitement, diminish into indifference. She clears her throat and shuts the book. “Mama says to never correct a man.”

You stuff your mouth with a big bite and avoid your sister’s gaze. There’s lots you have to say about your mother’s philosophy on love, but you know better than to voice those opinions.

Mary continues talking, despite knowing your reservations about your mother. She holds the book to her chest and tentatively sits on your bed. “Mama wants me to talk to you about something.”

Slowly chewing, you glance at her. You already know where this is going. It’s another desperate attempt on your mother’s part to make sure you don’t wear the dress he had gifted you. She knows full well how much it reveals and how well it’s designed. You don’t care for your mother’s opinion though; you haven’t for months. It’s Mary’s opinion on the subject that matters to you.

“But, I told her that I don’t want to lie to you.” She takes a moment to sigh then meets your gaze once more. “You’ll look gorgeous in that dress, Bunny,” she smiles. “And I have the perfect shoes for them too.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat and you almost choke on your food. Mary laughs at your struggling state. “Oh, can we get ready for your party together?” You ask, perking up in your seat once you properly swallow your food.

Mary’s excited gaze wavers. She glances back at the book before hesitantly nodding. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing…”

You give her a pointed look. Flopping down on the bed, Mary groans and stares up at the ceiling. “What do you think of Michael?” You part your lips to reply, but she continues, “I mean I know he’s from a good family, and can take care of me, and he’s so handsome.”

You bite your lip at the last comment. Michael is not exactly your type of heartthrob. But, then again, your senses have been obscured by a god, so now not a single person can look as handsome, as beautiful, as heavenly as your Eros.

“But, he says and does things I’m not exactly…” She trails off. “And I think his previous courtship with Linette ended horribly.”

Her half-sentence rings some warning in your gut. However, by the way she avoids eye contact to stare at your crystal chandelier, you decide not to address it. “What makes you think so?” you ask instead.

“Well, that’s what he told me.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, you simply quirk a brow. Mary may be a couple of years older, but she still hasn’t grown out of her naive tendencies. You’re about to tell her that everything will be okay when you catch a familiar silhouette on your balcony.

He’s here.

Mary shoots up off your bed. You fear for a second that she may have seen him, but then she asks, “So? What do you think?”

Gulping, you take a moment to collect your thoughts. Erasing the fact that he’s finally here from your mind, you try to remain focused on your sister. You want the best for her. You want her to be excited about who she marries and for the life she will spend with that person. And that’s why it takes you a world of restraint not to tell her that if she isn’t a hundred percent sure about marrying Michael, then maybe she shouldn’t.

“Do you love him, Mary?” You ask. “And I don’t mean that ‘nobility’ love. I mean that, ‘makes you cry just thinking about losing him’ love.”

Mary hesitates.Your eyes flicker to the balcony where he continues to stand. Inhaling deeply, you silently ask him to wait just a second longer.

“I think I do,” she smiles.

Your heart shatters at her phrasing. I think. Where is the room for thinking when true love is at your door? You want to tell her that there shouldn’t be any of this ‘thinking’ nonsense. You either do or you don’t, you want to say. But her smile is so pure and eyes light up just enough that you don’t have the heart to take it all away. Besides, maybe she really does love him.

“Then, I think he’s perfect for you.”

Mary grabs the book and jumps to her feet. “Let’s meet in my room at seven,” she smiles, ruffling through your hair on her way to the door. “Have a good night, Bunny.”

“You too,” you smile as she shuts the door with a wink. The gesture is unusual but you suppose she’s just excited about the party tomorrow. You’re not exactly sure why she did it and with a winged god at your door, you can’t find it in you to care for too long.

Darting to the balcony, you pull open the doors to be greeted by empty winds and heavy raindrops. Those wings are gone, balcony vacant of anything but despair. Not even a gift replaces his presence. You hold your tears back and swallow the growing lump in your throat. Your time is not one of his toys, nor is it free. You’ve run out of patience. You’re empty of reason, thriving on broken feelings.

Shakily sighing, you bury the hurt in your voice and whisper, “if you can’t stay, don’t come at all.”

Sparkling diamonds, glasses, and wine circle the ballroom. Sipping on your drink, you take in the gleaming marble floors and the arches of the grand windows. The Barbury Estate is twice the size of yours. You want to believe that your mother’s delight in Mary’s proposal has more to do with her happiness than the fact that her fiancé is riddled with more wealth than he knows what to do with. But, you know that your mother has a special bond with money. It’s the same relationship she has with social standards. Her philosophy is simple; the more, the better. Now, if only your mother felt that way about you.

No, wait. This night is not about you. An evening lost in a grand room of people only appeals to you when the occasion for such torture is your sister’s engagement party. Your chest swells with pride as you watch Mary dance with her fiancé. Michael Barbury is not exactly what you would call ‘prince charming.’ His jokes border on racism and thoughts are somewhat insipid, but he makes Mary happy. That’s all that matters to you. Her relapse in judgement last night does worry you. But you know that she’ll be happy with Michael. With Eros gone, you wonder how soon you’ll find a love like that too.

Mary’s graceful giggles cut you out of your trance. You blink once, twice until your senses fully return to you. Even the smallest thought of him throws you out of your consciousness. Settling your eyes back on your sister, watching as she basks in Michael’s unwavering attention and dotting devotion, you’re greeted with a sense of comfort. The guilt of not speaking your truth disappears and the fear of never finding love dissipates to the back of your mind.

“Miss (Y/N)?” Lee Kyon asks, waving his hand in front of you.

Right, you forgot he was there. Turning to face him once more, you flash Kyon a somewhat kind smile. “Yes, Mr. Lee?”

He furrows his brows. “Is everything alright?”

Perhaps everything would be alright if your mother didn’t constantly feel the need to set you up with the first poor man that accidently looks your way. Yes, you’re well aware of your mother’s behaviour and the fact that Kyon has no real interest in getting to know you. Judging by the way he continues to loop back to the same dull topic about the history of wine, you can tell that he is merely trying to keep the conversation short enough to be polite, but not long enough to be courting you.

It’s not as though you care for his company either. Kyon has half of Michael’s intelligence. Even though you were only half-listening to his rant, you already pick out the few historical inaccuracies in his unprompted explanation. Of course, the worst thing you can do to a man is attack his wits and pride; that’s what your mother tells you anyway. It’s what worried Mary last night too. And you’ve tested that theory enough to know how true it is and how fun it can be. Watching them grapple for the right words, flare their nostrils in frustration and demand you apologize will always be just as humorous as when they try to “teach” you about language or art or, in Kyon’s case, history.

Biting back a sigh, you nod and silently pray for a way out of this boring conversation and into something a bit more exciting.

Clearing his throat, Kyon searches for a way to fill the silence. He then half-heartedly mutters, “You look darling this evening.”

Glancing down at your dress, your face heats up. The tiger lily-peach layers of satin and tulle fall down to your ankles. The pleated skirt mirrors the petals of a flower. Cleavage on display, the long flowy sleeves fall off your shoulders. Finished with a green ribbon around your waist and gleaming pink jewels, this is possibly the best dress he has gifted you.

Your Eros left it, no wait- he’s not yours anymore. A friend left it hanging in your closet one morning after another passionate night in his embrace. It was a beautiful surprise to be woken up to and a manageable struggle to explain how it came into your possession. You can’t help but find it a bit ironic how your mother is desperate to set you up with the first man she sees, but hesitant to dress you up for the occasion. He must have known, must have felt your frustration towards your mistreatment.

It takes everything in you to fight off the smile playing on your lips. You glance back up at Kyon, parting your lips to thank him when he continues, “And how brave of you to wear such a dress.”

You pause. “Brave?”

Kyon smiles and nods.

Is he really telling you what you think he is? Is he really undermining your confidence, undermining the beauty you know you have by commending your ‘bravery?’ No, you mustn’t judge too quickly. Perhaps he’s admiring your choice to go against expectations of covering up with a shawl.

You swallow back your initial assumptions, and decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Lee?”

“Well,” Kyon starts. He looks off to the side and raises both his brows before looking to you once more. His hazel eyes scan your figure, jaw clenching as he clears his throat. “A dress like this is traditionally worn by a woman that looks more like…” he trails off, eyes wandering as well. “Like Miss (L/N).”

A stinging chorus of hushed laughter strikes your pride. Your gut boils with shame and humiliation as your eyes bounce between the partygoers near you. You hadn’t realized they were eavesdropping. As a desperate attempt to ignore their maliciously amused looks, you follow Kyon’s gaze to Mary. Chewing on your lip, you ignore the urge to roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time someone has compared you to her, and you know very well that it won’t be the last. Even the utter disrespect of referring to you by your first name and your sister by your last name further displays their lack of recognition for you. In their eyes, you will forever remain as Miss (Y/N), the spinster-destined sister of Miss (L/N). And though you are certain that the twinge of pain and anger festering in your chest is for Kyon, you can’t help but be a little annoyed with your sister as well.

But then she laughs, smiling so bright and wide. She looks up at Michael and rests her chin on his bicep, reveling in his attention and embrace. You realize, in her moment of happiness, that you can’t find it in you to hold this grudge against her. Your love for her is greater than your pride. Besides, she plays no part in your insecurities. And, you decide as you turn back to Kyon, neither will this privileged upperclassman.

“How brave,” you sigh with a single shouldered shrug.

“What is, Miss (Y/N)?”

“How brave of you to believe anyone cares for your opinion.”

Kyon chokes on his drink. The partygoers, previously humoured by your embarrassment, relish in your courage to upstage Kyon. Gasping a giggle, you step back to avoid being spit on. He glares at you as he wipes his chin. You don’t hesitate to return that hard, hateful look in his eye. Raising a challenging brow, you dare him to attempt to embarrass you again.

He takes one step towards you, looking as though he’s about to grab at your arm when his stride is redirected. Kyon walks away without another word. You stare after him in confusion as he mutters an apology under his breath.

You’re not sure what caused this sudden change in his angry course, but you’re all too happy to be rid of him to dwell on the thought of his motives much longer. He must’ve known how offensive his words were. True, most people compare you to your sister, but at least they have the decency to do it behind your back. You rather be physically absent from a conversation like that. It makes it easier to ignore and avoid the negativity.

Confidence restored, you feel comfortable in your skin again. The dress is a perfect fit, the struggle to breath nowhere to be found, and sits well on your frame- despite what others think. However, you have very little time to revel in your victory as your mother stalks towards you.

“What have you done?” she hisses over your shoulder. Before you even have a chance to look back at her, she drags you by your arm to the edge of the room. “What did you say this time?”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you clasp your hands before you and reply, “He insulted me.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “And?” She questions as if waiting for a more substantial argument.

“And?” You echo in confusion. “And he insulted me. I don’t see why that’s not enough of a reason to insult him back.”

She shakes her head and inhales deeply. You brace yourself for the disparaging rant you know is coming. Nothing good ever comes from a head shake and heavy sigh. But, instead of her usual ‘stay in your place’ harangue, your mother cuts to the chase this time. “Do you realize that might just be your only chance for happiness?”

Suppressing a dry chuckle, you lower your gaze to the floor. You know your mother is well aware of how her question sounds; you know she doesn’t care. Still, you ask, “Is that really what happiness looks like, mother?”

She falls silent. After a beat, you dare to peek up at her. Those once hard eyes soften as her gaze locks on Mary and Michael, locks on how they gaze upon one another with such adoration. Blinking repeatedly, she turns to you and sighs, “Yes, to some people that,” she pauses to glance at Kyon, “is what happiness looks like.”

A wicked pang of sad, lonely anger twists in your chest then tumbles to the pit of your stomach. Your gaze falls to the ground and heart shatters with that last shred of hope that your mother perhaps did want the best for you. Up until now, you truly believed that in some twisted way, she was just looking out for you, making sure you have someone by your side long after she’s gone. Her words now and that shameless look that matches that shameless confession only point to the painfully obvious fact you have tried so hard to ignore. Your mother’s need to make you look a certain way and throw you at any breathing man has never been for your well-being, but rather the well-being of her reputation.

“Go to Mr. Lee, (Y/N),” she orders. “Offer to freshen his drink, wipe down his shirt, and then apologize. Beg for his forgiveness if you have to; just make this right.”

With a deep breath, you trail your eyes back up and try to collect yourself. Your eyes flicker between the exit and where Kyon stands.Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention back on her.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

She returns to her friends, that gleeful smile plastered on her face once more. Your eyes fall back on Kyon with every intention of following through your mother’s orders. However, he only greets your gaze with malice. A wave of nausea overwhelms you.

With a shake of your head, you tear yourself away from his threatening demeanour and turn towards the exit. You just need to get out of his line of sight, out of that pretentious atmosphere. Something within you can’t seem to stop telling you that one more moment near that passive-aggressive punk will only make you feel worse. So, you lengthen your strides out of the ballroom and down the hall to put as much distance between you and them.

The pressure of their expectations suffocates you like no corset ever has. All you can think is how desperately you need some fresh air. It takes you a moment, but you navigate your way around the manor well enough to find the back entrance.

Cold air engulfs you the moment you step outside. A relieved giggle slips past your lips and you throw your head back to relish in the cool spring breeze. The sky reflects a swirl of silvery indigo. It lures you into its constellations and wonders with every other glance. Lowering your gaze, you scan the garden before you. A cobblestone path leads all the way down to a hedged maze. You can never resist a good garden. In fact, you had helped design the one back home. You hope that when your husband-to-be comes along, he’d have a garden too and maybe you can design it together.

Realizing you can maybe hold on to a few more moments of peace if they can’t find you, you decide to follow the path and hide away within the walls of the maze. You’re halfway down the cobblestone trail when you sense a strong pull dragging your soul closer to the hedges. Picking up your pace, you follow that tug faster, soon weaving through the maze like you’ve been through it before. It’s not long before you reach the centre.

It’s a large clearing, decorated with a variety of blooming flowers. In the middle stands a grand marble fountain. Three tiered, the fountain sprouts fresh water through the mouths of singing angels. A little smile plays on your lips as you click-clack your way towards it. The tranquil rush of the stream calms your previously erratic heart. You take a seat on the edge and stare down at the pool. It’s empty of floating flowers or little fish like the one you have at home, but still beautiful all the same.

“Miss (L/N).”

Your eyes well up the moment his sweet voice greets your ears. A shaky breath escapes you and you turn to find him. Did he not hear your words last night? Does he not care? Or is he here to stay this time?

Sitting atop the hedges of the garden maze and out of the moon’s light, he looks just as heavenly as always. Most details of his beauty are hidden, but you can make out his long hair and the way it’s pulled back into a ponytail, leaving loose, short strands to frame his face. And those soft wings are out, spread wide behind him as he stares back at you. Shirtless, he smirks.

You can’t help the smile stretching upon your lips at the sight of him. It’s an uncontrollable reflex, as is the wetness of your core when he’s around. He usually doesn’t arrive this early when he does show up. How long has he been there?

Clearing your throat, however, you subside the urge to smile upon his presence. “Mr. Jeon.” His name leaves your lips in a trembling breath as your heart’s aflush with desire. You have to remind yourself that you’re upset with his disappearances.

A sweet smile takes over his features. “I’ve upset you,” he notes.

Is this a joke to him? How many nights does he expect you to wait around for a maybe? You both know your time is worth more than that. And though you want to tell him that he’s done more than upset you, that he’s disappointed you, you confess something else instead. “I’ve missed you.”

“You know I miss you too,” he replies.

You resist the urge to scoff. “Are you working tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I just got off actually.”

Without me? You mentally scold yourself for your dirty thought. You can’t even hold onto your anger for more than thirty seconds without having the urge to spread your legs for him. “Lucky me,” you sarcastically reply.

“Do you like the dress?”

“I’d like it more with the gift from last night,” you glare at him. “If there was a gift from last night, that is.”

Hopping off the edge, his wings fan out to guide him down before you with ease. Your face falls as he stands in the moonlight. Thick mud coats his muscular body and those once white wings are stained with dirt and grim. His sharp face is scratched with little scabs as well. He looks like he fell from the sky.

“Jungkook,” you whisper as you reach out to caress his wounded cheek.

But Jungkook can’t be any less interested in his current state. His attention does not waver off you. Those kind eyes of his scan your frame, lingering around your breasts. “It looks even better than I imagined.”

You feel as though you have to ask him if this really is a joke to him this time. He leaves you for a week with very little behind and returns only to be caked in mud and peppered with wounds and has the audacity to pretend it’s not an issue. Now, you’re upset.

You blink back your tears, quietly asking, “What happened?”

Maybe it was the hurt in your tone or the worry flashing in your eyes but his usually cocky demeanor trembles just enough to comfort you. “It’s just been a long night, baby. I missed a couple of shots and it took a little more effort than usual to fix everything.”

Fidgeting fingers trail up the exposed side of his thick thigh under the stained toga-like skirt he wears. He shudders under your touch as your hands make their way up to his buff chest where they stay. You inhale deeply to settle your erratic heart. The earthy grim of the mud invades your senses. He doesn’t even smell like himself anymore.

Knitting your brows together, you ask, “Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s entire expression softens. Shaking his head, he goes to cradle your body closer to his but stops before his hands reach your waist. You can feel his desire though, to touch and be touched. It’s raw and real, and purely Jungkook. This shared desire the two of you have roots deep within your souls. It breaks your heart to think that he’s not yours anymore, and maybe you made that decision rashly, in a moment of anger. But, you both know it’s not how you feel right now.

“I need to know your schedule,” you say in a quiet voice. He tongues his cheek, erupting your heart with a surge of want. You ignore the feeling long enough to continue, “I can’t just sit and wait, Jungkook.”

He stares down at you, eyes unreadable. You can tell that he’s mulling over your words, but have no clue how he feels about them. Finally, he cups your cheeks, staining them with dirt, and says “I need you to trust me when I say that I’m doing my best to get to you as quickly as I can, darling.”

Your heart cannot deny him when his gaze reflects such sincerity and honesty. Every ounce of trust, of belief is in him and only him. And maybe you are being selfish, but to be stranded without an explanation is heartbreaking. You know he knows that, or at least feels it in you when you think of him and pray.

“Just tell me I’m yours again,” he whispers, “and I’ll prove to you how much I’ve missed you too.”

Is that why he’s here? He’s afraid of losing you? Biting your lip, you can’t help but lean into his touch. It was mean of you to punish him like this and make him think that you were really upset with him when in actuality, all you wanted was a little more attention. You give him an innocent look through your lashes. He does his best not to swoon, but you know him well enough now to know that the little quiver in his lips means he’s on the verge of getting on his knees.

“No man of mine is this dirty,” you smirk, echoing the words of your first encounter.

Jungkook smiles and this time you have to keep yourself from swooning at the sight of his dimples. “I thought that’s exactly how you like them,” he purrs as he walks you back towards the fountain.

Heat rushes to your face. The marble edge of the fountain hits the bend of your knees but you refuse to sit down with Jungkook only inches away. His hands may still be on your face, rubbing that dirt into your cheeks, but his body is still too far away from yours. You move to take a step forward, desperate to have your body against his. However, Jungkook is quicker, most likely having read your mind, and moves back before you can even get half a step in.

Your eyes harden at the action. Pushing his hands off your face, you quirk a brow.

“I don’t want to ruin your dress.”

“A dress like this is meant to be ruined.”

He smirks. You can tell by the amusement dancing in his eyes that he’s enjoying the sight of you this needy and possessive. He decides to further test the limits of your composure, asking, “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”

He’s teasing. The mockery riddled in his features is enough of a hint, but the playful tone in his voice is still something you bask in. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you let out a deep sigh and look up to the clouds. “A flight back home might do us both some good,” you suggest instead. “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me at the party anyways.”

“Not even your sister?”

You shake your head.

“Mother?”

Face folding, you suppress the urge to groan and whisper, “Oh, gods no.”

Jungkook chuckles as he circles around the fountain. He dips his hand in the clear water, before asking, “What about Lee Kyon?”

Now, what would Jeon Jungkook know of Lee Kyon? A quick scan of his features doesn’t let you in on much besides the fact that he’s trying to draw a reaction out of you. However, what reaction is he hoping for? Is he looking for an explanation? He knows all about your mother’s habits and your relationships, or lack thereof, with mortal men. You never even have to say it; Jungkook knows there’s no one else for you but him.

“Mr. Lee is fragile,” you sigh.

His wings twitch. He likes what he hears. You curl in your lips to keep from smiling. Could he, Eros the god of love, lust and desire, really be jealous of an imbecile? Setting your visual tastes aside for a moment, you and Jungkook both know that Kyon, bless him, knows less than the very fountain you’re sitting on… The very fountain Jungkook is climbing into.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shooting to your feet as Jungkook makes himself comfortable. A giggle tumbles out of you, even though you tried to bite it back, at the sight of him washing himself like a bird.

Jungkook stops for a moment, that playful gaze meeting yours. This one look is enough for you to know he’s heard, and he’s most likely still hearing your thoughts. You wish you could dip in and out of his mind too. It might put an end to all the guessing on your end.

Continuing to splash his torso clean, he replies, “You’re sending me some mixed messages, baby. I thought you didn’t like me dirty.”

He has a point. Making your way over to him, you sit by his submerged frame on the edge of the fountain. Jungkook rubs his lips as he watches your jeweled fingers trace the curves of your cleavage. Your hand stops in the centre, just above the tied strings of your corset. You begin unlacing it when Jungkook tsks. Snapping your gaze to his, you wait for further instructions.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to get in with you.”

“So, get in.”

You move to unlace your corset once more, but Jungkook grabs onto your wrist. Catching his darkening gaze, you furrow your brows at his tilting head. He’s gesturing for you to get in, but won’t let you take off your dress. He can’t serious think you’d get in wearing it the water is filthy with his-

Glancing at the clear water, your thoughts are overtaken by confusion. You expected it to be tinted a dark brown from all the mud but it only reflects the marble bowl of the fountain, Jungkook’s legs, and that growing erection between them. You probably should question him on when he took that skirt off and why the water is so clean even after he went into it with layers of dirt coating his skin, but the heat between your legs is slowly growing more and more insufferable.

Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook’s to find him already staring at you, a smirk painted on his handsome face. He pushes his tongue against his cheek once more, knowing how much you love that move, then quirks a cocky brow. Kicking off your heels, you lift your dress enough to dip each stocking covered foot into the fountain. You hiss at the sensation of the soggy socks against your feet, but power through knowing how much Jungkook loves the way they look on you.

Your dress puffs up to the surface and you have to push it down and back to put as little space between you and Jungkook. “Your hair’s filthy,” you pout as you finally straddle his lap.

Jungkook lets out a little sigh. You first think it’s because his cock stands right in front of your pussy, but soon realize how wrong you are. His dazed gaze wanders over your features, unsure where to stop and what to admire first. Those large hands instinctively find your thick thighs. He rubs and massages them as you untie his hair and wet your hands enough to wash some of the dirt away. You tilt his head back and lick your lips. It’s a habit you have when concentrating. Jungkook knows it well.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he suddenly purrs. His voice is thick, saturated with lust and adoration. “Honestly, you don’t have to do anything, darling, just let me look at you for a little bit.”

You freeze, hands half tangled in his mud slick hair, and gaze back down at him. Dipping your head down, your lips catch his. You’re obsessed with the lack of hesitation between the two of you. Never has Jungkook thought twice about taking you as his when the two of you are this close. No matter how long he’s gone or how upset you may feel about that, when you find each other again, it’s almost like he never left. Your souls rapture in harmony and bodies tangle indefinitely. Eternity lies in the palms of your hands every second you're together.

“I’ve got to clean your hair,” you mutter against his lips. He only hums before kissing you again. Inhaling sharply, you let him have another sip of your breath before pulling away completely. And you realize, as you glance at his wings, that they could probably use a good scrub down too before the two of you indulge in the good fun you’ve been dying to have all week.

Before you can vocalize this, however, Jungkook is already readjusting your shared position. He tucks his wings tight behind him and shifts the two of you around so that the stream of the fountain washes down his back. “Hurry,” he orders. There’s very little room for negotiation in his tone. His appetite for a fun night is growing too and you can’t help but smile at the eagerness you’ve triggered.

Sticking your tongue out, you hook it under his chin and tilt his head back. Jungkook continues to gaze down at you as he gives into your gesture. “That’s hot,” he mutters.

This is new. He never talks this much when things start to heat up. Most of the time, you’re tossed looks and expected to decipher his mood, but you’re all too caught up in how gorgeous he is, you can barely understand what he means. Everything is always based on feelings and going with your instincts. But this time, Jungkook’s more vocal. It’s almost as if he’s thinking out loud.

His wings twitch again. You snap your gaze from his hair to his eyes and find he’s raising a brow. Didn’t you wish you could hear his thoughts too? Could this be his way of granting it to you?

“You know what I like most about you?” He asks as you continue to wash the mud from his hair. Grazing your nails through his scalp, you hum in reply. “You’re incredibly intelligent.”

Your fingers shudder against his head. The guilt of last night returns. Your sister should be with someone who isn’t afraid of her intelligence either. You should’ve told her not to follow through with this, not to marry Michael.

Jungkook’s hands trail up to your ass, gripping onto the plump flesh. The harsh gesture snaps you back into the moment. You jump a bit and let out a little squeal as your gaze meets his. “I much rather you don’t think of other men when you’re with me,” he groans.

Fighting off the proud smile tempting your lips, you nod. “Sorry; it won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” he mutters and that smile finally settles on your lips. “And don’t worry about your sister. She’ll be fine.”

A part of you wants to question him more about how he knows that, but the death grip he has on your ass and the way he’s looking at you does not leave much room for a sexless conversation. You rather your family stay out of conversations like this with Jungkook. His desire to be the only one in your thoughts makes a bit more sense to you now.

Smiling, Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose. “You figure things out faster than most people,” he says.

You kiss the little freckle under his lip to let him know you’re done cleaning his hair. “You spend too much time in my head,” you tease. Instead of in my… The rest of the sentence twirls in your mind for him to find it.

As you move to clean his right wing he chuckles and continues, “I’m serious, baby.” He kisses your neck as you stand on your knees and reach for his wing to properly clean it off. “Your mind amazes me. That’s why I spend so much time there.”

Barriers of the mind fall. They were trembling before but now, with every whispered thought Jungkook voices, you can feel those walls of distance crumble around your inseparable bodies. You’ve always melded perfectly physically and stroked the other’s spirit by caressing your souls, but mental barriers have always halted any real conversation between you and Jungkook. He’s always been able to know your next move, your every thought because of his immortality. And to have the chance to do the same only makes you feel that much closer to him. For this reason, you hope he doesn’t regret opening up to you and giving you a little peek inside his mind.

Your physical senses shock you back to the moment. His fingers soften their grip on your ass, rubbing it instead and your pussy reactively clenches at that pet name you love so much. Unsteadily inhaling deeply, you move to clean his other wing in silence. You decide you won’t talk this time. Your mind is open to him if he’s looking for your opinion, but tonight you just want to hear his thoughts and be the one tossing unreadable looks.

Jungkook chuckles against your neck, rolling his shoulders back as you brush your fingers through his wings. His lips trail down to your collarbone. He kisses his way down to your breasts and buries his face between them. Breathing in your scent, he sighs happily and mutters, “This is my favourite thing.”

Your breasts? By the way his hands always settle on your ass and the fact that his first hand-delivered toy was an anal plug, you always just assumed that his favourite feature of yours must be your ass. But you suppose if your breasts-

“Actually, I was talking about the way you smell.”

“It’s called soap,” you tease, earning yourself a light spank. He then bites on your right tit, sucking on the skin just because he can. You giggle and settle yourself back on his lap. Your ass, plush and plump, all but melts over his muscular thighs.

Jungkook stares at you. His brown eyes are vacant and lost in thought. He quiets under your gaze, only just shifting to pull you closer than you already are. Your pussy frames the length of his cock and you find it increasingly hard to stay still. Trying to read that dazed expression on his face, you wonder what happened with his devotion to thinking out loud.

Licking his lips, Jungkook finally breaks the silence. “Twenty-three.” He leans towards you turning the two of you back around so his back is against the fountain’s edge again. “I want you in twenty-three different ways, but I don’t think we have time to do all of them.”

You swallow thickly. Grinding your hips into his, you rub your needy pussy against his throbbing erection. Jungkook’s eyes slightly roll back and he has to hold your hips down only to look at you properly again. “Can we make time?” You ask. The desperate cry for more is evident in your voice and you know that, by the quirk of his brow and the shudder of his wings, he’s having trouble saying no.

“I wish,” he confesses. “My favourite ones take time.”

His fingers dig into your ass again, hinting at what his favourite positions might be. It’s no surprise that it has to do with your ass, you’re just worried that he’s going to ask for more than you’re ready for. Yes, you may have gotten used to anal plugs over time since he knows how to prep you for them, but his cock is an entirely different game. You are constantly reminded of how those other toys really are just toys because his cock is that uncomparable.

Jungkook relaxes back against the marble wall and watches you as you salivate over the size of his cock. He doesn’t need to read your mind to know you're terrified of whatever pain may come with it but excited because you’re just that much of a whore for him.

“You know you don’t have to do it. I have lots of other favourites,” he smirks.

As your thoughts trail off, he bucks his hips into yours. You breathe moan and clutch onto his shoulders. Every little movement makes you ache for more. A week without a single bit of sexual stimulation, even by yourself, is too long. He never told you that you couldn’t play around alone anymore, but when you have him, why the hell would you play with yourself? You know he’s going to come every night, or at least you hope he is. And the truth is, one he must already know judging by the pleased look in his eyes, even if he had told you he wasn’t coming, you still wouldn’t have touched yourself. Nothing can compare to his touch; you don’t need to try anything else to know this.

A shaky breath escapes Jungkook at your next mental confession. You don't think you were ever really mad at him. You just knew that acting out would get him to come tonight. Jungkook scoffs, looking up at the darkening sky as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Are you even really sorry? His eyes dart to yours as if wanting to see for himself if your thoughts are true. You don't know if you can answer this question with his eyes on you like that. But, that conclusion seems to be enough of an answer for him.

He shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist. Pouting, he asks, “Do you know how worried I was?”

You mirror his expression, drawing a pout in your features as well, and press your chest against his. His breath hitches and body melts into yours, betraying his intentions. Noticing his struggle to stay upset with you, you pepper wet kisses under his chin and along his jawline.

Jungkook can’t resist you for much longer. He whimpers as his hips grind into yours. Bending at your every touch, he unravels beneath you. A giddy smile breaks your pouty features and it’s only then that he seems to realize how much he’s let himself go in front of you. His grip on your hips hardens. As you kiss up his face, you find his lust-stuck eyes dark with dominance. He hates being vulnerable to your touch this much.

“No, baby,” he rasps. You quirk a brow. “I hate how drunk you get off the power.”

A proud smirk twitches on the corner of your lips, confirming his words. You’ve barely had taste for the power he’s accusing you of getting drunk off of. However, the fact that you’re able to control him so well with such a small dose fills your heart with pride.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I am?”

There’s a certain cocky pitch in your tone that rings sharply to his ears. His brows twitch, wings flutter, and gaze wavers. He may have been able to look past your exaggerations of dismissal and the way you tease him, but to speak to him with very little regard for his power unleashes something primal within him. You can always tell you’ve really pissed him off when he pouts, clenches his jaw, and breathes so steadily, you can barely hear him.

Jungkook watches you carefully. “One week without my dick and suddenly you think you own it?”

“Don’t I?”

A sharp smack lands on your ass. The slow draft of the water does not slow his hands down. In fact, it only increases the sting and accuracy. You gasp and fall forward against him only to be spanked again. Another moan leaves you, this time with your lips hovering over his. Exchanging breathes, a dangerous thought occurs to you. Your lips are over his. What’s to stop you from spit-

He growls. You tremble against him. The purely thunderous rumble in his chest rattles your soul. “I fucking dare you,” he hisses.

