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wife-of-all-dilfs · 3 months

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what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming

notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.

Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.

District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.

You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.

However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.

But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.

Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.

"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.

Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."

Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."

To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.

"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"

"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."

You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.

He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.

The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.

He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.

Finnick Odair.

The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.

The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.

That was what everyone made him out to be.

Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?

It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.

His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.

You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.

Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.

You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.

At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by.

When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did.

As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...

**********

As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.

Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.

"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."

Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.

All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.

Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.

All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.

A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.

Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.

But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?

Maybe.

However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.

Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.

Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.

He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.

There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.

You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.

It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.

You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.

This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.

As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.

"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.

Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.

That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.

"Look at thi—"

Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief.

Damn that stupid seashell.

He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"

Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.

"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."

You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.

"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.

He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."

"No, you just don't think, Finn."

He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."

"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."

Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.

You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.

Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.

One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.

Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.

And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."

The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—

"I think..."

—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.

The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.

Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.

Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.

So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.

When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.

As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.

The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.

You sighed.

The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.

Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"

"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"

With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"

"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"

Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"

You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."

"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?

Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.

Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.

You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?"

How did he keep doing that?

Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"

As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.

Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.

If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.

Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.

You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."

Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...

Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.

You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."

"Who could've guessed."

Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.

Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.

Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.

There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.

Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."

You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."

With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.

The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"

"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."

You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."

"Anytime."

You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.

Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.

He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.

How could he?

The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.

You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.

First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.

"Stop moving."

You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.

"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?

In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"

"Fuck," he breathed out.

Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.

That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.

But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—

Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.

You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.

"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"

That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.

Finnick was silent.

The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.

Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.

And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."

Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.

You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.

It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.

Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.

"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.

"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"

You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.

Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.

Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.

You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.

He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.

You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.

His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.

There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.

You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.

It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.

Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.

Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.

With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.

"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.

His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"

Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.

Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.

You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.

You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.

So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.

It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.

"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.

Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.

Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.

"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.

The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.

"Yes,"you practically whined.

He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.

You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.

His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.

You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.

Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.

But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.

Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"

He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.

You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.

"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."

And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.

"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."

Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.

To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties.

He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.

Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."

He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.

His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.

"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.

How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."

"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."

Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.

At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."

Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.

"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."

"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."

A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.

Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.

The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.

It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.

"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.

"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"

His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.

Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.

"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."

He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."

His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.

Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.

That is what did it for you.

You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.

"Taking it so well."

"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."

"Such a good girl."

As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.

"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."

If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.

You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."

A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."

And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.

You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.

You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."

Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.

Then came the explosion.

His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.

Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.

A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.

At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.

All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.

The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.

He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.

You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.

"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?

He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.

"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."

He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.

Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.

He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.

His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.

You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.

Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.

His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.

He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.

Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.

That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.

Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.

Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"

He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.

"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."

Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.

You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.

Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.

"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."

The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."

"Come inside you?"

You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.

"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."

Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.

He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.

And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.

It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.

He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.

When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.

With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.

He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.

You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.

A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.

There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.

But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.

It was a new moon.

Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal.

You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.

Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.

He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.

Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.

"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.

Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."

"For an entire hour?"

"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."

You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."

"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."

"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."

You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.

Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.

"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"

The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?

A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.

There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.

Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.

Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.

Maybe.

"That's a long time," you said.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."

And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."

You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.

A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.

You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.

You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.

He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.

"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.

Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?

"I love you too."

His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.

...roll credits

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it. After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin. You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it. It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read. Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it. Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed. Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything. “Green tea, right? With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you. You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you. “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind. His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you,” you finally said. So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea. That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness. You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side. He found it so irritating— that confidence. Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically. You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all. Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie. For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file. But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you. You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time. No, it was the drugs finally kicking in. You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited. He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance. He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply. He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

