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lamnwar · 2 years

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omgomg i literally have had knb brainrot for like a month and i cant get this scene out of my head. so yn accidentally went into the boys sauna and kiyoshi and hyuga were there. they were curious but then yn started playing w herself, and when they were abt to call her out, she m0aned their names and boom smut😮‍💨 or honestly any duo that you feel comfortable with!! and like a short fic form would be good plss🥺

First I wanna preface by saying I saw a request like that done by @ferg0s (loved it btw <3) so if there is similar stuff, it's unintentional 😗

Also bold of you to assume that I would EVER refuse to write a threesome with Daddy Hyuga and the loml Kiyoshi 😩 writing this >>> like it's legit longer than expected because I got that carried away lmao thanks for the request honey 💕

Up to Expectations // Hyuga Junpei x Fem!Reader x Kiyoshi Teppei

MDNI 18+

Context: it isn't really your fault that you've got into the men's bath, and it isn't really your fault that you've got caught by two of your teammates in a compromising position. All characters are aged up (early 20s).

Warnings: wheeeew it is basical smut with a plot so hmm yeah 😩 female masturbation, ig voyeurism in some ways?, threesome, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), reader swallows oops, vaginal sex (unprotected), creampie, reader being called "pretty" by Hyuga and Kiyoshi and "honey" once by Kiyoshi, reader calls Hyuga "captain" I had to, Kiyoshi being a tease because yes, slight praise kink too- that's probably the nastiest thing I ever wrote lmao 🧎🏾‍♀️

You may not be the one on the court, or the one coming up with strategies for all the different games, but boy is it tiring to be the manager of one of the best basketball teams in the country. You are required to keep up with everything – from gathering data on the players and adversaries to making sure that their new uniforms are getting delivered in time. So obviously, when your team just went through all the final phases of the championship within the short span of 2 weeks, you are exhausted, to say the least. But your boys and your coach? They’re barely alive right now. As a last effort as a manager, you’ve decided to book a trip to the hot springs, figuring out that it can only do you good to soak in hot water for a couple of hours, letting out all tensions.

What you haven’t figured out, although you’re generally rather sharp, is that the hot springs can also create some tension. To be fair, the actual situation you are in is rather unpredictable. In appearance, everything seemed normal. Two baths, one for the men, one for the women, separated by a bamboo wall. Except that the bamboo wall isn’t a separation between the men and women section, but rather a separation between the two baths of the men section. And to make thing worse, the wall has a hole in it, merely hidden by an excuse of a bush. You’ve come to take notice of it when you’ve simply looked on your left, and faced the naked butt of one of the players; and right after, you’ve seen these familiar faces, who thankfully haven’t seen you.

“Well, if that ain’t my lucky day” you sigh to yourself.

Unless you move, they might not realize that you’re here, so all you have to do is stay in place. The issue is, they clearly aren’t planning on hiding anything – why would they, they’re amongst themselves. See, the thing is you are used to see them walking around half naked in the locker room. But butt ass naked? Never. At first, you keep your cool, really thinking that you can stay hidden before they leave and you won’t feel tempted to sneak a peek.

Then comes a time though, where you really can’t help but look. Especially when the senior players you’ve known for years are the last people left in the men’s bath. You can’t lie to yourself, knowing them for so long, there are a couple of occurrences when they’ve occupied some of your bedtime fantasies. And now that you get a glimpse of what they truly have, you can’t help but remembering these fantasies. They’re up to your expectations, beautiful bodies that they carry with such confidence – and you would to, if you had what they have. The few sighs that you’ve caught of their satisfied faces, wet bodies, and the outline of their spread legs underwater are intoxicating. All your thoughts are occupied by these images that you’ve caught in the sickest way. The warmth between your legs isn’t caused by the hot water, and it becomes harder to resist the urge to slip your hand between your legs and play with yourself.

It really can’t be help, you think to yourself when your fingers graze your labia, teasing yourself, while your other hand cups your breast.

As long as you don’t get caught, you aren’t doing anything wrong, you repeat to yourself while you’re circling your clitoris.

It’s they’re fault, for being so hot, you assure yourself when muffled gasps come out of your mouth and you whisper to yourself the namesl of your players.

“Are you having fun there?”

Kiyoshi Teppei. Certainly the senior player you’ve fantasized about the most. Hidden behind his looks of gentle giant, he hides the body of an Adonis, and when you see his sheer strength on the court, you can’t help but imagine how easily he can wreck you. Hearing his voice this time, however, might be the most frightening thing ever. You slowly turn your head towards the hole in the bamboo wall, meeting his gentle eyes. They lay directly on you, and you are too stunned to move.

“Who are you talking to, Kiyoshi?”

Hyuga Junpei, your team captain, and the guy who makes you weak every time he talks to you. His naturally commanding voice is what gets you every time; something about his words sounding like commands almost had you reply with a “yes daddy” once. You see his face peeking through the hole next to the brunette, a surprised “oh” coming out his lips. Your head’s empty, but you still try to make up an excuse to why you are here.

“I... I got into the wrong section and I didn’t know what to do, so I stayed and I figured-“

“As long as no one catches you, you’re fine” you are interrupted by Kiyoshi. “But you haven’t answered me yet, are you having fun?”

You are not sure what to respond, and you don’t have time to either as Hyuga answers in your place.

“Don’t be stupid Kiyoshi, she definitely is” he points at your hand placement and you quickly realize that your hand is still between your legs, and they’re is no way in which you can lie yourself out of this situation.

“Did we do that to you, pretty? Have you been peeping at us all this time and got all hot and bothered?”

Kiyoshi’s voice is as soft as usual, but his words still sound mean. You aren’t stupid, you know that he is teasing you and you cannot excuse the embarrassment you’ve brought to yourself, so you figure you should lift your hand from its place between your folds.

“Keep them here” Hyuga’s voice resonates.

You immediately obey, part of you wondering why so – is it because you feel like you have no right to stop your filthy activity now that you’ve got caught, or is it because you are somehow turned on by the words of your captain?

“Go on, show us what you were doing while thinking about us.”

You gulp, hesitatingly spreading your legs wider as the clear water let them see the shape of your cunt, while your delicate fingers tease your lips slowly, uncovering your throbbing clit.

“Aw, I’ve always known you love us that much” Kiyoshi laughs softly. “Have you been fantasizing about one of us or...?”

“The two of you” you reply shyly.

Hyuga raises his eyebrow at your answer, intrigued yet rather interested by it.

“And would you like us to do the things you’ve imagined to you?” he asks.

Instead of words, a needy whimper escapes your lips. You are ashamed, but on the moment, it can’t be help. Despite the embarrassment of being caught, you are given the opportunity to bring to life what you’ve always wanted and all things considered, you’d be a fool to refuse such opportunity.

“Don’t move, we’re coming to you.”

And effectively, you don’t move at all, partly because you can’t believe that what is happening is real, partly because you cannot go against Hyuga’s words no matter what. The seconds it takes for them to join you seem like eternity, but when their giant frames appear in your sight, you are left speechless. Seeing their naked glistening bodies in front of you, your fingers reprise their previous activity between your legs almost by reflex. What else can you do, anyways, seeing two hot guys like that standing in front of you, flaunting their gorgeous dicks, all for you?

“Look at her, Kiyoshi, she really can’t help herself” a sigh escapes Hyuga’s lips as he enters the water.

“Come on, let’s make this a group activity.”

You watch the tall brunette with much envy, practically begging him with your puppy eyes to touch you. It’s almost as he reads your mind the moment he comes closer, the nicest smile on his face – although his actions are far from nice. The force with which he pushes your hand away from your pussy and sit your body on the edge of the bath is not comparable to anything you’ve imagined in your dirtiest dreams. What is up to your expectations, however, is how much you love him manhandling you. You are at the mercy of these big hands, when he spread your legs and stand back, nudging his teammate in his ribs.

“Hey, Hyuga, doesn’t she look delicious?”

“She sure does. Who’s getting a taste first?”

They both shrug at each other, seemingly incapable of deciding who gets to touch you, eat you out first. This situation is torture – if it was up to you, you’d have both of their heads between your legs.

“I’ll have both of you in whatever way you want” you let out when they turn to you, expecting you to decide who gets you first.

They both look at each other, smiling.

“Is that so?”

You nod eagerly, and their grins widen. You look at them, impatiently waiting for anyone, just one of them, to lay any part of their body against you. Your legs are shaking, the hands you’ve set at your side struggling not to snake back to your cunt and appease that painful knot in your lower stomach.

“Then, who do you want first?”

This question is the worst thing to you. Between the one you want to absolutely rail you, and the one that could get you on your knees without even asking, it’s impossible to choose. But you have to admit, you are wary of Kiyoshi’s nice and soft tone. Despite him keeping up his façade of gentle giant, there is a flame slightly twisted in his eyes. On the other hand, Hyuga is straight forward, clearly showing his intention of making you his little puppet. It is sick and twisted, on both sides, but as the one who’s been touching yourself while peeping at them, who are you to judge?

You sigh, thinking that you might just be overthinking it. In both cases, you’ll get the chance to get fucked by two of the most attractive guys you know – and that you’ll ever know. For the first time of the night, you take things into your own hands, pulling Hyuga closer into a hungry kiss. He isn’t slow to kiss you back, hand holding your face by the neck, while the other trails down your body to find its place against your throbbing clitoris. You moan in his mouth when he starts drawing circles around it, without needing to get you wet as you’ve already taking care of that yourself. He pulls away from the kiss, letting you gasp for air.

It doesn’t take long before you feel his tongue replace his fingers, finding yourself in total bliss as you grab his head, messing with his soft black hair. Your eyes move to meet Kiyoshi’s, who appears to have taken a few steps back, now sitting in front of you and admiring the spectacle. He looks directly at you, this same eerily nice smile on his lips. You feel shy, knowing that he gets to see these lewd looks your face will your captain eats you out; however, you can’t help it. Hyuga doesn’t only lead on the court, he also does so between your legs. He does just the right thing to turn you into a whimpering mess.

“Captain...”

He looks up at you, hearing you moan this word by accident. You can’t tell if he likes it or not at first, but he is quick to work his tongue against your clit, and you immediately realize that he surely goes off to you calling him by his official title.

“Should I make our pretty manager cum, Kiyoshi?” he asks getting up from your cunt just as you’re about to reach the heights of your pleasure.

You furrow your brows, shooting a pleading look to the giant man in front of you, and he laughs. Softly, yet in a way that makes you ache.

“You let her cum if I get to fuck her right after” he replies.

You take turn staring at the two men. It seems that you’ve become nothing but a body at their mercy – not that you would complain, because it arouses you even more. Well, at the end of the day, you did give them free range.

“Is that what she wants? What do you say, pretty?”

You eagerly nod, not caring about the arrangements, as long as you get something from both of them. They both let out a chuckle, Hyuga (for once) adorning a kind look on his face.

“Adorably needy.”

You whimper, feeling his tongue returning in between your folds as he reprises his previous activity. It doesn’t take long for you to go back to your high, reaching your orgasm within minutes. You hold to the shooting guard’s hair, almost suffocating him between your thighs as pleasure washes over you. You’re not even back to Earth that you feel strong arms lifting you, eyes still in daze when they face Kiyoshi’s gentle iris as he carries you the other side of the bath. He sits down on a bench, you on his lap, smile on his face.

“Do you want my cock, honey?” he asks as he tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You whimper as a response, which makes him laugh. You swear you’ve never been with someone that smiles and laughs so much in such situation; and while it may seem nice, in his case, it clearly hides something else. Your personal theory is that this exaggerated amount of niceness hides a complete freak – which you wouldn’t mind, but you grow impatient to know if you are right or not. But before you can get to see for yourself, your thoughts stop on the man that has previously pleasured you, realizing that you haven’t given back. You turn your head, looking for Hyuga, finally seeing him coming your way, dick painfully erected.

“Can I do something about him?” you point out.

The concerned lifts his head towards you, definitely interested by the idea of you bringing him to his release instead of having to take care of it himself.

“Whatever you want” he says, coming closer to you.

You stare at his dick, almost salivating. It looks prettier than you’ve expected, and incredibly delicious. With stars in your eyes, you take it in your hand and lead to tip to your lips. You take a taste of him, shyly, yet barely hiding your hunger. Soon enough, your hand and mouth work him out, soft grunts coming out of his lips.

“Fuck, you’re too good at this” he sighs.