Though you want to heed his warning, you can’t help but notice how he keeps his mouth open despite his disapproval. You gather what you have in your mouth and pause for a moment, knowing that he knows what you’re about to do. His mouth remains open. You drop the wad of spit it without a second thought.

Jungkook swallows it almost immediately. “You’re going to regret that,” he breathes.

“I highly doubt that,” you smirk.

The cocky persona you seemed to have picked up from him crumbles when his middle finger pushes between your cheeks and circles your tightest hole. His words about his favourite ways to fuck you return to you in distant echoes. You arch your back and push your ass into his hand. His finger threatens to slip in.

“You’re barely ready,” he scoffs.

Do you harbour reservations based on fears that he just might be too big to fit in your ass? Of course you do; he’s huge. A fact of which he can’t help but always smirk at when you point it out. But, you’re hungry for him and you know that he would never do anything to hurt you. Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, “I can take it.”

“You aren’t wet enough.”

“Then, change that.”

The continuous authority that drips in your tone has tested his patience for the last time. Reaching a hand out of the fountain, Jungkook grabs for something on the ground. You try to lean over him and sneak a peek at what he’s looking for, but the friction of your clit against his length has you shuddering back in place.

A little smile breaks Jungkook’s previously callous expression. He pecks your neck and laughs quietly against your skin as he mutters, “You’re adorable.”

Heat rushes down to your core instead of your face at the little praise. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips when you catch a glimpse of something gold in your peripherals. Glancing up, you find him clutching onto his bow. Before you have the chance to ask what he’s planning, Jungkook only just drops the tip of his bow in to break the surface of the water. A misty rose gold tints the clarity. Little flicks of sparkling gold twinkle back at you as you watch the fountain filter the essence all around you.

You cautiously meet gaze. He always confirms new things with you before acting on anything, no matter how mad or horny he is. His rash decision to spike the fountain with an unknown substance chills your blood for a second. You start to shift back from him a bit when he breaks the silence.

“It’s just a lubricant,” he quickly explains. A relieved breath, you didn’t realize you were holding, leaves you. Shifting back against him, you nudge your nose against his. “Sex is a bit different underwater, baby, and I don’t have time to get you as ready as you need to be.”

A gentle nibble on his lip is all it takes for the rush of the fountain to be the only sound in the silence that settles upon you. His hands guide your hips against his, the fiction much smoother now with that hint of lubrication swirling around. You run a hand through his hand and tug his head back to be greeted with the sweet rumble of his laughter. You can’t help but giggle with him as you place soft kisses along the side of his neck.

Jungkook quietly moans in little whines and breathless gasps. Every shudder of his wings and furrow of his brows makes you want to rip your dress off and be just as naked and against him. But, then again, there’s something powerful to the taste of being fully clothed and still destroying a man’s composure. You barely have to do anything and Jungkook bends to your every will. You can now understand why he believes you’re so drunk on power, but the truth is you always had this power. He knows this, most likely wanting you to realize it too if he’s the one that suggested you stay clothed. The only difference now is that he’s openly displaying the ways you unravel him rather than keeping it to himself.

“Do you see what I mean now?” He asks in a breathless whisper. You trail your kiss up to his cheek and moan against it as he continues, “You’re so smart and beautiful and precious.”

Jungkook pauses, stilling your hips and pulling his face away from yours to look into your eyes. He parts his lips to speak but his words keep falling short somehow.

His words so far have already ignited an untamable fire not only between your legs, but within your bones as well. He is drenched in every part of you. Shifting to a softer touch, you untangle your fingers from his damp hair and cup his cheeks the same way he had done to you not too long ago. “Go on,” you tease, tossing him a playful look.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk. His eyes, though hinted with amusement, continue to be lost in some sort of trance. He knows you’re curious, but keeps this little bit of thought to himself. Lifting your hips, he hovers your entrance over his erection and finally smirks.

“Beg a little,” he orders. Though his voice barely carries to the other side of the fountain, the authority in his tone is still as clear and hard as it always is.

Your power trip must have really messed with him if he’s having you beg without giving you a good reason to. An annoyed sigh fans against your collarbone as your body continues to hover over his. “Don’t play,” he rasps, “You know that’s not it. I can hear the truth before the lie, darling.”

That’s an unfair advantage but one you don’t mind too much if it means he talks to you like this all the time. He’s right too. You know that’s not what’s got him eager to hear you beg. It’s the way you beg that’s got him eager to fuck you. Clenching around emptiness, needy to be filled and ruined, you whine a tiny “please,” then a string of profanities as his tip strokes its way to your entrance from your clit.

“Again.”

Back arched, breasts against his bare chest, and hands clutched onto his biceps, you place your lips on the shell of his ear and blow a gentle breeze against it. “Please,” you mewl.

Jungkook’s hands tremble and he all but drops you on his cock. Pussy in an instant stretch, with very little room to adjust, you cry out in his ear. Though your voice may be broken and pitchy, Jungkook doesn’t flinch. When it comes to you, the usual results never qualify. You are one of a kind, as unique as him.

His muscles flex under your palms. Hands finding their place on your ass again, Jungkook guides your thrusts. He can practically feel your weakening body with every bounce and grind against him. You know he can. He shows it in every tightening grip on your ass and grunt in his moans.

The knot in your stomach is already twisting, conspiring against your better judgement on how long you think you can last. You’ve never been able to outlast him, cumming twice before he finally reaches his first orgasm of the night. He’s just so big and hits those right places way before the rest of him can catch up. How he manages to brush up against your softest spots within the first three thrusts will always be beyond your comprehension. He’s just that good.

The choked moan that leaves him resembles a chuckle. A frustrated whine escapes you. Is he still listening to your thoughts? It’s not like you’re thinking anything he already hasn’t heard you say, or rather scream, but it still somewhat embrassasses you to know that he will always hear how whipped you are for him.

“Tell me,” you plead with your lips pressed just under his ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The sparkling water around you begins to splash out of the fountain bowl as Jungkook speeds up the pace of your bounces. Deciding your ass seems to be too much of a distraction to him, you pause mid-thrust and move his hands up to your hips. A shuddering gasp escapes him as you carry on with the bounces at his same pace. Your ass claps in and out of the water, thrashing water all around the ground.

Jungkook digs his short nails into the flesh of your hips, growling every time you whine at his tightening grip. Forehead against his, you catch his gaze and offer an innocent one. “I’m-” he cuts himself off, realizing how breathless and dazed he sounds. You nuzzle your face into his as a silent attempt to encourage him to continue. “Kiss me,” he begs.

If you weren’t stuffed full of his cock and extremely enchanted by the way he pretends to sound composed, you would’ve refused to kiss him and insisted that he finish that sentence. And that knot in the pit of your gut only tightens with the grip of your pussy. Pressing your lips against his, you slip your tongue in and let him swallow your moans.

The moment his tongue tackles yours, your legs quake. Thrusts hesitating, your body begins to spasm against his. Your hands grapple at his shoulder just to ensure you stay a float as your threatening orgasm continues to build.

“Jungk-” You break the kiss to tell him, to ask as he has taught you over and over again.

But Jungkook only latches his lips onto yours once more. You gulp down a moan or two of his before he hisses against your lips, “Just fucking cum. Now, kiss me.”

You may have been drunk off power not too long ago, but as you kiss him again, you realize that he is drunk off you. And that’s all it takes for your ograsm to finally rush over you. Jungkook lifts his hips up to meet your stuttering ones. Your lips fall off his. Face buried in the crook of his neck, you cry out his name and cream all over his cock.

“I’m thinking you’re such a good girl for cumming like this,” he suddenly whispers as you ride out your orgasm. Even with your ears ringing and mind shuddering from the second wave of cum gushing all over his hard, huge cock, you can still hear every dirty praise clearly. “My whore got herself off so well.”

The whine that escapes you from his words alone is borderline pornographic. Jungkook even feels it, arching his back so his chest collides with yours as well. “You’re so sexy,” he whimpers as you babble fountain water by his shoulder from exhaustion.

Wet, wet, wet; everything is wet. You’re both drenched in lube tinted waters, cum, and your desires. You can’t revel in it though, as the skirts of your dress float the surface and corset clings to your chest all too tightly. You can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone tell him that you need a quick break.

“No,” he groans, settling you on his thighs. Circling his hips into yours, Jungkook grips onto the nape of your neck to peel you off him.

Your heart stumbles as your mind races to figure out what you’ve done that was so wrong, he’s wanting to stop the night here. “I’m sorr-”

“You don’t need a break,” he sighs between moans. He sits himself up, his wings extending only to drape over the lip of the fountain’s bowl. All movements underwater cease as he digs his fingers into the bust of your corset. In one swift motion, Jungkook tears the first few laces apart, instantly sending a full batch of oxygen to your lungs.

Gasping, you gaze down at your torn dress before glaring at him. Maybe with just a wet dress, you could have explained your way out of whatever mess this is going to get you in when you attempt to return to the party. However, a torn dress will not be that easy to explain. You want to glare at him and tell him off but he shoves his face between your now exposed breasts and moans before you’re able to.

He moves your hands up his shoulders so your arms drape over them, then settles them on his favourite place; your ass. Two of his fingers push between your cheeks and stroke your hole. His touch there is much smoother than before and you suspect that it must be the bow-tipped lube.

You moan quietly, resting your chin atop his damp head as he kisses and bites at your breasts. Your pussy still hasn’t recovered from your orgasm seconds ago. In fact, truth be told, your entire body is having trouble recuperating after cumming that hard in a week. But you want more of him and he still hasn’t filled you of his godly load yet. And with his fingers circling around your asshole, you can’t deny him the second ride he’s patiently waiting for.

A slow grind of hips into hips is a good start, you tell yourself. You’ve never really had to deal with this before, since Jungkook would usually just keep pounding into you despite the fact that he knows your limbs are exhausted from one orgasm already. Clenching your jaw, you start to bounce again, ass clapping against his thighs in suppressed thumps underwater. The overstimulated pleasure brings tears to your eyes. You cry out his name and hold onto his wings.

He groans against your right breast from the contact. You’re about to apologize, knowing his wings are sensitive, when he shoves his fingers into your tightest hole. You freeze and throw your head back from how easily he slipped in and how fucking good it feels. Jungkook scissors his fingers within you, peeking a glance up from between your breasts.

“Are you okay, baby?” he slurs. He licks up the valley of your breasts, holding your gaze shamelessly.

“Mhm,” you mewl.

Resuming your thrusts, you feel your tears run down your face freely. You don’t even have it in you to wipe them away. Your hands, instead, centre around his back. You scratch at it for a bit until you feel him add a finger. Moans tumble into his wet hair as your fingers trail up the length of his spine.

Jungkook stiffens. A choked groan tears from his throat and he hides his face further into your breasts. They bounce around his cheeks with each hop on his cock. Too consumed by your own overstimulated pleasure to dwell much thought on his movements, or lack thereof, you mindlessly repeat the action. You stroke his spine once more and then you hear it.

He sobs a moan.

You still your hips, looking down at him. As you run a hand through his hair, you’re about to ask if he’s okay when the whooshing flutter of wings obscures your vision. One second, you’re straddling his lap with his fingers in your ass. The next, you’re the one submerged in the water with him hovering over you. Wings fully extended, face stained with tears, Jungkook makes sure your arms are resting over his shoulders like before then takes up a deadly speed of thrusts into you.

His speed defies the laws of physics, hips moving much faster than they should underwater. Half the fountain is on the ground from the force of his movement. All you can do is sob with him as your body becomes his only source of pleasure.

What’s gotten into him? He doesn’t even have an interest in your ass anymore, hands locked in a death-like grip on your hips. In a moment of pure animalistic pleasure, you just wish you knew what’s running through his head.

“You,” he growls in a pout. “You’re all I think about, you fucking whore. You’re all I can ever think about.” He swallows thickly before continuing, “You can’t go one second without thinking of me and now all I can hear is your voice. All the time; it’s you, you, you.”

You don’t know if you should apologize or cum from the simple confession alone. His voice, his words, his entire fucking attitude has you aching to cum all over again.

Jungkook stumbles over his chuckles. “You just love seeing me like this, huh? You love seeing me worship you, baby?”

Worship. Does he want you to cum that badly that he’s willing to lie? You both know he doesn’t worshi-

A sharp thrust derails your thoughts. Your eyes roll back as you moan out his name.

“You’re my goddess,” he confesses. “You’re my only goddess.”

He repeats the phrase over and over again until that’s all that rings in your ear, in your heart, in your soul. His release paints your tightening walls. The knots within your gut have unraveled long ago and it’s only when your blurred vision somewhat clears and convulsing body trickles into tremors do you realize that you’ve both cum together to the words he’s still repeating.

Voice a tiny, gruff whisper, Jungkook whispers, “My goddess.”

He’s serious. He must be. He truly worships you. The tears in his eyes, the break in his voice, the truth is clear and just as starkly bare as he is between your legs. His eyes suddenly flash with worry, almost as if he’s recognized what he’s said. He meant what he said, you realize, but he never meant to say it.

Jungkook gingerly pulls out of you as you try to seat yourself up. You pull your legs into your chest and watch him take a seat beside you. He leans his head back against the rim of the fountain and gazes up at the sky. You follow his gaze, noticing it’s gotten much darker out, the silver stream of stars piercing an indigo backdrop no more. A midnight black cloaks the world above you, a crescent moon lighting up your night and an array of stars twinkling down at you. Though your mind is still foggy from your recent orgasms, body still shuddering, you can’t help but think about his words. What makes him think you belong up there, amongst true gods and goddesses?

His wings twitch as they tuck themselves behind him. You know that combination well. He’s hiding something. Usually, you don’t ask, knowing he will only deflect the topic and shower you with attention and praises instead. But, his spoken thoughts are now looping around your mind, begging to be answered.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, shifting closer to him. Face still stained with tears, he forces himself to look at you. The questions are on the tip of your tongue; what, why, when? However, as you part your lips all you can bring yourself to say is, “I didn’t hear anything.”

You’re my goddess.

The words return with ten times the force they previously held. It’s almost like denying their existence is just as blasphemous as saying them. You swallow thickly and try to extract the words from your mind, but it's too late. They are as entrenched in your bones as your affection for him is. There is no undoing what has been done.

You bring a hand up to his face and wipe away the stray tears. He melts into you almost immediately. Maybe it’s best if you return to the party now. You can make up some excuse as to why you’re drenched and torn on your way there. Jungkook’s state is all but worrying and you feel as though you shouldn’t be witnessing this.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he finally says. His voice has regained composure and tone controlled. No more does he choke on his words or laughter. The authority he indirectly bestowed upon you has been returned to him.

You should tell him you’re done, that he shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean to. You should tell him that he shouldn’t play with your feelings or your heart like this. But, again, the words wither away the moment you part your lips to voice them. And, instead, you ask, “How do you want me?”

Jungkook smirks. His hands snake around your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Back to his chest, you make yourself comfortable, leaning into him. He pushes the excess fabric of your dress aside just to get you as close as possible. Then, you feel it against your ass, pushing its way between your cheeks. His erection is just as hard as when you started. It’s no wonder why he’s not done with you yet. You suppose he didn’t just confess something he can’t take back only to still leave with a full hard-on.

“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” he whispers in your ear as his hands cup the underside of your thighs.

You nervously look at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t.”

He chews on your earlobe, warm tongue caressing your jaw. “I should stop thinking about it,” he whimpers against your skin. “I should stop thinking about you.”

I’m not a goddess, you want to tell him. But, by the way he sucks in a sharp breath, you can tell he’s heard and isn’t impressed. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe to scold you for degrading yourself, or to correct you. The words never arrive.

Jungkook shakily exhales. No more trips into his thoughts it would seem. He remains silent as he spreads your legs and swiftly lifts you up. You expect another harsh round into your pussy but his tip shoves its way through your asshole instead. Throwing your head back, you try to suppress your scream by holding your breath.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does during the first initial thrust of a toy. Whatever he tinted the water with must be the result of a smooth entrance, and a deliciously blissful stretch. You let out a breath you held, along with a loud, high-pitched squeal. Jungkook folds you up well, holding the bend of each knee into your chest as he continues to slowly lower you onto him.

Once you finally take him all in, you settle your entire body back into him. Shuddering breaths, drifting eyes, you hold him deep within you and try not to completely lose yourself in a fit of moans and pleads. You don’t even know what you’d be begging for, just that a string of “pleases” will leave you.

Are you getting bigger, you mentally ask.

He chuckles and shakes his head as his nose nuzzles into your cheeks. He can’t get enough. Inhaling you deeply, you realize that he can’t get enough of you. He even said so in so many words. And you don’t have much of a problem with that considering you can’t ever get enough of him either. You’ve consumed all of his thoughts it would seem and he’s even lost himself to you so much so that he’s declared you his one and only god-

“Fuck!”

The stream of the fountain rushes down on your clit. He holds you straight beneath it as his hips move up and down against your ass. You’re at his total mercy, every thought of ever being in control a complete joke. You rest your head against his shoulders, trembling hands placed over his as a desperate attempt to control yourself.

Your first water wave induced orgasm hits you within seconds. You don’t know for sure, but you’re all but certain that you’re cumming. Your eyes have been screwed shut for a while, and body shaking since this endeavor in the fountain began. Only when you try to close your legs do you confirm that you indeed came.

Jungkook keeps them open though. He ignores your pathetic scratches on his knuckles as you try to explain to him that it’s all just too fucking much for you to take. “Just let me cum,” he tries to soothe between little hushes and murmurs about how good you’re taking his cock.

But then your second orgasm from the fountain hits and you can’t stop squirming in his hold. He keeps you folded and under the water’s subjection nonetheless, somehow even cooling the temperature down. As you shiver under the cold rush, Jungkook positions you higher against him so that the water pours into you instead. You realize, pussy clean of his cum now, that you’re getting fucked by a fountain; a fountain that he controls. And you fucking love it.

Then, there’s the fullness of your ass. Every inch of you is his. If you’re his goddess, he must know that he’s your god. Your one and only.

“Careful,” he warns against your thoughts.

You have an assful of his cock in you, getting off more times than you can both count in a fountain that does not belong to either of you; when have the two of you ever been careful? In fact, your recklessness is what brought you together. Had he not seen you on your balcony every night, he might not be here at all. Carelessness runs in your veins, laced in your tone as you cry out, “You’re my god!”

The clouds rumble above you. The heavens can warn all they want. Interrupting sexual endeavors would do them more harm than it would do you.

“If you want to cum, you’ll behave,” Jungkook hisses. His thrusts suddenly snap into something primal.

Your body bounces every time, water rushing down your clit once more. This time you feel your orgasm build, and fast. Toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you hold onto every twisting, clenching knot at the pit of your stomach.

“Ask!”

“Please?”

A particular ram into your ass lets you know that half-hearted plea won’t get you very far. He doesn’t deign to repeat himself. Instead, he lets his harsh movements and bone-rattling growls speak for him.

“Please let me cum, Jungkook, please.”

“Again.”

“Please, please, please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say it. But you feel it. You feel the approval in the form of a gentle kiss against your ear. Hips a craze, rolling against the wave, you clench your jaw and try to channel all your pleasure in a high-pitched moan rather than the cry your lungs are desperate to let out. Your cum gushes then, juices squirt seconds later. Entire body on fire, under the scrutiny of the stream as you try and fail to recollect yourself. You’re shattered, ruined, obliterated by his cock and this fountain of fantasies.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “That’s my good girl.”

His. His. Gods, the things you would do to be his always, not just under the cover of the night. Jungkook releases your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he grounds your ass over his hips. Load after load shoots within you, making your giggle and shake with ecstasy at the filling sensation of being stuffed so well.

“Ah-yah, baby,” he groans in a scowl against your jawline. “You’ve got the tightest little hole for me, hmm? If you weren’t so exhausted, I’d have us do this all over again.”

Exhaustion. Yes, that’s what you’re feeling. With your mind foggy and broken from the countless orgasms he’s sent through you, you can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone think to go for another round. Your body’s only excuse for staying afloat is the winged god behind you. He clutches onto you as if his only reason for surviving is you. And judging by his previous confession, that very well might be the case.

Jungkook rests back against the fountain’s edge once he’s done. Gasping for air, he continues to hold onto you, kissing your shoulder mindlessly. “I never really know how much I miss you until I have you,” he whispers. His teeth graze your supple skin.

Body limp, you can’t find it in you to reply. All you can think is after he pulls out, he’s going to fly back to Gods know where and leave you to hobble back to the party alone. After all, isn’t that how every night ends? You two share a passionate few moments, both have out of body experiences when orgasming, then you fall asleep and he sneaks away. What’s to say this night won’t be any different?

“I thought I told you to trust me?”

“I do.”

He scoffs. You don’t blame him. Your words are hardly convincing. It has nothing to do with the fact that you just came five or six different times. It’s the lack of commitment in your tone that tips him off. You hear it too. You really do trust him. He’s just let you down too many times to count.

“What more do I need to do? I’m with you every chance I get.”

Exhaustion. It’s not a physical one, not the one you’re still recovering from. It’s one of the mind. He’s exhausted with this back and forth. You are too. This isn’t exactly what you thought your first relationship would look like.

He pauses, body freezing beneath you.

Oh, right. He’s in your mind. He heard that. Is that not what this is, though? Isn’t this a relationship?

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it,” You repeat, looking at him over your shoulder.

Jungkook starts to soften in you. You’ve really set him off now. He lifts you up and off his cock, sitting you on his thigh and ignoring the way you hiss and whine at the discomfort. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder only to find him already glaring at you.

“Do you want me to come back?”

Is he threatening you? “Do I have to remind you who came here begging-”

“You lied!” He cuts you off with a shout.

“You knew that, though. You knew I was lying,” you point out, a pout starting to overtake your features. “You came because you missed me.”

“That’s never been a secret.”

“Say it then, Jungkook. Say this is a relationship.”

He falls silent. His once annoyed eyes can’t even meet yours.

“I know you’re jealous of Lee Ky-”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffs. Shaking his head, he forces himself to meet your gaze.

Sad tears vary drastically from blissful ones. Tears of bliss soothe the pleasure and make it bearable. Tears of sadness sting your eyes, pierce your heart and shed any part of you that can make such a situation bearable. Sad tears only remind you of your pain.

Your eyes sting with despair as he regards you with such frustration. Emptying your mind, discarding all thoughts, you ask, “Are you coming tomorrow?”

Jungkook sighs, but not a beat of hesitance affects his answer. “Of course.”

You raise a brow. See?

“Fine. This is a relationship,” he mutters. “What does that change?”

Nothing. It hasn’t changed a thing. You don’t even feel any different, any better. Maybe it’s because you forced it out of him? You don’t know. The tears only fall faster though, and you can’t bear to look at him. Your heart’s conflicted, shattered and replaced all at once because, though he is the cause of your tears, his presence is also the only thing soothing them. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your temple over his.

You can at least relish in his company for a few moments longer. And his scent, that intoxicating waft of creamy coconut and sweet peony orchards returns now that all that mud and grime has been washed off. The scent is comforting enough for you to relax in his arms and forget your pain for a second.

“That’s not what I smell like,” he whispers. You tilt your head away to get a better look at him. A little smirk tugs on the corner of his lip as he says, “It’s what you smell like.”

Impossible. He’s always smelled like at the end of every night. You’d cuddle into his chest and inhale a breathful of the tropical scent. How could that be what you smell like if he reeks of it? The knowing look in his eyes is enough of a hint for you to realize you know the answer. He’s dripping with your essence every night because he spent the night in you. You wonder if you smell like him too.

He sighs, circling his arms lazily around your waist. He deeply inhales your skin, smiling against it, but doesn’t answer your mentally posed question. Damp hair clinging to the sides of your faces, you settle in the other’s company. One of his hands rises from the water and wipes away your tears. As you sniffle, he whispers, “I promise I’m-”

“Doing the best you can,” you croak, finishing his sentence with him.

Yes, yes. You’ve heard it all before. You don’t think he’s lying, your Eros is no liar. You do believe that he is, in fact, doing the best he can. But if his best is only a few hours every night, you’re not sure you can accept that. And, yet, you also can’t find it in you to truly, with all your heart, reject it as well.

He needs to prove his devotion to you in another way. A risky thought then tiptoes into your mind. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath and ask, “Could you do me a tiny favour?”

Jungkook’s hesitant to meet your gaze. He glances at you through his peripherals, otherwise keeping his gaze locked on your breasts. Whether he’s trying to distract himself or not, you still push them out a bit in hopes that they will grant you the “yes” you’re hoping to hear.

He nods.

With a little kiss upon his cheek, you stroke his shoulder with the soft tips of your fingers and ask, “Would you please escort me to my sister’s wedding?”

He turns his head away from you. Staring across at the other side of the garden, Jungkook withdraws from you. His hands fall off your frame as he heavily sighs. You press yourself against him, trying to regain his attention but he only shakes his head.

“Acting cute won’t make this any easier,” he grumbles.

You huff and slouch against him. “How about just the rehearsal dinner?” You try to negotiate. When he rolls his eyes, you quickly add, “I’ll be stuck with Kyon and honestly I don’t think I handle another minute of his incorrect reilieration about history.”

Jungkook snaps his head towards you at the mention of another man. You cock a brow to which he only scoffs at. “You’re being obnoxious,” he seethes. “And unbelievably selfish.”

“So?” you question before you can stop yourself. His words sting, slicing through your confidence all too easily. There isn’t much room for thinking and even if there was, he would be listening to them anyways. So, you might as well say what you want out loud. “Was it not selfish of you to make me wait-”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m not going to repeat myself, (Y/N). You can’t keep telling me that you trust me only to keep bringing this up. I was busy. You had to wait. It didn’t kill you.”

Your tears have returned. He rolls his eyes at the sight. Whatever remnants of your heart you thought you had has been obliviated. “You make me feel so loved,” you whisper as your hands retract from his body.

Jungkook’s expression disarms all hostility. His eyes reflect regret but you’ve heard, seen all you need to.

“But why do you only make me feel this way when we’re naked?”

“You’re not naked,” he’s quick to reply.

It’s your turn to scoff. How can a god be this dense? “Aren’t I, though? Tell me, Jeon Jungkook, whose thoughts are open for the other to hear? Who is the one waiting, praying for the other’s attention? Who has been bare since first glance on the stupid balcony you left last night?”

Before he couldn’t meet your eye out of disinterest, but now he avoids your gaze out of guilt. Yes, you’ve been obnoxious, selfish, maybe even a little entitled. However, you’ve had a god to yourself for months. You’ve had endless moments of ecstasy that only end in soft cuddles and whispered sweet nothings into the night. Is wanting that attention when the sun hasn’t set yet too much to ask?

Jungkook parts his lips to reply when his eyes suddenly shoot up. He sits up, almost knocking you off his lap and snaps his head towards the very pathway you came from.

“(Y/N)!”

You gasp upon hearing your mother’s voice. The clicks of her heels draw further towards you and before you can look at Jungkook and ask what you should do, what you should say, you’re thrown into the fountain.

Ice cold waves engulf you as you inhale a good chunk of the fountain. Your lungs burn from the accidental intake of water. You only just get your hands under you and sit yourself up and out of the water as quickly as you can. Familiar shouts ring in the distance. Coughing up the fountain, you push your hair back and look around the garden.

Your mother is staring at you in utter shock, screaming at you to come out but refusing to help you herself. As you try to lift yourself up, you find the water has returned to its usual clarity and that Jungkook is nowhere to be found. He seriously left you to almost drown in the fountain by yourself? He’d be lucky to get more than a kiss from your tomorrow night. You can’t believe he has the audacity to yell at you then let you there like that. In a fit of anger, you send a lashing string after lashing string of profanities to him in the form of a prayer.

“Miss (L/N)!”

Your blood chills. Hands on the lip of the fountain, you turn towards his voice. Fully dressed in a dark blue suit, his wings nowhere to be found, and dry hair pulled back a neat ponytail, Jungkook rushes over to you. His strong hands settle on your waist before he effortlessly scoops you out.

All you can do is stare. Mouth agape, eyes vacant, you try to figure out why the hell he made himself all presentable and left you looking like a mess. You want to whisper your profanities and swear that he will never touch your ass for leaving you in such a mess, but all you can find yourself saying is, “Mr. Jeon.”

His eyes shoot to the sky as your mother rushes towards you. Nothing is making sense and you only wish you can read his mind to know what to do next.

“Goodness, (Y/N),” your mother hisses as she rushes towards you. “Cover yourself!”

Looking down at your bust, you gasp. Oh, right, he tore it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you look up at him and glare. But Jungkook only takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s only when you feel your mother’s arms around you do you realize that you’re shivering.

“What have you done to yourself now?” she whispers in your ear.

Her eyes then settle on Jungkook. That look graces her face. That look of assessment. She’s scanning the unknown god up and down, looking for signs of wealth, status, and reliability. It doesn’t take her long to innocently smile and fall victim to his beauty, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Jeon.”

He bows his head then turns to you and says, “I told you not to sit on the edge.” Jungkook fakes a polished chuckle. He shakes his head at you when your eyes narrow at him. “I told her, Mrs. (L/N), I told her the marble is slippery. But, Miss (L/N) just had to get a better look at those flowers.”

You glance back at the fountain with your mother, finding an array of tiger lilies floating in the bowl. All this trouble to explain why you’re wet? You look back at him cautiously and wonder what the end of this conversation is meant to look like.

“Yes, she loves flowers,” your mother sighs. She then sets her sights on Jungkook once more and asks, “Jeon… I’m not sure I know of the Jeons. Are you from out of town?”

Jungkook charms your mother instantly with that kind, toothy smile of his. He nods and compliments her quick wits, to which she laughs, then explains, “I’m visiting for the wedding.”

The wedding? Does that mean?

“Miss (L/N) invited me. I’m rather glad to have run into you, Mrs. (L/N) as I was hoping to ask permission to escort your daughter to the wedding.”

One of your hands, previously covering your right breast, shoots up to cover your mouth out of utter shock. Did he orchestrate all this just to agree to your favour? You hope you haven’t guilted him into it. You’ve done that to get him here and admit to your relationship; you already regret doing that. You just hope he’s acting on his own accord right now.

Jungkook shoots you a wink as your mother fixes the jacket so that your uncovered breast is concealed once more. Sighing of relief, you offer him a grateful smile.

“Are you sure?” Your mother suddenly asks, looking back to Jungkook. “(Y/N) is the one you want to escort?”

He glances at you and smiles. “Miss (L/N) the one and only thing I’m always sure about.”

Your mother raises a brow at you. She smells something fishy, knows something is off about this entire encounter. You watch her carefully as she looks between you and Jungkook. And when you expect her to refuse, to lecture you in front of him, your mother adopts an opposite approach. She smiles upon the two of you and shifts you closer to Jungkook.

“I would be delighted to have you escort my daughter, Mr. Jeon,” she beams. “Do you mind walking (Y/N) to the carriages? I cannot let her go back and drip all over the Barbury’s rugs.”

Jungkook offers you his elbow, returning your mother’s smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

You stumble towards Jungkook, your mother practically pushing you into him. With a shaky hand, you take his arm and let him guide you out of the maze. After a turn or two within the tall hedges, you part your lips to ask him what he thinks he’s doing.

However, Jungkook fills the silence before you can. “I’ll buy you an entire bouquet of lilies, darling. Just promise me to never fall into a fountain again,” he laughs, exaggerating the volume of his voice.

This time, you pick up on his hints and realize that your mother must still be close by if he’s still putting up such an act. “I promise it won’t happen again, Mr. Jeon,” you innocently reply.

A smirk, you know is real, graces his features. He walks you around the manor and to the front of the house before breaking out of this noble character of his. “I think she bought it. Your mother is a very suspicious woman.”

You scoff. “That’s just one of many titles she holds,” you mumble under your breath. As you walk towards your family’s carriage, you can’t help but ask, “Why did you do that?”

Jungkook stops you before the door and takes both your hands in his. Those amused eyes linger around your exposed breasts. He chuckles a bit at the way you arch your back to keep them there, making you giggle along with him.

“Are you happy?”