You woke up on the floor. You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard. And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers. You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t. You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own. You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move. The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you. “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things. One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment. Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them. “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear. “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous. He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least. As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing. You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist. This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist. And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued. “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault. Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved. In fact, you were horrified. He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes. Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there. You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man. He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women. Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there. It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares. You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do. And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace. But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent. You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently. “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected. You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating. God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field. It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged. You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him. And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added. “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it. It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with. Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg. It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t. “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly. Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak. Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes. He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear? Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused. He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it. You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it? Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase? Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words. “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth. Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right? But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed. Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted. “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers. You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly. But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare. You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you? Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked. But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy. You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone. But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before? Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl. “Did he know exactly how to touch you? Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly? Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor. “I think you wanted to be put in your place. You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else. You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true. He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once. “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed. "I only gave you a small dose. Can you move at all? Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan. You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided. "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized. "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street. He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you? Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you. You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled. "You think you're so fucking smart, and special. But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better. Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy. Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before. Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this. They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat. What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt. He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it? You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust. You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut. It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his. “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure. Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting. “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered. “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded. “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again. “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed. “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck. “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there. Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again. So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder. "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck.

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air. You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face. "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock? Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately. "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster. "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you. “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body. You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him. Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong. Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time. Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all. He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules. Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please. He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away. “‘Please’ what, honey? You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted. “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for. You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare. “This isn’t about me. This is what you wanted. This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip. “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you? You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work. His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark. His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you. He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured. Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner. You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask. This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you. “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected. Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come. I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse. “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment. For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually. “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you. “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered. "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you. "Shh, it's alright. I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close. Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace. You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped. He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed. Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on. “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was). “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

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sagaduwyrm · 5 months

Text

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are.

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp.

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic.

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly. The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific.

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

#There's a part two to this now #Check the notes #Enemies to Lovers #potentially #Tim’s gotta put some work in #Tucker’s usually pretty chill but…#fandom #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #batman #fandom stuff #dc #tucker foley #tim drake #Tucker/Tim #technogeek

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evielmostdefinitely · 5 months

Note

Pls do something with peacekeeper!Coriolanus I have yet to see anyone do that trope + I feel like he’s more mean and protective in that era

mastermind |peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: based off above prompt, but wanted to tweak it a teeny tiny bit so this is how coriolanus meets capitol!reader. the plot of the original film is altered a little to fit this.

contains: tw- violence, guns, shooting. dark, protective, manipulative coriolanus. not super heavy, but there are some kinda darkish themes so read at your own discretion.

“Snow,” Commander Hoff’s gruff voice rang through the doorway, hitting Coriolanous head on, his heart lurching with fear. They found out about Lucy Gray, that she’d escaped after Mayfair and Billy’s death. Or maybe worse, maybe she hadn’t headed north, maybe she’d told them.

His mind raced as he took a step forward, helmet in hand respectfully, hoping Hoff wouldn’t see the way his hands trembled. “Commander, Sir.” Snow held his head high. If this was to be the end, he wouldn’t go out crying. Not like Sejanus- no, Corio would have pride.

Hoff set the papers down on his desk with a huff, head jerking back for Coriolanus to come towards him. “Snow, I need you to escort Miss Duke to the Mayor’s office.” He nodded towards the corner. “I guess with the recent tragedy of his daughter, Mayor Mayfield’s mind has been elsewhere. He didn’t get his quarterly tesserae count turned in. The Capitol sent Miss Duke to get them, so make sure she gets there.”

Coriolanus’ eyes wandered to you, standing in the corner properly, hands clasped elegantly in front of you. A shining beacon in the dark skies of the coal country, a glimmering ray of good after all the bad Corio had. He could tell you were from The Capitol, though you tried to dress more humbly for the visit to the district, he supposed.

You gave him a smile, and for a moment, Corio’s heart leapt with excitement. That familiar rush of heat returning, coursing through his chest. “Private Snow will take you there, Miss Duke. He’s one of our best. On his way to officer training in Two. You’re in good hands.” Commander Hoff nodded.

You thanked him quietly, kitten heels clicking across the hardwood floors. Coriolanus followed you, trying to keep his stoic expression, though his eyes wandered to the swell of your ass, hugged perfectly in your dress.

“Snow,” Commander Hoff called before he left. “A word?”