His words of praise make you grind against Kiyoshi, making the brunette’s breath hitch in his throat. The more you go, the more you drive the two men crazy, and you can feel Kiyoshi’s cock growing bigger against you. You look down at it for a second, eyes widening at its size. You shouldn’t be so surprised, he’s a big boy so it’s in proportion with the rest of his body; yet, you can tell if knowing that you are going to take it soon excites you or makes you nervous.

You shake these thoughts away, deciding to focus on what you are doing. By the way your captain’s hips thrust in your mouth, you can predict his release and you stop, looking at him.

“Would you like to cum in my mouth, captain?”

“Shit, yeah” he grunts when you take him back into your mouth.

A few more strokes and licks and you can feel the warm feeling in your mouth, his semen sliding down your throat when you swallow. You let him go, swiping your swollen lips and looking up at him like you’re waiting for his feedback. His dazed out eyes are enough to convince you that you’ve done a great job, and it only helps that he gently caress the top of your head, making you smile.

“You’re doing amazing” Kiyoshi praises you “should I reward you by letting you ride me?”

“Please” you beg giving him doe eyes.

He doesn’t wait, positioning you above his cock and letting you take him in slowly. The stretch is a lot, but the more you take, the more you want. You eventually sit there, with as much as him possible in you. And when you are ready, you move, the slow thrusts building your arousal. Your pace takes on, you are too lost in your own pleasure to realize that Kiyoshi’s hips have found a will of their own and before you know it, you are completely at his mercy. Your eyes shut open under his powerful thrusts, wailing at how good it feels – though it came as a surprise. He smiles, tightening his grip on you.

“You can take it, pretty, you are being so good to me” he says, leaving kisses all over your face.

You are unable to respond with words, going completely stupid for his dick. The images of your fantasies blend with the current moment, realizing that you are, effectively, getting railed by Kiyoshi.

You feel your orgasm approaching when his big fingers start to tease your clitoris. You hold to him for dear life, trying to keep your eyes open so you can take in the sight of his pleasured face, but your eyes shut close as soon as the knot in your lower stomach unravels. You cry, chest pushed against his, incapable of feeling anything else but your high.

“Oh pretty, you’re going to make me cum” you hear Kiyoshi grunt as you regain your senses.

His continuous thrusts in your clenching cunt might be driving him crazy, given how more animalistic his movements are. You let it go at it, feeling overworked, yet needing him to cum just for you.

“Do you wanna fill me up?” you ask, voice weak.

You hear Hyuga chuckle next to you.

“Isn’t our little manager the perfect girl” he comments, getting hard again at the sight of his friend fucking you senseless.

It only takes a few more seconds before you feel Kiyoshi release inside of you, coating your walls in his precious liquid. He stays inside you, panting. You watch, a faint smile on your lips. You can’t help it, everything about this situation is euphoric. You’d never thought that you’d bring your nastiest fantasies to life, yet here you are – filled with both Hyuga’s and Kiyoshi’s cum, a symbol of how you’ve become theirs.

“Do you wanna rest now, pretty? You’ve been so good for us” asks Kiyoshi.

This time, his softness doesn’t come as deceiving. He seems to genuinely care about you, which makes your heart melt a little. You ponder, part of you exhausted, part of you addicted to these two men. You look at Hyuga, his growing erection almost asking to be taking cared of, and taking this piece of information in consideration, you hesitate even more.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll take care of it” he reassures you as if he’s read your mind.

“Are you sure?”

He laughs softly, coming closer to leave a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I’ll have other occasions to fill you up, won’t I?”

You nod, head resting on Kiyoshi’s shoulder.

“Now that we’ve got a taste of you pretty girl, we’re not letting you go.”

#fun fact: i've watch the hot springs episode at least 3 times #anyways #that was it for me #hope y'all like this #it was really fun writing it #no but seriously #i might feed you more hyuga and kiyoshi content now bc i'm on my knees for them #knb #kuroko no basuke #kiyoshi teppei #hyuga junpei #knb x reader #kiyoshi x reader #hyuga x reader #knb smut #kiyoshi smut #hyuga smut

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ash-and-books · 1 month

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Rating: 5/5

Book blurb: "Submission is a gift. The more powerful the person, the greater the gift."

Ramses Howell is a self-made man. A billionaire obsessed with performance, he measures himself by his wins and his achievements. He's proven he can get what he wants, and from the moment Blake Abbot, brilliant and alluring escort, catches his eye, she becomes his top priority. But he can tell something doesn't add up. He sees her skill at what she does, but he knows she's hiding something, and he intends to find out what.

Blake has gone to great extremes to guard her secrets. She's known who Ramses is for years, and knows exactly how dangerous he can be. But when Ramses offers her a game that he created just for her, she can't resist playing. After all, he has what she wants, too. She sets boundaries, adds rules to the game…but soon finds herself breaking her own in the process.

As fantasy invades reality, their new arrangement threatens to consume them. Blake and Ramses both cross lines they swore they never would, questioning everything they thought they wanted—and everything their future could be, if they don't destroy each other first.

Review:

Ramses Howell is a billionaire, a man who prides himself in his achievements and his ability to get what he wants... yet the moment he meets Blake Abbot, he knows he'll do anything to be with her. Blake Abbot is a brilliant and mischievous escort who has prided herself in being able to read men, in being able to win the game and reach her goals. The moment Blake and Ramses meets they both know that they can't stay away from one another. Ramses will have to play Blake's games and see if he can find a way to find out who she really is and if he can break down her guards. Blake has vowed never to fall for a client yet Ramses is different... something about him makes her want to show him parts of herself she's hidden away from everyone. They both can't resist a game or a challenge... but is this really just a game or is it possible that it's more than that and that for the first time they've finally met their match in each other. This was such a good read, I adored how much Ramses and Blake couldn't get enough of each other, how they were so attuned to the other's wants and needs, and how they perfectly fit the other. They are a perfect match, they have amazing chemistry and the care and love they have for each other is both sweet and so so hot. Ramses might be a bit controlling and unhinged but he's in it to win her heart and he'll do anything to prove to her that he's there for the long run and that nothing she does could ever make him not love her. Blake has been through a lot and has her guards up yet something about Ramses keeps drawing her back. I loved this book and had so much fun reading it!!

*Thanks Netgalley and SOURCEBOOKS Bloom Books, Bloom Books for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #book #minx #sophie lark

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cyarsk52-20 · 1 year

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Inside a Vanderpump Rules’ Finale Watch Party: ‘Super Bowl for Women’

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Hot on the heels of a certain highly publicized, certainly suspicious break-up in the Bravoverse, bars, restaurants, and homes across the nation held watch parties Wednesday night for the season finale of Vanderpump Rules. Naturally, I had to attend one, and living in New York City, I was spoiled for choice. However, a gathering at a bar on the Lower East Side, thrown by Alyssa Polinsky—otherwise known as The Bravo Witch + Astrologer—seemed, well, written in the stars.

While most other watch parties likely offered variations on the iconic goat cheese balls, Pumptinis, or Scheana’s enchiladas, Polinsky’s proffered frozen concoctions, an…interesting crowd, and most unique of all, astrological analysis of the entire ensemble cast.

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Now, raise your glasses high. These highlights are for you tonight...or whenever:

7:50 pm: Two women who appear to be in their early twenties walk past me en route to the bar wearing t-shirts that read: “Never trust a Tom” and “Team Ariana.” We make eye contact, so I flash them my toothiest Midwestern grin. But because this is New York City and not middle America, they answer with a scowl.

8:00 pm: I’ve reached my destination, The Skinny Bar and Lounge. The walls are red, the ceilings are dotted with disco balls and multi-colored Christmas lights, and the overall vibe is reminiscent of a teen club of my youth—one that held foam parties, Usher remixes, and a lot of kids whose breath wreaked of Popov and dissolvable Listerine strips.

8:07 pm: I order an Aperol spritz and survey the crowd. As to be expected, the bar is teeming with women. Some have dressed for the occasion (sequins), but the majority—myself included—seem to have arrived straight from work. An even closer look reveals a surprising number of men.

8:15 pm: “This is the Super Bowl for women,” Polinsky says. “Like, this is something we need as a society.” The host has graciously distributed sachets of smudge sticks, crystals, and an astrology cheat sheet that shows the sun, moon, and rising signs of the entire Vanderpump Rules cast sans Peter because well, no one cares. I’m not surprised to learn that Tom Schwartz—the man who couldn’t find a spine if it were served to him on a plate at SUR—is both a Libra sun and moon.

8:21 pm: I tell Polinsky I’m shocked that so many seemingly straight men are in the space. The optimist in me wonders aloud if they’re an underrepresented species in the Bravoverse. “I don’t know...I think they’re just smart enough to go to a bar with a lot of women.”

8:28 pm: On the way back to the bar, I accidentally bump into a woman wearing a Rick and Morty t-shirt who then proceeds to grip me by my love handles and follow me as if we’re starting a conga line à la Kathy Hilton.

8:33 pm: “Are you an ENFT?” the woman who introduces herself as Hannah* asks. Pardon? My handwriting, she notes is indicative of a personality type. Or, was it my intelligence? “Smart people have good handwriting,” she says, quickly pulling up a Reddit thread and shoving it beneath my nose as if it were a sacred text. Eventually, she moves on.

8:35 pm: I strike up a conversation with two women in their early twenties—Elizabeth* a long-term fan of Vanderpump Rules, and Sarah*, who until tonight, hadn’t seen a single episode. “It’s relatable to a lot of people,” Elizabeth tells me of the show’s draw. Really? I watch because it kind of feels like a fantasy. Blessedly, my life isn’t so complicated. Sarah nods her head in agreement and notes the elevated fame Madix has managed to achieve post-split: “I mean, when I got cheated on, all I got was heartbreak.”

8:50 pm: I ask Sarah whether she thinks she’ll become a fan of the franchise after the finale. “No,” she answers succinctly. “It’s a one-night stand.” She could have done much worse!

8:55 pm: The sound at the bar is abruptly cut in lieu of a microphone in the corner. “Ladies and gentlemen,” a man announces. “Wait,” he stops short. “What’s it called again?” he prompts a nearby patron. “Oh, the season finale of Vanderpump Rules will begin in five minutes!”

9:00 pm: The time has come, and it’s punctuated by actual screams—my own, mostly—and then an eerie nothingness. I can’t recall a time a bar has ever become this quiet.

9:07 pm: The showdown between Sandoval and Madix that’s been teased is in full swing. He asserts the affair had nothing to do with his ego or the fact that they hadn’t had sex in a while. (The latter is too often a topic of conversation this season.) “Oh give me a fucking break,” someone spits just over my right shoulder. Literally, there’s saliva on my cheek. I peek around and find that the voice belongs to a man in his 30s who appears to have attended this watch party by himself. He’ll remain within earshot for the rest of the episode. His commentary is my favorite.

9:10 pm: “KILL HIM!” a woman nearby bellows after Sandoval asserts to Madix that Leviss actually treats him with respect. I concur!

9:15 pm: The bar has now taken the shape of a movie theater playing a horror film. Everywhere I look there are screams, shudders, sloshed drinks, and hands shoved over eyes. And then Madix utters what I will personally ensure becomes an immortal line in Bravo history: “I regret ever loving you.”

9:22 pm: Danielle Olivera, a member of the Summer House cast, is in the building and a tall gentleman keeps ordering drinks at her behest.

9:28 pm: “She could’ve followed me,” Sandoval bemoans of Madix not discovering his cheating earlier. More shrieking ensues because yes, it was her fault for not catching his poorly manicured hands all over Leviss as she mourned the deaths of her beloved grandmother and dog.

9:30 pm: Sandoval becomes emotional. Again. “He’s totally faking it,” the man with the superior commentary over my right shoulder tells me.

9:33 pm: One of the single—seemingly straight—men I noticed earlier can’t tear himself from the sight of the adulterers basking in the glow of their own gall—and Leviss’ galaxy lights. His beer sits untouched in front of him, his eyes alert and unblinking. Good for him.

9:50 pm: Things are winding down. Hannah is in a state of embrace with a dude that’s either her boyfriend or would like to be. Elizabeth and Sarah are cashing out. The raffle winners will soon be announced. The prize? I can’t be certain but I’d wager it’s a reading from Polinsky. I regret not entering.

10:00 pm: I’ve now laughed, I’ve cried, and I’ve flipped the flatscreen off.