You pause. Is that why he did this? To make you happy?

“Are you?”

He gives you a pointed look. “Answer the question, (Y/N).”

“Are you just doing this to make me happy, Jungkook?” You ask instead. “Because I will go back to her and tell her that we were both in that fountain and-”

“So what if I am?” He cuts you off. “I want you to be happy, (Y/N). Why is that so wrong?”

It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting you to be happy. But you want him to be happy with his decision. You’ve forced him into admitting things and meeting you. You don’t want to force him into this too. You want him to want to take you, to want to be with you. That is what true happiness is to you. It’s Jungkook unconditionally wanting you the way you unconditionally want him.

Jungkook cups your face. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “I’m sorry I make you think I don’t want you just as much as you want me.” His nose brushes against yours, hitching your breath as he presses himself against you and continues in a breathy whisper, “Watching you cry breaks me in ways I can’t describe. And being the reason for your tears just destroys me, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to see you smile again.”

Then, he presses his lips upon yours, reaching for the carriage door behind you. When he pulls away, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, ushering you into your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby,” he smiles.

You’ve misjudged him for the third time tonight. Thinking he doesn’t care for you, thinking he left you, and thinking he doesn’t want you. All you can do now is pray that he forgives you for all the curses you’ve hurled his way.

He chuckles and places kisses on both your hands. “It was very amusing actually.”

You nod. “I’m sure.” But, you’re still sorry.

With one last round of kisses over your knuckles, Jungkook promises, “I won’t be late.”

“I’ll be waiting regardless,” you immediately reply.

The next three words are on the tip of your tongue. He can almost hear them, judging by the twitch of his brows. You don’t have a chance to say them though as he clears his throat and shuts the door. You watch him from the window, shakily exhaling.

Jungkook calls the coachmen. The carriage jerks forward. The lasting image of his smirk, those sweet eyes and that muscular frame is all you try to see. However, in seconds, he’s pulled from view. The only memory you have of him remains with that sacrilegious confession in a fountain of fantasies.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

good boy ❂ hjs

❂ pairing: han jisung x reader (ft. hyunjin, changbin, & minho)

❂ genre: smut (pretty much a pwp), slight fluff, crack

❂ summary: in which you encounter a baby boy in your kitchen and you just have to make him yours

❂ word count: 3.4k (this was supposed to be a *drabble* lol)

❂ warnings: 18+, cursing, dom/sub themes (dom!reader & sub!jisung), alcohol, smut [sex toys (cock ring), teasing, biting, spitting, edging, jisung being whiny, oral (m receiving), noona kink, voyeurism, nipple piercings]

“So, you’re saying you could get any girl in here?”

You scowl as you overhear this inane conversation happening in your very kitchen. When your roommate Jisoo said she wanted to have a few people over, you should have known she had really meant that she was going to invite the entire damn university.

Your small apartment is now overrun with co-eds, and you are planning to escape right back to your room once you finish grabbing your wine from the fridge. Parties aren’t really your thing. You prefer smaller and more intimate gatherings. But then again, your tastes have always been peculiar.

Which leads you to where you are right now, dressed only in your friend Soobin’s stolen t-shirt and your tiniest pair of sleep shorts, glaring over at the small group of gossiping boys across your kitchen island.

“Of course!” One of the boys nods, his full cheeks flushing. He’s admittedly cute with wide eyes and pouty lips. His hair is a mess of dark brown with lighter streaks mixed in. His whole vibe is amusingly at odds with his words.

“He’s such a sub,” You conclude, chuckling slightly. You’re pretty sure the only thing that boy can get from any girl in your place tonight is a thorough punishment.

You’re too deep in your analysis to notice that you had spoken aloud until you’re faced with four boys - three of which look entertained as hell and the fourth looks like he either wants to run away or to fight you.

“Can I help you boys?” You sigh, cradling your wine to your chest. This is why you should have bought a mini fridge - less social interaction.

“You think Han’s a sub?” The tallest boy grins at you, “Why?”

You smile slightly back up at him. He’s handsome, with striking eyes and a sexy as hell lip ring.

“I am not a sub,” Han whines, recapturing your attention with a glare and a vicious pout. “Take that back!”

God, he’s adorable. Your lips twitch as you try to remain impassive. You haven’t seen such a bratty boy since your last sub had graduated over the summer. And now you’ve been without one for about a month now… Maybe things could be looking up for you.

Maybe you’ll play with him and see.

“No,” You say, shrugging slightly, “I don’t see what’s so bad about being a sub anyway. Baby boys are always very well taken care of, Hannie.”

Two of the boys choke on their drinks, the one who had talked to you earlier gasps, and Han flushes bright red, his mouth opening and closing.

You grin wickedly at his speechlessness and saunter right up to him. Rising to your tiptoes, you lean into his body and whisper into his ear, “If you change your mind, my room is right down the hall, baby boy.”

You nip his earlobe lightly and then pull back. “Night, boys,” You wave with a smile as you exit the kitchen, sending a wink at Han who looks shell shocked.

And as you make your way down the hall, you hear, “Fuck me.”

You just hope he asks you that later.

Almost an hour later, your wine is halfway gone, and you’ve pretty much given up all hope on your prospective sub. Sighing, you take another sip of your pinot and contemplate going against all of your principles and venturing back out into the throes of the party.

And then you hear the lightest of knocks on your bedroom door. Your smile is immediate. Setting your glass down, you hop off your bed and pad over to open your door. Sure enough, Han stands there looking like he might bolt at any second.

You wait for him to speak first and watch gleefully as he fidgets under your gaze.

“S-sorry,” He finally mutters, turning away from you, “This was stupid. You obviously were just messing with me. God, now I look like a dumbass, and Hyunjin will never let me live this d—”

You take pity on the poor boy, grabbing his wrist and tugging him into your room. Shutting the door behind him, you point to your bed.

“Sit,” You order and internally squeal in excitement when he complies without hesitation. The way his wide brown eyes are gazing up at you makes you melt, but you keep it together. “Now, why did you decide to come visit me, Hannie?”

“Jisung,” He blurts out and then ducks his head, blushing.

“Jisung,” You test it out slowly, and he reacts, shuddering slightly. “You like it when I say your name, huh?”

“Yes, noona,” He nods, gaze still on the floor. You gently place two fingers under his chin and lift his face up to look at him.

“Jisungie,” You murmur, “Have you been asking about me out there? How do you know that I’m older than you?”

He blinks up at you, “I asked Jisoo-noona, and she said you’re in the same level as her.”

“Jisoo,” Your eyes narrow, and then you refocus on the situation at hand, “Now, Jisungie, I’ll only ask you one more time. Why are you in my room?”

You feel him swallow beneath your fingertips. “I-I don’t know,” He tries.

“Really,” you arch an eyebrow, swiping your thumb across the seam of his lips.

“Fine!” Jisung’s glare is as cute as it is fierce, “I’m here because you’re really hot even though you’re kind of scary and you embarrassed me in front of my friends and you might be out of my league and—”

You put your palm across his mouth, silencing him. “Oh, baby boy. Are you here because you think I’ll give you something? That’s not how this works, Jisungie. Subs have to earn their rewards, you see; and I don’t think you’ve earned one just yet.”

“How can I earn one?” He begs as soon as you take your hand away, “Please, noona. I’ve been half hard since you walked in the kitchen looking like you had just been fucked… But now I know it’s more likely that you had been the one to do the fucking.”

Oh my. Your mind connects the dots. “Baby boy, is that why you were making such outrageous claims?”

“Well,” He pouts, “I wouldn’t call them ‘outrageous’...” He notices your unimpressed expression and sighs, “Fine. Yes. I wanted to impress you, okay? Clearly that backfired.”

You can’t help yourself. You lean over Jisung and cup his cheeks in your hands, “Aw, you’re just so cute, Sungie. What am I going to do with you? No… more like what am I going to do with you first?”

Jisung squirms under you, bringing your attention to the growing bulge in his tight jeans.

“Are you drunk, lovely?” You purr, running your hands down his chest.

“N-no, noona,” His breath catches as you drag your hands farther down, teasing the waistband of his jeans.

“Do you have a safe-word?” You pause your ministrations and look into his eyes to assess his level of comfort.

“Damn,” He breathes, “You’re gonna fuck up my shit good, aren’t you, noona?”

You roll your eyes to the ceiling, “Not if you keep saying things like that.”

“Noted,” He salutes you with a smile and you glare. Straightening, you walk over to your drawer of fun.

“I’m still not hearing a safe-word, baby,” You call over your shoulder.

“Um,” His face scrunches up adorably as he thinks, “Yosemite?” You laugh slightly as you peruse your collection of sex toys. You had a poster from that National Park on your wall.

“Yosemite, it is,” You say, finally choosing your toy for the night. You flex the cock ring between your fingers. Oh yes, this would work just fine. “Baby,” You turn back to Jisung as he still sits on your bed. Your eyes immediately fall to his hands as they press into his crotch. “What are you doing?”

Jisung takes his hands away immediately, “Sorry, noona. You’re just so sexy.” His stare burns into your bare legs. And then he notices what you’re holding. “Oh, fuck.”

You laugh, “You’ll love it, baby. Promise. Now, I’m going to wash this, and when I get back, I want you stripped and laying on my bed, okay?”

He nods furiously. “Good boy,” You praise, and you almost sigh at the way he lights up at your words. How in the world has this boy not been claimed yet?

You head into your bathroom and take your time washing the ring. Even though you haven’t used this one yet, it still doesn’t hurt to be careful. Patting the cock ring dry, you reenter the bedroom and take in the sight before you.

Jisung is spread out on your bed, his cock hard against his stomach. His hands are clenched at his sides as he seems to be trying his hardest not to touch himself. You walk over to him, running your hand up his body as you go and then leaning down to place the lightest of kisses on his lips.

Pulling back, he tries to follow your mouth and you laugh, “Oh no, Sungie, you’ll take what I give you, and no more. Got it?”

He nods, not looking too pleased.

“I want your words, baby,” Your thumb pads over his nipple and he hisses a breath in between his teeth.

“Y-yes, noona,” He whines, already desperate for your touch.

“Good. Now, Sungie, have you ever used a cock ring before?” You ask, stretching the object in question out in front of you.

“No, noona,” Jisung bites his lip, squirming a bit on your bed as he stares at the way your fingers play with the ring. “But I want to try.”

“Okay, baby boy,” You kiss him again and he moans into your mouth as your tongue slides out to brush over his full lower lip. Pulling back slightly, you murmur, “Remember your safe-word, lovely.”

His wide eyes blink up at you and you can’t resist kissing him once more, this time nibbling his lip between your teeth and drawing a delicious whine from his throat.

You straighten and walk to the foot of the bed. Climbing up, you straddle Jisung’s legs and set the cock ring down to the side for now. “Ready, baby boy?”

“Fuck yes!”

You shoot him a look and he gulps, “I-I mean, yes, noona!”

God, he looks so good sprawled out underneath you, at your mercy. Even his cock is pretty, a feat you honestly hadn't been sure was possible. Oh, you are going to wreck this boy.

You lean over his cock and let your spit drip from your mouth and onto his length. Jisung moans as he watches you with dark eyes, his pupils blown out. “Noona is filthy,” He groans as you finally wrap your hand around him and slowly move it up and down to coat him fully.

Leaning down, you lick the bead of precum from the head of his cock and smirk at the low whine that Jisung makes in response. Gripping him tightly, you take more of his hard cock into your mouth and suck. You bob up and down, continuing to squeeze his base and his balls in your hands.

Jisung is quite vocal, you discover, as he moans your name in between what seems like every curse word under the sun. You swallow around him and almost laugh as he cries, “Fucking Christmas tree!”

You release him and giggle, “Christmas tree?”

“Noona,” He whines, “Don’t judge me. I can’t think when your mouth is on me.”

You just shake your head at the beautiful boy beneath you and then tell him, “Let me know when you’re about to come, okay?”

He nods swiftly, eagerly anticipating his release. Oh, what a mistake, you grin internally. You lick your way up his shaft from base to tip and then take him back into your mouth. You don’t take it slow like before; you blow him hard. Your hands squeeze him and you swallow him over and over.

His legs are shaking underneath you as his moans pick up in volume. You wonder if his friends can hear him now. Honestly, they’re probably right outside your door right now, you think. Might as well give them a good show to listen to…

“I-I’m gonna come,” Jisung groans, his hips thrusting up shallowly. You immediately tighten your grip around his base and remove your mouth from him.

Jisung gasps, “N-no! Please, I’m so close!”

You pay him no mind, grabbing the cock ring from beside you. “Do you remember your safe-word, Jisung?” You ask, pausing to make sure he’s still okay with what you plan to do.

“Ye-es, noona,” His teeth bite down on his lower lip as he looks at you desperately.

“And do you want to use it now?” You aren’t sure of his limits and you don’t want to push him too far.

“No, noona,” His eyes narrow resolutely, “Give it to me.”

“Oh, baby boy,” You grin, “I will.” Slowly, you slide the ring down his cock with ease after having thoroughly sucked him off already. “If this gets too tight, tell me right away, okay, baby?”

He nods, “F-feels good. Tight.” Your eyebrows raise. Does Jisung even know what cock rings are used for? You might have to pay closer attention to him than you thought.

You take him back into your mouth and his hips immediately thrust up. You push him down with your hands firmly pressed to his hips. You feel him swelling in your mouth as the blood gathers, no doubt making him more sensitive than before.

“A-ah, noona!” Jisung moans. His hand latches into your hair as your mouth sinks up and down on his cock. “G-gonna come, please.”

Oh, baby… You nod despite knowing his impending disappointment. He would learn quickly. You take him deeper than before, your nose brushing his pelvis, and he comes without the rush of relief that usually accompanied the sensation.

You pull back, watching as his face contorts in an array of emotions in a short moment - elation, confusion, frustration, dissatisfaction. “N-noona,” He cries, looking down at you in horror, “What—?”

Gripping him lightly, you marvel at the thickness of his length and the veins that pop out, more pronounced than before.

“You’re so pretty, Sungie. So good for me, baby,” You murmur as his eyes squeeze shut just from the mere stimulation of your palm surrounding him. You kiss his cock, worshipping it with your mouth, with your tongue.

“Noona,” Your eyes flick up to look at Jisung’s face. Tears are leaking from his eyes as his chest heaves. “Please. Have to come so bad, it hurts.”

You release him and he sobs, “No-o! Noona!” His hands grip his cock, but he’s so sensitive that he releases it immediately. More tears flow from his wide eyes as he pleads, “Please, noona, please.”

You aren’t even sure he knows what he’s asking for; and so you decide to present him with some options.

“Baby boy,” You press kisses up his stomach, his chest, and finally to his cheeks. Wiping his tears, you gently kiss his lips. “Do you want to come in noona’s mouth or on her tits?”

Jisung’s eyes widen more than you thought possible as he practically yells, “Tits! Please, let me come on noona’s tits!”

Placing one last kiss on his lips, you move back down his body and tug your shirt over your head.

“Fuck,” Jisung breathes as his eyes immediately drop to your chest, taking in your pierced nipples. “Noona, you’re so beautiful, so fine.”

“Oh, baby boy,” You laugh, “You’re so sweet.”

“Not sweet,” He scowls, “I’m strong. A tough man. A ah—”

You grab his cock and squeeze, effectively cutting him off. “You were saying?” You grin.

“So evil,” He mutters, his voice cracking.

Chuckling, you slowly and gently remove the cock ring from his hard length. If you’re being honest with yourself, you really want to sit on it right now. But it’s too soon for that entirely. So you’ll just have to settle for making this cute little baby boy come harder than he’s ever come before.

Jisung is already a moaning mess underneath you as his blood-flow finally returns, heightening his sensitivity. And when you take him into your mouth, he lets out a string of what you can only assume to be curses that definitely are not in any language you’re familiar with.

Your tongue swipes over the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. One hand moves up and down his base while the other moves up his body to tug on his nipples. Jisung’s head is thrown back as his abs clench, his thighs shake. He’s moaning your name like a prayer as his fingers dig into your hair.

“I’m close,” Jisung groans, “Please, noona!”

You pull back, keeping your hand firmly on his cock, moving up and down. You move your body closer to him as he comes. Ropes of his come coat your tits as he moans loudly at the sight and at the sensation of finally getting his release. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He chants, still coming. You carry him through his orgasm, stroking him and murmuring sweet words.

Finally, he sinks back into the softness of your bed, spent. You continue to stroke him, “How are you feeling, baby boy?”

“Fucking great,” Jisung grins, looking so fucked out. “Noona, you’re like an orgasm wizard.”

“I’m a what?” You laugh, releasing him and hopping up off the bed. You start to shuffle over to your bathroom to get cleaned up, but Jisung whines, stopping you in your tracks.

“No-o, noona, come back,” He pleads, “Wanna see your tits up close.”

“Are you joking?” You roll your eyes, but give in nonetheless. Quickly grabbing a damp washcloth from your bathroom, you walk back over to Jisung. He props himself up on his elbows, taking the sight of his come on your chest.

“Damn,” He licks his lips, “Noona, you look so good covered in my come. You made me come so fucking hard. Come on, let me taste you. Let me make you come this time.”

You shake your head, smiling, “Oh no, baby boy. You still haven’t earned that privilege yet.”

“What!?” Jisung fully sits up now, “But-but, noona! You have to be so wet right now, right? Please.”

You lean down, a breath away from his lips as you say, “I am so fucking wet for you, Sungie. And once you leave, I’m going to touch myself to the image of you falling apart under me.”

Jisung’s breath hitches, rendered speechless. You move away from him, wiping your chest clean and shrugging your t-shirt back on.

“Stay here,” You order, turning back to look at the beautifully ruined boy on your bed, “I’m going to get you some water.”

He just nods, pouting adorably. Oh, he is going to be so much fun, you think. Flicking the lock on your door, you pull it open and sigh at the sight you’re met with.

Three boys stare at you with wide eyes and varying states of embarrassment. Jisung’s friends, as predicted, had indeed enjoyed the show if their unbuttoned jeans were any indication. The boy with black hair and intense dark brown eyes blushes under your assessment. Next to him, the boy with lighter brown hair and delicate features stares back at you with a somewhat challenging look in his eyes. And, finally, the tallest boy with that goddamned piercing licks his lips, tongue flicking over the silver hoop on his lower lip.

“Enjoy the show, boys?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Not as much as Han,” The light haired boy mutters.

You size him up, “And your name is?”

“Minho,” He answers, glowering. “That’s Hyunjin and Changbin,” He adds, pointing at lip ring and dark eyes.

“Minho,” You murmur, reaching out to brush your thumb across his cheek, “Be a darling and get your friend Han a glass of water, would you? He just came so hard all across my tits - as I’m sure you heard - and he needs to hydrate.”

They gape at you once again, eyes flicking down every so often.

“Well?” You level Minho with a stare that sends him off. You wait for his return in tense silence, and when he finally reappears with glass in hand, you accept it from his grasp.

“Now,” You say, addressing the three of them, “Are you going to come in? Or are you just going to stand out here all night?”

And that’s how you end up spending your Friday night surrounded by four good boys.

You just might like parties after all.

#kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #stray kids #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #han x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids fic #skz #han jisung #non bts

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shesawriter39049 · 3 years

Text

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos!

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there.

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?” Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-” Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink, and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end, your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

#Namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #bts #bts smut #bts au #kpop #kpop smut #kim namjoon x you

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singeramg · 4 years

Text

Ruin Me

Quick little reader insert imagine based off this post. Based off a non-ask...

*Update: Now a full length story! Check out Masterlist for my chapters?*

Pairing: CEO! Henry Cavill x Female! Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Power imbalance, dom! Henry, sub! reader, fingering, dirty talk...

Song choice: Funny How Time Flies- Meshell Ndegeocello

PART 2 HERE

“ Y/N can you bring me a cup of coffee...please.”

His voice wasn’t raised but his tone told you all you needed to know.

He was not happy. Not happy at all.

He had called you from the phone in his office, not even bothering to call through the door or better yet come to the door himself which he usually did when he needed something from you and was in a good mood. You don’t dwell on it much and you get to your feet, and hustle over to break room to make a fresh pot of coffee.

It doesn’t take long; you wait the ten minutes to brew, taking note that your coworkers are packing up for the night. You look at the clock and realize you better do the same.

Although you have nowhere special to be the last thing you wanted to do on a Friday night was spend more time at the office. You didn’t complain much, the job wasn’t had for you. You hadn’t been with the company long but you were sure you liked it thus far.

You were Executive Assistant to the CEO of Cavill Industries. a company he started with his brothers years ago and had grown to be a world wide force. Henry Cavill may not have been the eldest brother but he certainly was the most determined and invested of the 5 and more so than any man you had met. This was why they made him the CEO.

You also thought that had something to do with the fact that he honestly was the best looking brother out of all of them.

The face of the company.

He had to stand out in a crowd, oh and Henry Cavill certainly did.

You could admit to no one but yourself that you had found him extremely attractive during your third and final interview where you finally got to meet him. If he wasn’t your boss, he would be exactly the type of guy you went for in terms of looks. Tall, dark curly hair, a jawline that could cut glass, dazzling smile and sharp blue eyes that seemed to pinpoint everything

Including any mistakes you made.

He had made adjusting to this new job hard for you.

Pointing out every mistake, forcing you to redo whole reports that people who got paid a lot more than you should have been doing

But nooooo

He ‘trusted ‘ a.k.a could hover over you while you fixed it.’ causing more late nights and overtime than you cared to think about.

Forget a social life, everything had to be about him.

You had to be everything.

In your job interview nobody had mentioned you would be basically in charge of his life.

Dry Cleaning, arranging his groceries to be delivered, you were even his dog walker on the days he brought his cute Akita Kal-El to the office.

Yea that was totally fun in the heels he forced you into everyday.

You had tried wearing respectable flats after your first week with sore feet and he vetoed that almost immediately.

Saying it wasn’t “seemly“ and that you were the assistant to the CEO and you should dress like it. Needless to say half of the time you wanted to slap him. The other time you were ridiculously turned on. I mean despite being an ass sometimes he played right into your masochistic streak. The way he spoke to you, wasn’t nasty but it had a very direct way that left no room for arguing or confusion. Just like with the heels. You normally would have argued your point, maybe even seen if he would come to some sort of compromise but you didn’t with him. You just kept the flats in your car and a pair under your desk for when you were sitting at your desk and for the days he was out of office.

That sort of sneaky was not like you at all. You just preferred to pull off the band-aid so to speak, but Mr. Cavill was not for any of that.

All you said to him when the response he wanted was obvious was a yes sir or no sir.

You made his coffee just as he liked two cubes of sugar, and a splash of cream. He always would like three extra cubes of sugar on the side, adding the extras depending on how his day had been going. The more sugar added the better his day. You walk as smooth as you can to his office, the large dark door. You don’t bother to knock, sliding open the door to his office, begging your heels not to catch on the floor. You sit his coffee on the desk, to his right, and far enough from his hand that he doesn’t accidentally knock it over.

You smooth out your black mid length dress, and try not to fidget with your red belt that gives a retro theme to the look, and you even had a red purse and red blazer to wear with it (which you had ditched mid-morning). You slip back out the door when he doesn’t look at you. You pick up the tablet you use to keep track of everything on a mobile basis. You pull up his calendar and head back into the large office.

The office itself had never intimidated you despite the large solid oak desk in the middle of the room. It felt open because of the floor to ceiling windows that had automatic curtains that came down on command. You actually loved his office despite the fact that you didn't spend a lot of time in it. You re-enter his office, and stand in front of the desk looking down at the calendar.

“Okay before the day ends I would like to go over your schedule for the weekend.”

He finally looked up at you, his blue eyes giving direct contact, that you couldn’t hold and went back to the glowing tablet, where the sun was starting to set outside.

“You have a dinner meeting tonight which starts at 6:30pm; a 30 minute commute time which means you need to be out of here in the next 45 minutes, if you would like to arrive with your 15 minute grace period as normal.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, then takes off the reading glasses off his face and tosses them on the desk.

“Continue.”

“ Not too many things on the agenda for this weekend except for family brunch on Sunday. Your mother requests you arrive on time this time.”

You regulate a smirk to the side of your mouth.

“I’ve arranged for a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to your house by 9am for you to take over there to her.”

“I don’t suppose I have any missed messages from today?”

You look at him confused.

“Ummm....no. Were you expecting a call?”

He sighs and rubs the temples of his head, clearly upset something.

“No...yes...don’t worry about it. You’ve already arranged for a car for me?”

Yep, he was upset and he was not about to share it with you. You didn’t press him, only prayed it didn’t result in a hell of a clean-up for you later. You had been the bad guy with no less than 4 woman, all of them glaring and spiting nasty vitriol at you when you wouldn’t give them access to Henry. You had seen them all come and go.

“Yes.”

He looks you over, getting to his feet, walking over to the door you knew to be an en-suite bathroom and keeping his extra changes of clothes.

“ Do you have any plans for tonight?”

He asks you suddenly and puts you on the spot. You don’t even have a lie to cover up how pitiful your life was, but you had to try. He didn’t need to know you don’t have anything planned tonight but a glass of wine and catching up on your TV shows you missed for all the overtime you’ve been working.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

He asks almost immediately as if knowing you were lying. You had to try and get out of some crazy overtime he was known for. You didn’t want another late night in the office.

“Ummm...”

As noted earlier you didn’t think well on the spot. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“You know I don’t appreciate liars Y/N. Anyhow if you are done lying to me, the meeting for tonight requires a...feminine touch.”

“Feminine touch?”

You echo. He goes into the closet and you can hear him changing. You try not to think about him behind the wall.

“Yes. The people I am meeting with require a bit of finesse. The negotiations always go better when we bring our women to the meetings.”

“Soo... would you like me to call someone for you. I can have a dress sent over in their size to smooth the deal over.”

He laughs at you.

“No. Grab your things and call the car service to get here in 10 minutes.”

“ What stop the press? Are you putting me out of the office before you for once?”

You quip at him. He comes from around the corner his attire changed into a black button down shirt, left with the top few unbuttoned. He adjusts the sleeves and looks up with you.

“No you are going with me Y/N and we must hurry, you are going to require another dress.”

“But...”

“No buts. I need you and you are wasting time.”

He picks up a black suit jacket, his cologne hitting you with an umpf he walks by you to get to the car...

*********

The dinner had gone great from what you could tell. You saw a whole other side of Henry. One that was only observed under the rarest of occasions.

At least for you.

Overall you weren’t asked for much, Henry had bought you another black dress only this one was a bit more leggy than you were used to around such important people. Its spaghetti strapped and sweetheart neckline, offering way more cleavage than you would ever consider wearing around him, but Henry had literally come in with you, pulling it from the rack along with a few other choices and this was the tamest all the options he left you. You damn near had a panic attack in the dressing room. The women in the boutique had fixed your hair and makeup in the little amount of time you had, once again at Henry’s behest. You hadn’t be so pulled together since... well you couldn’t remember....

Henry had even been nice to you all evening, but you knew it was all an act, even if your body did respond to the compliments and lingering looks, the smile he would shoot you, he had even let his hands skim across your lower back.

You did your best not to read into anything. Had even gone along with the little game he was playing, being over sweet, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, your hands lingering on his arms. Enough to suggest without being outwardly desperate and trashy. You were ever the smiling damsel to his associates, laughing at the jokes, ignoring the sexist comments about your dress or the ‘arm candy’ they referred to you as, despite it pissing you off.

You stayed to yourself most for the ride back to the office, and he stays quiet as well. Only then once the car parks do you realize in your haste earlier you left your keys upstairs. He insists he needs to come up as well to grab some files from his desk. You offer to bring them back down but he insists. You scurry to your desk, not finding them in the drawer where you usually kept your purse.

You don’t see them. You panic and look for them intensely.

Oh you hoped you didn’t leave them at the boutique where you changed dresses.

“Y/N. Could you come in here please? I would like to discuss something with you before you leave.”

He calls to you, the voice losing the soft tone he had with you all night, this only serves to make your blood run cold. Have you done something wrong? Said the wrong thing to the wrong person and cost him millions of dollars? You needed your job, and hoped pretty badly that this wasn’t the end of it.

You honestly couldn’t tell if you missed it or not. You disregard the thoughts you are having and push them back in your mind, offering to sort them out later. Preferably with alcohol nearby. You look into his office and see that he is standing behind his desk. Once you come in, thinking he needed something from you.

“Close the door.”

You close the door behind you, the lights on a dim shade, enough for you to see but not enough to over power your eyes.

“Did you need anything from me, because it’s late and I should be heading home...”

He surprises you by cutting you off in a tone that was even softer than any other time he had used with you before.

“I just wanted to say thank you for accompanying me tonight y/n.”

“You are Welcome. I’m just going to go...”

You smile and turn to leave but his voice stops you with a sharp tone that makes you freeze.

“Did I say you could leave?”

You feel your face get hot and you turn back around to face him. The lighting only showcasing the angles of his face, making you ever more nervous.

“No but Sir it's 12am...”

“I know what time it is. You are so stubborn all the time. Can’t even take a simple compliment.”

“I thought you were done.”

You shrug, and immediately regret being so nonchalant with him., his gaze intense.

“I wasn’t. Now before you interrupted me, I was saying thank you not only because you came with me but for playing your role so effortlessly. I didn’t expect you to be so ...reciprocating to me.”

“I figured that would be best. How would it appear if you showed up with a staff member we rather than a significant other like the other at the table.”

“Well your quick and astute observation saved me tonight.”

“All in a day's work. Now if I can just get out of these heels tonight and maybe into a pedicure tomorrow I will have made this all worth while.”

He surprises you by coming from behind the desk where he had been standing, coming to stand in front of you.

And you cursed yourself because it was back again.

The arousal you fought with every lingering look and touch he gave you tonight. How honeyed his words were with you, combined with the animalistic power you knew was just boiling under the surface.

“I have had many secretaries before and none of them take your position as seriously as you do. You put a lot of effort into your job and does not go unnoticed.”

Having him so close was unnerving. Especially when you had his direct attention. You can’t hold eye contact and look down at the floor. Henry touches your chin, his fingers tilt your chin up and you lock eyes. It wasn’t the first time you noticed the space of brown in his left eye, but the first time you were close enough to appreciate it.

You feel your pulse quickening.

“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.”

He blinks slowly and you don’t breathe at all as his lips move toward your own. He is seconds away from kissing you, tension heavy in the room.

“Wait....Henry...I just...I Can’t go there.”

You say it out loud and it’s like someone let the air out of your balloon. He lets your face go and looks at you confused, for the first time you see just Henry. Not your boss, not the CEO who always had to be ‘on’ and in charge, you just saw Henry. His face was open and unguarded.

“It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s just you are my boss...”

Henry moves suddenly, and yet simultaneously time slows as he crashes his lips onto yours. The odd duality of soft, yet firm, calming yet passionate overtakes your mind and short circuits you. His hands are holding the side of your face on one side and behind your neck. His kiss steals what little breath you had away. You almost forget why this would have been such a bad idea but he pulls away.

“Darling, Didn’t anyone tell you? The boss makes the rules...”

He resumes kissing you and you offer little in the way of resistance as he picks you up, in fact you lock your legs around his waist and he deposits you on top of his desk. Everything you had been feeling for him was bubbling up in that moment. You were caught in being wanted to be treated like silk and wanting to toss him down and take exactly what you wanted in no uncertain terms of hatefucking him for all the jackass behavior he had exhibited since you started 6 months ago.

You slide his jacket off his broad shoulders, tossing it to the room, igniting the soft thud it makes when the expensive thing lands in a heap on the floor. He pulls your hips toward the edge of the desk and his large hands are hot as they slide up your skirt over trembling thighs and his lips move to your neck. He finds the sensitive spots there quicker than anyone ever had while also moving his fingers to play with your clit through the lining of the black lace panties you were wearing.