The icy chill of fear flooded back into Corio’s system, gripping the knob. You didn’t seem to notice, nodding politely, shutting the door behind you.

“Sir?” Coriolanus swallowed the lump in his throat, approaching the desk slowly.

Hoff leaned back in his chair. “You know who that is, right?”

Coriolanus blinked. His mind had been so occupied with his impending doom, his fate had seemed to turn and tread on the worst sides of things, he was so sure it would continue. “Miss Duke?”

Hoff blinked at him, laughing softly. “Yeah, Duke, Snow.” He pressed. Coriolanus felt dumb, small like he did when he talked to Highbottom. “Snow, does the name Atticus Duke mean anything to you?”

Coriolanus' eyes widened lightly, turning towards the door in surprise. “Atticus Duke? The-”

“-The man who owns half of Panem?” Hoff snorted lightly. “Yeah, that’s his youngest out there. Only girl, alright?”

Coriolanus felt his curiosity peek. He’d been wallowing in the loss of Lucy Gray, he didn’t even put it together. Thinking you were just another Capitol girl. Not the Duke Heiress.

“Yes, sir. I-I see that now.” Corio nodded dumbly.

“Good. So you know that her father paid for the destruction of the rebellion? That he funded the Capitol? And that if these people see her, those fucking Rebels are likely to want to hurt her?” Hoff pressed, his eyes narrowed in seriousness. “And that if something happens to her, our entire platoon will be hanging from that tree- or worse?”

It shouldn’t have made Coriolanus as excited as he was. The thought of having that much power. He could easily have that level of control, have people quaking with fear- even the powerful ones, trembling at his feet the way Atticus Duke did. Oh, how he envied it. How he craved it.

“Yes, sir.” Coriolanus nodded.

“Snow, listen to me.” Hoff sat up straight, leaning over the desk. “If any of them get close to her, no mercy- do you understand?”

Coriolanus nodded again, spine straightening with authority. “I have others trailing and leading the both of you- crowd control, but I wanted her to feel safe. Feel welcome. So I stuck her with you. Figured a familiar face from the Capitol would put her at some ease. Keep her from telling her father something that would have him questioning my rank and order around here.”

“I understand, Commander.” Coriolanus said firmly. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“Wow,” You muttered, looking around the cobbled street. The Peacekeepers ahead of you barking orders, scaring off any pedestrians wandering about. “Is it always like this?”

Corio blinked, his gun cradled in his hand, finger on the trigger- ready. “Always like what?”

“This,” You waved around you. “It’s very…”

“Depressing?” Corio muttered, a grumble, eyes scanning the perimeter in front of him over the gray skies and smog filled air.

“Yeah.” You smiled softly. “I pictured it… prettier?”

“It’s the coal district, Miss Duke.” Coriolanus said, the barrel of his gun pointed for backup at a scurrying coal miner.

“So that’s what makes it so sad?” You challenged, brow raised.

Corio didn’t answer. He knew what you were implying, and he wouldn’t humor it. Instead, his eyes scanned the street. “May I ask why you’re here?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“What?” Corio snapped, harsher than he meant to.

“Why you’re here?” You repeated. “I, uh, I don’t want to sound rude. I just- I saw you on the games. You were the mentor who won. I just, I figured you would be at University with the others.”

“I made an enemy. A powerful one.” Corio quipped shortly, jaw set. He couldn’t let his mind race and spiral, not now. He needed to stay focused.

“Oh,” You muttered, looking down at the wet, broken road. “I’m sorry.”

Corio’s heart skipped, maybe with joy, maybe with fear. “May I ask you why you’re here?” Coriolanus asked, eyes cutting down towards you.

“I have to get the count for the tesserae.” You motioned towards the Mayor’s office before you. “I have to take them back to The Capitol.”

“Yes, but,” Corio paused, scanning the area. “You’re- Surely, you don’t need to do that, Miss Duke.” He muttered, voice dropping to a low octave.

You blushed, sheepishly looking towards your shoes, ruined from the muck in the road. “So, Commander Hoff briefed you on me?” You grinned.