10:15 pm: Only a few people have stuck around for Watch What Happens Live. Apparently, even Madix’s first tell-all post-#Scandoval isn’t enough to keep asses in the seats. Frankly, I don’t know what it says that a scandal can more easily fill a bar than a celebration of a scorned woman’s newfound successes. Madix has a hot new boyfriend and heaps of high-profile invitations—but while healing may be aspirational, apparently, it’s not nearly as enthralling as heartbreak.

Personally, I don’t exactly revel in the very public unraveling of two strangers’ relationship as if it’s a sporting event—not even when it’s a collective experience. But the absolute bloodbath that will surely be the three-part reunion? Well, I’m already at the bar.

Let us help you procrastinate. Sign up for our daily newsletter.Inside a Vanderpump Rules’ Finale Watch Party: ‘Super Bowl for Women’ Hot on the heels of a certain highly publicized, certainly suspicious break-up in the Bravoverse, bars, restaurants, and homes across the nation held watch parties Wednesday night for the season finale of Vanderpump Rules. Naturally, I had to attend one, and living in New York City, I was spoiled for choice. However, a gathering at a bar on the Lower East Side, thrown by Alyssa Polinsky—otherwise known as The Bravo Witch + Astrologer—seemed, well, written in the stars.

Read in Jezebel: https://apple.news/A5R8HReMyQPukCywjeysDRw

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imptwins · 1 year

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Upcoming Teasers!

Thought I’d give y’all a bit of a preview of upcoming stories from me. And you get longer ones than on Twitter, how exciting.

The Gift that Keeps On Giving This will hopefully be done by the weekend, since it’s meant to be for a weekend writing event lol. If not maybe I’ll do half now half later. It’s based on the theme of ‘gift giving’ so it’s a Krusielle-focused smut-comedy story involving Christmas dinner, stealthy sex toys, family hi-jinx, and a few mixed signals.

The Bad Kind of Scary “Noelle has finally admitted her immense crush on the new girl and is working up the nerve to actually ask her out. But Noelle is a Holiday. Her mother is the cut-throat fiscally conservative mayor, her father the man who knew how and where to apply pressure to both get and keep that seat for her, and she's inheriting their privilege but not the acumen that they used to seize it. She's a straight-A student who is used to people bending over for her because everyone local knows she's destined for something greater, a shoe-in for politics, maybe even the kind to outgrow her little town. She hasn't really processed just how 'kill or be killed' the world can be.

It’s fun to have fluffy fantasies about an abrasive bully with a hidden heart of gold ready to bloom at the first show of kindness, a misled soul who just needs to be saved by a noble heart. But it’s not exactly realistic. Noelle's about to learn that the hard way.“

A dead dove Suselle fic mostly focusing on noncon and drugging. The concept started with that ‘The Newest Girl’ blog post and I’m sprinting for the fences with the idea of Noelle trying to ‘fix’ Susie and biting off way more than she can chew. It’s about 50% done so far and honestly features what I think is some of my best-ever work, I’m already incredibly proud of it on a pure writing level. The imagery is kind of awesome and is a microcosm of all the lessons I’ve been trying to learn over the last year.

Under the Ice “A hound can be trained to hunt monsters in the stead of men, and no stains will find your skin. But as you file their teeth to knives and whisper on the tenderness of flesh, as you instruct that copper is a fine wine until life dripping from hot to cold down their chin is just as intoxicating, know that they will never hunger for any throat as they do yours.

For all of the horror, for all of the self-loathing, Kris at least had the guilty comfort that hosting the Soul made them relatively safe. How wrong they are. The Soul taught Noelle to grow stronger, to take what she wants, and now she has decided exactly what that is.”

Dead dove Kriselle fic, featuring noncon and like... Identity tragedy? It’s kind of a weird take on abuse cycles given the supernatural puppeteer element, as well as a little bit of venting about how bored I am of every Snowgrave smut fic being the same.

Echoes in the Distance The fic previously known as Zetarune. Once I’m done with the above this will be getting a huge from-the-top edit spree including a rename because I don’t like its current one. Chapter 1 will also be almost entirely removed though still available separately ‘cus I think it detracts from the narrative and my reasons for having it there were mostly insecurity. The rest of the story will be tightened up, especially lore wise, a couple retcons here and there, and hopefully I can impart a lot of the lessons I’ve recently learned to just up the general quality.

Once I actually pick it back up please look forward to me finally breaking the months-long-at-this-point cliffhanger of what happens when the Bunker is opened. You’ll get to see what I’ve been planning for over a year. =)

Castaway Angels “Ten years ago the Underground opened, the world found out about the existence of monsters and their forgotten history, and even at that young age you knew you couldn't stay away. Lured by the promise of a kinder and fairer society - and perhaps a mildly insensitive fascination - you realize your dream when you secure an enrolment in one of their colleges, sell everything you own, and jump on a boat. You arrive in Ebott City with a wreck of a car you bought in the port town, and little more than the clothes on your back.

But the monsters’ capital city is no paradise. Not for a human. With past generosities betrayed, the seeds of mistrust have long since been sown and outright hostility simmers just under the surface. There's so much in the culture and history and behind-the-curtain dealings that you just don't know. But you really hope you're a fast learner, because it turns out your roommate is a devastatingly hot resurrected Prince Emeritus turned fuckboy slash red flag incarnate and holy shit you are in so over your head.”

A collaboration between myself and Kimberly EAB. 2nd-person POV, Reader x Asriel, post-Undertale, slow-burn dead dove (now there’s a combo you don’t see too often huh?). Biggest kinks/themes on display will be dubcon, pain play, substance abuse/addiction, possessiveness, messed up power dynamics, my usual brand of hyperqueer xenophilia, and just a general case of I Can Fix Him syndrome.

#deltaruined #fanfiction #smut #castawayangels #echoesinthedistance #impfics

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denimbex1986 · 2 months

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'Life can be difficult when you have to get through the days alone, with all the baggage from your past still strapped to your hip. What if there was someone who could help carry this baggage? What if that support is what you need to finally tear open that rusted zipper and feel the woolen children's sweaters loaded with painful memories back on your skin? Or even to feel the soft skin of my dear mother, who lost her life decades ago, again?

The British Andrew Haigh, who co-wrote All of Us Strangers with Taichi Yamada, author of the source material 'Strangers', has been driving the popularization of romantic films with gay men in the foreground for years. Weekend, Haigh's romantic drama about two men who share their lives with each other over two normal weekend days, still resonates in the community. Its sensitive, yet grounded atmosphere stood out in an era where these types of films were either extremely camp or extremely depressing. His contributions to the HBO series Looking also saw a focus on meaningful (but no less explicit) intimacy. With All of Us Strangers, Haigh refines many of his trademarks with the help of a great cast (particularly Andrew Scott, who, in addition to being a theater actor, is best known as the hot priest from Fleabag) and a spark of imagination.

Part strangers, part lovers

Compared to his previous work, the premise of All of Us Strangers sounds like something completely different: a man (Adam, played by Scott) who, after meeting another lonely soul (played by Paul Mescal, known from Aftersun and Normal People, among others) ) suddenly comes back into contact with his parents who died in an accident decades ago (played by The Crown's Claire Foy and Billy Elliott's Jamie Bell). Yet the film retains the intimate, romantic yet realistic tone of his previous work. The ghost story offers more opportunities for emotional moments, personal conversations and internal meditation, but as in the magical realism genre, the fantasy aspect is not given much attention. There are no rotten teeth or transparent teeth to be seen here. However, the viewer is taken away by the soft sprinkling of long shots towards nothing specific. The city. The people who live there. Like an airport game, All of Us Strangers invites you to understand their lives, desires and feelings. Our guesses cannot possibly be completely correct, yet by guessing and observing we ourselves are closer to those people, and all people, than we would otherwise ever be.

The inscrutable supporting characters Harry (Mescal), Mum (Foy) and Dad (Bell) each offer believable and sympathetic glimpses into individuals with much inner beauty, but just as many difficulties. Scott, meanwhile, embodies the thoughtful Adam in a way that almost hurts to dwell on for too long. Adam's musings on life, his trauma and love could have quickly turned out to be corny or depressing in other hands, but Scott seems to understand all too well what Adam really means with such statements. From a personal point of view, it is strange to simultaneously have the feeling that this story and its script may contain a few clichés, but are nevertheless told with so much deep emotional understanding that the film still appeals to and stirs up feelings in a way that it has never before has preceded. In this way, All of Us Strangers simultaneously addresses experiences specific to the gay community, yet still manages to emphasize the universality of those fundamental feelings.

Above all, All of Us Strangers is a meditative introspection that acknowledges that nothing is entirely beautiful or entirely ugly. People are as far from perfect as they can be, but that doesn't make the love they afford us, and their individualities, any less valuable. The nuances between pain and joy, between ease and discomfort, and between hope and despair are thus continually captured. The direction and script are not so tightly controlled that the film walks a tightrope in the middle between the two concepts. The film is actually an elaborate dance in which the cord that separates two extremes is pulled in all directions by the human, chaotic movements of its dancers. Not through masterful manipulation techniques, but precisely because of the vulnerability of the film's characters as well as its entire structure, the audience is invited to open up to the film as Haigh and Scott have clearly done. No one can promise that All of Us Strangers will not hurt your tender heart. It is almost certain that that pain and every other feeling that Strangers gives you can enrich your world.

Conclusion

With deep personal input, writer-director Andrew Haigh and lead actor Andrew Scott elevate a surprisingly traditional LGBTQ drama to a new standard for the genre in the mainstream. One that can evoke intense feelings regardless of the viewer's orientation. If you feel like crying for a few hours, whether out of happiness, sadness, or out of sheer admiration for an intimate romantic fantasy drama with heartbreaking performances , then All of Us Strangers is the film to see.

Pro

+ Emotionally sincere and intimate + Management confident enough to embrace chaos + Breathtakingly sharp performances, especially from Andrew Scott

Con

- Ultimately follows closely conventions in the LGBTQ drama subgenre

8.5'

#Andrew Scott #Fleabag #Normal People #Aftersun #Paul Mescal #Andrew Haigh #Weekend #Looking #Jamie Bell #Claire Foy #The Crown #Billy Elliot #All of Us Strangers #Taichi Yamada #Strangers

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 1 year

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EoA couples in Heartbreaker Bay novels

All books by Jill Shalvis, summaries from Goodreads.

Eleteo: Sweet Littles Lies- Choose the one guy you can’t have . . . As captain of a San Francisco Bay tour boat, Pru can handle rough seas—the hard part is life on dry land. Pru loves her new apartment and her neighbors; problem is, she’s in danger of stumbling into love with Mr. Right for Anybody But Her. Fall for him—hard . . . Pub owner Finn O’Riley is six-foot-plus of hard-working hottie who always makes time for his friends. When Pru becomes one of them, she discovers how amazing it feels to be on the receiving end of that deep green gaze. But when a freak accident involving darts (don’t ask) leads to shirtless first aid, things rush way past the friend zone. Fast. And then tell him the truth. Pru only wants Finn to be happy; it’s what she wishes for at the historic fountain that’s supposed to grant her heart’s desire. But wanting him for herself is a different story—because Pru’s been keeping a secret that could change everything. . . .

or Accidentally On Purpose- There’s no such thing as a little in love… Elle Wheaten’s priorities: friends, career, and kick-ass shoes. Then there’s the muscular wall of stubbornness that’s security expert Archer Hunt—who comes before everything else. No point in telling Mr. “Feels-Free Zone” that, though. Elle will just see other men until she gets over Archer . . . which should only take a lifetime . . . There’s no such thing as a little in lust… Archer’s wanted the best for Elle ever since he sacrificed his law-enforcement career to save her. But now that she’s earned happiness and success, Archer just wants Elle 24/7. Their chemistry could start the next San Francisco Earthquake, and Archer doesn’t want to be responsible for the damage. The alternative? Watch her go out with guys who aren’t him . . . There is such a thing as… As far as Archer’s concerned, nobody is good enough for Elle. But when he sets out to prove it by sabotaging her dates, she gets mad—and things get hot as hell. Now Archer has a new mission: prove to Elle that her perfect man has been here all along…

Gababel: Hot Winter Nights- Who needs mistletoe? Most people wouldn't think of a bad Santa case as the perfect Christmas gift. Then again, Molly Malone, office manager at Hunt Investigations, isn't most people, and she could really use a distraction from the fantasies she's been having since spending the night with her very secret crush, Lucas Knight. Nothing happened, not that Lucas knows that — but Molly just wants to enjoy being a little naughty for once... Whiskey and pain meds for almost-healed bullet wounds don't mix. Lucas needs to remember that next time he's shot on the job, which may be sooner rather than later if Molly's brother, Joe, finds out about them. Lucas can't believe he's drawing a blank on his (supposedly) passionate tryst with Molly, who's the hottest, smartest, strongest woman he's ever known. Strong enough to kick his butt if she discovers he's been assigned to babysit her on her first case. And hot enough to melt his cold heart this Christmas.