Your breath hitches in your throat and Henry grins against your lips, letting you take a second before he kisses you again. His fingers dance around before latching to the hemline and yanking them with enough force that they are torn from your body. Your hips sting from the pull, but you are more than turned on. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt, and don’t look at the skin revealed, but he doesn’t let you take it off him and instead pushes one of his fingers inside of you, you lewdly moan, and grasp his biceps quickly, having been taken off guard. It wasn’t that you weren’t wet, because you were plenty wet, your now ruined panties had been testament to that, but you had expected more of a playful teasing, but as one of your last coherent thoughts, you knew this man never wasted time.

He was a do-er...

And right now he was doing you. The amount of focus and precision he took in his work, pouring over contracts, logs, inventory and the like, he was putting in on you. As his finger moves in and out he is staring at you with such intensity you think you might explode.

“You are dripping baby girl. Melting right into the palm of my hand to be exact.”

He removes the finger that had been inside of you, raising it to his lips, tasting you from it, and you shudder. He kisses you again, you closing your eyes, then you hear in his deep tone like melted chocolate, luxurious to your ears,

“Open your eyes and suck them.”

He held two of his fingers and you opened your mouth. He wanted to hold your gaze.

“Get them nice and wet for me.”

You suck on them, imaging the girth that had been teasing you for months in his sacks, was what was actually in your mouth. You had wanted so badly to taste him and feel him you reach down, palming his obvious erection and you hear him growl. It was your turn to smirk, and as soon as he felt that smirk, he pulled his two fingers from your mouth and thrusts them into you.

You whimper and the one hand you left on his bicep clenched in, digging into his skin. His fingers glide in and out almost painfully slow. You need faster.You try to move your hips to make him move but he chuckles.

“That won’t work y/n. We do this at my pace. Be still or I will stop.”

He didn’t go any faster, his movements deliberately slow. You could tell he was getting a kick out this, and you whine again.

“Beg kitten.”

He whispers in your ear, his thumb teasing your clit again.

“Please.”

He moves a little faster.

“Come on love. You can do better than that.” Teasing.

“Please Henry...”

He slaps your thigh with a sharp tap and it sends the zing of arousal.

“That's not what you call me. Try again.”

While your brain is shorting out, you fumble on what he wants from you.

“I..i don’t know sir...”

He rewards you by speeding up more. Your torso drops backwards, your head follows as you rest back on your elbows, and legs move wider, making your dress bunch up around your hips.

“There you go. There’s what I was looking for. Now beg me to make you come.”

You worry your bottom lip, ignoring how your chest heaves, pulling against the black fabric of the dress.

“Fuck! Please sir please let me cum.”

“That’s more like it. Begging me like the dirty little slut you are.”

He speeds up, his fingers curling inside, tapping that spongy space that made your eyes cross and your vision blur. You didn’t think you would like being called a ‘little slut’ but it was more of a turn on than you had ever thought it would be.

“Sir let me cum please let me cum.”

His dexterous fingers speed up, his thumb rubbing your clit and you were glad no one else was in the office as your moans echo throughout the room.

“You want to be my good girl hmmm?”

You nod furiously, the edge of your orgasm coming up rapidly, as your walls begin their tell-tell sign of fluttering.

“Good girls wait until they have permission. You hold it.”

It was damn near impossible, but you try to focus on anything but how good his fingers feel. He pulls your body back up from the desk with his hand gripping behind your neck. His lips crash on your again, he lingers around your lips you breathe heavily against his lips.

“I’ll be your good girl!”

You yell.

“Good. Cum then come for me.”

It’s like the world goes silent and all you can focus on is his fingers as your orgasm pulls you under. It’s an out of body experience where you could hear your moans and groans of Henry’s name, where you were literally shaking, but you could bring yourself down. Destroyed, Henry is whispering praises in your ear. Calling you his and how good you were for him. It doesn’t take long to come back down, but when you do you feel wrung out, and as Henry pulls away, you notice the sheen of fine layered sweat on his forehead. You feel self conscious as he stares down at you, and without the haze of lust in your eyes it settles in you that your boss just gave you one of the best orgasms of your life and hadn’t even taken off his pants.

Pants that were currently begging you to be taken off. He begins to chuckle and you realize you’ve been staring at his cock outline, and he was laughing at you. He unbuttons his pants, and finally takes off his shirt the rest of the way, finally revealing the god sculpted body that he clearly worked for.

The look on his face says he is going to ruin you and you are going to like it.

Only then, as he begins to work on the zipper to your dress, do you look to your left on the desk and see your keys sitting there...

***************

A/n: Hope that was what you were looking for @thiccgeralt Hope this met your expectations and thank you!

I am thinking of coming back to this, but honestly I am waiting until @laketaj24 finishes her CEO! fic The Rules, because its so freaking wonderful and I don’t want to ruin anything by stealing any thunder with a CEO fic OR Ficlet I would plan on doing. BTW if you haven’t read The Rules then please do yourself a favor a go over to her page and check out all of her work. You will not regret a second of it....

However I am tossing this out to see if there would be any interest in a continuation of this fic. Let me know and as always thank you for reading, re-blogging, and liking!

Henry Cavill Taglist: (OPEN! Let me know if this is something you want on!

@msblkfire84 @magdelen69

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader

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syms-things-5 · 3 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Eighteen

Previous Chapter Here

Notes: So sorry this took me an age to get out. Thanks for sticking with me. We’re in the end game now...

Warnings: Heavy language. Angst.

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sarah was trying her hardest to get out of Lisa’s birthday weekend. Really trying. She couldn’t remember the last time she had put this much effort into something that wasn’t related to work or getting to a finish line she’d imposed upon herself while out on a run.

She wasn’t a very creative person either. Not when it counted. She spent three days pathetically dropping hints that she was coming down with something. Scott dismissed it at first, insisting the fresh air would do her some good. She went as far as to suggest she was feeling quite nauseous so perhaps a five-hour-plus car journey might not be the best idea. Only she had downplayed it to such an extent, she inadvertently removed the problem from the table.

She also tried the whole “it should be a family event” thing, but Shanna told her she was family and that she should stop mithering and start packing.

Things got a little desperate. She wasn’t proud of herself but when Audrey had told her about a falling-out she’d had with Michael, well, it would be stupid to lose that golden opportunity. So, she told Shanna she was thinking of offering to stay and support her dear, dear friend and colleague but, with a glint in her eye, Audrey insisted it wasn’t that big of a problem. She was definitely off Sarah’s Christmas card list now.

Truth be told, she didn’t have a legitimate reason to avoid the break. She couldn’t deny the prospect of having the entire apartment to herself for four days was enticing, though. She could enjoy some rare peace and quiet. She could read a book in a long, hot bubble bath without Shanna perching by the side and regaling her with the latest issues in her romantic life. She could cook and eat seafood without worrying about giving her best friend an allergic reaction. She could also lounge around in her pyjamas all day, or maybe even naked.

No, not naked. She was never one for that idea.

Carly had been filling the family WhatsApp with game ideas; some solo, some in teams. All kid-friendly, which was a speciality of the Evans’ clan. Lisa had planned a long hike for the Sunday morning followed by what sounded like an extravagant picnic with champagne, quiche and foot-long subs. She also sent a picture of three humongous bags of marshmallows, the size of small children, and suggested they could sit round a camp fire on the evening they arrive. That was assigned to Chris as his first job.

There was also the small issue of a massive hot tub. Thanks to a new reliance on fast food during her late shifts, Sarah wasn’t much a fan of her body at the present time. That was another thing she’d have to contend with. She loved the family but forced fun in bathing suits was not really her “thing”.

“If we get there early, we can bagsy the attic room.” Shanna suggested, nose in a gossip magazine. Sarah nodded in agreement while keeping her eyes on the television. “I’ll be damned if Scott gets it all to himself again.”

“Sure thing.” Sarah replied, acting nonchalant and biding her time once more before she could raise again the possibility of her not going with them.

“Don’t get anything out for dinner tonight. We’re heading to mom’s in a couple of hours. I hope that’s OK.”

“Sure. Wait, what?” Sarah did a double take at Shanna, her face now fully hidden by her magazine.

“Sorry!” She peaked out over the top of the page. “I forgot to say earlier but Mom wanted to have dinner at hers tonight so we can go through the itinerary in full. Make sure everyone knows what they’re bringing. I said it’d be cool ‘cos you weren’t working.” Her tone was apologetic. “You’re not doing anything, are you?”

No, she wasn’t doing anything. And she couldn’t think of anything either. There was literally no thoughts running through her mind at that time. None that offered her any help whatsoever. Blank. Stupid, fucking, dumbass.

“Yeh, no, of course. Makes sense.” She responded after a second had passed. She silently blew out a long breath and sank further into the couch.

When Shanna had said they were having dinner, Sarah figured it would be one of Lisa’s massive pot pies followed by the biggest tub of Neapolitan ice cream she could find. Something easy and comfortable that wouldn’t get in the way of the more pressing matters at hand, namely finalising plans for her birthday weekend. She was most certainly not expecting candles and a table runner, the fancy anniversary cutlery and four or five bottles of expensive red wine. Lisa had even added some fresh flowers as a centrepiece.

Sarah looked down at her ripped black jeans and grey t-shirt and felt woefully under-dressed. She scolded Shanna with an annoyed look that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I didn’t know she was planning some fancy thing, did I?!” Shanna whispered as they hung up their jackets in the hallway. “You know what she’s like.”

Sarah did know what she was like so, really, she should have known better.

Shanna nudged her out of the way to walk into the kitchen and give her mother a hug, leaving Sarah standing in the doorway feeling like a potato and not sure how to make use of herself. She could hear Scott get beaten loudly by Carly’s husband on a computer game. She glanced her head inside the living room and waved at them, watching as they offered muffled sounds as acknowledgement of her greeting. Chris didn’t seem to be anywhere around yet which gave her some mild comfort at least. In fact, nearly a whole hour went by before he arrived. A light, summer shower had started outside and his arrival was announced to all by Lisa’s shrill tone instructing him to take his shoes off before walking on her newly shampooed carpet.

“Yeh, ma, I got it. Gimme a break…”

“Did you bring that picnic blanket I asked you to find? The one you brought last year? The large, tartan one?”

Chris gave his mother a confused look before she audibly sighed. “I asked you about it yesterday? I texted you earlier to remind you? Jesus….”

He shrugged off his sport jacket, placing it on top of Sarah’s, and toed his boots off before ambling into the dining room to join the others.

“She’s on one again.” Scott whispered to him as Chris took a seat beside him, across from Sarah and Shanna. “She called me three times this morning alone to remind me to pick up plastic cups and plates. Like I’m gonna forget something she’s messaged me about, like, a hundred times.”

“That’s nothing. You should see the list of jobs she’s given to Miles and Ethan.” Michael joined in.

“But they’re only kids.” Scott questioned him, half surprised and half...not so surprised. His memory suddenly recalled all kinds of jobs he was forced to do as a young boy, raking lawns and cleaning the family car. Michael just shrugged back at him, rolling his eyes knowingly. Scott looked between Shanna and Sarah, worrying for what she’ll impose upon them all next.

“She hasn’t given me any jobs yet.” Shanna said. She almost sounded offended at being left out of the menial work. The room fell silent as everyone else slyly eyed each other. “Oh, right. Thanks guys.”

“Hey, your job is to read the maps so we get there in one piece.” Scott finally broke the awkward silence.

“And Sarah? What’s Sarah’s job? I don’t think she’s been asked to do anything either.”

“Her job is to make sure you’re reading the map the right way around.” Chris interrupted and the room descended into fits of laughter. Shanna merely leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and cast a mental curse on her older brother. Sarah tried hard to mask a smirk that didn’t go unseen by Chris.

Pointedly ignoring his sister, Chris reached for the open bottle of wine closest to him. He leaned his arm across the table and offered Sarah a glass. “Want a top-up?”

They made eye contact for the first time in what felt like ages and he smiled at her, a slight crease appearing in the corners of his eyes so she knew it was genuine. “No, I’m OK. Better pace myself.”

They hadn’t seen each other, hadn’t messaged each other, in over a week. She was grateful for the break. He looked good, though. Lean and sculpted to a point that was inhuman or, at the very least, unfair to an average human being. A couple of weeks of working out and his body seemed to ping back to what it once was. It was like watching elastic snap into place. Sarah suddenly felt every single extra pound clinging to her thighs. Whenever she gained weight, it always seemed to land there. It was annoying and proved nearly impossible to remove no matter how often she ran.

“The hell is this?” Chris asked. He finally noticed the smooth table runner stretching out in front of him. “Are we expecting someone official?”

“Just keep quiet and let her do her thing.” Scott pleaded with him quietly before connecting eyes with Shanna and Sarah, everyone seemingly thinking the same thing. “Let’s try to get out of here in one piece, yeh?”

“What took you so long to get here, Chris?” Lisa asked as she walked back into the dining room carrying a large tray of what looked like bread rolls. She placed it down in the centre before moving to the side table to gather the salt and pepper grinders.

“Oh, it was just a work call.” He shrugged, confident enough in his manner that the conversation didn’t go any further. Scott elbowed him seemingly without anyone else noticing but Chris brushed him off with a shake of his head. He rested his chin on his hand as he took stock of what was in front of him, Sarah included.

His beard was thicker and apparently untended to, Sarah noticed, now that things had quietened down. He glanced at her through his lashes as things grew quiet and Lisa started dishing out vegetables to everyone. Lisa had a particular way of handling large family dinners – lessons learned from cooking for many kids over the years. You knew to wait until everyone had something on their plate before making moves for any more. It all smelled delicious. As unnerved as Sarah felt with the formality laid out in front of her, she had to admit she was looking forward to some proper home-cooked food.

Chris kept looking at Sarah, hands folded in her lap, polite as always, waiting for everyone else to go in front of her. He saw Michael help himself to three bread rolls before passing the plate back round to Lisa. Michael was a tall, hefty man whose appetite never seemed to be affected by anything. Even when he had horrendous flu that left him in bed for a fortnight, he still managed to put a lot away. He had never once experienced food poisoning.

“If you’re waiting for everyone else, there’ll be nothing left.” Chris spoke as he leaned in towards her so she could hear him over the sounds of cutlery and enjoyment. “Just go for it.”

She smiled shyly back at him and thanked Lisa for cooking what appeared to be a mini-feast.

“Can you pass the butter, please?” Shanna asked as she reached her arm over Sarah’s plate, forcing Sarah to lean back in her chair. She stretched her other arm out for the gravy that Scott was currently pouring over his plate.

“You’re always so polite.” Chris chuckled. “Shan, can you stop getting in the way and let the poor girl eat.”

“Huh?” Shanna questioned, unaware of what was going on.

“You’re getting in her way.”

“No, she’s fine. It’s fine.” Sarah quickly interrupted as she sensed him bristle with frustration.

He looked at her for another second before shaking his head. Shanna threw her brother a look of puzzlement but Scott appeared just as confused by his sudden tone.

“Bet this beats McDonald’s, eh Sarah?” Carly said, before giggling to herself.

“You’re telling me. I can’t remember the last time I ate something green and fresh.”

“Michael is so jealous.”

Michael’s ears perked up as he turned to his wife and Sarah. “Damn straight. Being only able to eat burgers and fries is, like, the dream scenario.”

“Why have you been on so many night shifts lately anyway?” Chris asked, a mouth full of chicken, placing the spotlight firmly on her.

She tried to shrug it off, act casually. “Audrey needed some extra support and I figured it would do me good to work in a few more nights. I always seem to manage to get out of them.”

She was fast hoping Lisa would start discussing the impending trip to distract everyone but no such luck.

This felt like it was going to be a long night.

“It gave you time off for this weekend so swings and roundabouts, eh?” Shanna added. “Speaking of which, is there anything you need us to do for the trip, Mom? I noticed everyone else has jobs and lists except for us.” Shanna inquired, not quite able to hide the mild accusatorial tone creeping into her words.

“Um, no, I don’t think so, honey. Just trying to keep it as casual as possible.”

Scott nearly choked out a chunk of potato. Chris, side-eyeing Michael’s increasingly red face, tried his hardest not to bark out in laughter. It was tough. Lisa noticed it, too. Choosing to ignore it, she turned back to her daughter.

“I meant that things are under control now so there’s no need to add to the pile. As long as you get there on time, that’s all I’ll ask for.”

Shanna wasn’t feeling convinced and the smug grin now on Chris’ face wasn’t helping to reassure her either. She turned to Sarah to see if she was thinking the same thing as her but Sarah just kept her eyes on the plate of food in front her, hoping that if she continued eating and finished as quickly as possible, she could get home again.

“I can do something, Mom.” She protested. “I could bring that lawn bowling game again?”

“Actually, Michael has one of those. It’s a bit newer and the skittles are heavier so the wind won’t keep knocking them over.” Carly spoke up before glancing apologetically at her sister. “He just got it from a friend at work, so… No biggie.”

“What about wine and drinks? We could stop off on the way up?”

“I put an order in for all of that.” Lisa responded with a casual wave of her hand. “It’ll be here the day before so I’ll pack it up here before we set off. Speaking of which, anyone for more wine?”

Shanna remained quiet as the family conversed about nothing in particular. Carly was talking about some game the kids at school had taught her that might be fun for the weekend but nothing could remove the unease surrounding her sister. Sure, Shanna wasn’t the most reliable when it came to shopping lists and sticking to plans but it was unlike Lisa not to call upon her for something, no matter how small and inconsequential it might be.

Attention turned from one brother to the next as discussions about carpooling took over. Chris really wanted to use the trip as an excuse to take his new Audi for a drive but with all the gear he and Scott had to bring, there wasn’t much room for anything or anyone else.

“Except maybe Sarah?” Chris posed the question, keeping it casual. “You could tag along with us and then Shanna could go with mom, I guess.”

“I was thinking of hiring a car myself actually.” Chris looked surprised at Sarah’s sudden offer. She hated driving. “We could take some of the load off everyone else then. Lisa? We could pack up some of your stuff?”

Sarah had loosely discussed this with Shanna some time ago but they had ultimately decided against it because, well, she really hated driving. Now, however, sensing her friend’s growing despondency, she figured it might help her feel more useful. Plus, it would give Sarah some control over when they could head back home again.

Shanna looked at her friend and smiled gratefully.

“That’s very kind of you, Sarah. I supposed you both could go on ahead and get the keys from Maggie and we could meet you there soon after? I said we would be getting there some time around the early afternoon if that’s alright with you both?” Lisa requested, opening another bottle of wine. Shanna nodded, a smile wide on her face now and she felt a sense of relief.

Sarah mentally calculated backwards from “early afternoon” and reasoned they would need to be up and out of the apartment by 7am at the latest. Suddenly, her role in proceedings made more sense where Shanna was concerned. She gladly accepted a new glass of wine and made a mental note to contact the car rental in the morning.

“You know who you should ask about renting cars?” Scott asked. “Greg, of course! I bet he knows a guy who knows a guy who is the son of the guy that started Mercedes. Or something. Either that or he probably has shares in Hertz.”

Sarah rolled her eyes at him, laughing. He probably wasn’t wrong.

“OK there, brother. You need to ease up on the wine” Chris pushed Scott’s glass further away and patted him on the back. “There you go, little sis. Looks like you have a job after all.”

A clear sign of Chris’ irritation was when he chose to be patronising. Shanna was taken aback by his tone and Sarah felt her friend sink back into her chair, irritated. Sarah raised her eyebrow at him but all he did was shrug, playing innocent. Not his strong point.

The room stayed silent for a little while as people finished up their meals. As much as she originally wanted to pace herself, Sarah didn’t object when Scott filled her glass up yet again. He turned in his chair to place the empty bottle on the side table alongside the others. It was then that Sarah noticed all of the other empties. Had they really drunk that much? In little more than an hour? She clocked the time and there still seemed to be plenty of food left. They would be travelling much of it home as afters at this rate. Chris left the room briefly and returned with a couple of beers for him and Michael.

“What are you gonna do with all this left-over food, ma?” Chris asked as he sat back down indicating a second tray of roast potatoes that had so far gone untouched.

“Please don’t let us take any.” Sarah joked, holding her hands up in playful protest.

“What?” Scott asked before laughing. He looked at his sister before smiling broadly at Sarah as he watched her cheeks blush red.

“Oh, she’s feeling self-conscious about her weight.” Shanna answered, nudging her under the table. That was helpful of her, thought Sarah. She could feel herself heating up as they all looked at her, waiting for her to speak up again. Chris took a swig of beer from his bottle and leaned his forearm on the table.

“No way in hell are you fat, Sarah. That’s ridiculous.” Scott combatted. “You’re really trim, being on your feet all day. I’d love to give you my fit-bit some time. I’d probably gain a few thousand steps.”

Sarah laughed out loud. “Thank you, Scott. Can we please change the subject?”

“So, you’ll be wearing a two-piece, yeh?” Chris asked. She turned to look at him suddenly before chuckling nervously.

“Um, I have no idea yet. Are we even going to use the hot tub?”

“I won’t be.” Lisa laughed.

“Oh, we all definitely will! It’s the height of summer and that thing can fit a dozen people. Ample room for comfort!” Scott enthused. He should be a salesman.

“And it’d be a real shame if you didn’t join in, Bernette.”

She felt her skin heat up under Chris’ gaze as he attempted to hide the fact he was looking at her by taking another long swig from his beer bottle. “I’m not apologising for that by the way. As a man and your friend, I can say that and you can’t get mad at me.”

“What?” Scott asked. It was a valid question in the circumstances. “What a…weird thing to say.” Scott laughed a little uncomfortably but Chris didn’t break eye contact with Sarah.

“So,” Michael attempted to add some humour back into the room. “Bet it’s nice sleeping during the daytime now you’re on lates? I used to love lazing around the house when I did them.”

Scott nodded enthusiastically in agreement, slapping his hand on the table. “I remember night shoots on this one TV drama I did a few years ago and honestly, the sleep I got the next day was the best ever. I don’t know why but I always tend to sleep better in the daytime.”

“Funny, that’s what your teachers used to say.” Chris joked, swigging his beer. Lisa giggled and fondly touched her son’s elbow.

“Oh ha ha ha. You’re so funny. I swear if you’re this amusing this weekend, I might not survive my sides splitting open.” Scott rolled his eyes. “Which reminds me, we should figure out rooms now so there’s no fighting on the day. No way am I sharing with this idiot.”

“You only wanna do that ‘cos you know we’ll be there first and we will be bagsying the attic this time.” Shanna thumbed the space between her and Sarah.

“You don’t deserve the attic.” Chris pointed. “You’ll be half-cut the entire weekend, like last time. You won’t enjoy the space or the views.”

“Excuse me? What do you care?” Shanna retorted.

“You spent a whole day in bed with a hangover last time. If you’re gonna be sharing with Sarah, it’s not fair on her to have to look after you. Again. It’ll spoil her weekend as well.” He explained. “She deserves a break just as much as you do.”

Shanna looked aghast at her friend before regarding her brother again. She shook her head in disbelief. “I can handle my drink, OK? I was just gonna say that it wouldn’t be fair if Scott got that room all to himself. Especially if he’s on his own again.”

“Thanks sis.”

“Sorry, Scott. But…y’know. If anything, Mom should have it.” She suggested, looking towards her mother in hopes that she might appreciate the offer.

“Thanks sweetie but I’ll be staying in the guest house this time. With Carly, Mikey and the kids.”

“Since when?” Chris asked, surprised.

“We just figured it would be easier this time around. Plus, I can help with the kids and you guys can sort breakfast for us all. Get your pancake apron out again, hun.” She winked at him, sipping her wine.

“Chris is a great tosser.” Shanna said under her breath.

“Shanna….” Lisa nudged her.

“Wait, so does this mean we get a room each then?” Scott interrupted. He wasn’t even sure of what he was saying as the wine haze gradually descended over him. “Sarah?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“I’ve lost track of what’s going on now.” Scott said.

“That doesn’t answer the question of who gets the attic, though?” Shanna asked, a little whinier than she had intended.

“If Sarah and I take the downstairs rooms, we can figure out breakfast in the mornings.” Chris suggested. “And you can have your precious attic. That makes it easier, right? Does that make you happy, Shanna? Good.”

“What’s crawled up your ass and died this evening?” Shanna asked, irritated.

“Oh my god, Shanna, it’s a fucking bedroom.” He practically spitted. “You keep dragging everything out and making everything into a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! I’m just making the decisions so we can all move the fuck on.”

“Chris!” Lisa reprimanded her son and regretted over-ordering on the wine.

“It’s alright now.” Sarah attempted to calm things down. “I think we’ve pretty much figured it out so it’ll be fine.” Carly nodded and nudged Michael to offer something by way of support but he looked just as baffled by the tension as she did.

Chris landed his bottle on the table hard. “Sarah, you don’t need to keep standing up for her. She’s a big girl. She should be able to figure it out now without you babysitting her all the goddamn time.”

“What?!” Shanna also slammed her glass down on the table and looked to Scott and Carly for some back-up but they both seemed frozen to their respective spots. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“OK, guys. Dessert? I have pecan pie and or ice cream?” Lisa offered, standing up from her seat and making a shade more noise than necessary in the hope it might snap the kids out of whatever funk they were in.

Chris glared at his sister a beat too long and she returned the favour before turning away with a look of disgust. “You’re gonna be heaps of fun this weekend, I can tell.” Shanna shrugged. “Clearly, I’m not the one we need to be concerned with. Maybe it’s you that needs babysitting?”

“Fuck you!” Chris stressed, just low enough to miss his mother’s ears.

Carly’s eyes grew wide in shock and for a second, Chris looked like he might apologise. Sarah reached a hand under the table to gently tap Shanna on her leg. Shanna felt it but didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she leant on her elbow and rubbed her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger, a sure sign she was feeling upset and possibly trying to stop tears forming. Sarah tried to get Chris’ gaze back on her but he continued eying his sister, no apology yet materialising. He was a loose cannon when he was in this mood and she didn’t much want to stick around and find out what might happen if he downed another beer.

“We should probably think about heading home, Shan. I’ll check for an Uber.” Sarah stated.

“Don’t do that, I’ll give you a lift, hun. It won’t take long. We can have some pie and then go if you like.” Carly offered with a wink and for the first time that evening, Sarah noticed she hadn’t been drinking.

“Always looking out for you, aren’t we?” Chris said, lowly.

“Do you wanna calm down?” Shanna asked.

“I am calm.” Chris replied. “I’m just having a nice time, right? That’s what we’re all doing here, yeh? Sarah?”

“Sorry?”

“Are you having a good time?” He pressed.

She was sure he was leading her into a trap.

“I am OK. Sure.” She spoke each syllable carefully, trying to warn him off from whatever his motive was.

“I don’t believe you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, or anyone. She held her hands in her lap and paid attention to the air she was now breathing in deeply.

“Oh Jesus Christ!” Shanna called out. She was growing more and more frustrated with her brother by the second.

“Shanna!” intercepted Lisa.

“No! He’s being a dick and I wanna know why!” She turned back to Chris. “What the hell have I done to piss you off?!”

He stayed quiet, blocking her voice out. He focussed as much of his energy as he could at Sarah sitting across from him, willing her to look back at him, to let him know it was going to be OK. He swung between feeling regret and feeling practically and absurdly confident. It was the beer obviously. It really felt like a now-or-never moment. Fuck it.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.”

Sarah finally looked up at him, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. Her feet felt like they were weighed down with concrete to the spot underneath. She tried to feel them, to grab at the carpet between her toes. She was pretty sure she could no longer hear what was going on around her as she felt her heart beat inside her ears.

“Why are you apologising to her? I’m the one that’s upset!” countered Shanna, jabbing her finger at him, aggressively.

He shook his head before looking back at his sister. “I’m sorry, Shanna. I wish there was a better way of saying this but I guess not. I’m just…”

He paused as he tried to find the words. Sarah felt her heart sink. What felt like goosebumps suddenly appeared up and down her arms. Chris looked at her again. Scott looked at her, too, picking up on something for the first time but what, he couldn’t work out. Damn that second bottle.

“I’m just tired.” Chris offered. Carly looked to Michael but he knew nothing of what was happening. “Of this.”

“Is it work again?” Lisa enquired. “Maybe you could work in some time off this time around, so you’re not away from home for as long.”

“No, it’s not work, ma. I’m just tired in general. Of a lot of things. People.” He pronounced each syllable as clearly as he possibly could. “And I know it sounds pathetic and you’re probably thinking I’m being selfish but I really don’t fucking care.”

“I…I don’t understand, honey.”

“Yeh, what are you talking about?” Shanna turned to her friend but her stare wasn’t quite matched by Sarah who looked like she was waiting for the ground to swallow her whole. “Does anyone know what the hell he’s talking about? Or why I am in the firing line for it all of a sudden?”

“Shan, I don’t think-” Scott started but the glare from his sister stopped him in his tracks. Scott looked at Sarah and things started falling into place. For some reason, of all the memories to have at that moment in time, his mind flashed back to standing out on his brother’s terrace on the evening of his birthday party. Chris had been distracted and checking his phone, even more than usual so Scott was certain it had something to do with a girl. Normally, he’d feel a sense of pride at being right but it didn’t feel altogether appropriate in the current circumstances.

“What the hell is going on?” Shanna pressed. She looked to Scott who had his gaze fixed firmly on his brother. “Do you know, Scott?”

Scott looked to his brother and when Chris met his gaze, he knew. He knew Scott knew, too. Call it brotherly intuition but something had connected for him and Chris was all the more grateful for it.

“Do you ever feel tired or dictating everyone else’s happiness?” Chris asked, breaking the silence.

Shanna dropped her hands on her lap in frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? When have I ever dictated your happiness?”

“Do you even realise what people do for you? Do you ever take notice of everyone around you, going out of their way to make you feel better even if it makes them feel worse? Take tonight for example. Sarah doesn’t even wanna drive this weekend. She fuckin’ hates it, you know this, but she’s doing it anyway so that you can feel useful. It’s pathetic.”

“What? You heard her, she just offered.”

“Because you’ve been moaning about not having anything to do! If you’d just moved on, shut up, she probably wouldn’t have needed to.”

“That’s not true. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shanna dismissed him.

“Why don’t I get the car running and you guys can meet me outside in 5?” Carly proposed, indicating to Sarah that she should try and gather her things, Shanna included.

Chris completely ignored Carly. “And you’ve asked her what she wants, right?”

“Chris, please…” It was pathetic. Sarah knew that.

“I just don’t get it, Sarah.” He turned to her with a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve thought about it all week but I just don’t understand what you are getting out of this. Surely, I give you more than this?”

“OK.” Lisa got up from the table and moved round to where Shanna was sitting, rubbing a hand across the back of her shoulders as though it was in preparation of something, but Shanna abruptly pushed her hand away.

“Sarah and I have been seeing each other. For a little while. A few months maybe, I lost track of time.”

Shanna’s jaw dropped. Scott should have felt something but after glancing at his mother stood in front of him on the other side of the table, and recognising the same look in her eyes, he stayed quiet. He saw Sarah close her eyes and figured someone should try and comfort her, too, but it was hard to know where to stand.

Shanna found some strength to open her mouth a few times but no sound came out, until… “What?”

“You don’t need to worry, though. It’s over now.” He placed his bottle of beer on the table and leaned back. He placed his fingers on the edge, running them up and down the smooth, varnished wood. “She ended it by the way. Because she knew you wouldn’t be happy.”

Shanna’s mouth hung open, dry. “Is that true?” She turned to Sarah. “Were you with him?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

“I wasn’t asking you!”

Chris wasn’t sure what he was hoping for in that moment. He looked at Sarah and felt sadness. Sadness at the pain evidently coursing through her body in that moment. She looked small and deflated somehow. He felt astonishingly sober, more’s the pity. He wished he could go to her and hold her but he knew it was the last thing she wanted. Probably what anyone would have wanted. It wouldn’t have helped matters and he wasn’t sure anything he could say now would do that job either.

Sarah took in an audible breath and looked at her friend. She blinked back the few tears that had gathered but it only seemed to make things worse. “I’m…sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“I think I’ll just…” Michael pointed to the door and left the table as quickly as he could manage, no doubt to fill Carly in.