Playing for Keeps- If you’re planning on falling in love… When it comes to the confident, charismatic Caleb Parker, Sadie Lane feels the spark—the kind that comes from rubbing each other the wrong way. She’s a tattoo artist, he’s a straight-laced mogul. But after they accidentally co-rescue an abandoned dog from a storm, Sadie sees a vulnerable side to the seemingly invincible hottie. you’d better be sure… Caleb doesn’t do emotions. Growing up the underdog, he’s learned the hard way to build up an impenetrable wall. Perfect for business. Disastrous for relationships. He’s never worried about it before—not until he finally gets behind Sadie’s armor and begins to fall. … someone is there to catch you. Both guarded and vulnerable, Sadie and Caleb are complete opposites. Or are they? Shocked at their undeniable connection, can they ever admit to wanting more? That all depends on what they’re each willing to risk

Estenaomi: About That Kiss- When love drives you crazy . . . When sexy Joe Malone never calls after their explosive kiss, Kylie shoves him out of her mind. Until she needs a favor, and it’s a doozy. Something precious to her has been stolen and there’s only one person with unique finder-and-fixer skills that can help—Joe. It means swallowing her pride and somehow trying to avoid the temptation to throttle him—or seduce him. the best thing to do . . . No, Joe didn’t call after the kiss. He’s the fun time guy, not the forever guy. And Kylie, after all she’s been through, deserves a good man who will stay. But everything about Kylie makes it damned hard to focus, and though his brain knows what he has to do, his heart isn’t getting the memo. … is enjoy the ride. As Kylie and Joe go on the scavenger hunt of their lives, they discover surprising things about each other. Now, the best way for them to get over “that kiss” might just be to replace it with a hundred more.

Estoma: One Snowy Night- It’s Christmas Eve and Rory Andrews is desperate to get home to the family she hasn’t seen in years. Problem is, her only ride to Lake Tahoe comes in the form of the annoyingly handsome Max Stranton, and his big, goofy, lovable dog Carl. Hours stuck in a truck with the dead sexy Max sounds like a fate worse than death (not), but Rory’s out of options. She’s had a crush on Max since high school and she knows he’s attracted to her, too. But they have history… and Max is the only one who knows why it went south. They’ve done a good job of ignoring their chemistry so far, but a long road trip in a massive blizzard might be just what they need to face their past… and one steamy, snowy night is all it takes to bring Max and Rory together at last.

Gabela: Head Over Heels- Breaking rules and breaking hearts. Free-spirited Chloe lives life on the edge. Unlike her soon-to-be married sisters, she isn't ready to settle into a quiet life running their family's newly renovated inn. But soon her love of trouble — and trouble with love — draws the attention of the very stern, very sexy sheriff who'd like nothing better than to tame her wild ways. Suddenly, Chloe can't take a misstep without the sheriff hot on her heels. His rugged swagger and his enigmatic smile are enough to make a girl beg to be handcuffed. For the first time, instead of avoiding the law, Chloe dreams of surrender. Can this rebel find a way to keep the peace with the straitlaced sheriff? Or will Chloe's colorful past keep her from a love that lasts... and the safe haven she truly wants in a town called Lucky Harbor?

#elena of avalor #gabela #estoma #eleteo #gababel #estenaomi #random musings

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jungkxook · 3 years

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—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook and @onherwings for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Evil Twins - Part 1

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

New York City

Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.

He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?

Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.

He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.

The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.

Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?

He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.

Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.

He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.

Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”

Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”

“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”

“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.

Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”

Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”

“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.

“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”

Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.

You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.

Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.

You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.

It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.

Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”

Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”

“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.

Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”

His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”

Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”

A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”

The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.

As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”

The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”

“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.

“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.

“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.

“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”

“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”

Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”

The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.

Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.

You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.

No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.

You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.

Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.

Of course you were.

Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.

They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.

So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.

You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #general kirigan #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfic

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brandyllyn · 3 years

Text

Make dreams truths

Dark Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader

Summary: Ezra had been a killer. Was known to be a rogue. Occasionally even a degenerate... Words: 4300. [Read it on AO3]

My Masterlist

Rating: Explicit Warnings: somnophilia. dubcon / noncon. smut. hella smut. oral (f&m). PiV. fingering. cumplay. knife. dead dove: do not eat.

A/N: I think this is actually not entirely out of character for what we know of pre-movie Ezra but it’s definitely not a good side of him. Heed the warnings.

The tent was quiet but Ezra was wide awake, hands stacked behind his head while he stared at the canvas roof. A scant few inches away you slept, the soft sounds of your breathing filling the tent and air around him. Close enough that he could reach out and touch you.

It hadn’t been intentional, this sharing of living quarters. When this rotation had started you had your own tent, as did the remainder of the team, each in their own little abodes of solitude ringing a common area. But a storm had put an end to that, taking with it a third of the structures. And so here you were, in a pile of blankets tucked between his cot and the tent wall.

There had been other options, of course. Other men who had jumped at the chance, hungry eyes roving over you when their offers had been made. Ezra’s hands clenched into fists and he took a deep calming breath as he remembered. Of six men, four had been able to offer you a place to lay your pillow - and he’d been pleasantly surprised when you took his. He hadn’t missed the assessing looks from the others each night when he held the tent flap back for you, the way their greed and jealousy tainted the toxic air of the planet even further.

You were a dove among snakes, and well you knew it. Your delicate fingers useful in the harvesting well beyond even his own clumsy attempts. The mining itself required muscle, heft and weight and work to find the dig sites. But the extraction, the small movements and fragile tenderness to obtain the gems…

That called for a woman’s tender touch.

You were safe - as safe as anyone could be on the Green. Safe with these men who circled you like writhing asps, waiting for you to fall into their embrace. Their greed outweighed their lust for the moment, and every sure touch of your hands on a gem was another thousand credits for each of them. But it didn’t follow that just because you were useful that it didn’t mean they didn’t want you, or that they might not turn their fangs on you given half the chance….

You had not, as yet, given them the chance. But with your tent gone you had needed to venture into a snake’s den. To curl up with a serpent of your choosing.

And you had chosen him.

He had thought, nay hoped, that you might join him in his bunk that first night. He thought he had been clear that you were welcome, turning back the corner of the scratchy blankets and letting it sit invitingly while he used a bathing wipe to remove the day’s grime. But when he’d turned around you were on the floor, tucking your legs beneath your own blanket and thanking him again for his hospitality.

The bunk was small, admittedly, and your pallet did look quite spacious - if not actually more comfortable. But as the spins drug on you had not invited him to your bed either.

You made a soft sound, the blankets rustling when you reseated yourself. Sleep had never come easy to him and tonight was no different. His mind raced to and fro, picking up scattered thoughts and discarding them just as easily. It had always been like that for him, focus attained through necessity rather than desire.

Desire, that was not a word for lonely nights like this. Not with your soft body within his reach. He knew it better than anyone on this blasted moon. Knew the curves and lines, the dips and valleys. No one but him got to see you outside of your suit, see the sweep of your back or the length of your leg when you scrubbed yourself off in the evening. Even the light hairs dusting your arms had been a revelation, soft beneath his fingers one night when he had laid his bare hand on you to gain your attention.

Skin, even the frailest touch, was a rarity on the Green. And so much of it was within his reach.

If he held his hand out, a little to the side, he’d be able to feel the heat rising from your body. You were practically in bed with him, just a foot lower than his own perch. It was easy to close his mind and imagine, to drown himself in what it would be like to have you truly with him. Your skin and his…

You hid your assets from the others, a cap covering your hair during meals, careful application of some dark makeup to make you look haggard and wane. Not that it mattered that much, a woman’s body was all that was required to strike a man’s lust in the reaches. But Ezra knew what you looked like without it. Knew the arch of your cheek and the fullness of your lips. Knew exactly how attractive you would be even compared with the finest women in the galaxy.

All of that beauty, a fingertip away.

He could feel himself getting hard and sighed, reaching down and roughly palming his cock. Was it worth it? He had nothing nearby to gather his emissions and the thought of trying to sleep in sticky wet briefs was as unappealing as the idea of getting up to fetch something.

You moved again and his mind wandered. He could come in you. That would solve his dilemma. In your mouth or cunt… or hell, this was his own dark reverie, he could come in that pretty ass of yours. On your knees, your back tilted just right while he fucked himself inside you. Would you let him? The you that lived in the recesses of his mind would. She let him do any number of degenerate things to her body, things he had only before paid people do. But you, the you the flounced nude through his imaginings, begged him for those same actions.

He groaned, annoyed with himself. He was hard now, his aching cock a reminder of the lasciviousness of his thoughts. He resigned himself to the rough scratch of the blanket as a vessel when he heard a sound from you. Something he’d never heard before.

A moan.

It was soft, deep. Curling through the tent and settling into the space behind his jaw. He froze, fingers just barely edging under the band of his briefs, his own heartbeat nearly drowning out his thoughts. Waited to see if you might do it again - provide an aural accompaniment to his depraved actions of the evening.

The next noise was a needy whimper.

He captured it, reeling it onto the spool of his fantasies and allowing it to settle in its own alcove of his mind. It was the noise you would make while he flicked at your clit. The sound of you while he sucked on your pert nipples. The shattered note that would break from you just before you begged him to fuck you.

His fingers were wrapped around his cock now, squeezing slightly and tugging himself in short strokes. He remained silent, ears straining. While his actions might be a distant second to his desires, it was more than he was expecting when he turned the lights off this evening.

"Ezra…"

Pleasure shot through him and he squeezed the base of his cock hard, stopping himself from coming right then. He hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t. Even his own addled consciousness couldn’t have imagined that breathy plea. Whatever somnolent world you found yourself in, he was the star. Just as you were the luminary of his own. He turned to his side, careful to be quiet, careful not to break you free from the shackles of sleep that held you.

You were right there. One arm thrown over your head, blankets pushed to your waist, the other hand resting on your stomach. He watched you in the dim filtered light, watched the slight movement as your thighs rubbed together and you moaned again.

The little dove was dreaming of him - and a fine dream it seemed to be.

He turned all the way to his stomach, pulling one arm beneath him and resting his chin on his fist, the other reaching down to hover over your body. Did he dare? Did he dare defile you with his touch? You took the decision away, you back arching on the next breathy gasp and his fingers brushed over your hardened nipples.

Your groans wove together, a symphony of need and desire. His hand followed you down, circling through your tank top, flicking gently back and forth and then softly rolling the puckered flesh between his fingers. He should wake you, break you from your dream and offer you the reality of his body.

But he didn’t.

Laying next to you, above you, he watched his fingers trace upwards until they meet soft bare flesh. Running the tips of them under the edge of your top. Your lips parted, face turning towards him, and he wondered if you were really awake. Offering yourself to his hands and his touch. He trailed his fingers up, over the tendons of your throat, caressing your jaw, and finally stopping to rest them on the plush curve of your lips. He tugged and your mouth opened slightly, enough for him to slip his forefinger inside, feel the hot, wet warmth of you encase him. Venturing further, he touched your tongue and his vision went blurry when your lips closed around the digit and you sucked briefly on it.

His own breathing sounded harsh to his ears, unbearably loud in the near silence of the tent. His finger fell from your mouth and he cupped your chin lightly, tilting your face towards his and whispering your name - searching for any sign of wakefulness. But you continued to sleep, not so much as a flutter of your eyelashes in response.

He removed his touch from you gently, carefully. Now that he had committed to his course of action he was loath to see it come to an untimely end. He shifted in his bunk, sliding downwards slightly, adjusting himself so he could roll his cock into the hard bar at the edge. It wasn’t optimal, it wasn’t you, but it would do for the moment.

Your chosen serpent, uncoiling. Watching. Hunting.

Ezra studied your body with an almost dispassionate gaze. To an outside observer he could be considering an aurelac dig, or a piece of machinery. But his eyes were bright, his breath coming in unsteady shudders. You were a puzzle at the moment, one he needed to twist and pry at to find his way towards completion.

He wanted to see your breasts, but tugging at your top was likely to wake you. Your blankets were draped over your waist - easy to move - but the influx of cool air might stir you from your slumber. The other things he wanted… well those would definitely rouse you.

In the end, you made his decision for him, turning away with a soft mumble. Your back to him and kicking your feet out. Now the soft swell of your ass was exposed to the cool night air, the plain white cotton of your underwear visible to where it disappeared between your thighs. His lips parted as he reached out, cupping you gently in his palm, feeling the warmth even through the cloth covering you.

It was easy from there to let his fingers dip further, to burrow into the cleft and drag downwards until he was nudging at the soft flesh of your thighs. He stroked softly, repeatedly, small little pets over your cunt - resisting the urge to twist the fabric away and plunge his fingers inside of you. You would be wet, he could already feel the slight dampness soaking through your underwear. Whatever you were dreaming about - and Kevva he hoped it was still him - it was making your body weep with want.

He caressed your thigh, urging you to move, to change positions again, and he held his breath when you did so. Rolling towards him and fully on to your back with one leg bent, knee resting in line with your hip, blankets abandoned. Fuck he couldn’t stop himself, slipping from the bunk and carefully placing one knee between your spread legs, the other on the outside of your thigh. He felt guilt, for a moment, when he pulled his pocket knife from the belt hanging off the edge of the bed. When he carefully slipped it beneath the fabric of your underwear and sliced through it with minimal effort. He knew for a fact you had limited pairs with you.

But now he could touch you directly, feel your slick on the tips of his fingers as he played with your cunt and any regrets he might have had quickly vanished. He leaned forward onto his free hand, settling it next to your head, careful to keep his body from touching yours. You writhed in your sleep, a breathy moan falling from your lips, and then what he wanted to hear.

"Ezra…"

He couldn’t have kept himself from you for all the stars in the sky. Gently, smoothly, he slid his middle finger inside of you. Felt your heat and slick surround him. Felt your body squeeze him and pull him in deeper. Fuck you felt good, so tight on the relatively small girth of his finger. He could already imagine how you would feel on his cock. How you would have to stretch to accommodate him.

His jaw worked while he watched you, watched your brow furrow and your lips part as he worked you open. Carefully, oh so carefully, he lowered his mouth until it hovered just over yours. Held his breath and tasted the pants of air that fell from you. His body strained with the effort, every muscle urging him to press down, press you down into the blankets, let his body cover yours.

But he restrained. He wasn’t ready for you to be awake yet. There was still a chance you might tell him no.

Instead he regretfully pulled his fingers from your warmth, smiling to himself when your hips rolled upwards to chase them. The disappointed mumble that fell from your lips. "Shh," he whispered to himself, shifting his weight down your body, "soon little dove. Just let me…"

It was difficult, you were not settled in a way to make room for his body and he didn’t want to risk transposing you into something more convenient. Instead he laid his body next to yours, propping one hand between your spread legs and arching himself over your thighs.

You tasted sweet.

Maybe it had been too long since he had the taste of another on his tongue. Maybe it was the clandestine nature of the evening. Maybe it was just actually you… whatever it was he drew his tongue through your folds and couldn’t help the low moan that vibrated from him.

His eyes never left you as he licked at your center, staring over the rise of your stomach, your breasts, watching your face. This wasn’t about pleasure, not really. If he was going to bring you to pleasure this way it would wake you for sure. No, this was about learning your body. About having the taste and feel and smell of you filling his senses.

This was about seeing how delicately he could balance you on a razor’s edge before he was inevitably wounded by the task.

He learned every dip, every crevasse. Pressed the tip of his tongue to your aching hole and felt your hips arch beneath him. Swirled it around your clit for a moment and heard your soft whimper. Rubbed his lips along yours in the most secret of kisses, conscious of how the stubble dotting his jaw rasped against your skin.

It wasn’t enough.

It had been several minutes since you last called out his name. Several minutes of your breathy whimpers but not the dulcet tenor of your tongue wrapping around the syllables that hung his identity on him like a chain.

He ached for it.

Slowly, he drug himself away from your heat. With one hand he reached over his shoulder, fisting the fabric and pulling, tossing his shirt to the side once he was free of it. His pants followed quickly and he knelt next to you, hand seeking the knife he had tossed to the side earlier. With two fingers he carefully lifted the hem of your shirt, sliding the sharp blade beneath and watching the fabric part over its deadly sheen.

Oh Kevva, you were gorgeous. Bare below him, the tatters of your clothing perfectly framing your body. He hesitated with the blade near your shoulders, turning it slightly and lightly touching it to your neck. To the vein he knew pulsed life through you. So vulnerable beneath him. So trusting to sleep so soundly.

He could do anything to you.

With a grimace he closed the knife. He was not a good man, but he was not that one either.

Carefully he positioned himself over your body, his knees resting on each side of your stomach. He reached down with one hand, pressing his cock until the head just touched the skin of your chest. A slight shift and even in the low light he could see the trail of his own cum glisten on your skin, trailing from his cock, easing and preparing your body for when he moved back up. He was hypnotized, unable to tear his eyes away from the way his hardness contrasted to your softness. His cock almost grotesque against your tender delicacy.

Another shift in position and he could rest some of his weight on one hand, the other continuing to hold just the tip of himself to you. Painting your ribs with his precum. Drawing designs into the swell of your breasts. Nudging against your nipple and retreating until a thin line was stretched between the two points.

It was entrancing.

A slight shift further and he was leaning over you, pressing his cock to your lower lip, sighing to himself when your mouth opened ever so slightly and he could push forward until he met the hard edge of your teeth.

"Open for me, little dove," he groaned, pressing his thumb to your jaw. "I seek only paradise."

Your chin followed the pressure of his fingers and he slipped inside. The soft flesh of your tongue met his cock, the give of the muscle cradling him. The sight was almost too much for him. That beautiful, warm, perfect fucking mouth wrapped around his cock. His shaft twitched, his balls drawing up slightly. Only his quick reflexes kept him from coming on the spot, one hand reaching down to squeeze the base of his cock painfully as he pulled himself away from you.

You licked your lips and he squeezed harder, closing his eyes to block out the sight of you spread beneath him. Cautiously, with just one finger, he traced along the soft bow of your lips, wetting the digit before trailing it down the column of your throat.

Your heartbeat was fast, erratic.

He grinned, shifting his weight downwards, gently urging your thighs further apart with one hand while he held his body away from yours with the other. He settled there, his cock just barely nudging at your cunt, his mouth lowering to hiss into your ear.

"How long have you been awake, dove?"

Your hands lifted and clenched on his back, pulling him down to you and he allowed you your wish, sliding his cock inside you in the same movement. You gasped and your nails dug into his skin, urging him further. Ezra felt his lips pull back, his teeth sinking into your neck.

The dove was well and truly caught now.

He didn’t hold himself back, fucking up into your wet warmth hard, feeling himself touch the very heart of you. Your gasp into his ear was music and he repeated the motion just to hear the notes turn into a melody of whimpers and cries.

"You didn’t answer my question," he sucked your earlobe into his mouth while he murmured his words. Worrying the soft flesh between his teeth. "How long have you been enjoying my ministrations? Allowing me to debauch you?" He bit down hard on the word and you rewarded him with a sigh of his name.

"Your… your mouth," you manage to gasp out and he groaned, pressing his face to your neck. You had let him hold a knife to you. Use your body as a canvas for his weeping cock. Opened your mouth and allowed him to…

He jerked his body away and gripped your hips tight, unwrapping your legs from his waist and lifting you. Shoving you. Throwing you across the edge of his cot and pressing a hand to your spine to bend you over.

"What a pretty sight you are." His hand trailed down, pulling at the remains of your shirt and tossing it to the side. Your knees slid apart without his prompting and he stroked your thigh while he muttered his praise into your skin. "Good girl."

There was no mistaking the low moan at his words and he filed the information away for later. Nor could he fail to notice the clench of your muscles when he slid inside you again. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes and digging small indentations on your hips with the touch of his fingers.

"Laying here beside me, moaning my name, letting me touch you…" The sound of his hips snapping into yours was filling the tent. The wet suck of your cunt around his cock. He jerked on your shoulder, pulling you upright and wrapping both of his arms around you. Enclosing you in the coils of his body. His hand was wide enough to fully enclose your throat. Your own rose to grip it, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and pulling.

He tutted in your ear, gripping you harder. "This is exactly what you wanted and you are going to take it."

He could look down your body from this position, see your breasts bouncing as he fucked his cock into you, one of his hands pulling sharply on your nipple. The pretty spread of your thighs, even his own flesh when he pulled himself out of you just before ramming home again. He let out a soft hum and pressed his cheek to yours. "Are you sure you don’t want to put those fingers to better use?"

One hand stayed on his arm but the other… he watched as the other dropped between your thighs. Fingers dipping downwards and then settling over your clit in sharp, jerky motions. You clenched down on him and he rewarded you with an open-mouth kiss on your cheek.

"Tell me pretty dove, what manner of serpent makes you sing?"

You made a strangled sound and he released you just slightly, allowing you to pull in a gasp of air. At the same time he delved his other hand between your parted thighs, knocking your hand out of the way. Circling where his cock is still pumping inside of you before rising higher. He captured your clit between two fingers, rubbing back and forth in time with the thrust of his hips.

"Ezra," the sound of his name is wrenched from you. A benediction, an offering, a prayer tossed carelessly into the darkness. He was no god, but he could certainly see the appeal of veneration. Of your veneration.

"You are exquisite," he groaned, feeling his balls draw up. "Can you fly for me? Toss yourself into the pit with me, my soiled dove?" He pinched your clit between his fingers and rolled it in quick circles and you convulsed. You would have screamed but his hand on your throat cut the noise off, his eyelids fluttering closed as he enjoyed the feeling of taking you apart with his cock and his fingers.

"Come here," he pulled at your shoulder, leaning back on his heels, "show me how you worship."

Your body was still shaking from your own pleasure but you took him into your mouth without hesitation. His cock sliding over your lips and tongue. His hands helped you when you faltered, digging into your neck and pulling you down until he slid all the way into your throat.

"Oh dearest dove I-"

Your muscles spasmed around his cock and he came. White flashing at the corner of his vision and his fingers clenching tight to your skin, cutting off your airways while he spilled into your mouth.

Le petit mort, they called it.

The little death.

Ezra had traded in death more than once in his ventures. Had seen the light go out of another’s eyes at his hand. He did not enjoy it, but would indulge when necessity dictated his actions. But this…

Holding your life in his hands while he was reborn.

This he enjoyed. This he had every intention of indulging himself in whenever the opportunity presented itself. Engorging himself even.

Your eyes met his and he stroked his thumb over the corner of your mouth, loosening his hold on your throat and catching a drop of his cum and pushing it back between your lips. Eyelashes lowering as you didn’t hesitate to take him, sucking on him and holding his gaze.

Yes, you had chosen your serpent. His venom still glistened on your lips.

He would have to see that you did not regret it.

Ezra Taglist:

@beautyagegoodnesssize , @iwantadecentblogname , @pintsizemama , @codenamewife , @michaelperry , @qwtyy , @thisgirl-knm ,

@pascals-cat, @hotspacepilots , @rosiefridayrogersunday

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(y’all just remember you asked to be on this list)

#ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #prospect film #smut #somno tw #somno

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flowered-mp3 · 2 years

Text

vermillion pt. 1 (encounter) - lim jaebeom

pairing: human prince jaebeom + vampire princess female reader

genre: fluff, angst, forbidden love (kinda?), arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, smut (eventual), vampire, royalty, fantasy au

word count: 8k+

warnings: cursing, mentions of war, violence, and death, hot jay b (lol this is a warning), suggestive sexual content, eventual smut

summary: in an effort to end centuries of war, you agree to a political marriage with the enemy. you never considered that your circumstances could allow you to indulge in matters of the heart. that is, until your intended pushes past your boundaries, tempting you with intelligent banter and salacious, midnight promises.

rating: 18+ (mdni)

author’s note: after a million years, i’m finally posting the first part lmao. ugh i just love fantasy au’s or any au that has mythical/magical elements to it. lol like just look at all those genre tags. they’re my favourite to read and write! i hope that you guys enjoy this series (also i have no idea how many parts it’s gonna be lmao, the series list is only an estimate) <3

p.s. happy birthday to my beloved lim jaebeom, lim leader, jay b, defsoul, producer, singer, dancer, artist, photographer. i know that i clown u all the time but tbh i actually think that ur really neat. love u dawg

[library] [got7 library] [vermillion series]

✧✧✧

encounter (en-koun-ter) - to meet with or contend against, possibly with difficulty or opposition.