“Oh my God.” Shanna replied. She put her face in her hands and didn’t move. “I don’t believe this.”

Sarah looked beyond Shanna to Lisa who offered her a surprisingly reassuring smile that she was definitely not expecting. Did she feel grateful for it? She had zero clue. “I’m so sorry.”

“We don’t have anything to be sorry for, Sarah.” It was the gentlest tone Chris had spoken in all night. “Shan, I know it’s a lot to take in right now but you should know that this wasn’t just some fling or something utterly stupid. There’s a real thing here.” He looked to Sarah for reassurance. “Right?”

Sarah couldn’t look him in the eye.

“OK, I know I haven’t handled this in the best way-”

“-That’s an understatement.” Scott finally found his voice.

“-I accept that and for that, I am really sorry, I promise you. But you have to see things from my perspective here.”

“Chris, I don’t think that’s what needs to be said right now, OK? Your sister is very upset and I think you should maybe head home to sleep this off. Scott, can you...?”

Scott nodded in agreement and left the room to grab both their jackets.

“Mom, this isn’t-”

“-I know.” She held her hand up to stop him. The less he said now, the better. At least until a few hours had been put between them. Chris, resigned, agreed.

He looked at Sarah again hoping for something, anything, that might make him think things were going to be alright. Lisa noticed the plea in his eyes, practically begging her to look at him.

“Sarah, sweetheart, you both can stay here tonight. I think we should probably be together for a bit, yeh?”

Sarah was flummoxed by the offer but grateful at the same time. She knew Shanna wouldn’t say anything to her if they just went home again, if she would even come back to their apartment at all. She’d shut her bedroom door and not emerge for some time and that would have driven her mad. She wanted to get out of there as fast as she could but…this was perhaps better. Safer.

It was going to be a long night.

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fan fiction #Sarah Bernette #clear the area #evans fic #chris fic #chris evans x original female character

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alleycatmimi · 4 years

Text

✿ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

──────────────── ────

Min Yoongi × reader;

idol!au;

↬ ⓌⒶⓇⓃⒾⓃⒼⓈ: swearing, smut, fingering(f), blowjob, dirty talk, choking, spanking, fingers sucking, pet play, bdsm themes, AGUST D (I'VE WARNED YOU), MINT HAIR YOONGI, some violence(not much tho), daddy kink, some praising kink, nipple play, overstimulation, protected sex;

↬ Genre: idol!au, fluff, smut, lil angst(not.much.of.it), NSFW, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, idol!yoongi, idol!reader, model/actor! seokjin, manager!namjoon, dance teacher!hoseok, fanboy!jungkook, makeup artist!taehyung, kendo trainer!jimin;

↬ Words count: 11k+ (I am sorry, but it has 3k of smut :') )

↬ Description: One party. One glare. One song. Two hearts. Two idols. A collaboration who will change the lifes of both of you, but not only professional.

•───────────────────•

" Somewhere in the rain.

When the stars are gone,

Covered by the heavy clouds,

My eyes are still holding back the pain,

And my heart is shameless plain,

Plain by someone

Who used to hold my hand

And danced with me under the rain."

The uproar, the clink of the crystal glasses, full of expensive wine, or golden champagne, the laugh of the guests from the corners of the bright, elegant and luxurious room, everything faded away when she stepped on the beautifully arranged stage. To Yoongi, nothing of these counted anymore, he couldn't hear anything else, except his chaotic heart beats and her beautiful voice, ringing in his ears, making him feel like a dream he once had, floading so easily between the puffy clouds, watching the world underneath, engrossing the beautiness of it, exactly like she did.

All eyes were on her. From the moment she leaded on the stage, she captivated everyones stares, making some of them gossip and some of them to become mutes. Her pale pink dress, tight on her chest, embracing her breasts, was falling in easy waves, starting from her waist, down her thighs, reaching her knees, where the material ended. Her short hair, which was reaching her shoulders into the most beautiful bob haircut Yoongi has ever seen, was decorated with hair tinsel, making it shine into the golden light of the flood light, giving her an angelic look.

Who was her? The new idol everyone was talking about. Y/F/N, the young 19 years old, who has made her debut months ago, leaving everyone shooked by her skills in dancing and mesmerizing voice, but same time, attracting critics about her fragile age and her short trainee period: only one year.

Someone hit Yoongi's shoulder, making him move forward one step, almost dropping his refined champagne glass, on the lady in front of him, the movement snapping him back to reality, a curse leaving his parted lips. He muttered a sorry to her, ignoring the frown she offered him, his eyes returning on the stage, where Y/N was.

His heartbeats started to accelerate, panic washing over him quickly, causing his breath to incrase, chest rising and falling fast. She was not there anymore. Where was she?!

"Hey, Yoongi!" a voice called for him, almost being heard by the uproar of the part. A large hand reached Yoongi, resting on the shoulder of his Dior costume, which, by the way, was not cheap at all. (Duh) Yoongi turned his face towards the voice, though his stare was reaching over the man's shoulder, searching something, or someone, in the crowd.

"Yoongi-ah!"

It was Kim Seokjin. Looking back to his friend, Yoongi titled his head, staring at him with a frustrated stare. "Yes, hyung?" He asked, gaze trailing on the faces around the room, once more, then turning back to his friend.

"What do you think about the party?" He asked, a bright smile appearing on his handsome face.

Kim Seokjin, graduating with a degree in art and acting, in Konkuk University, he became a model and soon, a very known and loved actor, making all the girls and even boys go crazy over his appearence, acting skills and angelic voice- which he proved, once in a k-drama, when he sang a song Yoongi labeled. This is how they met.

Agust D. While Yoongi was filming for the video of his recent mixtape, Agust D 2, the Daechwita video, one of their actors announced, in the very last moment, his resignation, leaving everyone shooked and giving Yoongi a headache and palpitations.

It happened for Seokjin to be in that studio that day. He knew Yoongi very well, from all the radio channels and interviews, Agust D was such a huge model for every teenager and kid. So before Yoongi lost his mind, he decided to be an angel and since he had some hours left until the shooting started, he played the role himself.

"Are you sure you wanna do it, Kim Seokjin-ssi?" Yoongi asked, both relief and amusament playing on his face. Why was he that amused? Seokjin thought. Later on he found out why. A peasant. Him. The famous and great Kim Seokjin played a poor fisher man.

In return, Yoongi helped him with a song he urgently needed to compose for one of the k-dramas he was working at. This was the beginning of their friendship. Now, Yoongi was to his expensive party, thrown for celebrating the end of his last projects. At first, when Seokjin invited him to the party, he thought of denying him, but he knew the man way too well. There is no refuse when it comes to Kim Seokjin.

Yoongi cursed under his breath when he realised how stupid he has been, when he thought of denying the model's invitation, hours ago. Back then, he was working on some new lyrics, quickly peeking at the matching suit he chose last night. It was laid on the couch, lifeless and looking so boring, but he couldn't deny the fact he could almost hear it whispering to him, every time he was turning to his messy papers, tempting him to go and dress up.

So there he was. Still searching for her, passing Seokjin who, luckily for Yoongi, saw a couple and went for greeting them, hands already full of two new sparkly glasses of refined alcohol. Where was she?

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

That night, Yoongi couldn't go to sleep easily. His dreams were full of glasses clink, laughs, pale dress folds and a melody ringing into his ears like a nostalgic echo. He was surrounded by cold places, a forest, an empty room, a car slowly drawning into the water, with him inside. He could swear he was able to feel the coldness of the water and the burn in his lungs when it filled the car completly, swallowing him into another dark place.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

Yoongi groaned, annoyed, turning around, on his stomach, burring his face further into the white pillow. It was 7 AM in the morning and he couldn't continue his sleep because of the uproar outside. This often happened in the last week. The apartment next door was getting renovated, waiting for its new owner to arrive, so he was forced to listen to the loud sounds the hammer drill was causing for the whole week, every morning, since 6 AM.

He sighed, turning on his back, the white t-shirt he was wearing lifting up enough of exposing some pale skin. He rubbed his eyes, trying to chase away his sleepy mood. He rose up to his bottom, hands travelling from his eyes to his mint hair, scratching his scalp with his bitten nails, messing his soft locks. He rolled his eyes, staring at the round clock on the white wall in front of him. 6:06 AM.

Getting up from his bed, his grey sweatpants fell downer on his hips, exposing some of his vline. He worked so hard at gym recently, that some abs already appeared on his usual fluffy stomach. Yoongi cracked his neck twice, stretching his muscles, by arching his back. Satisfied by the broken sound of his bones cracking, he made his way towards his bathroom, thinking if he should actually ask the painters next door to paint his white walls into something more vibrant. Like black.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

Yoongi got out of his bathroom, the creak of his bathroom door hurting his ears, making his headache go further. He should definetly call the bricklayers to him too, or at least, ask them kindly if they can give him some vaseline to resolve the problem of his door. He secretly hoped he will see the new owner of that stupid apartment so he can learn to ignore them for the rest of his life in that building.

Yoongi wrapped a towel around his hips, the white of his skin making his veins visible into the mirror. For a moment he thought about getting tanned but as fast as this unexpected thought popped up into his mind, it disappeared. He hates the sun. A vampire? He might be, who knows.

He made his way towards his luxurious kitchen. A knock on door made him jump in place, hand freezing half way to grab a bottle of water from his fridge. He stared at the clock. 6:42 AM, the wet bangs of his hair falling on his forhead, right under his eyes. He wasn't waiting for someone, he was sure and who could that be that idiot to visit him this early in the morning and risk on waking him up?! All of his friends knew how grumpy the mint haired man gets when he doesn't get enough of sleep.

And he was so grumpy then.

He frowned. There was a pause between knocks. The person was probably unsure if they should wake him up or not. The answer was no. They shouldn't disturb him, even if he was already up. Grabbing a bottle of water and closing the fridge, which already started to beep, anouncing him he kept it opened for too long, he made his way to his hall way, opening the door, not caring to take a look first. He swore if it was his trainer, Jimin, who came to annoy him again about his daily kendo classes, or Namjoon, his manager...

"Hi."

Yoongi's breath got caught in his throat. He grabs on the door frame, eyes wide in shock, not beliving what is happening.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

Y/F/N. She was sitting in front of Min Yoongi's door. And he was wearing nothing less but his towel around his sinful hips and his wet hair falling into his eyes. Y/N gulped down the node in her throat, letting her gaze travel down his half naked body. Licking her lips, she watched a water drop slowly making its way down the man's abdominal muscles, leaving a wet path on his abs.

Her gaze trailed up to his chest, notincing the colour of his nipples. Pink. Cute. Her eyes scanned his thick neck, up to his jaw and parted lips and finally meeting his own gaze. If the man in front of her was bothered by her staring at him like this, he said nothing, nor teased her about it. She thought he is probably used with girls staring at him like a whole snack, anyway. She frowned at this thought, prefering to shake her head, trying to not visualise an imagine of on of her favourite idols with someone else. He looked shooked actually.

His lips were parted, his eyes wide opened, his veiny hand holding on the door way, making her lick her lips once more, having to reprime a silent whimper. Damn it, why nobody told her this apartment was Agust D's apartment?!

They stared at each other for a while, not knowing what to say or do, a blush creeping on her face. As they thought like one mind, they both started to bow and greet each other, causing they heads to bang together.

"Ow!" She mumbled, holding her head, losing her balance, ready to fall on her back, right on the stairs. Yoongi's heart started to beat faster, at the thought something might happen to her. He reached for her, catching her right wrist and pulling her to him, pressing her body against his, the other hand holding into his towel like his life depended on it.

Y/N face was as red as the carpet in his living room. She ended up with both of her hands on his bare chest, their bodies pressed against each other, her legs between Yoongi's spreads one. She looked up at him, bitting her bottom lip, unsure of what she should say or do, ignoring the fast rithm of her heart which was hitting her ribs cage chaotic.

But Yoongi's cheeks were flushed as well as hers and it made her feel better. But that's whem she tried to look away, but his pink nipples were exactly under her stare. She didn't mean to stare, but they were just so cute. Getting out of his transa, he blushed more and frowned, finally finding his voice.

"Yah!" Yoongi said, moving her hands to cover his nipples with, making her look up at him in shock. "Don't stare at my nipples, Y/N-ssi, I get shy." He breathed, making her chuckle when she realised what he just said. He mentally thanked God his voice wasn't shaky at all.

"Alright, alright! Sorry!!!" She said, blushing more. She thought about getting away, but Yoongi's huge hands were holding her wrists softly, his big thumbs gently stroking the side of her own hands, sending a shiver down her spine, melting her heart.

Yoongi was staring down at her, a smile playing on his lips. "When are you going to stop staring, babygirl? Like the view?" He smirked slightly, titling his neck to the side, piercing her with his gaze. How was that possible?! This man changed from a shy lil meow meow to a predathor in no seconds.

She pulled away of him, gasping, making him chuckle lowly. Y/N mentally slapped herself for daring to come here in the first place. She even forgot why she was there, anyway. She stared at Yoongi again. He was now leaning on the door way, waiting for her answer. Y/N cleared her throat.

"I-I came here for meeting my new neighbors. I am the new owner of the apartment next door." She extended her trembling hand to him. "I am Y/F/N, but I guess you already know who I am." She said, smiling shyly and putting a strand of her hair behind her left ear.

Yoongi's stomach got filled up with some annoying butterflies, hearing what she just said. Y/F/N, the misterious girl from Seokjin's party, the one who has the voice of an angel, the one who made him not sleep the whole night thinking of how innocent she looked like, ok, it's not like earlier she was innocent, but that's another story, but she was here, in front of him, telling him she was his new neighbor.

"So you're telling me you a-are my new neighbor?!" He couldn't belive his ears. He wished his voice wasn't that unsure and shaky, but it made her giggle and smirk, seeing him frustrated like that.

"Yes! I'll move in with the love of my life in some days." Y/N said, smiling sweetly. Yoongi's jaw dropped slightly. He felt hurt. Of course she had a boyfriend already, she seemed so sweet and she was so talented. "Oh..." he said, looking down to his feet. His action brought a little satisfaction to her, it was her turn now to smirk.

"Oh well, it was nice to meet you." He said, slightly bowing his head, ready to leave and close the door, but her voice stopped him. "Do you wanna meet her???"

Wait a little. What?! Yoongi froze. The love of her life was a girl?! Wait a little, she was a lesbian?! Damn it. As hot as he had to admit it was, his mood dropped even more at the thought of having zero chances with her. Well, after all, the fact she kept on staring to his nipples didn't seem that weird anymore. He slowly covered his nipples with his hands, folding his arms to his chest.

She whisteled then. The next thing he knew was a cute white fluff ball running through the hallway of the block in the arms of her owner.

Yoongi let out a heavy breath. "I want you to meet Sasha." She said, scratching the puppy's head, making her to sweep the floor with her white and fluffy tail. So she was talking about her puppy.... Yoongi cursed himself under his breath, not beliving such a fool he was.

He stared at the girl who was petting her white bichon. She was smiling down to the little fluff ball, scratching her behind the white and fluffy ears, talking to her on a cute high pitched voice, making his heart melt under her feet. Why was he attracted to her this much? Why was his heart beating so fast while he was staring at her talking to her little pet? Why was his body trembling when he heard her giggles? Why did he get a shiver down his spine last night, hearing her singing?

"Woof!" Sasha barked, moving her way towards him, making Yoongi snap back to reality. He shook his head and smiled, ready to kneel down to pet her. "Here, little one..." he started, getting out of his apartment, causing the door to close behind him and lock itself. The little bichon had other plans, anyway. She stabbed the white material of the towel with her cute and little fangs and began pulling on it. Before Yoongi or Y/N could react, the towel fell off of his hips, leaving him naked in front of the girl.

The blood rushed in their cheeks. Yoongi covered himself fast, with both of his hands, cursing out loud. He checked her face in disperation, scared of what she might say, do or think. Great way of meeting your, apparently, new crush, Yoongi. His second reaction was to open the door to get into the darkness of his apartment and die there in awkwardness. But, the door was locked and his key card was one the coffee table of his living room. Great.

Y/N looked away of him, keeping her hand on her face side, to cover her gaze with it. The puppy was staring at both of them happily and looking so satisfied by her actions, almost like laughing of Yoongi. Yoongi frowned and hissed at her, trying to take his towel fast, but she started to run down on the stairs, still holding his towel with her fangs.

"I-I...I am so sorry!" They both said same time. Y/N laughed, an awkward laugh, in attempt to reasure Yoongi there is no problem with the fact he's naked in front of her. Beside the fact they just met, there was really no problem with him being naked.

Yoongi nodded his head hesitantly, hands still covering his man parts, holding on them as if his life depended on it. Well...

Y/N wanted to say something, something that would get them out of this situation, but she couldn't think straight anymore. She was trying to hard to not stare at him. "Y/N-ssi..." he whispered. She looked at him, trying her best to keep her eyes on his face, not...downer. "Do you think you can bring me-...."

She looked down. Covering her face, she muttered a "damn it!". Now for sure he thought she is a pervert. She started to scream and ran to her apartment, next door, closing her door behind her, leaving Yoongi there, naked.

"....- something to cover up..." he continued, sighing and cursing.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

Days passed and Y/N still couldn't stop thinking about the whole incident with her hot neighbor. Oh yeah, she was now living there, in her new apartment, having Agust D exactly beside of her. She smiled to herself, remembering how him and IU were her first idols, the first ones she picked as her models.

Yes, she saw him that night at the party, staring at her, checking her up and down. Yes, her heart started to beat so fast at the thought of him actually talking to her and yes, she wanted to talk to the man she loved once, like any other fangirl. But she had to leave the party early, since her manager told her they had to go.

She sighed, she knew how hard an idol's life is, even before she became one, but... she never thought it will actually eat up all of her free time. Sitting on her couch, she went through her Twitter page, checking up on her profile. She sighed, seeing all the hate comments. Why were them so mean to her? Even since she started as a trainee, there were persons who started to criticise her.

She sighed. Frowning, she switched on a k-pop news page. Great. Her recent break up with her ex appeared everywhere. Pics of her in front of the bar, staring at her ex, who was holding on a girl's waist, were filling the internet. Oh, how much she tried to not cry back then.

She closed her eyes remembering the scene in front of her. It was her birthday. It was her birthday and she was too busy with her career to actually celebrate it. But she tought, maybe she can go out at night, with her lovely boyfriend, even staying home would have been fine. She wouldn't mind anything if that meant she was in his arms. But when she called him, announcing him she is five minutes away of home, holding an expensive bottle of champagne and a box of strawberries covered in Belgian chocolate, he came up with an excuse. No, he wasn't at their apartment. He was out of his city, taking care of his grandma, or at least, this is what he told her. And she belived it. Because, how can't you trust your loved one? And it was about his grandma. His sweet and caring grandma.

She remembered how bad she felt back then for not coming with him, to take care of the poor lady. She had so much respect for his grandma, she is such a good person, unlike her grandson, who lied. Later that night, while she was eating alone her box of strawberries, she got a call from her friends. They wanted to take her to a bar. At first she refused, scared of the paparazzi, but decided to put on her cute black dress and go out party with her friends, at least they didn't forget about her.

Once she arrived there, her breath stopped. Getting out of the bar, was no one else, but her so called boyfriend. He was desperately clinging on a blonde's waist, almost sucking her life out of her mouth. She still remembers the tight two pieces outfit the girl had. Oh and the long black heels. Now, on her couch, she stared at the pics shivering, feeling how the nausea was starting to wash over her again. She tried to be this cute and innocent looking like person, exactly because he said he likes cute girls. He was not the sexy type himself. She really tried to change herself for someone who didn't deserve even her glare. And for what? For people pointing fingers at her, acusing that she's trying to copy IU.

Sasha came on the couch, sitting beside her thighs, resting her muzzlr against the skin of it. Y/N hummed, stroking the head of the little fluff ball, causing her to move her tail. The little puppy looked up at her, puppy huge eyes piercing hers. "I am alright, sweetheart." She said, wipping her eyes with her free hand and sniffing her nose. "I just... got emotional and don't know what to do, baby. Don't worry about mommy..." she whispered.

The puppy got up and jumped from the couch, leaving a huge pout on Y/N's face. The puppy disappeared behind the corner of the room, leaving her sighing on her cozy couch. That's when Sasha came back holding something as white as her fur. She put the cloth at her owner's feet. Y/N titled her head, confused at first. Then, when she raised the white cloth from her feet, she blushed.

"Yoongi's towel." She muttered.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

"Oh come on, Yoongi. This song is perfect for that thematic! Stop being so stubborn." His manager sipped from his cup of latte, rolling his eyes on the shirtless man, who was tuning his guitar, not paying attention to his manager. How dare he?

Yoongi's mouth formed a slightly smirk. Oh how he loved to play with people's nerves. Testing a chord with one of his long fingers, he hummed, pleasured with the sound of it. He tried all of the six chords, deciding the last one needs to be straightened a little more. Namjoon sighed. "Yoongi-ah!"

He rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, it is not straightened enough, let me just..., there you go." He said, finishing. Namjoon groaned, grabbing a pillow and planning on throwing it into Yoongi's face. Yoongi gave him a grin, a quiet giggle escaping his lips. He was ready to catch the pillow, when a knock on door followed by a bark disturbed them, making him turn his face towards the door, freezing, the pillow hitting his head.

"Jackpot!" Namjoon said, moving his fists in air dimples pocking out.

Yoongi threw him a death glare and went towards the door, his heart beating faster and faster at the sound of her voice. "Shhh, Sasha!!" He could head her nagging the puppy. A smiled bloomed on his face, when he opened the door and saw her in a loosen hoodie and shorts, making her look so cozy, adorable and yet, sexy, he had to admit.

"H-hi." She stuttered.

Yoongi's smile widened when she saw her lowering her head, avoiding his gaze. Was she blushing?

"Hi, baby." He said, teasing her. Now for sure she was blushing. Yoongi's smile transformed into a smirk. "Are you blushing, love?" He titled his head to one side, her gaze messuring her up and down, his gaze resting to her bare thighs a little too long. Licking his lips, Yoongi pushed his mint locks back.

He observed as she watched his every move, her full bottom lip being caught between her teeth itself. Oh, how he wished her would kiss her right away, right there in the hallway, pressing her body against the wall, caught between his more muscled one and the wall.

"I came here to..." she said, watching his naked torso.

"To stare at my nipples again?" He cowed an eyebrow.

Her face got as red as the ruby ring she was wearing. She couldn't belive her ears. Yoongi leaned towards his doorway, running hisright hand, once more in his hair. "No! I came here to bring you this!" She said, pointing to the towel she was holding, sounding a little sharper than she initially wanted to. "Why do you always have to be naked in front of me anyway?!" She asked, faking her annoyance.

"You can't tell me you don't like it." He whispered, face close of hers now. His eyes trailed from her beautiful and doe eyes, to her pink lips. Her eyes widened in shock. Shaking her head, she held the towel in front of him, looking away.

Yoongi titled his head, but was quickly to take the towel from her delicate hand. "Alright then, I'll leave now- ..." she started, her words getting stucked into her throat when he took her hand and pressed her fingers against his velvety lips.

Why he did that? He didn't know the reason, himself. All he knew was her freesia scent inebrieting him, gas lighting him, too the point all he knew was the urgent need of touching her, of taking her into his arms and keeping her close. Oh, how was poor him so in love with her?

It all started days ago when he searched the whole internet for facts, news and informations about the idol Y/F/N. Pages of pictures of her filled up his phone, his heart fluttering when he saw her smile, in one of them, where she was holding a puppy. Oh how he wished the little white demon she has as her own puppy to see that picture, back then.

He learnt she only has her mom left, her parents being divorced, no siblings. But even if her life was so miserable, she was always such a joy pill. Such a little fairy, full of positive thoughts, always trying to make everyone happy and brighten your day. And that is valuable for her lyrics too. A sunshine. A lovely girl with a big heart. Was that even possible to exist on this earth ?

He jumped slightly when he felt her fingers moving slightly on his lips. He stared into her eyes and he swore he could see she was feeling something too. Maybe not as much as he felt, but it was comforting to know she liked him too. Her blushing cheeks couldn't lie, right?

"Y/N, I want to tell you something." He said. Yes, Yoongi, tell her how you have a big crush on her, how you dream about her and how your laptop is full of pages talking about her. "Y-Yes, sunbae-nim?" She mutered, with a trembling voice, making him almost pin her against that wall, kissing her breathless.

"Oh? Y/F/N-ssi??" Namjoon was behind him. Yoongi almost groaned in frustration, but he made way for Namjoon. "I am Kim Namjoon, Yoongi's manager." He smiled and extended his hand, for a hand shake. When she put her delicate hand into his, he slightly squeezed it, shaking it lightly. "What is our beautiful Y/N doing here?" He asked. Yoongi rolled his eyes. Why was he still there anyway?

The blush on her face incrased. "I am his new neighbor. I live there." She said, pointing one finger to her apartment. Namjoon raised an eyebrow at Yoongi. "You were this close of a beauty and didn't tell me?" He teased him. Yoongi was boiling. Of course he didn't tell him. She was his. Alright, practically she wasn't, theoretically she was.

When Y/N giggled, Yoongi almost growled. Maybe of how beautiful her giggles were, but definetly because he was not the one making her giggle. "Don't flatter me, Mr. Kim, you are good looking yourself, too." She said, a slight smirk playing on her lips when she saw Namjoon gulping down and Yoongi's right hand forming a fist.

"Oh? Mr. Kim? I liked that." He pointed out, winking her way, his tongue pocking out, to lick his full bottom lip. She watched his movement like a transa and quickly turned her head when Yoongi coughed. "Hyung, don't you have work to do?" He asked, between gritted teeth.

"No, I actually-..." but Yoongi kicked him out, throwing his bag into his arms and the cap he forgot in his apartment, on his head. "You were complaining of such a busy schedule you have!I'll see you later!"

Namjoon blinked and nodded his head, mumbling and making Y/N giggle once more. "Good bye, Mr. Kim." She teased, making him show her one dimples smile and a frown to his client and friend. "Don't forget about that song!" And with that, he left.

"Mr. Kim, huh?" Yoongi titled his head, eyes fixed on hers. She rose up her chin, in atempt to feel less smaller in front of him that she was already feeling. "Writing a song, huh? And yes. Mr. Kim. Didn't know your manager is so hot." she sucked on her bottom lip, staring back at him.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off one more, by a bark of Sasha who ran into his apartment. "Sasha, come to mommy!" She said out loud. But the little puppy was already running into his bedroom. "I'll go after her. But don't think the conversation ended here." He warned, turning around and going to search for the puppy. She smiled to herself for making him jealous, thinking if she should enter his apartment or stay there, when a tap on her shoulder made her jump slightly. Turning around, her breath got caught in her throat.

Yoongi searched for the little puppy everywhere. She wasn't under his bed, between his pillows or under the table. No, she was into his closet. Nibbling on his Chanel jacket. Amazing. "Oh, you little devil!" He said, taking her into his arms and pulling away the jacket, with a huge frown on his face. Sasha barked at him, but quickly pushed her wet muzzle into gis neck making him laugh and shiver. "You know, you are not that bad." He said, stroking her furr. "But you're mommy will call me daddy soon." He smirked to himself.

Making his way to the front door, he froze in place, a huge frown on his face. There was a guy beside Y/N. No, there was a guy pinning her against a wall. He couldn't see her face, but he was sure she didn't like it since she was trying to get his hands away.

"Let me explain to you, Y/N!" He almost yelled at her. "No, David! We have nothing to talk about! I am over you anyway!" She groaned, pushing him off of her. Or at least she tried to, because the guy didn't move one inch. Yoongi placed the puppy down, who anyway, started to bark at the man in front.

Yoongi grabbed him by shoulder, turning him around. Tall, blonde, full of himself, the fave of a fucker. Oh. Yoongi remembered now. That was her ex. "Who are you-..." he asked but Yoongi kicked his face with his fist, memories of the informations he read about their break up coming back. He saw her face in these pics, hating the way her face was controlled in desperation "The one who stole your girl!" He said, cracking his neck twice.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. She didn't know what to be more shocked about, the fact he punched her ex, or the fact he said she is practically his? Staring from her ex to Yoongi and back to her ex., she felt the frustration and tenssion like a weight on her tiny shoulders. "You are with him now?!" The taller man asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?!" Yoongi barked, pushing the man, steps away, sitting between him and Y/N, in an attempt to protect her of whatever he could do to her. Not like Yoongi would allow him to. Or to anyone,else lay one finger on his precious Y/N. "You're such an ungrateful bitch, Y/N! Accusing me of cheating on you, but you were actually the one fucking this shitty man who dares to call himself a celebrity, behind my back?!"

Y/N gasped in shock. It was the first time she heard the person she used to call "her lover" , for three years, saying something like this. "I-I..." she started, affected by the name he gave to her. Yoongi's hands formed fists, around the collar of the t-shirt belonging to the man in front of him. "How did you call her?! How dare you, you piece of shit! You wasted her time, brainwashed her the whole time, made her think she is not good enough, probably used her for her money and ended up cheating on her, on her birthday?!" He finished his last sentence with a fist into the Y/N's ex's, making her gasp and jump a step back.

The taller man turned around, holding his, now, bleeding nose. He groaned, cursing under his breath. "You stupid short ass!" He yelled, ready to throw himself on Yoongi who, thanks for Jimin and his Kendo classes, had enough time to spin around and sweep his legs with his right one, making him fall into his knees, in front of Y/N. She gasped, some of the blood, from his broken nose, falling on her white slippers. She stared at him, disgusted, letting go of the tears so kept back the day he cheated on her. She really loved him once.

Now he was only a garbage, who was kept down on his knees, by a shorter man. "Look at her!" Yoongi demanded, pulling on his hair, yanking his hair back to make him stare at her. The man whined in pain. Yoongi looked around, thanking God how Namjoon left earlier and how their block was nearly empty. He really couldn't deal with some new news about Agust D beating up Y/S/N's(stage name) ex. Not like he did mind a picture of them in this position. He was feeling himself, exactly like in his Daechwita video, where he chose who dies and who lives. Yoongi shook his head. Be was becoming a little too yandere.

"Say sorry to her!" He said, once more. "Y-Yoongi..." she started to speak up, but was cut by a simple "sorry...", coming from the tall man. Yoongi groaned in frustration, trailing his veiny hand on his face. A curse left his lips. Letting him go and getting away of him, Yoongi forced the other man up into his legs. "Get out, until I won't beat your ass even worse!" He growled. He didn't even care if he will say what happened to anyone, nobody would belive him anyway.

Y/N watched as her ex left the builing, still holding on his nose. Y/N sobbed, making Yoongi stare at her. "Babygirl..." he whispered, making her stare at him. Yoongi's heart tightened, seeing the tears in her eyes. His protective arms wrapped around her smaller frame, tugging her closer to his chest, until her face was burried on his neck. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing at his chest. She allowed him to carry her into his apartment, keeping her arms tightly around him, face never leaving his warm chest. She almost missed the smoothness of his bare skin under her cheek and hands.

Y/N swallowed the node into her throat, pulse going crazy, millions of butterflies troubling her stomach. Damn with these butterflies. But it didn't matter anymore. She didn't have to hide her feelings anymore, because she was into his protective arms now. And he was kissing her. With care, almost scared to not break her.

His lips ghosted over hers, capturing and caressing them with his, while he allowed his hand to travel the nape of her neck. She softly moaned against his mouth when he sucked into her bottom lip, pulling on it slightly with his teeth. She opened her mouth. "Yoongi k-...", giving him the opportunity of sliding his warm tongue into her mouth.

Y/N closed her eyes, allowing his wet muscle to caress hers, enjoying the new feeling. She started to massage his tongue with hers, slowly swirling it around, when he pulled her on top of him, slowly. "You're really hot." He whispered once more, trailing his lips down her jaw, planting kissed on her heated skin. "And so lovely. So beautiful and strong. So smart." He said, between kisses.