✧✧✧

The concept of vampires has always been a children’s tale, for Jaebeom.

They were rumoured to be mythical, immortal creatures that freely roam the mysterious, cold, and dangerous lands of Styria in the North, isolated from the humans after their kind was banished centuries ago. It was told that both humans and vampires lived among each other in harmony before the Great War, but those times are long gone.

To make matters worse, further hate and violence were lit the to the flame in recent decades after a young Styrian vampire killed an Alsacian human child, amid them returning from a hunting trip with their family. Once the news hit Jaebeom’s home; the capital city of Alsace, pure mayhem and chaos erupted in the streets of the city, awakening the workers and soldiers within the halls of the castle. Jaebeom still remembers the way that his father’s best military strategists and generals gathered in the courtroom to swear fealty to the crown; the roars of men and women with the clash and clang of their armour against their weapons terrifying him as a child.

War is all Jaebeom knows, so he’s become accustomed to the sound now; the environment of combat and war; the smell of blood and decaying bodies; the sight of grieving people; but he’s never been one for violence.

While events laid out in the Great War are documented in books that he read as a child, little else is known about them. But Jaebeom knows one thing for sure; every single human that has entered that country has never returned.

Ever.

Yet here he finds himself, right outside the towering walls of the Styrian capital city in the dead of night, speaking to the possibility of a-

“Treaty?” Jaebeom questions, recoiling at the offer extended by the King of the Styria, King Jiho. Like the other elder members of the Styrian upper class, the King is tall and lean, fit with a cloak of deep grey furs, clothing fastened with leather straps, silver clasps, and chains. He nods, which prompts Jaebeom to ask further, “Such agreements were extended before. How do we know if the treaty will be sustained by both parties?”

King Jiho pauses, eyeing a man at his side. The man in question immediately rushes over King Jiho’s left, reaching into a wooden chest that he carried to the meeting. He pulls out a scroll of parchment, a pot of ink, and a quill, placing them on a silver tray before handing the items to Jaebeom’s father beside him.

His father frowns in suspicion, handing Jaebeom’s younger brother the bound scroll into his outstretched hand. Immediately, he breaks the dark red wax seal embossed with the sigil of the Styrian royal family, his fingers unravelling the burlap string to read the contents of their peace offering. The second that an expression of surprise and panic spreads over his brother’s face, Jaebeom takes the scroll from his hands.

With a single pass over the words contained on the parchment, it’s safe to say that Jaebeom does not enjoy the contents of the agreement. His eyes widen and his heart thumps out of his chest when he reads that the vampires are offering, fury overtaking his mind as his vision becomes red.

✧✧✧

Humans are strange creatures.

You’ve never been able to understand them. While you were human at one point, it’s been long enough for you to forget how fickle and fleeting their lives are, now that you’ve been cursed with an exorbitantly long life. While you’re lucky to have been reborn as a Styrian royal, finding purpose in a seemingly immortal life has been an ongoing journey. And on this ongoing journey, you’ve come to believe that humans are strange, never consuming blood for purposes other than simple sustenance.

At least, you do now. But you can’t say the same for yourself when you were freshly turned.

Even though you’ve trained yourself to control your thirst for blood centuries ago, you’re still able to recall how agonizing it felt. The experience of starvation was simply excruciating. The degree at which you felt its effects was so extreme that you nearly clawed your own throat out before deciding to kill the nearest living thing in your proximity, a consequence of craving that warm red liquid that you so desperately needed. Both your late father and your brother were absolutely mortified at the sight; the mere image of their faces overcome with debilitating fear made you promise yourself to never lose control like that.

Since then, that resolve of yours has never cracked. Not even once.

Nowadays, the only blood that you drink is from a glass, taken from a farmed animal. You’ve been able to curb your thirst like everyone else, to the point where the cravings are few in between. This training is what has allowed your kind to remain separate from the humans, that is, until recent years.

War has a level of destruction, sorrow, and poverty that seems to have turned into an ancient memory in the minds of foolish humans that wish to spark more conflict. That has been your perspective for centuries; humans are fickle, greedy creatures that look at war as an opportunity to achieve glory or fame; but you know far too well that all it does is fracture families, destroy economies, and ruin lives. You, frankly, want nothing to do with that wretched kind, and you believe that it’s safe to say that your fellow vampires agree.

That is, until your uncle, King Jiho, puts forth an absurd suggestion at a council meeting.

“Political marriage,” he puts forward to the Royal Council, his gruff voice taking your attention from the paper. King Jiho’s gaze drifts, adding, “The human king has two sons. One is of age, and we have two princesses at our disposal. Therefore, I propose the marriage of a member of their royal family with ours.”

Both you and the members of the Royal Council are taken aback by the shocking request. Never have such terms been a part of any peace treaty on both sides. Marriage between an Alsacian and a Styrian is frankly, inconceivable, and the marriage between an Alsacian royal and a Styrian royal is even more so. Within your shock, you run through the ranks of the central royal family, consisting of yourself, the Princess Regent, your older brother, the Crown Prince Suho, and your younger sister, Princess Yuna. Your older brother is already married, and your sister is not of legal age. So that leaves…

You.

Your mouth opens in protest, but King Jiho cuts you off with a raise of his hand and a boom of his voice, “Furthermore, the King of Alsace has already expressed interest in the union. We are waiting for the approval of the first prince.”

You’re speechless, and even more so when you discern that your uncle is genuinely considering the terms of the treaty. He might be a two-faced snake but this is low, even for him. The mere possibility of such a thing going through is absurd to you, it goes against everything that your father has taught you.

You’re the diplomat of your country. The Princess Regent. You didn’t attend all those gruelling war meetings, visit sites of war-torn destruction, intensively study the law and economy of your country to be married off; no, sold off, to a human.

You want to protest against this so badly, but you know better than to have emotional outbursts during council meetings. Your mind wanders to the teachings of your father; in any matter involving diplomacy and politics, your stance must remain neutral because once you take a side, you have an opinion. That situation suggests that they will eventually understand how you think. It’s a dangerous notion and coming close to something like that resulted in the fall of empires, no matter how great the empires once were.

Making eye contact with your uncle, you attempt to portray your displeasure and disagreement with the proposal through your stare. However, your uncle blatantly disregards your aversion to the offer, nodding his head at the members of the Royal Council instead. With a wave of his hand, he takes his leave, the guards pushing the doors open with a loud creak.

✧✧✧

“Uncle, you cannot be serious!” you yell as you furiously slam the heavy wooden door shut, finally in the safety of your quarters with your brother and your uncle. The men in question have already been escorted by soldiers to the military tents outside of the keep of the castle, but just the notion of having wandering Styrian’s in your city makes your stomach churn. What would keep them from wreaking havoc in the middle of the city?

“Y/N is right, Uncle. She’ll be killed as soon as she is alone with them,” your brother concurs with your outburst, equally as maddened. Upon hearing your brother’s defence, your eyes soften and your tenseness from before relaxes slightly. You’ve always counted on Suho for support, and this instance is no exception.

Your defiance causes your uncle to pinch his nose bridge in frustration, sighing out in exasperation.

“I understand your apprehension, dearest,” your eyebrow twitches at the nickname, condescension laced in his tone like poison on a needle, “But-”

“Apprehension? Disgust is more like it!” you counter, huffing dramatically in exhausted anger. Fed-up, you pull a chair from underneath the central table, slumping onto the cushion. Pressing your palms to your eyes, a defeated sigh escapes your lips as you attempt to lower your voice.

“I just… I’ve worked so hard, Uncle. To keep Alsace prosperous, even during times of war. Doing this… I would leave us vulnerable. I would be betraying my country; my people,” you plead with him, voice weakening with each word when your uncle’s resolve fails to break.

You hope that he would be able to understand, but your hopes are much too high for a man of his character. Instead, his temper rises, “As Princess Regent, you will do as I say! I didn’t keep you around after your father’s death to be useless.”

Fucking prick, you want to call him, barely restricting the curse from leaving your lips.

Instead, you squeeze your fist tightly while remaining seated, opening your mouth to protest seethingly, “I will not be sold off like a broodmare.”

Your brother decides to take a step further than you have, rising from his seat and stalking towards your uncle threateningly, “Father would not allow this to happen, and neither will I.”

You stare between the two men glaring at each other, your uncle leaving his seat as well to confront Suho, “She will marry the human.”

Suho doesn’t back down, so your uncle remains silent. However, a vile smirk begins to spread across his face before a threat leaves his lips, “If she doesn’t, I’ll just get the other one to do it for me.”

Your heart stops at the suggestion.

Yuna.

His tone is as entitled and poisonous as ever, but you understand that this isn’t a thinly veiled threat. After your uncle seized power after your father’s death some time ago, he reformed the Royal Council solely from his supporters, disposing of the past. He has the entire Royal Council eating out of his filthy palms so if he places this notion in front of them, they will all surely agree with it, even if Yuna is not of marrying age.

Chewing at your bottom lip, you understand that if you don’t go forward with the marriage, Yuna will have to fill your shoes. That is a possibility that you are not willing to entertain, not even in the slightest. There’s no way that you would let Yuna take the burden.

“How dare you,” you seethe, pausing to rise out of your seat as well, “Yuna is freshly turned. She’s a child! You can’t,” you argue.

“I can and I will. That is, if you decline, dearest,” he replies, voice sickeningly nonchalant.

Enough.

Your eyes narrow at your uncle in anger, magic seeping out of your body as fury begins to manifest at a speed as swift as your rising temper. Upon seeing this, your uncle wavers slightly, backing down from your confrontation for just a moment. Right when your power starts to activate in front of his eyes, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, halting you. Turning around, you see Suho shaking his head at you.

Don’t, he seems to convey wordlessly, brows furrowed. For a brief second, your anger flares up and you think that you might ignore your brother’s advice. However, you catch the way that his eyes soften, realizing that violence isn’t worth it in this case. Saving your strength, you back off and your uncle scrambles back to his feet. He leaves the council room without another word, leaving yourself and Suho together.

“You can’t kill him, Y/N. You know that,” Suho advises you, sighing when you slump into one of the chairs.

“Brother, I can’t marry someone I’ve never met. I won’t do it,” you shake your head, pausing to take a laboured inhale, “I can’t betray my people.”

Your brother shakes his head, “You’re doing this to protect your people.”

And that, makes you shut up instantaneously because you know that deep in your heart, he’s right. It causes you to pause in contemplation. By agreeing to this arrangement, peace with the humans would become a potential possibility, and no longer an impossibility like it is now. Although you’re not sure that the Alsacian’s would uphold their part of the treaty, you’re beginning to realize that whether or not they uphold the agreement isn’t central to the offer.

The humans want peace as well; and who wouldn’t? Perhaps, trust is the point.

For diplomacy, both sides must negotiate. Both sides won’t receive everything that they want, but both sides will end up happy eventually.

You breathe out, pressing your fingers to your temples in thought. You were so blinded by personal bias that you weren’t even able to remember the core principles of diplomacy. But instead of your side trading money, land, or military might in this negotiation, you’re gambling on your own life. Maybe doing that is the only way to end this war.

“You do understand, Brother, that Uncle is marrying me off in the hopes that the humans will kill me for him.”

Suho nods.

“If I do this, I’ll be gone. I won’t be here to protect you. I won’t be here to protect Yuna. If I leave, Uncle will be one step closer to securing absolute power over vampire kind. If he gets his way, you’re next,” you remind him.

Suho shakes his head before pulling you in for a tight hug, pressing his palm to the back of your head, “Don’t worry about us. Do what you need to do.”

His words might be reassuring, but it doesn’t stop your heart from clenching in your chest, tears starting to gather along your lashes.

✧✧✧

“I will be going ahead with the treaty, Son.”

Jaebeom’s heart sinks at the news, anger bubbling up at his father’s disregard for his opinion in the arrangement. He could be in chains in a dungeon, captured by his sworn enemy since birth, but the idea of marrying a vampire makes him seethe even more than the possibility of being in prison.

“You seriously don’t believe that I’ll be willing to marry one of them,” he spits out, clearly displaying a distaste at the idea of marrying you.

His father remains silent, so Jaebeom continues, “I won’t betray my kind like this.”

Jaebeom argues with his father, shaking his head as it droops down between his crouched knees. His father senses the distress from his son; the conflict that he must be going through. So, he moves to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“You’re doing this to protect them, not betray them,” his father counters, making Jaebeom stop his train of thought.