She giggles, a smile appearing on her face. She brought her arms around his neck, hugging it, to hug him closer. "Good girl, always smile like this." He said, giggling and kissing her smile. Yoongi pulled her closer, tugging her to his chest, where she placed his cheek on. "I really wanna change my style, Yoongi." She said, drawing on his chest with her finger.

He hummed. "But I don't know how. I want something that would make me look more than cute and pretty. I am tired of aegyo stuff..." she scoffed. An idea popped into Yoongi's mind. Yes. It was the best idea ever. "Y/N! How about we make a collaboration?!" He asked, heart beating even faster, excited. Her eyes sparkled. "Are you serious?" She asked, unsure of his answer. "Yes, baby! I have this song I am working on, we can add your part and that's it. " he explained, smiling wide.

She nodded her head, planting lots of kisses on his face, making Yoongi blush hard. "Yaaah!!" He said, making her laugh.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

"Yes, hyung. I'll finish the song as soon as possible." At the other line of the phone, Namjoon was speechless. "And what changed your mind, Yoongles?" He asked, raising his eyebrow as if the younger one was in front of him.

Yoongi wipped the blood from the floor, using his wet mop, his phone being caught between his cheek and shoulder. He could say the other man was working in something, hearing the shift of some papers. Suddently, his admiration for his manager grew up even more. He really puts a lot of effort in his work. Maybe he should actually appreciate Namjoon's work more. Not as if he didn't already.

"Oh nothing that big. I actually thought of a collaboration." The shift of pages stopped at the other line. For some minutes, there was not a noise anymore, the only thing proving Namjoon was still there was the sound of his breath playing on the background.

Yoongi finally finished mopping the floor. After Y/N fell asleep into his arms, he took his time to stare at her sleeping face for a while, admiring the girl's features. He left her there and took Sasha with him, so the little white fur devil won't wake her up, taking his mop with him, to wipe that fucker's blood from the floor, so nobody who happens to come in won't get scared. "Hyung? Are you still there?" He asked, after putting the mop away. Yoongi got into his apartment, closing the door behind him. He sighed and made his way to the bathroom to wash his hands.

"I think that's a great idea!" Namjoon finally answered, surprised.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

Y/N looked around the dancing room, once more, amazed. Of course she had her own dancing room, with her own coreographer, but this room was totally different. It was full of Kaws figurines. She found out that Hoseok, Yoongi's choreographer, is a fan of them. She found that cute, especially the fact this man was full of joy, always shinning with happiness and dinamism. No wonder his nickname was Sunshine.

They were now practicing for the third time that day. "Yoongi, keep your hands on her waist like I showed you. Pull her closer when the beat comes." Hoseok instructed them. Y/N blushed for the hundreth time since she started this project with Yoongi. Having him this close every day, his hands all around her, his scent filling up her nostrils, it was driving her crazy, to the point she could lose herself inside of his hold in every moment.

Oh course, his sinful stares, teasing smirks and winks weren't helping her at all, especially because a lot of back dancers were practicing behind them. And also..., she was questioning herself. Did she actually dream she kissed Min Yoongi? Did she dream the cute and almost intimate moment they had in his room? Because they didn't kiss since then and she had to admit she missed the feeling of his lips against hers, his taste. But no, if that wasn't real, she wouldn't be here, practicing with him for their collaboration, right?

The practice came to an end, everyone sighing in relief. "Good job, everyone!" Hoseok smiled at them all. She really liked this man so much, she decided. "Yoongi, can we t-..." she wanted to ask l, but got interrupted. "Thank you for all of this, Hobi!" Y/N watched as Yoongi made his way to the other side of the room, thanking the colorful man. She sighed, staring down at her feet. She really wasn't feeling confident like she was supposed to. And this time, the fact she didn't know what is actually this connection between her and the mint haired man, was keeping her up at night, when she was supposed to sleep, but instead of that she was staring at his phone number, bitting her fingers' tips to not call him, because she is the girl, right?

"Sorry, Y/N-ah?"

She turned around to the voice, raising her eyebrows to the man in front of her. "Yes?" She titled her head. The man was staring everywhere, but not at her, a shy bunny smile on his face. His handsome face, she noticed. "I-I am Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." He sttutered, bowing in front of her, even though he was probably older than her. She smiled softly, giggling at his cuteness. "No need to bow, Jungkook. How can I help you?"

The boy stared at her with wide eyes, hearing his name coming from her lips. His cheeks became rosey. "I wanted to ask you if you can give me an autograph and also..." he pulled out a box of dietetic chocolate candies,making her title her head."I want you to take this. It's not like you need to diet, you're perfect already!" He said out loud, making some heads turn. He blushed harder."I just don't want you to stress over a diet after you eat them".

Yoongi was staring at them too. "What's Jeon Jungkook doing there?" He mumbled. Yoongi knew Jungkook very well, he played in his Daechwita video. Hoseok smirked, amused. "Are you two together?" Yoongi stared at him, blood creeping in his cheeks. "No. But I would love to. I really like her and...I feel this need to protect her." He explained, his stare fixed on her and the fanboy, once more. "Then don't lose her over someone else." Hoseok adviced him.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

Days passed and the relationship between them seemed to be so tensed. While Yoongi was so busy with their new project, so focused on it to pay more attention to her, Y/N's relation ship with Jungkook evoluated, they were close enough now for going out for walks, together. This is how she spent her time recently. Now she was coming back from the park, holding a flower, which Jungkook bought for her.

Staying in his door way, Yoongi scratched the back of his head, watching the girl he likes smiling towards Jungkook. "Good bye!" She said, waving to him. He watched her the whole week, coming back from walks taken with this fanboy of hers. He didn't like how he was giving his best for that collaboration and she was enjoying her time with that stranger. She was pretty absent and honestly, he missed her. Yoongi cleared his throat, when she was about to open her door. Staring at him over her shoulder, she scoffed. "What do you want?" She asked, taking Yoongi by surprise. "What do I want?! Listen here, Y/N!" He got closer of her, making her slightly back off. She quickly came back to her senses, resisting him, raising her chin up. "Can you stop doing this?!"

She was confused. "Do what?" Yoongi rolled his eyes. "This. These dates with this guy. You're just not paying enough attention to our project anymore. I thought it was important for you." "It is." She answered. "But I am the only one who works harder at it!" He snapped. Y/N stared at him in disbelief. "Maybe this is the problem. What? Are you jealous now?! That I am enjoying my time with someone? You thought I am gonna beg for your attention or what?"

Yoongi couldn't belive his ears. He was boiling. "I am jealous! So what?! Because I thought we have something special, but look what are you doing!" His veins pocked out of his neck. She rolled her eyes, making his way towards him, sitting in front of him. "I thought we have a connection, as well. But seems like this collaboration is more important to you now, than spending time with me and trying to know me better." She stared at him up and down. "This project was supposed to be funny and to bring us closer, not this." Turning around on her heel, she got into her apartment, leaving Yoongi behind, staring at her door.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

"Again." Spin, left arm up, spin back, right thigh on hip, pause to breathe. "Again!" Was all what Hoseok could say about Yoongi and Y/N. Why? Because something happened to them. He couldn't feel the connection between them anymore and it wasn't a good sign. The choreography contained a lot of touchy moments between them exactly because Hoseok wanted to help them realise how they can't ignore what they were feeling, for so long. But everything turned out to be a mess. Hoseok watched as Y/N was avoiding Yoongi's stares, him rolling his eyes at her and just continuing their choreo without paying too much attention.

"Pause, everyone." He said, sighing. "Y/N, Yoongi, come here." Yoongi watched as Y/N was already in the other corner of the room, beside her bag, laughing and playing around with Jungkook. She turned around waving at him, while making her way towards the two other males. "Yes, Hobi??" She said, ignoring the death glare Yoongi was giving her. "I don't know what is happening with you two, but you gotta stop it. You two looked like a real couple while dancing and now you look like one of you murdered the other one's hamster in sleep, or something like that. I suggest you to resolve the problem between you two, because tomorrow we have the first day of filming for the video." And with that, he left the studio, disappointment written on his face.

Y/N didn't like the fact she disappointed him. She stared at Yoongi up and down, then turned around on one heel, only for him to catch her elbow. She stared at him over the shoulder. "What?" She asked, trying to sound indifferent. "I don't like that guy. Jungkook." He confessed, making her scoff. "Of course you don't. He's charismatic, a good person, taller." Yoongi narrowed his eyes. "Watch it, little kitten." He mumbled. "Or else what?" She asked, raising her eyebrow. The tension started to build up between them, once more. But before Yoongi could react...

"Y/N-ah? Are you ready??" It was Jungkook, again. Y/N stared at Yoongi, taking his hand off of her elbow slowly, even if every cell of her body was screaming for him and his warm touch. "Yes, Jungkookie. Good bye, Mr. Min." She said, before leaving him there, once more, for that man. That night he couldn't sleep. It was obvious that Y/N was mad on him and she had her own reasons. He got so busy with this collaboration that he forgot to spend time with her. All of these after he cuddled and kissed her at him chest an entire night. He went to sleep swearing he will make up with her tomorrow.

Only if... she wasn't dressed up like this. Yoongi's jaw dropped. Y/N was breath taking again. He knew she wanted to change her style, but didn't expect this to come. He never expected her to come dressed up into a little black dress, which was so tight on her body, embracing her voluptuous hips and breasts. The matching black YSL heels she was wearing, were so delicate and were completing her outfit perfectly. The skirt of the dress was reaching one palm downer than her bottom, letting exposed more skin than she ever showed. Yoongi could feel not only the pulse of his heart, but the pulse of his dick into his pants, as well. He wanted to ravage her. To compliment her, while kissing her exposed thighs. He wanted to make sure she knows he loves her, that he apreciates her. "Are you gonna stare at her the whole day or let me finish your make up?" Taehyung asked, holding a make up brush close of Yoongi's face. "Huh?" He asked, staring at Taehyung, which giggled and rolled his eyes, chowing on his bubble gum. "As if you don't know what's my job in here, Yoongi-ssi. Let me do you make up for the video and after that you can go devour her, alright, tiger?" Yoongi narrow his eyes at Taehyung, but allowed him to do his job. He was sure the make up will be as gorgeous as usual.

Taehyung was applying the ladt touch of make up, when he saw Yoongi suddently jumping into his legs, eyes fixed on something or someone. "Oh no." Taehyung said. Jungkook was doing the choreo with Y/N. His veiny and huge arm was wrapped around her thigh, pulling her closer of him. As much as Yoongi hated to admit, they looked like a real couple like that. He made his was towards them. "Here come the problems..." Jungkook mumbled, letting go of Y/N.

"Hyund let me explain" the younger one said, seeing Yoongi's red of anger face. But he wasn't staring at him, his eyew piercing Y/N, who wasn't daring to stare back at him, chewing on her lip. "Not now, Jeon Jungkook. We'll talk later. But for today, the fiming is canceled." He demanded, pulling Y/N with him, by her wrist, out of the building.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

The door slammed after them. The next thing Y/N knew was the coldness of the wall behind her thin outfit. She was so wrong in trying to piss Yoongi off. But same time, it was only his fault that she was so sad these days, only because he gave her fake hopes and seemed to not care about her in that way anymore.

So she thought of showing him what he is losing. She appeared dressed up like that and asked Jungkook to do the choreography with her, under the reason of helping her improve. What she didn't expect was this to happen. Her, caught between Yoongi's hot body and the cold wall, her thighs wrapped around his waist, her hands into his mint hair. She couldn't even remember when did she burry her fingers into the softness of his locks, or when he pulled her legs up from the ground to wrap them around his tiny waist.

"Did you dress up like this so he can stare at your ass?!" He growled lowly, grabing a hold of your ass, squeezing the flesh and making you moan on his hair. Well, maybe it was a bad idea to flirt back to Jungkook. But it wasn't fair. If Yoongi can flirt and go out with another girl, she can too. And they weren't even officially together.

"Does it even matter?! It doesn't look like you gave a fuck about me these past days!" She snapped back, making Yoongi wrap his veiny hand around her fragile throat. She widened her eyes, the palm of his hand squeezing her neck, taking some of her air away. "Mmm..." she moaned, out of suddent, a blush creeping on her cheeks, a curse in her mind, for allowing herself to moan.

"Watch it, little slut." He whispered lowly, sounding like a predathor. His face was so close of hers she could feel his hot breath on on her cheek. "An angel like you isn't allowed to say filthy words like these ones." With another frown, she crossed her arms. "M-Maybe I wanted to stop being this angel. Maybe I wanted to be hot and sexy. Maybe I wanted everyone to see I can be more." She said, almost whispering the last part, staring away of him.

Yoongi's heart skipped a bit, hearing her words. He knew very well what she was feeling because of her shitty ex. and he couldn't like the idea of her thinking like that. An idea popped into his mind, making him stroke her jaw with his big thumb, gently turning her face towards him. He fixed her with a soft, yet so imposing stare, making her melt and shiver at the same time.

"My little babygirl wants to be a little slut, huh?" He whispered, using his raspy voice. She wasn't ever into these kind of nicknames and it's not even like her ex was something else, but a vanilla peasant, who liked her riding him and ocassionally missionary. The guy was literally so boring. But she couldn't deny the way Yoongi's raspy voice while calling her 'little slut' was appealing.

When he pulled away, she whimpered , feeling the loss of his hot body pressed on hers. Yoongi cowed an eyebrow, smirking. "What was that, princess?" He asked, obviosly rethorical. She looked away, heated cheeks appearing. Yoongi let a low chuckle to escape him. He disappeared on his hallway, leaving her behind, confused. "Don't move from there, Y/N!" He warned, voice coming from his bedroom. She nodded then, face palming, when she realised he can't see her. "Y-Yes, Yoongi." She murmured.

Coming back from his bedroom, holding something behind him, the mint haired man devilishly smirked, coming closer and closer, making her back off. Oh god, he looked huge. He was shirtless now, allowing her to see his abdominal defined muscles and pectorals, moving under his silk like skin. Her stare trailed down his strong arms, salivating at the sight of his veins. He was like a predathor and he was coming from her.

"Where are you going, little kitten?" He asked and she almost moaned. Oh, how much she loved it. Kitten. But, wouldn't it sound better having "my" in front? She shook her head, refusing to look him into his eyes. She was now beside the couch, her calfs hitting the back of it. Yoongi stopped in front of her, his leather boots tips, pressed against the tips of her own, black high heels. "I asked you something, pet." He growled, holding her waist woth one strong arm, bringing their bodies closer, faces centimeters away. "Look at me, baby." He whispered, in a seductive way. She bit her bottom lip, staring into his eyes. God, he was so charming. The way his lips were forming that usual smirk on hie beautiful face, the way his eyes were shinning with pure desire and lust, soon with adoration, to the way his thin silver necklace was shimmering into the light of his apartment. Everything about him was mesmerizing. He was like a spider and she was the fly from his web. Caught.

That's why when he demanded her to kneel in front of him, she didn't waste a second before her knees hit the clear wood of his floor. Staring up at him, she softly blinked, giving him big doe eyes, waiting for the new comand. Yoongi groaned. "Fuck, Y/N, if you keep on giving me these doe eyes of yours, staring at me like that, in such a shameless position, I am gonna cum into my boxers, I swear!" He confessed, making her cheeks flush even more, but same time, a proud feeling to grow inside of her chest. "Is that so, Yoongi?" She asked, using a honey like voice. The next thing she knew, was his veiny hand wrapped around her throat, once more that night, choking her hard. She gasped for air, eyes wide opened, her smaller hand wrapping around his wrist. "It's daddy for you, little one." He demanded, making her heart flutter and her cunt to clench around nothing.

To be honest, even if he was mad because that Jungkook guy touched her and he was supposed to punish her, he couldn't not think of her limits. He knew such a shitty ex. she had, so he doesn't want anything else but to love, apreciate and pleasure her. But, when he saw the sparkle from her eyes at the hear of the D word, his half hard cock almost twitched into his pants. "Yes, daddy!" She said, a smile spreading on her beautiful face. ('cause you're beautiful ♡) He almost laughed, she was so cute. How was he able to punish her now?! Letting go of her throat, he trailed his fingers up her neck and jaw, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. He watched her pocking her pink tongue out, to touch the tip of it. Yoongi shivered, feeling the coldness of her saliva on his digit. He closed his eyes when she took the small length of his thumb into her mouth. Feeling the warmth of it, he couldn't stop imagining how would he feel if that was his dick instead of his finger.

He could feel the precum, leaking down on his cock, wetting the dark material of his Calvin Klein boxers. Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but almost moaned out loud when he felt her cheek stroking on his cock, through his pants. Exactly like a kitten. "Damn it, you're such a baby. Wanting daddy's cock so much to actually end up stroking your cheek on it, knowing you don't deserve to have it between your pretty lips yet?" He teased. Her eyes fluttered shut, a new wave oh heat reaching her already dripping cunt. She never belived someome can make her this wet only by some dirty talk. And she knew Yoongi will tease her about that. And honestly she couldn't wait for him to undress her and feel her wetness on his own fingers. Oh how she would lick them clean if he wanted that. He got her so submissive and only by demanding her to call him a specific nickname and restricting her movements. But could she complain about that? No. She wanted him, ever since he first kissed her, ever since he comforted her that that when her ex showed up and he kicked his ass, then he hold her into his arms while she was crying. He was careful and kindly with her, she liked him a lot and she hoped he does the same, because she was willing to obey him like a good girl.

She stared at his left hand, her eyes widening. He was holding a belt, his own belt and a pair of cat ears. He scoffed, amused by her reaction. With determination, he wrapped the belt around her neck, tighting it, to make her gasp for air. He softly placed the ears on her hair."Look at me!" He said, pulling the belt so she was staring up at him, her hands resting on his thighs. She stared up at him with teary eyes. "Fuck..." he cursed under his breath. He mentally thanked that fan who once gave him these cat ears.

"Can't anymore, kitten." He hissed, staring to go to his bathroom,pulling on the belt, forcing Y/N to walk behind him, in all fours. She whimpered when he stopped and sat himself on bed, his bulge visible. She licked her lips, reaching down between her thighs, her clit aching for so pressure. "Tsk, tsk!" He said, pulling on the belt back, completly taking her air, the other hand fisting her hair, throwing it back so she will look into hid eyes. "After this, Y/N, you'll be all mine. Don't touch what is mine. Fuck, you were all mine since the beginning." He growled, kissing her hard. Millions of butterflies filled up her stomach, while her heart started to beat faster.

She was quick to answer him, parting her lips for taking his tongue into her mouth, welcoming it with hers. The kiss was sweet, but still had notes of possessiviness. Their tongue danced together, tasting each other's mouths. His huge hand was cupping her smooth cheek. Pulling her between his spreaded thighs, the hand holding her hair went down to smack her exposed ass, causing the sound of skin on skin to echo the room's walls. A silent scream coming from her was absorbed by his mouth still devouring hers. Another smack, followed by another one and another five, making her moan into his mouth. "At least this short black dress you chose is good for something else than capturing that fanboy's stares!" He pointed out, smacking her already red ass cheek once more.

When he considered it was enough, he was quickly to unbotton his black suit pants. Y/N was starting to get dizzy, but oh how she didn't mind being choked to death by him. But Yoongi pulled away, leaving her gasping for air. She stared up at him. The devil himself was staring down at her, a huge smirk playing on his face. She blushed, bitting her swollen lips, eyes trailing way to what his hands were doing. She gulped down, mouth watering of the sight of his cock. It was hard, the vein of it poking out, making her imagine how it would feel under her tongue. The mushroom head of it was red, almost purple, begging to be sucked on, precum leaking down his length, who, to be honest, wasn't a small one.

"D-Daddy..." she whispered, whimpering when he strated to pumo it up and down with his right fist. "Yes, princess?" He asked, amused by the way her eyes were following his every move. "C-Can your princess suck you off, please, daddy?" She asked, using her softly voice, because she knew such an effect it has on her daddy. When he pressed the tip of it on her lips, she didn't waste time, she sucked the tip of it hard, swirling her tongue around it. Yoongi's hips jolted up, making his cock aventurate further into her mouth. He groaned, loving the way it felt. She looked up at him, raising her eyebrows, wanting to pull back, for enjoying this moment as much as she could. But Yoongi pulled on the belt around her neck, pulling her further on his length. The tip of it reached the back of her throat. She closed her eyes tight, gagging around it, not expecting it so deep that quickly.

"Fuck..." he moaned lowly, keeping her head to his base. "Take it all, like a good kitten, baby." He said, keeping her head to his base, nose pressed against his pelvis, until her throat stopped squeezing around it. "Good girl." He moaned once more, slowly rolling his hips in and out, forcing her to suck his member. "Hips up, babydoll."

Raising her hips up, she moaned when his hand reached down to her wetness. When he hummed in aprovement, she stared up at him, blushing once more that night. "Such a dripping little cunt we have here. Should I take care of you, little one?" He asked, rethoricay. She tried her best to nod her head.

Sucking harder on his long member, she closed her eyes, moaning around it when he ripped her lace panties and two of his digits entered her cunt. Her walls clenched around them, causing him to almost cum into her mouth. He slowly started to pump his fingers in and out of her, tessing her tight hole, enjoying the way her walls were squeezing them.

She moaned, tears wetting her cheeks. When she felt like the pleasure couldn't reach a bigger level, he burried them deepr, curling them straight on her g-spot. With wide eyes, she tried to pull away, expecting him to stop her, but, apparently he was too busy with playing with her clenching hole. Y/N gasped for air, loud moans coming from her lips. Rolling her hips to get more pleasure, she started to feel her orgasm aproching. Another series of his fingers thrusts into her cunt, bruishing over her sweet spot and caressing her warm walls plush the feeling of his dick twitching into her mouth, caused her core to spasm, her first orgasm that night washing over her, thighs shaking, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"In all fours." He simply said, not giving her time to calm down. At this point, all she wanted to do was to cum and make him cum. Y/N crawled on the bed, in all fours, under the stare of the mint haired man. "Good girl." He praised her, planting a kiss on her wet pussy, making her jump. He chuckled lowly. She heard the sound of a pack being opened and when she turned her head towards him, she saw him wrapping a condom aroubd his hard cock. He winked at her, making her turn her head again.

"You ready, baby?" He asked, pressing his lips on her spine, while unzipping her black dress. She shivered, nodding her head, only for him to pull on her hair, throwing her head back. "Answer me, kitten!" He hissed into her ear. "Y-Yes, daddy!" She whimpered, tears forming to the corners of her eyes.

A short scream coming from her, a low and long groan coming from him, both echoed the room, when he entered her wet cunt. He pushed down to base, leaving her time to get used with his size, busying himself by caressing her belly and pressing kisses on her bare spine. She moaned, her walls squeezing his cock desperately.

"D-Daddy...feels so good. Please..." she begged, making him press a kiss on her head. "Yeah?" He asked, rolling his hips, causing his dick to slip between her walls, deeper. She moaned, closing her eyes. "Y-Yes. I feel so full." She mumbled, moaning loud when he started to buckle his hips in and out of her, keeping a fast peace. The way he was making her feel was almost too much to take. She never felt this stretched out like now, with his cock pushing in and out her princess parts. The knot into her belly was fastly forming once more, making her moans to grow louder and louder. Slipping her dress off of her shoulders, she took his hands and pressed them against her breasts.

Yoongi groaned, squeezing the soft flesh into his hands, rubbing and pinching the buds betweem his thumbs and index fingers, making her whine in both pleasure and pain. "You're so perfect, babygirl..." he whispered, pushing her flat on bed, spreading her thighs with his own ones, a new angle that gave him a better acces to her g-spot. Yoongi's peace slowed down, his movements becoming sloppier and sloppier. Short but deep thrusts, accompanied with sinful hip rolls, were making Y/N's head grow light. "O-Oh, d-daddy...am gonna cum..." she warned. Kissing her temple, he took her hands and tangled their fingers with his. "Cum for daddy, my love..."

He sound of him calling her his love, the moans and heavy breaths he was making into her ear, the praises and kisses he left on her skin, all of them made the knot inside her belly explode, sending her over the edges of pleasure.

"Yoongi-ah!" She screamed, her body shaking under him, cunt clenching hard, making it hard for him to move anymore, forcing his own orgasm to vanish over him. He burried his face into her shoulder, bitting the skin of it and then kissing it, muttering a "mine". He remained there, cheek pressed against her spine, thumbs gently stroking her hands, until their breaths became regular again.

"Yoongi?" She asked, making him humm in response. "I love you." She mumbled, making his heart beat faster and his belly to fill up with butterflies. "I love you too, my little kitten." He whispered, kissing her temple, rolling on one side and pulling her to his chest, for spooning her.

After some minutes of silence, when he thought she's already fallen asleep, she asked. "Yoongi?" "Yes, my love?" He whispered, resting his cheek on hers.

"I think the collaboration will work well now." She said, making him laugh.

Author's note: hi, my lovelies! I am finally back! I moved to online school so I hope I'll have more time to wrote now! I know I posted this ff one month later than expected, but I really had no time to edit it. I even deleted parts and rewritten it so yeah. Anyway! It's here now, please enjoy!!!! Thank you, @milktaetae95 for your patience!!!💜 I hope you enjoy it!

#bts #yoongi smut #yoongi × reader #agust d character #idols collaboration themes #model!jin #manager!namjoon #makeupartist!taehyung #kendotrainer!jimin #fanboy!jungkook #danceteacher!hoseok #dom yoongi #sub reader #don't repost or copy my work

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 10: Myofascial Release

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy decompress after an emotional evening, Shane finds it difficult to get out of her own head and live in the moment, but Sy knows exactly how to help her, and not to be a complete hoe and spoil things, but…things get steamier than ever between our favorite therapist and patient duo.

Oh snap! You’re behind! Get on track here!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, the smut you’ve all been waiting for so patiently! (I hope it lives up to your undoubtedly high expectations!)

Author’s Note: Oh gosh, y’all, I am so nervous to post this. Somehow it doesn’t feel like my smuttiest smut. And like, all previous chapters have been kind of leading up to this moment. The good news is, I’ve decided to continue writing this story after the sex. I’ve got some ideas about where to go from here, and I want to keep it going. Plus, it feels wrong to write all of this and then just drop them without a big picture resolution. They’re gonna go through some shit, though. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Her living room was cast in the low light of the floor lamp she had left on. Intending to come home after dark. Alone. She hated walking into a dark house by herself.

Well, tonight, she wasn’t alone. And although Sy had been to her house before, this was different. They were officially a couple, and they were no longer waiting to express, to the fullest extent, their true affection for one another.

Ever the hostess, despite her nervous tension, Shane asked Sy if he wanted anything to drink, rambling off several options somewhat awkwardly.

“I’m fine, darlin.’” He assured her, stopping her at some point in the rant, before she was completely done. “Do you need something?”

“Umm, I think I should have a glass of wine.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen across her serve-through counter space and landed on her fridge. “I’m…I’m really nervous.”

"Why don't we watch a little TV for a while? You get you some wine, and I'll put somethin' on. What are we watchin', sunshine?"

"Ummmm, something light? Funny? Something I've seen." She wouldn't be able to process anything new or heavy right now.

"I'm on it." he kissed the top of her head and left her side for the sofa, where he plopped himself down like a comfy hound dog, and picked up the remote to her Smart TV.

She smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen. She decided she wanted a snack with her wine. She got a plate of cheese and crackers together first. Then she remembered she had some venison sausage one of her coworkers had brought in, and put that on the plate, too. She got out a chilled bottle of her favorite, cheap moscato and a stemless glass. She couldn't go in there without something for Sy, so she also got a glass of ice water ready for him. She put the whole spread on her big serving tray and took it to the living room.

Sy was already halfway through the first episode of Parks and Recreation.

"I saw this in your 'Watch it again' group, and thought maybe you'd like to re-watch it. I've heard you talk about it a lot, and I've never seen it." He didn't complain at her for taking forever. He just lit up when he saw her. Like it was the first time. And not the hundredth.

"That's perfect, babe. I brought some snacks out, too. Some cheese and crackers, and this really good sausage one of my coworkers brought me. You like deer?" she asked.

"One of my favorite pet names." he teased. "I do, though, yes."

They ate, and laughed, and watched about four or five episodes, it was hard to keep track. But after approximately half the bottle, Shane had summoned some courage. She started playing at the texture of Sy's jeans, running a fingernail across the coarse fabric.

"Hang on, love bug. I want to know somethin.'" she looked up at him, mildly confused. "I'm trying to think of a reason you need to get tipsy to sleep with me that I shouldn't take personally." he rubbed her upper arm, comforting her as no one had done since she was a small child. At least not that she could remember.

"No, Sy. It's not like that. You aren't the problem at all!" she paused. He let her gather her thoughts. She appreciated that he knew she intended to continue and that he didn't rush her to do it. He was patient. And kind. And all of that should have made this whole night easier. But somehow it didn’t.

“I’m the problem." She confessed after a long pause and a deep sigh. "I mean, I’m in my head about it all, I know. But it’s been…almost six years since I’ve slept with anyone, five and a half, at least, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it now that I know it’s going to happen again.”

He pulled her body into his, squeezing her tightly for one of his soul cleansing hugs.

“Sunshine. Everything will come back to ya. We’ll just go as slow as ya want. I got all night.”

“Okay. Well, I guess, since I’m a bit sleepy from the wine, we should head to bed.”

Sy affirmed the idea, and made to help her put their snacks away in the kitchen.

She got out containers for their leftover food while Sy stoppered the wine, put it in the fridge, and washed their glasses.

She felt his warmth before she felt his touch. He stood behind her, radiating his particular brand of heat for a moment, and taking in the scent of her hair near her right ear. She heard a low rumble from someplace deep in him which slowed her efforts at the counter. His hands were light but very much present on her hips. A whisper against the fabric of the casual but feminine floral dress she’d chosen for the night. But she felt it like the weight of her favorite old blanket, heavy with years and warm comfort.

He kissed her temple, chaste and unassuming. But still full of desperation. She could tell that he was ready. Even without the alignment of their bodies completely giving him away.

“Don’tcha think this stuff can wait a couple hours, darlin'?"

His baritone, breathless in her ear, was soothing her back into the mindset of being with him. His feather touch still lingering at her hips and waist. She thought back to those seminars she'd gone to on manual therapy where the speaker talked in depth about the fascial tissues running all across the various muscles in the human body and how trauma to one part could cause tension in another like a snag in a sweater and how he taught the participants techniques to undo that trauma through myofascial release. Sy was slowly managing to unwind and unbind the taut fibers of her heart and relieve that pain that Elliott, in particular had set into place so firmly when he'd hurt her. Lied to her. Cheated on her. Gaslit her. Made her feel like she'd never be loved if she left him. Made her question the very idea of what love meant. Because if what they'd had was truly love, she didn't want it. Wanted no part of the games or the abuse or the manipulation.

Without fully realizing it, during this time of reflection and healing, Shane had given up the task at her hands and turned to Sy, open to his treatment, as he'd always been so open to hers…or mostly. And she let him kiss her, reciprocating. And hold her, returning his enveloping embrace. She even let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, resting them on his…all too well-defined bilateral gluteus maximus that she'd had to pretend to ignore for weeks. In the therapist side of her brain, alarm bells were going off. "His knee isn't fully healed! You're gonna undo all of the work you've both done so far! He's gonna hurt himself carrying you around!" but she ignored them and trusted him as he walked to her room.

Shane wanted to say that her bedroom was one of splendor. Immaculately made bed, and overall, the picture of tidiness. The reality was much, MUCH different. Glasses half full of water were everywhere (she may be forgetful, but at least she was optimistic), at least one coffee mug sat on the nightstand from the previous weekend when she took a morning cup of tea in bed with her George Harrison biography. Laundry overflowed from a sorting hamper in the corner, and her bed sat, unmade, littered with crumpled pillows, sheets, blankets, and the pajamas she'd slept in last night. She wasn't the kind of person to make her bed for reasons other than having company over, like the fancy company you had to give a tour of your whole house. She'd tried to be that person numerous times, but it never seemed to stick.

Tonight, though, the guilt that came with sub-par housekeeping skills wasn't plaguing her. Right now, all she felt was the weightlessness of being with Sy, wrapped in him, kissing him, and fully ready for what was about to happen between them, as he fell with her onto her bed. Their heads clunked together awkwardly, invoking a mutual wince, followed by bouts of laughter and playful kisses.

He hovered over her a moment, just taking her in. His fingers ghosting her forehead and cheeks to clear it of the whisps of hair obscuring her face. He seemed to examine her in methodical quadrants. Learning the curves and colors and every wrinkle, freckle, and pore. She was still fully clothed, but she'd never felt so bare and vulnerable.

He left her eyes for last. His gaze drowning her delightfully. Random song lyrics came to mind, "the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake" and she thought yes. That is the precise aesthetic of this man's stare. His expression was inscrutable. She wanted to say he looked happy and content, but she didn't want to presume.

He began tracing the floral pattern on her dress with his fingers, and said, "I really like this dress on you."

She laughed, "Oh, that's the beginning of the oldest line in the book. You know you've already got me in bed, right?"

"No, I…" he chuckled, embarrased. "I mean it sincerely. Seeing you in flowers like this…makes me think they bloom right from ya."

She propped herself up on her elbows, dumbstruck by this uncharacteristically poetic side of him she'd just been shown. She stroked the side of his face.

"The man who came up with the original pickup line is rolling over in his grave attempting to kick himself for not thinking of something so beautiful."

"Yeah?"

"HELL yeah. He would have gotten WAY more lucky with a statement like that."

"You're probably right." he said, pulling her up to hold her in his arms.

"If for no other reason that it would have landed him a higher caliber woman than the floozies that he probably got."

He moaned his ascent against her neck, and continued, "Which would have meant a lot more getting lucky down the road, right?"

"Traditionally speaking, I'd say yes." she laughed, her fingers in his hair, which was barely long enough for the action.

"Okay, I know I said I liked the dress, but…" he tugged at the hemline tucked just under her hips and pulled it off her willing body.

"About time, cowboy!" she smiled, breathless.

He continued kissing her as he unhooked her strapless bra and tossed it aside, into the abyss, where the dress had gone. She was so dizzy from him that she barely noticed he was laying her down until her warm back hit cool sheets. She could feel his touch everywhere at once, despite the fact that he was really only making two or three points of contact.

Shane trembled as Sy peppered her soft body with kisses. She couldn't recall shivering like this before, especially when there was nothing but warmth, even heat, around her. His beard grazing her hips and thighs was sending tremors through her unlike anything she'd ever felt. She was a goner, and he hadn't even truly begun.

His breath against her skin was like lightning in the clouds. A storm began forming within, and all around them from his work on her…and eventually in her. He took the time to remove both of the shirts he was wearing--plaid cotton blend and thick white jersey. She reached out to run her fingertips over his chest, covered in a manly stand of thick, dark hair. It ran over his pecs and down his abdomen…farther, she knew, than was exposed right now.

She wanted to touch him. To return the favor. To stir in him the same tempest he'd stirred in her. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She was a little surprised he wasn't resisting her, but pleased, all the same. She took the heavy weight of him out in some shock…she'd caught outlines and silhouettes often since they'd been together, but he hadn't let her go this far yet. It had made her feel a little slutty at the time, but now, she understood. He was…protecting her, in a way. She handled him curiously, gently, as he'd been with her. Her apprehension, however, grew with him.

"Sy, you're…I…" she wasn't sure what to say. But she had concerns about being rent in two by him.

"I think I remember tellin' ya you wouldn't be laughin,' sunshine." he grinned at her, breathless as she stroked him.

"You were right. But don't get too used to me saying so." she smirked back at him.

He pulled away from her, reluctantly, but eager to get back to tasting her.

She couldn't comprehend what he was doing. But it felt incredible. No one she'd ever been with had made her feel like this. Like her blood was effervescent and her body was aglow like embers. His reaction to her was as much a part of the pleasure as his ministrations themselves. She could tell he was enjoying himself which fed her desire.

She felt a tension coiling inside her, something similar to climaxes past but she could tell, much more intense. What was different? Other than Sy, she didn't know. But it was working. She moaned and writhed into him.

"Yeah, sugar. Let that out. I wanna hear it." he quickened, driving her mad and sending her spinning into her bliss, incomprehensible words and sounds escaping her, growls of satisfaction escaping him, but he didn't stop.

She felt his fingers working inside her to pull another climax from deep within her. This was new for her, as well. Not only was he putting her first, but he was making her a priority in double measure before taking anything for himself. As that pressure built in her again, she felt his gaze on her, hungry and adoring, and she heard his grunts of exertion and she thought, lust. She wasn't sure how many of his digits he'd managed to slide into her, but it felt splendid, and she wanted more. She gripped his arms to convey this desire, words caught in her throat. He dove headlong back down to her, adding his mouth to the onslaught of his hand, and before she could get out more than a "Fuuuu" she was falling apart again, her body spasming and writhing beneath his utter oral perfection. Eventually, she finished the word when she ran out of air and had to take in a large gasp on the "uck."

She watched him kiss around her thighs and hips, in awe of him in his entirety.

Breathless, she asked, "Why are you so good to me, Sy?"

"Well, a wise woman once told me, 'good go to heaven.'" he looked coyly up at her. "I think I'm there, sunshine."

"Ya know, you're the best patient I've ever had." she smiled.

"Well, I should hope so." he boasted as he kissed at her breasts, nipping at the taut, dark bud in the center. She gasped. He let go and continued his ascent.

He had a point. Who could have qualified as a "better" patient than him when he'd given her so much? Even more than what they were doing tonight. His kindness. The love he had always shown her, even when she wasn't ready to see it. His strength, but also his vulnerability that she seemed to be the only one ever to see. Combine that with the fact that his mind was basically a steel trap for her every word and it would have made him more than perfect enough for her.

But as he broke away from her kiss to take off his jeans, she marveled at the shape and size of his whole body. Those thick, strong arms, the broad, defined torso, the massive, powerful legs of an avid runner, and a face that God Himself would probably be jealous of, if He was capable of the feeling. This gorgeous exterior that Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt, combined with all of his other amazing qualities, and he was almost too perfect.

He cuddled up next to her, reached up, and caressed her face, still flush with pleasure.

"I could look at this face, and nothin' else for…damn… hours. Maybe days."

She blushed and cast her eyes down, and half whispered, "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why're you lookin' away, darlin'?" he tilted her chin up. "That shy business is cute and all, but you don't have to hide from me, sweetheart."

"Again, it's not you, it's me." she chuckled, nervously.

"You wanna call it a night, for now?" he asked without a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You're kidding, right?" she raised her eyebrows. "You did all that work getting me ready for you, and I won't let that be a wasted effort." she pulled him to her and into a deep kiss, rolling onto her back and bringing him with her.

"Oh, sugar, that wasn't no wasted effort. That was time well spent. No matter what." he said in short bursts when he could pull away from her lips.

He lifted himself up and over her, kneeling between her legs, already open for him. She thought he should know how ready she was. Thought it should be painfully obvious. But he asked anyway.

"You ready, sunshine?" he asked, as he opened the condom and rolled it on…damn he was slick! She hadn't even noticed him get it from wherever he'd had it. She presumed his jeans pocket, which would explain much. She had been very distracted by his naked perfection.

"Yes. Please." she had been struck with an urgency as they stood here on the verge of everything.

He sunk slowly into her, the contentment of coming home spread over his face, the bliss of being whole spreading over hers. No, she thought. She was more than whole. She'd always felt mostly whole during sex. Sy made her feel as though she was overflowing with herself. And not just because she was overflowing with him. The way he moved in her, over her, with her, it was like he was afraid she'd turn to vapor around him before he could finish. Like she was nothing more substantial than a bubble full of smoke, and he thought she may burst and disappear. Although, you couldn't tell from the tight grip he kept on her. A bruising grip that she thought might have had a chance of popping a football. She didn't care. She wanted him to touch and hold her like this until they had no more to give each other.

As they built toward their mutual undoing, the world and everything in it faded away. There was no personal drama or injury. Nothing but the euphoria of this newfound oneness. The caresses and thrusts and groans of pleasure were the only things that mattered. Each other, and what they found therein.

“Shane.” He whispered to her, his pinnacle nigh.

“Sy!” She whimpered, that familiar tension approaching its apex.

He kissed her, as if he meant to permanently emboss her onto the bedding and onto his lips. She reeled as she came undone, little sparks of light obscuring her vision for a fraction of a second. He followed her closely, breathless and spent.

He laid down beside her, as close to her as possible, and began drawing mindless circular patterns on her stomach and around her breasts.

“Wow.” She said, almost under her breath.

“How ya feelin,’ sunshine?”

“Mmm, boneless. Dazed. Half wishing we’d done that weeks ago. I didn’t have a clue what I was missing.”

“Oh, I think you had an idea.” He said as he neatly doffed and disposed of the prophylactic in the waste can by her bed.

“Okay, a bit.” She chuckled. “It’s not like you can hide that…thing.”

“And I don’t try to, darlin’!” He kissed her forehead “Well, I don’t hide it just anywhere, put it that way.” He smirked at his dirty joke and she swatted him for it.

“You’re bad!”

“And you love it.”

She couldn’t argue. She loved his badness and his goodness and everything in between.

Up Next: Chapter Eleven- Discharge Plan

#netflix #netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy #syverson smut #Smut

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cherry3point14 · 4 years

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One Helluva Car

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Minor car fetish, one paragraph of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut, a little jealous!Dean, this is crack babes’, I can’t stress this enough: car fetish Word Count: 3,500. Summary: Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world and then one day she sees Baby... A/N: @alexwinchester23 hit me up a THOUSAND years ago with the prompt: dean x reader where she is more “in love” with deans car and it makes him a little jelly lol. And I was like, ha ha ha sure I’ll write it. It’s been half written ever since. So, I finished it. Someone please be proud of me for finishing. (Not like that you animals.) This also fills Driving In The Impala for @spndeanbingo

It’s Monday lunchtime when you see it. Her? It looks like a her. The best cars are ‘hers’ and even from a distance, she has curves that only a good woman could possess.

You’ve had a morning of shitty, old trucks that have been run hard for too long, and new cars that you plug into the computer to diagnose, which takes all the fun out of life. It’s easy to see a mile off that she isn’t shitty or bogged down with modern tech. She’s a well looked after classic. A thing of beauty. A freaking masterpiece. She’s polished enough that the sun bounces off of her black surface like she’s made of glass.

If only your arms weren’t laden with brown paper bags of food you’d take a detour to get a closer look. You could ghost your hand over her hood and take a look at the interior. You bet it’s the softest fucking leather your ass would ever hope to feel.

You’d generally drool over her without actually drooling because God knows spit is not good for the paintwork. Unfortunately, you do have bags filled with hot, meaty subs intended to feed your workforce. And you’re wise enough to know that making a garage of hungry mechanics wait for their lunch is not a good move. It’ll only result in some sort of unnecessary disaster this afternoon that you, their boss, will have to fix or pay for. Or both.

The only thing you can do is take one last look at her, memorize that beautiful shape while you heft the bags closer to your chest and carry on walking. It’s not like you’ve never seen a good old fashion American muscle car before, you have your own ‘70 Mustang at home.

It’s just… this is a Chevvy Impala, arguably the first car to flex its muscles. You don’t see one of those every day.

Your hobby is like a much cooler version of birdwatching. You have an appreciation for cars, classics in particular. The craftsmanship, the design, and the sounds they make as they tear through the world like moving time capsules. Nothing generated by a low emission engine compares.

That’s how you spot her for the second time, on Wednesday.

Well, you hear her first.

You’re closing up for the night. Everyone goes home early on Wednesdays, the shop closes at three, except for you. There’s always paperwork that needs to be done and you hate the idea of taking it home if you can help it. Taking a car home you’re always happy to do, but paperwork? You refuse to dirty your private space like that.

It’s just before six when you’re locking the doors and thunder screams in the distance. At least you think it’s thunder, you wonder where the clouds are until it moves too fast to be a weather condition.

The closer it gets the more the sound transforms into pure, uncut horsepower. It’s the deep rumble of an engine that demands to be heard. It tears your attention to it whether you like it or not. An announcement of the coming vehicle before it arrives.

Then she glides around the corner of Maple and Third before peeling down the street past you. It’s her again, she’s still in town. You know it’s the same car, she isn’t a vehicle made for stealth and your little ol’ town isn’t exactly heaving with beauties like her.

You know she’s not a local, it must be a flying visit, you’re lucky enough to have seen her again before she left. Not just seen her though, heard her. Heard her engine and the screech of her tires on the tarmac. Experiencing her in action is breathtaking enough that you gawp at her like an idiot as she zooms away.

It’s not a fetish or anything. You don’t exactly cuddle an exhaust pipe in bed. You appreciate cars more than your job requires you to, simple. It’s a respect that was drilled into you from a young age. Your dad owns a franchise of shops across the state and never had the boy he always wanted. He didn’t mope about it, he taught you to fix an engine instead. To appreciate every individual piece like an unsolved puzzle. And because your dad is a big ol’ softie he taught you that classic cars can’t be beaten, he favors Camaros in particular. He gave you a garage to work in until you’d labored enough to earn it for keeps and manage it as your own. Your dad raised you to bleed motor oil and sweat gasoline.

Cars are your life. Ok, maybe you’re a bit of a gearhead is all. You can’t help it if that Impala is a fine wine you want to uncork.

You watch the street lights make a hazy path for her to follow, another corner and she’s gone.

At home, you curl up on your sofa and scroll through your usual sites to see how much your own Impala would cost. In good condition, you’d have to sell one of the two cars you already have but there’s this smashed up ‘68 in New Jersey that might be worth the drive for the price. It would basically be a new car by the time you rebuild it but that doesn’t matter. All you needed were the bones of the thing and you never shy away from a project that involves weeks of hunting down original parts, that’s half the fun. For tonight at least it gets bookmarked. The decision left for another day, if it still seems like a good idea in the morning then you’ll make the call.

Hell, maybe tomorrow you’ll see something else and forget all about her. Maybe.

Good looking guys come through town from time to time but Dean is a rare treat. He’s the picture next to ‘handsome’ in the dictionary. He’s got these full lips that you’ve stared at, without an ounce of shame, while he sucks on a beer bottle. A jawline covered in scruff that you’ve already imagined between your thighs. And then there are those hands of his. It could be your line of work but you always loved a man with hands like his. Broad hands and thick fingers. Mechanic hands you’d call them, you half wish they were covered in oil and grease.

He was tapping away on the bar for a while, drumming aimlessly while you drank, but now he’s toppled in your direction. He’s standing between his barstool and yours, while you're still seated, which makes you the perfect height for him to slip an arm around you. His thumb has settled in on tracing the edge of your jeans while he talks to you, tickling your back where your tank had ridden up.

Honestly? He doesn’t even need to be a good lay to be worth the trip to bed.

“I know you said you’re in town with your brother…”

He winces at the start of your sentence, “with the things I’m thinking about doing to you honey, you can’t go mentioning Sammy at the same time.”

Underneath the stained overalls, you’re still a woman and you’re not sure if there’s anyone alive who could resist Dean’s charms. When you laugh at his ridiculous propositioning, you don’t even try to fight when it tails off into a giggle.

“I was going to ask if you had your own room? Or are we going back to my place?”

You’d almost think he’d been playing it cool up until this point. Everything had been measured and smooth. But you ask him that and he finally cracks, urgency slips through that charm offensive. He tilts his head forward as his face hardens into something intense, eyes hooded under the light of the bar. His hand slides up underneath your top enough that his whole palm skates against your skin. “How about a compromise? My car, your place?”

You lean in until you’re almost touching his lips, your tongue peeks out to wet them and flicks against his, taunting. “Deal."

He doesn’t need to know that you walked here and needed a ride home anyway. That's irrelevant.

Stumbling out of the bar is messy. Not because of the alcohol, neither of you have drunk that much, it’s his hands on your waist. They’re possessive and so there.

Maybe he’s not so bad in bed. Maybe he’s actually, pretty good in…

Oh fuck. It’s her.

You’re stopped in your tracks by the sight of your very own white whale. Well, black and shiny Impala but the metaphor stands.

You stop and Dean bumps into you, not expecting it so soon. For a brief moment, you’re frozen in awe, reverence. Even in the dark, she’s perfect. Street lights bouncing off of her smooth exterior. The night is chilly and there’s a hint of condensation creeping around the edges of the windshield which only serves to make her sparkle.

“Wow, she’s-”

“Mine?” Dean finishes, a wry grin on his face and keys dangling from those fingers you’d been drooling over moments ago. Fuck him and his fingers now.

“Shit, Dean. I’ve been seeing this car all week. She’s beautiful.” You walk towards her, carefully, in case you spook her. She’s an old soul, probably jumpy. Your hand reaches out but doesn’t touch her yet because you’re being respectful.

You’d have thought Dean might have appreciated your care. Instead, he laughs and it catches you off guard. You whip your head back around to glare at him and he encourages you, “she won't bite.”

When you finally make contact she’s cool and glossy under your touch, but even so, you don’t run your hand over her like you want to. You can feel the waxed surface that you don’t want to ruin. You know how much effort goes into a good wax job like this. Instead, you trade your whole hand for your fingertips and trace her edges as if trying to remember her shape for when you rebuild your own.

“Ahem.” In the distance, Dean clears his throat. Sucks for him. You’ve got a new love interest.

“Sweetheart?” He asks again, stepping up closer to you as if you didn’t hear him. He sounds needy like he wants you, but it’s edged with this vulnerable envy. You already noticed his bright green eyes in the bar, now you're wondering if there’s a different green-eyed monster at play.

He needs to understand, you saw the car first. She’s held your heart all week, Dean piqued the interest of your lady parts about half an hour ago. You might say age before beauty but this Impala has Dean beat on both fronts, older and more beautiful.

“Where’d you get these rims, if I didn’t know better I’d almost say they’re original,” you spare him a glance over your shoulder. “But I do know better.”

He looks like he’s struggling with not having your full attention, you’d almost say he’s pouting. Then he sticks out his bottom lip and he's definitely pouting. He shuffles from foot to foot and steels his jaw. It makes it even more difficult for him then when you ask questions that he wants to answer. You can see the cogs turning where he’s trying to work out if he should encourage your interest or not. As much as he wants sex, in the end, the gearhead wins out.

“Fixed her up a lot over the years, found those in a junkyard if you believe it.” He steps up next to you now with a proud smile.

“I can believe it. I’ve seen the stuff people throw away. They’re perfect. Can I?” You slide out your phone and wave it at him.

He nods, although a little dumbstruck.

You bend down and snap a picture, explaining. “I was looking at a sixty-eight to rebuild, maybe. Actually, yours gave me the idea, saw her and couldn’t get her out of my head. I have a friend who might be able to help me out with these.”

“You wanna build one?” He sounds interested but not enough to get him off track. The track being you.

“Yeah. I told you I’m a mechanic. Building these things is in my blood.”

The air is cool and you start to feel it, not having intended being outside this long. He sees you shiver and steps behind you running his hands up and down your arms. “Sixty-eight ain’t a sixty-seven though, is it?” He asks, voice dripping with cocky arrogance about his car.

Oh, fuck. He’s figured out the way to your heart. He’s got you all turned around and leaning against her. Back pressed against her metal and glass enough that you’ll be feeling her for weeks.

“No, it’s not…”

“Wanna ride my Baby?” Dean presses his lips to the corner of your mouth with the question, leaving enough space for you to let out an almost inaudible gasp.

You’d be inclined to say men name their cars the dumbest shit sometimes but ‘Baby’ fits somehow. It’s perfect. She’s Baby.

“Yeah,” you nod. Right now, it's all you’ve ever wanted.

He walks you to the passenger’s side door and opens it’s for you. It’s not even romantic, it’s a fucking turn on.

Maybe you do have a car fetish. You should probably figure that out, like, another day.

In the time it takes Dean to strut to the other side you have sunk into the leather and just as you imagined, it’s soft. Worn and loved, like everything else about this beauty. This is what’s makes her special and that’s why you would have to love your own extra hard. To make up the years of neglect.

“Ready to go?”

He’s looking at you, smirking in your peripheral, and you’re looking at his fingers on the keys. You know what’s going to happen when he turns them. You’re still not prepared.

“Let’s do it.” A grin slides onto your face.

She rumbles to life beneath you. The vibrations from her engine shudder through the seat straight to your core. From there you swear the horsepower zips to every nerve ending in your body like electricity powering a city. And the sound could strike you down. She somehow purrs and roars at the same time. Each rev is a scream but her engine sings between each turn.

“Two eighty-three?” You ask, bottom lip caught behind your teeth.

“Get out of here with that two eighty-three crap. She’s a three twenty-seven.” He snaps, but not really, pressing his foot on the gas again just to see you quiver. Another rotation of the engine, her power, rolls through you.

He pulls out onto the road, leaving the dive behind, and drifts a little as he does, the back of her floating into the road. You slide over the seat an inch and he’s half focused on you, half focused on driving, so you're not even sure if he planned it. You scoot closer to him and he weighs his arm, the one not currently steering, around your shoulders. You’re becoming increasingly aware that the car smells like him, or he smells like her. Leather, sweet and spicy, musky. It’s a complicated mix where you’re not sure whether it's more her or him. You want to wrap yourself up in it all the same but Baby can’t wrap you up, Dean can.

“Dean I… Next left… I really, really love this car.”

He licks his lips as he looks down at you, his pupils wide, probably has a clear view of your chest, “yeah? How much, sweetheart?”

“A lot.” You pant in his ear, teeth grazing his lobe. “Second right, then it’s the third house on the left.”

A growl comes out of him. Determined. And you’re not so sure you care about fucking Dean anymore but each time you work him up a little higher, he revs that gorgeous engine and you get to feel that thunder. It’s the best circle jerk you could imagine, everyone is truly happy.

He pulls up in front of your house in record time because Baby is gunning 285 horsepower, so she’s not exactly going to be beat.

The problem, that you hadn’t really planned on, is arriving at your destination. As soon as he cuts the engine you puncture. Missing the everything about her straight away and wishing you’d kept driving for hours. Still, you have the scent of leather everywhere, burdening your senses with the smell of a bygone era. You hike a leg over Dean and sit in his lap. A knee either side of his thighs, denting her seats and Baby’s steering wheel holding the curve of your ass. Your hands skip Deans’ shoulders in favor of the seat behind him, the cushioned bench under the pads of your fingers, as you attach your mouth to his. Sandwiched between Baby and Dean, and you never want to leave the spot.

Your tongue curls into his mouth at the same time that he presses his fingers into your hips so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises. You’ve never worried about a tight grip on you before but he starts pulling you towards him and away from where you’re wedged on Baby. The more you lean your body into Dean, the less you feel his car.

“Baby.” You murmur into him. Dean must mistake it to be a pet name you’re borrowing, calling him, because he pulls you again. Actually you’re telling him where you want to be, to stay.

Here. With Baby.

“This is a nice neighborhood.” He hums in this tone that’s deep but it doesn’t go through you like the sound of a turbo V-8. “We should take this inside.”

He’s right. Carl from the damn neighborhood watch is probably already doing just that, watching. The pervert.

“Right, sure.” You agree despite the way your stomach drops at the thought of leaving her.

You’re all untangling limbs getting out and he kisses you once more against Baby before you allow him to drag you away. It already feels different, normal, boring.

Dean’s fine, he’s good, he’s handy. Like you’d thought he would be.

You wrap your mouth around his dick because you’ve always liked looking up through your lashes and seeing the way a guy goes breathless on your tongue. He works you open on his thick fucking fingers until the pressure in your stomach snaps with his thumb circling your clit. He pushes into you and the stretch, the burn, is perfect. Dean is better in bed than you’d expected him to be.

And yet, it’s empty. Dulled. It doesn’t scratch the itch like good sex used to. The whole experience dampened compared to what you’d felt sitting in the front seat of his 1967 Chevy Impala.

You slip on some oversized shirt from your floordrobe to walk him out when he leaves. Neither of you under any impression that he’s staying the night. He’s got this satisfied grin on his face that he hasn’t been able to wipe off since the first time he came. He stops at your doorstep, “thanks, sweetheart. This was fun.”

“Sure was,” you agree, not giving him the full story. Standing at your doorway you’re looking at Baby instead of Dean, again. “Let me know if you’re still in town tomorrow, I’d love to go for another ride.”

He nods and backs away a few steps until he’s in your line of sight along with his car, “will do, baby.”

He must think you mean sex. You wouldn't be opposed to it but you mean a drive. A real drive with wide roads, and opening the taps. You can break that to him tomorrow if he does give you that call. If he doesn't then there's only one thing you need to say before he leaves. One thing you can't let her leave without saying.

“One helluva car you got there, Dean.”

Second A/N: Look, this didn’t start out as a full on car fetish but I was writing it and SOMETIMES I HAVE NO CONTROL. Sometimes these characters they say, “fuck you!” and do what they want. I was going to write a nice little jealousy thing. Dean wants some attention. That’s all. You only have yourselves to blame readers!

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 @jesseswartzwelder Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer @iamabeautifulperson18 @erins-culinary-service

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cetaceans-pls · 3 years

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Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Attempted Kidnapping, Date Night at an Aquarium, Gone Terrifically Wrong, Dom/sub Undertones Series: Part 4 of Third Thursdays

A plainclothes mission at the Gotham Aquarium quickly goes off the rails when Jason and Bruce find themselves on the wrong end of a kidnapping attempt. A billion-dollar target out of the Batsuit, Bruce gets taken.

Jason comes fetch.

Happy late Lunar New Year + Valentine’s! Why do I keep forgetting to post things to my tumblr! Life’s full of mysteries!

Anyways, please enjoy the weird result of me thinking too much about aquariums and helmets that look like jackals, and have a good week 🙏

Fic also available below the cut:

Jason studiously doesn’t mess with his cuffs, tug on his necktie, or pull off his sunglasses. He hates being forced to manifest in a suit and tie; it’s a misery every single time he has to. However, knee-deep in the bowels of a pandemic that just won’t freakin’ quit, needs must. Sometimes a man’s got to cosplay as a high-tier bodyguard to fit in a date night on a Thursday, so sometimes a man will.

He fiddles with his earpiece, expression serious even though he’s really just trying to get the volume up on his audiobook. It adds to the aura of stern, scary bodyguard man, and it means that the wobbly-lipped, handsy director cuts short his long, long thank you speech to Bruce and waves them inside for their all-access tour of the Gotham Aquarium after dark. It’s a performance he and Bruce have repeated for most of a year now, and it’s the main avenue for Jason to work through his massive collection of audiobooks. Once a month or so Billionaire Fuckboy Bruce Wayne will get it into his head to book a library or a park or a zoo or a planetarium all to himself for fuck knows what, and he’ll be good and won’t break any social distancing rules or any furniture because it’s just him and his bodyguard staying through the night. Come morning the establishment will find themselves the recipients of a donation generous enough to keep their heads above water, while Brucie floats away on a cloud of expensive scotch to find his next flex.

Bruce has more money to his name than anybody ever, ever should, and these days he uses it to buy literal breathing space for much of Gotham’s public facilities struggling to stay afloat.

This is their first visit to the aquarium, because the social media intern-turned-manager here had managed to keep finances fiercely healthy by selling videos of aquarium creatures with personalised messages. Dick himself had commissioned a 30-second video of an aquarium worker whispering ‘wiggle wiggle wiggle’ into a microphone while the camera zoomed in and out from the moon jelly exhibition, and the number of Gothamites keeping their spirits up exclusively thanks to a video of a gently floating manatee quietly murmuring “You’re doing your best” is alarming.

That’s why it’s taken them a while to work their way here, but Jason has to admit he’s looking forward to a relaxing night walking around in mood lighting with B, heckling the occasional fish. Their last date night keeping Gotham’s ‘non-essential’ attractions open had been at the rec centre in the Narrows that’s been shut for months. Romance was thin on the ground there, because mid-date the Bat had taken over Bruce and decided that they owed it to the people of the city to make a few simple adjustments to improve water quality in the swimming pools.

Elbow-deep in an ancient pump and filtration system, Jason’s hand had gotten tangled in something while pulling out the filters. It had turned out to be a tangled, sopping wet mass of human hair the size of a cat, and for the first time in a while, he had wished he was dead and actually kind of meant it.

Tonight, though, promises to be smoother sailing. The aquarium’s not in dire disrepair, the staff have been instructed to keep out of their way and respect their privacy, and he has burritos and two bottles of mini-Merlot tucked in holsters that would hold guns on a lesser man. It’s perfect prep for a relaxing supper in front of the open water tank.

The director leads them in through the main entrance, still talking Bruce’s ear off while he gestures nervously around them and swipes at his thinning white hair. Jason follows after them, hand to his ear as he says a bunch of menacing gibberish into empty air. He and Bruce are incredibly dull on nights out like this, and have by Alfred’s decree been cut-off from work comms to decrease the chance of anyone on duty being rude jealous assholes. No one’s listening right now, but growling ‘Code Esper’ into his jacket has the director sweating even harder, which is the intended outcome. With a messily-babbled “Goodnight and goodbye Mister Wayne!” and an unwelcome pat on the small of Bruce’s back, the man disappears the way they came, heavy glass doors swinging shut.

Finally, the night’s starting to look better.

First thing Jason does is rip off his stupid sunglasses. It’s certainly an Expected Look for a bodyguard, but it’s 11 PM on a weekday night and on top of it being a hideous accessory, it sets his teeth on edge to have his vision obscured even while off-duty.

He also whips his tie off, because there’s a time and a place for choking and it’s not here, not yet. Jason runs his hand through his hair to break through the gel and scowls to see the black residue on his fingers. Makeup on his face, makeup in his hair, makeup pasted on to hide him in plain sight when other people get to go to Wendy’s barefaced and hand-in-hand as they pleased, urgh.

The world’s extra rough on the legally dead, even if he’s immediately mollified by Bruce sidling up to him, close enough that their hips bump and their fingers tangle.

Christ, rich man shampoo smells a whole lot different to the stuff you can get by the half-gallon in your local bodega. Jason is tempted to bite Bruce, find the closest cleaning cupboard and get up to some defilement, but it's a big aquarium and it’s a long night, so there's no rush.

The CCTV cameras aren't live, no red lights blinking, and it's supremely helpful how much privacy gets afforded to a billionaire and his potential debauchery in return for a big cheque. Jason slings an arm around Bruce's waist, because these are hard rights hard earned, and just grins at Bruce's long-suffering sigh. "Shut the hell up, this is crazy romantic. What do you want to see first?"

The answer is, inexplicably, the tropical freshwater exhibit, where they spend a solid half hour with an arapaima swimming up-down up-down a false river designed to look like the Amazon, their tiny bottles of wine in hand. Jason loses his mind first, pacing along the tank to follow the path of a fish longer than he or Bruce are tall, but within a minute Bruce is in lockstep with him as they stalk an innocent fish while they talk about not very much at all.

Bruce looks at the murkiness of the water and the cinematic dead leaves floating all over, expression gravely concerned. “They could do with a bigger aquarium.”

Jason groans, thumb absently picking at the label on his bottle. “Stop communing with the fish. It’s only barely cute when Damian gets really intense about animals, and the charm’s completely gone once you crack 6 feet.”

In his head, though, he can’t help but feel that yeah, more space for the arapaima would be nice, but hey.

Jason’s singularly terrible with small, tight spaces, so.

“C’mon,” he says, nudging Bruce so hard it’s mostly a shove. “Time to find out what sharks look like after-hours.”

“What’s normal operating hours for a shark?” Bruce asks just to be a pain, easily going where lead.

“Keep at it and I’ll shove you in the tank so you can find out.”