“I’m not expecting you to enjoy this arrangement. If anything, I knew that you would be against it. But if you want to become king in the future, you need to show that you’re capable of carrying the burden of leadership. Sacrifices must be made to ensure the survival of our kind. And that means that you must step up.”

His father’s speech causes Jaebeom to contemplate his next action. Since birth, he’s known that he would become the next king. There is no doubt in his mind that he is strong after leading the front lines and being awarded a Medal of Valor at the age of twenty; the youngest to receive the honour in Alsacian history. Hard work and brutal strength exhibited on the battlefield granted him that, but how far would that take him? He has no experience in the diplomatic parts of war; he’s always thought that such negotiations were his father’s job.

Furthermore, Jaebeom’s mind wanders to the members of his circle. First, there’s Jinyoung, his right-hand man, vital in controlling the others when they become distracted or overly rowdy. After that, there’s Mark, his trusted strategist. Then there’s Jackson, his combat specialist. Next is Bambam, his best intelligence gatherer, imperative in the process of reconning an area meant for battle. And last, there’s the youngest; Yugyeom, the all-rounder. Jaebeom has been there since his birth, and he’s grown up so fast that he can’t wrap his arms around Yugyeom anymore when he hugs him, and just the thought of it makes his heart swell.

Then, there’s Youngjae, the second prince, adopted by his father after his mother passed away. He was found in one of the border towns as a shivering and starving child, hiding underneath a blanket of hay. If it wasn’t for that camouflage, he would’ve been killed by a vampire during the attack that happened just hours prior. While he isn’t related by blood to any of them, he loves them all. He would die for them without hesitation or regard for his own well-being or life.

His father slaps a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his inner monologue, “Are you ready to step up, Son? To sacrifice what must be sacrificed?”

This shouldn’t be about him; Jaebeom realizes this now. The war needs to end for them, because Jaebeom wants them to experience a life without war and destruction.

Once his father sees him nod wordlessly, he grips Jaebeom’s hand in assurance, “Good. Once you marry the vampire girl, I want you to learn everything there is to know about their kind; history, strengths, and most importantly, weaknesses.”

Jaebeom frowns slightly at the implication, retracting from his father’s touch, “You want me to become a spy?”

His father nods vehemently before adding, “Within this seemingly… Unfortunate offer, lies an opportunity that no other human has ever been granted. We have a chance to infiltrate the society of the vampires; to learn their ways and use it against them.”

Jaebeom sees that his father is resolute, emphasizing his idea with a strong voice and a fist in the air. Although he can see where his father is coming from, a part of him greatly disagrees with the idea.

There is no honour in it, Jaebeom recognizes, displeased with the notion of using a peace treaty as a guise for underhanded betrayal.

But it’s against vampires. It’s different, Jaebeom justifies, ignoring his gut feeling as he reminds himself of the side that he believes that he should take. How could he forget that vampires have been his sworn enemy since birth? How could he forget the vampire that dug his filthy fangs into his mother’s neck, feeding off of her blood until she collapsed in front of his innocent, child-like eyes; her body lifeless and gaunt?

They’ve killed thousands; no, millions of humans over the years, and such heartless crimes are unforgivable.

Jaebeom will never forget. He refuses to forget.

And with that in mind, he agrees to his father’s request with a decisive nod, “I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” his father acknowledges, tapping Jaebeom’s shoulder in approval, “I will send word to King Jiho.”

With a nod of Jaebeom’s head, his father leaves him alone in the tent once again. An anxious sigh slips from his lips, his upper body slumping back to hit the back of the upholstered chair, the sensation strangely grating and uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because the course of his life is going to change tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the day that Jaebeom walks into the fire.

Tomorrow.

✧✧✧

Yuna is making that face again.

“Out with it,” you say to your younger sister, currently situated in a chair adjacent to you, frowning with her arms crossed. She’s evidently displeased; Yuna’s never been very good at hiding her emotions.

“What?” she responds, tone curt.

“You have those wrinkles between your eyebrows again,” you start, hand leaving your open book to gesture at the space in between your brows, “They always show up when you’re itching to say something. So, out with it.”

Yuna huffs in her seat, remaining silent. It’s as if she’s contemplating the possibility of divulging her thoughts to you, but that doesn’t matter in the end. She usually cracks by the end of it.

And as if she can read your mind, she does just that.

“You can’t marry the human. You just can’t,” she admits. Just by assessing her expression and tone once again, you can tell that she’s irritated.

“I haven’t even accepted the proposal yet,” you reply, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible, attempting to ensure that your answer doesn’t rile her up too much. Unfortunately, this doesn’t prove to be effective because Yuna rolls her eyes at you, frustrated.

“When have you ever put your personal feelings above duty, Sister?”

You stop reading the second that you hear that, unable to deny her assessment. Yuna scoffs, noticing your change in expression immediately, “See? I know you just as well as you know me.”

“I just…” you stop yourself, not wanting to expose Yuna to your uncle’s wretched thoughts. Her existence as a member of the royal family is precarious as it is. The second that she receives any political power or attention will mean instant punishment for her, and your uncle has made that possibility abundantly clear. Her protection is a priority to both yourself and Suho, so you’ve tried your very best to keep her out of your uncle’s grimy fingers, and as a consequence, the political spotlight.

“I can see the benefits of this alliance. I can see what it can do for the country. What it can do for our kind,” you tell her instead, but you’re able to see that she remains unconvinced. Yuna squeezes her fists together, as if she’s struggling to bring the words from her mind into actual speech. At first, you believe that she’s just being petulant, but you notice the way that she bites her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She can barely make eye contact with you, and she just snaps.

“You can’t!” Yuna raises her voice and you halt everything. She never yells. Ever.

Caught off guard by her sudden outburst, you place your book down on the side table before walking over to her softly, responding, “Yuna, I-”

“You can’t,” she interrupts, tone much softer, almost meek in comparison to before. Her eyes peer upward to yours, eyes glassy with tears welling up in the corner of her eyes, “You can’t leave me.”

Your heart shatters the second that you hear her teary plead, reaching out to offer an embrace. She takes it immediately, breaking down and falling apart in your arms. You didn’t realize how strongly she felt about your decision, surely a consequence of only taking yourself and the country into account. The possible impact that this marriage might have on her didn’t even cross your mind, so you chastise yourself for being so selfish.

Yuna was turned illegally at the young age of sixteen, by some criminal that broke border rules for a quick drink. She would have been one of the youngest humans turned in history, if it wasn’t for your age of turning. You still remember the state at which you and Suho found her; it still makes you shiver to this day.

Her body was weak, face gaunt, and starving, nearly mauling Suho as you attempted to rescue her. It took your father nearly two years to teach her how to curb her thirst. So, since your father’s death, she’s relied on you heavily for guidance and support. You taught her everything there is to know about living as a vampire for the past 25 years, as her experience in turning practically echoes your own. It was only appropriate that her response would be so intense.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, shaking your head as tears threaten to slip down your cheeks, “It might be the only way.”

✧✧✧

Jaebeom hates it here.

Absolutely hates it.

He’s only been on this side of the country for a couple of weeks but it feels like an absolute eternity. Perhaps it just seems that way because the North is cold, dreary, and dark no matter the time of day or season; it’s no wonder that very little life can exist here. It definitely isn’t a place for a human that needs the warmth of the sun to survive.

To make matters worse for him, he finds himself right in the centre of Styria, the vampire capital, waiting around in enemy territory to sign a treaty destined to fail. It isn’t the most inviting place for a human either; not even in the slightest. If he wandered the streets alone, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s pulled into the nearest alleyway by a thirsty vampire for a quick drink.

But alas, he has a duty to his father; to his people, to ensure that this strategy succeeds, even at the cost of his well-being and freedom. Unfortunately for him though, he doesn’t have a moment to contemplate the details of the situation any longer, as he is currently situated in a castle filled with vampires, likely seconds away from being killed.

Taking a deep breath, he waits for the two, fully armed guards to open the enormous doors that tower over his stature. Jaebeom looks to the side to glance cautiously at Jinyoung; his most trusted knight, closest friend, and confidante, as well as his father. Similarly, they are both calm, yet on edge.

His younger brother Youngjae however, isn’t very good at hiding how terrified he looks, given away by his shaky palms, sweaty forehead, and pale complexion. The weapons that they both had on hand before entering the castle were confiscated for the time being, including the infantry that travelled with them. The fact that they practically have no defence against possible attacks has them all on guard, including himself.

That thought continues when the guards step into Jaebeom’s line of sight, pushing the doors open as the metal hinges creak loudly. What looks to be a throne room is slowly revealed to him, his eyes looking upward to trace the huge silver arcs, beams, and columns that support the weight of the ceiling. Quickly, he gathers the details of the grand room.

Firstly, his eyes catch the silver vines that wind around the columns, polished to such a sheen that the metal reflects the glow of the torches and the chandelier that light the space. Next, he notices how warm the room truly is; the hearth located at the sides of the room burning bright and emitting so much heat that he can feel it through his pelts. Such a feeling is strange for a place that Jaebeom touted as cold and depressing. Finally, his eyes trail forward to the sight of you, perched upon a single ornate throne in front of him, adorned with filigree silver and velvet upholstery.

Immediately, he’s confused, leaning towards Jinyoung to whisper in his ear, “Who is that?”

Jinyoung pauses with a breath, “My apologies, Your Highness, but I’m not sure either. It was not communicated through our intelligence network that King Jiho would not be present. I-”

“Introducing the King of Alsace and His Royal Highness, the First Prince Jaebeom of House Lim; His Grace, the Second Prince Choi Youngjae; and their companion, Ser Jinyoung of House Park. Here, you are esteemed guests of Her Royal Highness, the Princess Regent Y/N,” the guard behind him announces loudly, right before stepping beside him with spears in hand. He hears Jinyoung say a hushed oh next to him, gathering the pieces of stray information to identify you.

“Thank you, Corvus,” you answer, lifting yourself from your throne to meet your human guests. As soon as you leave your seat, you adjust your dress with your hands, smoothing the front of the skirt before walking over to the four men, heels clicking against the polished stone flooring.

As you walk closer, Jaebeom is instantly dumbfounded that you’re the person that he may become promised to. Never did he think that King Jiho would have someone as poised; as undoubtedly beautiful as you are by his side. It’s almost alarming how perfectly you align with the look of royalty; elegant, pristine, and regal. There isn’t a single crease in your dress, nor a stray hair out of place.

“I am Y/N, Princess Regent of Styria. I am pleased to make The King’s acquaintance, as well as Your Highness, Your Grace, as well as Ser Jinyoung,” you smile at both of them before curtsying, “I apologize for the late notice, but I will be leading you all to the council room. My brother and my uncle will be waiting for us there.”

His entire party bows for this vampire princess in front of him, but his discussion with his father persuades him to take it a step further. If he is to truly win you over to the point where you spill all of the secrets that vampire society has to offer, he has to step up his game. So, he decides to reach out for your hand. As a response, the guards beside you immediately go on the defensive, stepping in front of you before pressing a dagger against his neck in record speed.

Instantly, Jinyoung steps forward to defend him but he raises a hand, wordlessly communicating with him to stand down. Similarly, you do the same with your guards. After the blade is removed from his neck, he takes a single step forward and gently wraps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it upward to press a soft, chaste kiss against the back of your hand.

Oh? She blushes, Jaebeom notices, interest piqued.

“It’s my pleasure, Princess,” he replies lowly, quiet enough for his words to be lost to the rest of the party, but just loud enough for you to hear. His eyes peer up to see your surprised expression before pulling away; if only he could hear the flurry of thoughts that begin to fly around in your mind after that single, innocent kiss.

He expected a much more… Dramatic response, though. Instead, you wordlessly gesture at him to follow you to the council room, guards trailing behind. A pleasant expression is spread across your face as you do so but there’s a glint of calculated austerity and coldness behind your graceful demeanour. Surely, there must be more to you than just a pretty face. It’s that inherent disposition and contrast that has him admittedly intrigued.

However, Jaebeom tries to shake away those thoughts the second that they enter his mind; how can he think that you, a vampire, an infallible ice-cold killer, are attractive in any shape or form? Regardless of his internal reservations on your kind and in your character, interest increases steadily in his mind when his eyes trace the curve of your spine and the sway of your hips, beckoning him to follow as you walk away.

Akin to a moth to a flame, he does.

✧✧✧

You weren’t sure what to expect from the humans.

You’re familiar with them, but intelligence gathered from reading reports and scrolls can only do so much for you. It was expected that the king and his infantry would attend, but only that much is true.