There’s a loose ceiling tile near the information counter in the main hall, right by the entrance leading to the enormous, floor-to-ceiling open water exhibit. There's a loose ceiling tile there because Jason had cased this joint a week ago, the way he checks out every place Bruce decides to take them to on nights like this, and that’s where he had decided to hide his kit. While Bruce walks from end to end of the tank, committing to pointless memory the names and traits of a hundred fish, Jason climbs up and into the ceiling to grab their party pack.

Tepid beer, pretzels, spicy chicken-flavoured chips, wet wipes. A heavy blanket, a bottle of hand sanitiser, Alfred’s cold-brew tea that could grow chest hairs on a rock. He’s even got a bottle of antacids to cover burrito-related maladies shoved into a first-aid kit so complete it could maybe, just maybe, regrow a limb. He dusts the heavy blanket off before he spreads it across the floor, where they have the best view of the most unbearably beautiful manta ray that could possibly exist.

Jason maybe preens a little when Bruce comes back from the edge and greets the spread with a bit of a smile. “Hurry it up already, dinner’s gonna get cold.”

The burritos get pulled out of their holsters as Bruce settles on the ground in the exacting, ginger manner of a man of a certain age whose knees have unfortunately passed their prime. They sit and eat while inoffensive jazz plays quietly over the speakers and fish go up and down and all around.

Ah, beats the ball of human hair by a country mile.

“This is nice,” Bruce says quietly, shrugging out of his coat and loosening his tie. There’s a sharp, bright gloss to him when he’s in Bruce-Wayne-Public-Performance mode, but Jason likes dishevelled, run-down Bruce who’s a little absent-minded and a lot human the best.

He likes this Bruce he’s earned.

“One of our better dates.” Jason holds up his bottle of beer expectantly, and feels profoundly smug when Bruce raises his to knock in a gentle toast. “Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I came to the aquarium. Must have been before.”

“Same,” Bruce says, and Jason wonders for a brief, harrowing moment if this holds true for the zoo and the planetarium and the rec centre and the public library and the-

He doesn’t get the time to linger on the thought and ponder, check to see if this is Bruce on a mission to form new memories in places that had held some from before a death in the family, because they’re interrupted by the sudden scream of a fire alarm.

They both tense where they’re sat, at the ready to fly into a fight in a suit and tie, but wherever the emergency might be it isn’t in here with them. Jason looks around, tries to catch smoke on the air, but it’s all stillness and the scent of disinfectant spray. Weird, that there’s no quiet stampede of night-time crew rushing to rescue their watery wards, no security guard sent on a quick mission by the director to save their cash cow.

Jason’s got a bad feeling about this. He gets to his feet and hauls the bag containing the first aid kit and other supplies up on his shoulder. “What the hell is going on?”

Bruce is fiddling with his phone, working through the security system of the aquarium. “All the cameras are down, so we have no visuals. The fire alarm in the deep sea exhibit was tripped manually, not by the smoke detector.” He frowns. “Carbon monoxide monitors didn’t register anything, and the sprinklers haven’t been triggered either. Could just be a fluke.”

Bruce doesn’t sound convinced, and neither is Jason. Assuming harmlessness is a great way to incur harm, and that’s something you learn damn early after starting up a vigilante lifestyle. Jason can only assume foul play of some sort, likely relating to Bruce, but there’s no way that an aquarium as big as this wouldn’t have night staff; civilians might be in danger.

Fuck, give him gross filters jammed with 27 years worth of dead skin cells over this. “I’ll go and check on the deep sea room.” If there’s no trouble, Jason’s mighty tempted to create some. “You should head back to the entrance, meet up with the sweaty director dude and evacuate. I’ll catch up with you after everything’s handled.”

Bruce looks pretty irritated to be asked to meekly make his way to safety, but pulling a Bat move right now would be incredibly bad optics. They both know his hands are tied, and Bruce sighs and climbs to his feet. “If I don’t get an update from you in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in,” he tells Jason, crumpling the foil of his burrito and fastidiously stowing it away in the pocket of his slacks. “Comms check.”

They both tap at their discreet earpieces, and both wince at the screech of feedback when the comms activate and pair.

“Fifteen’s plenty.” Jason hikes his kit bag further up his shoulder, and pretends he’s not embarrassed when he tries to activate night vision on a mask he isn’t wearing.

“Jason,” Bruce says, calm, commanding, and quiet.

“What?”

“Be good.” It’s said like an order no one could want to refuse, but before Jason can get over his shivery shock and snap something back, Bruce is waving and disappearing out the hall, pulling on the skin of a simpler man.

Jason rubs at his neck and misses his helmet more keenly. This unbearable transparency of being; almost thirty whole ass years old and it’s astonishing how underneath it all he can still be so hideously eager to please.

“Please let there be a fucking crime,” Jason murmurs to himself, and disappears.

There is a crime, but it’s not even a good one.

Jason breaks into the deep sea exhibit through a utility hatch designed to access the cooling pipes for an elaborate sea sponge display. He’s quiet and mostly invisible when he surfaces in the room, and after a minute of letting his eyes adjust to the curated darkness, it’s easy to spot a man in a balaclava with a gun trained on the only door leading to the room.

He also quickly spots the terrified hostages huddled together under a display of what looked like demon jellyfish made of LEDs and blood. It’s easy to see the shape of the crime now; set off an alarm in an isolated area with only one known entrance and exit, and subdue people as they arrive. As long as the alarm kept blaring, staff would keep on coming, and by not triggering any of the smoke or carbon monoxide detectors the fire department remain clueless.

Excellent plan, great for catching anyone who hadn’t, oh, spent a solid 12 hours going through the schematics of the entire building out of an obsessive desire to create a space a Bat could relax in. Jason counts 11 hostages and just the one gunman, and tries not to groan.

There’s not much money to be had by robbing an aquarium, and judging by the degree of weaponry this isn’t some anti-aquarium demonstration organised via Facebook groups, powered by pandemic blues. No one’s liberating a shark or freeing Willy or anything nearly as fun. Ringing the alarm’s just an excellent, excellent way to control the movement of people.

There are only two ways to go; towards the fire or towards safety.

If you’re looking to net yourself a big fish, two small teams with a couple of free-roaming agents would be enough to ensure a catch rate of almost 100%. Jason highly, highly doubts that this whole song-and-dance was designed to abduct a frazzled researcher wearing a fuzzy sweater in radiant orange, or a stern-faced woman in a janitor’s uniform who looks alarmingly close to hulking out and breaking out of her bonds. He highly, highly suspects that there’s a reason outside of billionaire-envy to explain why the director of the aquarium had looked so dodgy and sweaty when he had welcomed Bruce.

Jason’s proven unfortunately right when the radio at the gunman’s hip crackles to life.

“We got Wayne.”

Of course they did. Bruce could hardly go to town and take down a bunch of armed kidnappers, especially if there are civilians near him. Jason tugs out his phone to update the Cave while the gunman grunts his reply and moves to turn off the fire alarm. Alfred asks Jason if he needs reinforcements as the guy tells the huddled terrified masses that he’ll kill them if they move, and Jason texts back a ‘no thank you’ as the goon strides out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The group of tied-up people burst into panicked chatter as soon as the gunman’s gone, and Jason uses the noise as cover for unzipping his bag and getting changed. Unlike Bruce, pulling on his second skin takes a lot longer, but once Jason tugs his red hood up and shucks off the bodyguard suit to stretch in his skin-tight armour, he feels twice the man and thrice as happy.

There’s no gun in the bag, there’s no gun anywhere near him, because it’s a self-imposed rule Jason has recently given himself for date nights. Bruce has been known to use anything from a screwdriver taped to a plank of wood to his literal bare stupid hands to pry things open in a whole-hearted effort to avoid having a crowbar anywhere in the Manor or in his life, and Jason wanted to repay like with like.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to not have his go-to weapon, though. He sighs as he straps a taser strong enough to knock God unconscious to his thigh, and sighs again when he pulls out a sickle in its leather holster. Alfred’s gotten terribly creative with what he packs for their nights out, but who is Jason to stand in the way of a man’s artistic expression?

Fully kitted-out, hood drawn and mask glowing, Jason shoves the bag back down the hatch and vaults over the top of the aquarium he was crouched behind, landing to the wild, panicked screams of the assembled staff.

His flashy entrance is totally unnecessary, and he knows the lights on the new helmet make him look less like a human and more like an abstract cryptid with a muzzle lined in blood. It’s spectacularly dramatic, but it releases some of the tension that’s been building in his body ever since he and Bruce split up.

He holds his hands up, forgetting the sickle in his fist, and the screaming hits a crescendo any opera would be proud of. It’s a little fucking hysterical, but Jason’s on the clock right now so he can’t savour this situation as much as he would have liked. “Calm the hell down, it’s just Red Hood here to save the day.”

The screaming eases up, though a gentleman in thick glasses and a threadbare labcoat does give a good ol’ screech when he comes closer towards them with the sickle set free. Jason ignores him and crouches down to cut the janitor lady free first. She spares a second to presumably calculate the chances of her beating him in a fight before she comes to a conclusion, shrugs, and turns to immediately start picking at the knots of the person next to her. Within a couple of minutes everyone is free, and everyone is scrambling to grab at things to arm themselves with. Jason eyes the selection of brandished pens and water bottles with mild delight, and nods respectfully at his lady and her bottle of bleach off the janitor’s cart because real recognises real. He does a quick scan to make sure there are no serious injuries or emergencies, and gets to his feet.

“All right, so this is apparently an attempt to kidnap Wayne, and you guys are just collateral. They’ll be clustered towards the main entrance, so get out through the most secret employees-only door you know. Stay together and stay quiet, and it’s gonna be fine. The Bat knows what’s going on, if that makes anyone feel better.” He considers how much he does and doesn’t want to share with the people assembled, before he decides that fuck it, being a shit-stirrer is pretty fun. “Pretty sure your big boss is in on it too, so if there’s an exit that guy won’t be familiar with, use that one.”

There’s a sharp intake of communal breath, before a young woman wearing waders and rubber gloves up to her shoulders raises her hand. “Do you mean Dr. Stevens?”

Jason shrugs. “Maybe?”

“Uhm. Short, all white hair, super skinny. Looks like someone you wouldn’t trust in a lab alone with a stressed-out postdoc of any gender because he gives off the vibe of a creep with varied tastes?”

Jason frowns at what the girl is saying, and the grim looks of much of the rest of the room. “Sounds about right.”

At least three separate people hiss motherfucker under their breaths, and three more say some version of I fucking knew it. The aquarium might not have had any severe financial issues, but oh, they’ve found a mess worse than too much human hair, looks like. Jason’s keener than ever to murder this Stevens dude, but he really, really doesn’t have the time to chair a HR complaint for the aquarium right now.

“Look, whatever goes down tonight I’m gonna give a Red Hood guarantee that the guy won’t be your boss anymore. Hell, Wayne’s going to be so grateful when I rescue him that I could get him to elect a different person to be in charge of this place even if this guy isn’t in cahoots with the kidnappers. So consider it handled, okay?” He straps the sickle back at his waist. “Now get the hell out of here. I’m counting on you.”

He nods at his bleach-wielding lady, and she nods back like the truest sort of comrade-in-arms.

Reassured, Jason kicks the door down and moves the fastest anyone’s ever moved in an aquarium, a red-faced wraith on a hunt.

Bruce courteously gasps when a hood is thrown over his head and secured, even though he had guessed the shape of the night’s events the moment he had reached the lobby and seen the half-wobbly half-cocky look to the director’s face from across the way. “What are you doing?” he demands in a shaky voice as he puts up token resistance, enough to look panicked but not enough to tempt someone into knocking him out and hauling him away.

Far too many questions to answer as to why a loafer coasting on generational wealth has more muscle mass than your average highly-trained mercenary, after all.

He counts his steps and tries to carve little signs into the pile of the carpeting with the toe of his loafers as he’s marched off, though he doubts Jason will need this trail of breadcrumbs to find him. “Let me go!” he yells, navigating the blueprint of the aquarium in his mind. Everyone ignores him, and his captors are none-too-gentle as they force him up some metal stairs.

Forty steps from the entrance to the lobby, a right, thirty steps, a left, a quiet beep, and now stairs. My, my, my, seems like they’ll be paying Dr. Stevens’ sea slug lab a visit. It’s a good location for a quick regroup, tucked away and locked behind several layers of security. Bruce imagines they won’t be here long; a good kidnapper doesn’t keep their victim where they found them, after all.

He’s roughly shoved into a chair and tied to it, rendered immobile by cuffs on his hands and rope round his legs, but it’s a cheap office chair and there’s give in his binds. He’s immobile, but only theoretically. Bruce keeps tugging at his bonds and cursing under his breath while he hopes that Stevens doesn’t bother to ask where his bodyguard has gone, has thought the worst of Jason and assumed that he had just run off.

It would make a rescue attempt much easier, though Bruce isn’t particularly worried. It’s a kidnapping force of, oh, five? Maybe six? Carpet muffles footsteps more than wooden floorboards do, but Bruce is pretty confident of his estimate. Six at most, with at least another team responsible for the fire alarm, so a worst-case scenario of twelve. As long as his measure of their competence isn’t too wrong, Bruce doesn’t anticipate anything worse than a couple of through-and-throughs if he has to fight through this himself.

He knows he won’t have to, though.

The people around him fall silent when their radio comes to life, a panicked man shouting “There’s someone here with us! It’s the Red-” before there’s a loud bang! followed by a terrifying silence.

“Ten,” someone yells tersely back. “Come in, Ten. What the hell was that?”

There’s a general rumble of unease in the room now, and Bruce is allowed a vicious, nasty smile because no one can see him under here. At least ten people are in on this, and about half of those are in here with him while the rest are out there with Jason. He considers making an effort to tap out in Morse how many goons are with him right now, since Jason has half a dozen ways to track his location with all the kit Bruce has on him, but decides against it.

Let the boy have some fun.

“Let me go, I’ll do anything you want,” he calls out half-heartedly, but no one gives a shit because there’s another panicked broadcast by another panicked man that cuts off abruptly. The tension in the room is palpable, feels more solid than the sack on his head, and it goes frizzy with electricity when the Red Hood’s terrifying static growl comes through on the radio.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Jason’s mangled voice croons through the line. Bruce feels goosebumps ripple up his arms, and feels oddly, hideously proud. “Two down, a few more to go. Hope you’ll put up more of a fight.”

Then there’s a sharp crack, and the line goes quiet.

“You promised me this would be just in-and-out! You said that Wayne would be out of here as soon as you got him! You didn’t say anything about a vigilante running me down in my own building!”

Ah, that’s Dr. Stevens losing his nerve. His tirade is cut short by a hard slap, it sounds like, and the voice Bruce thinks of as One is the only thing to be heard above the quiet whimpers of a panicking doctor.

“You agreed to do anything that needed to be done as long as you got a cut of the pay,” One says coldly. “Too late to get cold feet now, doctor.” There’s the sound of the walkie-talkie being turned back on. “Transport is incoming. Disappear and make your way out, regroup in safe house Gamma. It’s just one man against all of us, so don't lose your heads and we’ll get our money.”

Nobody responds verbally, probably because radio silence is golden when trying to beat a hasty retreat. Bruce feels his ropes come loose, and he’s forced to his feet as the kidnappers discuss their plans with more discretion than Stevens shooting off his mouth. He catches bits and pieces of conversation, mentions of the docks and allusions to the highest bidder, but everything goes instantly, deathly silent when the radio comes to life again.

“Three down, four down, five down. Be seeing you real soon, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce doesn’t need to pretend to take in a shaky breath.

God, code names are an absolute necessity when carrying out this sort of dirty work, but Jason wants to have a sit-down with whoever decided to go with numbers for this little shindig. First man taken out and he already knows this goes at least ten fuckers deep. The leader’s figured out that yelling the number of men he has in his employ down a radio the enemy has access to isn’t a great idea, but somebody with an army of a hundred wouldn’t have been so concerned with the downing of one, so Jason’s pretty much got confirmation that this is a small-scale, quick-in quick-out kind of affair.

They’ll be looking to move Bruce, with that whole ‘transport incoming’ message. Jason’s got Bruce’s location pulled up, B’s comms actively recording vitals and transmitting its location, and from the lack of movement it’s easy to tell they’re planning a getaway through the front entrance.

He’s also happy to note that Bruce’s resting heart rate’s still at an insulting 45 beats a minute mid-kidnapping, though boy it sure did spike every time Red Hood sent out a message. Good to know, real fucking good to know.

After taking out the fifth guy, Jason doesn’t run into anybody else on his way to the main entrance, and he doesn’t particularly care if some small fry are getting away. The priority is getting Bruce to safety, and then doing clean-up on the kidnappers and Dr. Creepazoid. A showdown within the lobby is endlessly preferable to a showdown outside, if only because it’s easier to keep track of people if they can’t run away from you. Double-checking that Bruce actually is being slowly moved towards the main entrance from wherever they stashed him, Jason happily beats them to the front doors and barricades them in with him, stacking tables and chairs and cupboards into a heavy, impenetrable mess.

Sure, whoever’s coming to pick them up might be armed enough to break on through, but Jason has intimate knowledge of what mercenaries are like. Thoughts like ‘I sure as hell am not paid enough to deal with this’ are common and powerful enough to dissuade most mercs in this situation. It’s what you get when you team-build on money instead of insane, intangible things like love and loyalty, losers.

Jason looks around at the arena of his making and makes a quick decision to climb up a display case stuffed full of the toys kids can expect to see in the gift shop. It’s sturdy enough, though the thin metal frames groan a little under his weight. Jason sheathes his sickle and powers down the lights lining his helmet, lies in wait like a hungry dog in the dark as he calms his breathing and imagines what it will be like to beat the living daylights out of people who think it’s cool to disrupt a well-earned date on a much-anticipated night.

It’s another ten minutes or so before he picks up the sound of heavy feet trying to be unnaturally quiet on cheap carpet. They haven’t rounded the corner and they’re still out of sight, but with his helmet enhancing his hearing Jason’s already getting plenty of information. At least five people with heavy, careful steps, likely the assailants heavy in their armour and weapons. One set of footsteps shuffling along the carpet, all hesitance and distaste, and that’s got to be Stevens.

And in the middle of it all, walking in a weird off-kilter rhythm like a man who either has a stone in his shoe or is determined to make as distinctive a walk as possible, is Bruce. Up and walking of his own power, which is excellent. Jason doesn’t need to go into this fight concerned with keeping an unconscious Bruce safe. This is going to be an activity with full participation by all parties, hell yeah.

Speaking of participation.

Jason taps the side of his helmet and connects to Bruce’s comms. “B,” he says, low and sweet just to unsettle Bruce. “I’ve got altitude on a cabinet on the eastern wall of the entrance. I’ll see you right as you come in, and I’m gonna attack before anybody knows what’s happening. Get behind the reception desk if you can. Do you copy?”

As per the training handbook for situations when you’re too deep behind enemy lines to do much of anything, Bruce registers his acknowledgment with three sharp clicks, teeth clacking against each other in rapid succession.

Jason arches his back, loosening his muscles before he curls up again, ready to literally pounce. The footsteps are drawing closer, and they have just a few seconds before shit is going to hit the fan. He unhooks his sickle, and grins at absolutely nothing.

“Oh, and B?”

A click.

“Be good for me.”

Bruce’s heart rate spikes just as the group of men round the corner, and Jason’s laughing like a loon as the lines of his helmet burn back to life and he descends on the kidnappers, a hound out of hell.

There’s something primordially terrifying about seeing a fury in red and black descend on you from the sky. Bruce knows what the plan is, knows exactly how menacing a figure Jason can cut when he wants to be dramatic, but even then he couldn’t stop instinctively reaching for the handy, wicked little pocket knife in his pocket the second he saw the lines of the helmet glowing through the dark of his hood.

In the panicked yelling as Jason leaps into the fray and starts systematically annihilating a group of heavily armed men who can’t fight back without shooting each other, it’s easy for Bruce to break free of his captors and rip the sack off his head. He ducks under the flailing butt of a gun and takes a moment to shatter someone’s kneecap with the metal cuffs on his wrists before he’s rolling out of the way, belly-crawling towards the sturdy reception desk.

Dr. Stevens is yelling and trying to run away but Jason keeps plucking at him and pulling him back into the brawl with a vengeance Bruce grudgingly admires. By the time Bruce has climbed up on a chair to get a better view of the fight while staying mostly out of sight, half the men are already a groaning pile on the ground.

By the time Bruce has freed himself from his handcuffs, Stevens is an unconscious mess on the ground, and by the time Bruce has texted home and requested that Alfred call the police, it’s just Jason and One circling each other, both their faces hidden, blades in their hands.

Bruce notes with some interest that where Jason had kept his sickle sheathed and mostly used the blunt outer curve to knock people unconscious, the wicked edge is now out and gleaming as One strikes at him with a nasty Bowie knife. The hand-to-hand is quick and brutal, both of them trading hits and jabs. Whatever armour One is wearing is holding up well against Jason’s sickle, which is fair enough.

Bruce would need to get closer to know for sure, but it certainly looks like the sickle Alfred uses to carefully weed the tulip bed. No point in sharpening a gardening tool to be sharp enough to bite into flesh.

Less pleasing is how One’s knife doesn’t seem to struggle much with cutting through Jason’s costume. The new mesh Bruce had designed in response to Jason’s irritated demand for a slimmer, sleeker costume was supposed to be able to withstand most edged weapons, but even in the dark it’s easy to see where the black fabric has been cut and Jason’s skin and blood are visible instead. Trust Jason to do quality testing in the absolute worst times.

Back to the drawing board it is. One is taunting Jason, allowing Jason to swipe ineffectively at him before laughing and slashing back. “Is this all you got?” the man crows from behind his balaclava, radiating smugness. “I don’t know what I was worried about. I’ll have you and Wayne brought in for sale, and I wonder who the highest bidder will be.” Another quick jab, and Jason’s forearm is marked. “Wonder which of you Mister J would want more as a playmate.”

At that, Jason goes stock still. It’s so sudden that it clearly startles One, who retreats a little, knife up and ready to go. Bruce finds himself with his jaw clenched shut, teeth grinding so hard it’s like lockjaw in three seconds or less.

Of all the things some no-name budget kidnapper could have said. Bruce taps on his comms, opens a line to Jason, because if One keeps push push pushing like this, he won’t live to see morning.

One might not live to see the next minute, if Jason’s slow, terrifying stride towards him means anything.

“Jason,” Bruce whispers into the comm. “Jason, enough. You’ve done enough. Stop playing with your food, come here and let me check on you.”

Across the lobby, Jason once against draws to a halt, but it doesn’t stick. One figures out that actually, the Red Hood had been getting sliced up into ribbons more as a weird exploratory experience than because of a lack of skill, and he figures it out by way of Jason coming right up to him in the blink of an eye, disarming him by snapping the wrist of the hand holding the knife, and grabbing him by the throat with a grip tight enough to kill.

One is currently absolutely sure that he’s about to die.

So is Bruce, who knows that he cannot reach the man faster than Jason can snap a neck. “Jason!” he damn near bellows down the comms, damn near shouts across the room. “Enough. You come when called. You come when I call.”

And like a miracle, like the time Jason came back all those years ago and all the times Jason’s come for him ever since, it works.

One is dropped to the ground, unconscious and foaming at the mouth, and Jason’s barrelling towards Bruce.

As Bruce is swept up and back into the depths of the evacuated aquarium, he finds himself thinking we’ve had worse.

Jason isn’t sure why his first instinct after being called off of the murder of a singularly horrible man is to haul Bruce up and run to the deep sea exhibit, but he’s willing to admit to himself that calm only comes back to him when they’re finally buried in the quiet dark of a room of things softly bioluminescing.

He’s got no love lost for the Joker, has fought the bastard enough times since that it’s not residual fear that snapped him. Here, far far away from the wreckage, it’s easy to identify that his trigger had been superimposing the many, many horrors Jason has personally died from and lived through onto Bruce. Bruce who in many ways has the worst luck of any person he’s ever known, Bruce who would sooner rip into himself than be put into a Pit, Bruce who has to be careful with his burritos and his knees, put under the loveless purview of a madman with a crowbar.

Being protective of other people is generally a good thing, but trust Jason to wield care like a bludgeon. He scoffs, and drops Bruce unceremoniously next to the trapdoor. He could take off his helmet, no one and nothing could see him here, but the mortification of being seen out of control makes it really fucking unappealing.

Bruce sits up and looks around, acting like not a single weird thing has happened this entire night. “I’ve never seen the deep sea exhibition,” he says, like he’s having a normal conversation, like this is just the middle of a perfectly pleasant, perfectly average date.

“I saw a poster, they only built this section after I died,” Jason says dully.

Bruce hums like that’s information enough. “I’m glad we’re getting to see it then.” He tugs at Jason’s leg. “Sit.”

And Jason does, his legs folding underneath him before a thought’s even fully formed. He remembers when he was redesigning the helmet and was struggling to pick a look that was both menacing and just plain cool. The one he settled on had been one of Damian’s designs, all geometric shapes and the suggestion of creature. It had reminded him of a jackal, of Anubis, like death come in the shape of this thing with a muzzle and teeth.

Right now it feels like he’d chosen the look of a dog, a dog with the brand of bat to describe its master, and he feels like a mangy, wild thing desperate for Bruce, just for Bruce.

He takes back every mean, unkind thought he’s ever had about the date at the rec centre. Let him bury his hands into a dozen masses of gelatinous hair than force him to think about things like this, think about himself like this.

Jason’s tight with tension, but Bruce doesn’t push him to talk. Bruce doesn’t force him to do anything, just has a hand wrapped around the nape of Jason’s neck, thumb rubbing at the seam where metal helmet meets skin. They sit in this weird, tingly silence even as Alfred’s pings requesting an update become more urgent, and Jason realises that they’ll stay in this weird, tingly silence until he makes a move.

“What the fuck are we doing, B?” he says at last.

“Whatever we want to, Jaybird.” Bruce is ignoring a lot of his own damn rules about names in uniform, but he still seems remarkably unconcerned about everything. “How are you?”

Jason groans, giving up and tipping over so that he’s sprawled uncomfortably over Bruce’s legs. “Feel fucking awful. I can’t believe I’m the kind of guy that loses his shit just because some asshole said something vaguely threatening to you.”

“I think it shows good character.” Bruce rests a hand on Jason’s shoulder, the other still carefully cradling his head. “But I’m not a good judge of character, so take that with a grain of salt.”

Jason barks out a laugh at that. “You sure fucking are. I knew that director guy was skeezy the moment I saw him. Can’t believe he didn’t set off alarm bells in your head within the first thirty seconds, B.”

Bruce just shrugs. “If I reacted badly to everyone that I thought I couldn’t trust, I’d rarely get to stop.”

Well, the man’s got a point. “Still. He’s apparently shitty with staff too, so at least we’re solving a bunch of problems all at once with this night out.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Jason.”

Jason forces himself to sit back up, a little alarmed by the little note that’s appeared informing him that the police are about five minutes away from the aquarium. “That’s a damn lie and you know it.” Even the strongest of the kidnappers wasn’t anything much above average for a night out on patrol, and Bruce is nothing if not ruthlessly efficient when the fight’s in a public place.

Bruce gets to his feet, careful and ginger, and Jason can’t help but just stare at his stupid wholly-human knees. Bruce doesn’t mention it, doesn’t draw attention that renowned vigilante and crime boss the Red Hood has his head not a foot away from his legs, and just holds his hand out to him instead. “How about, I wouldn’t have enjoyed this night without you?”

Jason takes a moment to pretend to think about it, but he knows his answer. “I”ll take it.” Like he takes Bruce’s hand, like he takes things from Bruce because it’s what he wants and it’s what he’s earned. “I should get out of here before the pigs show up.”

“See you back at the Manor?” It’s only half past midnight, which means this date’s ended a good three hours earlier than their usual. Bruce looks like he’s asking only as an afterthought; of course Jason’s coming home with him.

Jason struggles to think of anything more pleasant than sitting out on their balcony in the dark with a hot drink in hand, electric blanket doggedly trying to keep them warm even as the outlet threatens to explode from the snow that’s supposed to start at 2 AM.

He also struggles to imagine how he’s going to be good company when his head is in as much disarray as it currently is. How open is Bruce to some heavy petting outdoors if Jason can’t convince himself to take his helmet off the whole time? How likely is the night to devolve into them sitting awkwardly in frigid silence until someone snaps and starts an argument just for the sake of a change of pace?

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s not a good idea.”

That gets Bruce to stop shabbying himself up to look like an actual kidnapping victim, cuffs already locked again. “I see. Why is that?”

Jason shrugs, and is glad that his face is still unseen even if it feels like his whole damn body is letting B in on the secret. “It’s a 'feeling kinda feral' kinda day. I’m going to go blow off some steam.” Run a couple of laps around the lake in the memorial park, and if he gets close enough to hypothermia he might start forgetting the quiet kshkshh sound of delicate neck bones grinding under his hand.

He feels violence wiggling just an inch under his skin, and that’s another self-imposed rule for nights out with Bruce. Any time his grip on himself feels even a pound looser than it should be, Jason’s going to take time for himself because this deep into this relationship he’s surer than ever that there’s a hell of a lot of brutality he could let loose and Bruce would just take it and take it and take it.

Jason will not bite his mas-

He’s forcibly taken out of his thoughts by a sharp rap against his helmet. He strikes out instinctively, and catches Bruce's hand in a tight grip. “What the hell, B.”

“You weren’t responding,” Bruce tells him matter-of-factly, not pulling away. “I said, you can go and run yourself ragged. After that, you come home.”

“And why should I listen to you?”

Bruce smiles a proper smile, sharp and smug and sweet, and leans over to press a kiss to Jason’s hand wrapped around his own. “Because, Jason, I listened when you told me to keep away and keep safe. Isn’t it your turn now?”

It’s all about that give-and-take baby, and Jason just might fucking howl.

He releases Bruce in a flash, and his helmet’s unlatched and crashing to the ground not a second later. Bruce could have aikido’d him over his shoulder and flung him clear across the room because Jason’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been right now, but instead the man just widens his stance and wholly and easily accepts Jason throwing himself at Bruce face first.

It’s a maddening kiss, because Jason’s just shoved Bruce against the blood jelly tank so that he can get into position for a good grind when an alert goes off from his helmet, and Alfred’s too-loud voice calls out to tell them that “The police officers have arrived, sirs.”

Jason groans and pulls back slightly, trying to catch his breath as he digs his teeth into Bruce’s shoulder despite the three layers of expensive fabric in the way. “I hate everything,” he says, half-heartedly groping at Bruce’s chest.

“Hate it in your free time,” Bruce mutters into his hair, before choking a little because he caught a mouthful of semi-permanent dye. “On our nights, be good.”

Relationships are a contract, and Jason’s willingly agreed to these terms for, ah, close to a year now. It doesn’t mean he won’t grumble, or mess up Bruce’s perfectly styled hair just to make him grumble too. “Yeah, yeah, old man, I know what I’m about. Go and distract the cops already, I need to get away.”

Bruce lazily salutes him, looking dishevelled and mussed and suitably victimised. Jason is one damn inch away from dragging B down to the ground and reinstating his territory, god. Instead, he grabs his bag and picks up his helmet, and dawdles a little by the hatch. “You gonna be okay, old man?”

“Of course,” Bruce says confidently, ripping buttons off his coat and toeing one shoe off to look extra pathetic. “I have a hot date to keep. I’ll see you at home, Jason.”

What’s a man to do when given an order like that?

Jason obeys.

A/N: i’ve literally had ‘king tide come through’ listed as a title i wanted for something since last year?? it doesn’t even really mean anything i just love that the highest high tides are kings and it’s got such a nice ring to it. my approach to titling things is that it has to slap, thanks for coming to my TED talk ;9

#brujay #bruce wayne #jason todd #whale writing #i haven't been to many aquariums at all but #generally my idea of a good time is me being close to a Big Body Of Water #as long as i don't obsess on the survival rates of the lads in the tanks #being that close that much water is inexplainably soothing #and bc feb has been all sorts of miserable for me personally #i wanted some soothing

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