For starters, the King of Alsace seems to just be a standard leader; concerned for the wellbeing of his country and his own kind. He is burly, strong, and built with a gruff voice, very much the opposite of your uncle’s. The second prince, Youngjae, looks to have a gentle, almost naïve nature. He could barely look you in the eye when you met him in the throne room; it would take a fool to not see that he’s terrified. Jinyoung, the knight, did not speak a single word since your greeting, nor did he allow himself to take his eyes off of you. He acted as if you would slit their throats and parade them around the city for all to see with a single snap of your finger. Clearly, he seems to be the most outwardly cautious of the group.

The King, Jinyoung, and the Second Prince are what you would classify as classically handsome; prince-like, and poised. To be honest, you would’ve expected Ser Jinyoung to be the First Prince but instead, you’re surprised to see that another man takes that title.

The First Prince, Jaebeom… Or His Royal Highness; you correct yourself after remembering the details of etiquette, is not the prince that you initially envisioned.

The man in question is currently walking behind you but you can remember his face, even after only glancing at him briefly. His features are sharp with dark hair combed backward and away from his forehead, exposing two moles underneath his left eyebrow. You notice a small ring of silver metal pierced through his nose; an interesting choice. There is also a deep scar slashed perpendicularly to the line of his jaw; it makes you wonder where he got it from (or rather, who he got it from). Yes, he is admittedly handsome, but there’s something else in the way that he carried himself in the throne room…

It was as if no one else in the room was present; no guards, no King, no one. It felt like his gaze was focused on you and only you; eyes mysterious, piercing, and dangerous with every single stride that he took toward.

You try to shake the memory of his lips against your skin from your mind once you reach the council room, but the thought remains.

You expected him to hate you; to despise your very existence. This notion is completely discernable, as this situation that you both find yourselves in is not what either of you would particularly enjoy. The conflict that has existed between humans and vampires has been rampant for centuries now, and you understand that fact. You thought that he would be just as terrified as most humans are, but no. If anything, the man that showed up in the throne room turned out to be the exact opposite. Perhaps, it will take some time for his true nature to be revealed to you.

“Leave us,” you direct, gesturing for your guards to vacate the room before taking a seat beside Suho. He greets you with a soft kiss to your temple, a comforting sigh leaving your lips as he does so. As if he can sense your stress and anxiety at the meeting, he nods at you wordlessly in an attempt to soothe your emotions. Luckily, you’re able to calm yourself before completely disregarding the slimy grin that your uncle gives the group of humans upon their entry.

The guards open their mouths to protest against leaving you without protection, but are silenced once your eyes lock onto theirs. With a single glance from you, they nod and leave the room, shutting the door behind them.

You might be with a group of humans trained in swordsmanship, but you’re still a vampire. If you wanted to, you could easily kill both of them without even lifting a hand, and you’re sure that the men in front of you understand that fact as well.

“Please, take a seat,” you gesture at the chairs tucked neatly into the table, right across from your brother, your uncle, and yourself. Three of them take a seat immediately but are still incredibly cautious; their breathing and heart rate slightly elevated from before. In contrast, Jaebeom removes his outer clothing before sitting down at the table. He begins by unfastening the metal clasp that holds the front of his pelt together, glove-clad fingers moving quickly. The action reveals another fur-lined, thick leather coat that he also moves to unbutton, ridding himself of it to unveil a pair of simple beige slacks and a loose linen shirt, neckline parted to expose a portion of his bare chest.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look to window on the left side of the room, just to stop yourself from staring for longer than you already have.

To begin, your uncle rises from his seat to speak, “Greetings to the Alsacian’s. I am sure that you remember me from our previous meeting. Please allow me the time to introduce the Crown Prince, His Royal Highness Suho, who is seated beside me.”

Suho leaves his seated position to bow out of respect, but you’re sure that he’s going to curse the humans in front of him as soon as he gets the chance. Your uncle continues, “I am sure that my beautiful niece has introduced herself as well.”

“Of course, Uncle,” you confirm, silently seething in contempt, “May I formally introduce the King of Alsace and His Royal Highness, the First Prince Jaebeom of House Lim; His Grace, the Second Prince Choi Youngjae; and Ser Jinyoung of House Park.”

“We are pleased to finally meet you all,” the King greets, so you nod at him in return. However, your mind catches a strange inconsistency; why does the First Prince belong to a House, yet the Second Prince does not?

Keeping that information in mind, you shift your gaze directly in front of you. By chance, your eyes meet Jaebeom’s directly; dark, narrowed, and sharp. You’re not sure why, but his incessant staring is starting to make you shift in your seat, suddenly self-conscious.

“Let’s begin with the first clause of the treaty,” the King interrupts your thoughts, looking towards Jaebeom with apprehensive eyes. Thankfully, this effectively stops Jaebeom from staring at you any longer; it was beginning to feel strange.

“We understand that peace is contingent on the marriage of the Princess and my son. This condition is one that we accept.”

Now that they have accepted the extension of the proposal, all eyes essentially land on you. Suho is evidently concerned but your uncle is something completely different.

His expression looks to be pleasant, but you know that he’s hiding the most vicious of threats within it. Just a single stare from him practically puts the threat of Yuna’s life over your head. You’re not even making eye contact with him but it doesn’t matter. Even an idiot would be able to sense how foul and despicable the man truly is.

You let out a sigh at how unfortunate this situation has become, eyelids slipping shut as your shoulders slump slightly. You sink into your chair at this outcome, displeased by the decision that you have to make.

“I accept your proposal,” you agree reluctantly, opening your eyes to meet Jaebeom’s in front of you, resolute and firm. At least, you’re trying to be, pushing down your feelings of disgust and loathing to the best of your ability.

“Fantastic!” your uncle is practically clapping in glee; it’s the most chipper that you’ve ever seen that man. You cannot believe that he is taking this much pleasure in your downfall; your body is itching to unleash your power on him; to make him suffer. By the time that the guards bring over a silver tray of stamps, quills, and ink, your uncle starts to brag about the potential success of the union.

“Your Highness,” he starts, slapping a hand over Jaebeom’s shoulder, “I’m sure that you will be very satisfied with the Princess. She will make an obedient wife.”

As if it couldn’t get worse, his comments have you seething. You’re in the middle of signing your name and attaching your seal on the treaty as his voice drawls on, the quill nearly snapping in your hand as when you hear his condescending, vile statements. Perhaps, you should extend your uncle a compliment; he truly is the most consistently awful person that you’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.

By the time that the document is signed, you’re desperate to retain some semblance of control over your life. In your future, there’s only one man that would have a direct influence over how you live, so you decide to have a more intimate conversation, without your uncle’s prying, beady eyes.

“Your Highness,” you call out, pausing when you see Jaebeom turn around, “May I have a word with you in private?”

Based on the way that he switches to walk in your direction, you understand that he’s agreed. However, Suho reaches out for your wrist to stop you from doing the same, “Sister…”

You know that he doesn’t want you alone with the human, so you raise a brow in an attempt to wordlessly communicate with your brother.

Let me go, you hope to convey to him, I’ll be ok. Suho should know that you can handle yourself. It takes a minute but eventually, he leaves with the others, reluctantly allowing you to be alone with the human prince.

Jaebeom waits until the door clicks closed before speaking, “You wanted to speak with me, Princess?”

“I just wanted to see if we are on the same page, Your Highness. I understand that this marriage must remain strong. Publicly, at least. The strength of this union directly reflects the longevity of this new era of peace. I’m sure that you also understand that, correct?” you elaborate, brow raising to emphasize your point.

Similarly, Jaebeom raises a brow at you before responding, “Well, Princess, there is one method that we could use to show the public that the union is successful. I’m sure that you also understand that, correct?”

His response causes you to recoil slightly, put off by his sudden shift in tone and the repetition of a phrase that you used. There was a level of intensity to him before, a sense of seriousness, but now he’s a little more… Playful, perhaps? A smirk spreads across his face when you continue to remain silent. It makes you ask yourself; Is he mocking the way that you speak?

“I’m sorry?” you frown, cocking your head to the side.

Jaebeom lets out a heavy exhale at your reply, “We would have to produce an heir.”

Pause.

“Excuse me?” you nearly recoil at his blunt, unfiltered answer. He didn’t even hesitate with that response, forcing you to blink rapidly as you’re caught off guard. The fact that he would even think of something like that; that he would even consider such an act; that he would even insinuate such a thing has your mind imploding. You two just got engaged ten minutes ago, yet he’s seriously suggesting that-

“Oh, don’t tell me that I have to explain it to you, Princess,” he starts, your nostrils flaring when he utters your title in a condescendingly teasing manner, “See, when two people love each other very much, they-”

“I can assure you, Your Highness,” you interrupt him in a similar tone, satisfied when you catch Jaebeom’s brow twitching in irritation, “That I am very much familiar with the process.”

“Are you now? With whom have you become familiar with, in this fashion?” he challenges, taking a large step forward, his chest only a couple of inches away from you, “Who was among the lucky ones to be graced with the privilege?”

“I…” you stop yourself, huffing in disbelief that you are to marry this man. As if he’s trying to anger you; to rile you up, he stares right into your eyes in silent mockery, “You are…” you bite your tongue before a particularly colourful curse can leave your lips, “Surely, you aren’t implying that I would even agree to do anything of that… Manner, with the likes of you.”

He smirks at you; a grin so devilish that the sight of it has your irritation spiking, “Who said anything about me?”

“I-”

“Be careful of what insults you choose to throw my way, Princess. Because it seems to me, that your mind arrived at that conclusion, purely of your own volition.”

For the very first time in your life, you’re speechless, unable to form a response that would be able to counter his. You’re not accustomed to this level of blunt honesty, nor this degree of relentless tormenting. The room is silent for a couple of seconds, but it seems to extend into an absolute eternity when Jaebeom crosses his arms across the front of his torso, inviting you to just stare at his body.

He’s so… Broad, you observe, taking in the sight of his chest straining against the ties and buttons that fasten his linen shirt closed. You’re not especially warm; none of you really is but… For some reason, warmth begins to spread from the back of your neck before blossoming onto your cheeks. It’s possible that the proximity is to blame but you can’t help it; not when Jaebeom turns his head to the side to expose the line of his jaw and the slope of his neck, a single silver chain resting on his collarbones. Nothing about the way he looks should be particularly tempting but…

It’s as if he’s just begging to be bitten.

“Ugh. Enough,” you scoff, tearing your gaze away from him before he notices how long you’ve been ogling him for. Fed up with your sudden inability to control yourself, you call for your assistant, Corvus.

“Please escort His Highness to his quarters,” you dismiss abrasively. Your tone came out much harsher than you initially intended, but you’re unable to control yourself, not when you’re as irritated and annoyed as you are at the moment. You turn around to face the large arched window, gazing at the darkness of the night sky to calm your frustrations. Surprisingly though, you see Jaebeom bow to you in the corner of your eye before making his. Somehow, he retains a level of decorum and respect towards you, regardless of the mocking repartee that took place just minutes before.

“I hope to see you at the engagement ball, Princess,” he responds, relief taking over your body when you hear his footsteps gradually decrease in volume. Finally, the door clicks shut and your posture softens, alleviating your wound-up nerves and allowing you to mentally reflect on what has just occurred.

Jaebeom, this human prince, somehow managed to aggravate you to such a degree that you nearly cursed. Your mind is baffled by this turn of events; you’re over 200 years old but he is the first person that you’ve ever met that has managed to break past the practiced poise that you’ve developed throughout your life. To make matters even more infuriating, he succeeded with a couple of sentences, and nothing more. Even as you reminisce, your mind somehow shifts to the suggestive subject of his taunting. Normally, you would pay no mind to such tasteless, risqué allegations but…

Something about his tone; playful, yet undeniably assertive, made your breath catch in your throat. It was as if he genuinely considered conducting such provocative acts with you specifically, to challenge past lovers that you’ve previously invited into your bed. In addition, his statements not only seemed to denounce your previous lovers, but implied that he could surpass them.

Unfortunately for him though, you’re certain that you would never entertain such desires.

✧✧✧

if you would like to be added to my tag list, please send me an ask! don’t forget to like and reblog if you enjoy my work. thank you!

- yue <3

✧✧✧

[vermillion series] ⤏ [pt. 2]

72 notes · View notes

arvandus · 3 years

Text

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.

Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit. He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered. “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”

��Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”

“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

“Thank you.” You replied.

Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.

He was interested. In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”

Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

You couldn’t wait.

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