Coriolanus didn’t answer. “I already knew.” He lied easily, eyes cutting to you. “We’ve met before. In passing. I was Sejanus’ friend.”

“Oh,” Your face fell. “Right. I-I am so sorry for your loss. It was-”

“-Yes.” Corio nodded, the bile rising in his throat. “We-We met at the Academy’s Ball two springs ago.”

You turned, looking at him fully for the first time. He tried not to blush, icy eyes meeting your own for a moment. “That’s right.” You grinned. “You-You had longer hair. Tigris’ cousin?”

“Yes.” Coriolanus nodded.

“She was apprenticing for my aunt.” You smiled softly.

Corio looked at you, his rigid posture slacking just for a moment, relaxing in your presence. “Why aren’t you doing something like that?” He asked, brows furrowing for a moment. “Or in University, yourself. Surely that would be… more appropriate than this.”

You bit back a smile, chin ducking down. “Maybe.” You shrugged. “I like this job, though. I get to see the Districts.”

“Why would you ever want to do that?” Corio snarled lightly. “I can’t wait to get out of them. Get away from these people.” He muttered bitterly.

You blinked at him, eyes narrowing lightly, stopping before the steps of the Mayor’s building. “You seemed quite fond of that song bird you helped win.” You countered. “And she was among these people.”

Coriolanus was stunned, mouth opening stupidly, before swallowing his jumbled words. Instead, he offered you his arm politely for you to steady yourself on while you climbed the steps to the Mayor’s office.

Coriolanus waited outside the office at attention while you collected the tesseraes for the quarter from a distraught, and clearly drunken, Mayor Mayfield. His slurred speech, pores sweating out whiskey soaked odor.

You took the envelope, thanking him before quickly slipping out. Coriolanus stood beside you, falling back into step with you, the other Peacekeepers joining around the two of you.

“You’re returning to The Capitol today?” Corio asked, though his eyes stayed straight ahead.

“They asked me to stay the night.” You answered simply. “Something about a train leaving in the morning?” You looked at him carefully. You knew he was to join you with the others. You’d given the orders from Dr. Gaul to Commander Hoff that morning.

Coriolanus frowned, turning to you curiously. “Tomorrow? Why would they make you-”

The ravenous bark of Peacekeepers in front of you made you jump, a deranged looking man, covered in soot from the mines, charging at you with a vengeful pace. You froze, clutching the envelope in front of you like a shield, glued to the concrete in pure fear.

“Gimme that envelope, you stupid bitch!” The man roared, mere feet away from you. “Get my daughter’s name outta there! Take it out!”

You flinched, bracing for the impact of him hitting you, his body hurling towards yours. It never came. Instead, a shot behind you had a gasp tearing from your lungs. The bullet so close to your own head, you heard it whizzing past you like the June Bugs that flew in the fields in the countryside of the district.

The man grunted, a bloody gurgle, a crimson patch seeping through his stomach. The other Peacekeepers seized him, shouting and grabbing at him, hauling him away roughly. Your hand trembled, pressing to your lips. Coriolanus stood behind you, gun lowering, finger still on the trigger.

His face was hard, stoic, eyes narrowed dangerously- furiously. “Come on.” Coriolanus muttered, a hand gently on your back, guiding you forwards. The crowds were peering, poking around at the sound of gunshots, the groans and screams of the man. “We need to get you to the Commander’s Quarters.”

“Snow, hey, look we-we didn’t see him-” One Peacekeeper jogged frantically, hands trembling in fear. “He just- He came out of nowhere. I’m so sorry, Miss.”

“It’s alrig-”

“-Come on.” Coriolanus hissed, cutting your apology off short. “We need to get her back quickly. Can you manage that?” He snapped at the other boy.

The other boy faltered for a moment, scrambling back into line. You were still shaking, pushed into Corio’s side far closer than what would be appropriate for two strangers. “He-He was just saying sorry.” You muttered, your own eyes scanning around you.

“He nearly got you killed.” Coriolanus snapped, his eyes hard but they never met your gaze, scanning around you protectively. “His carelessness nearly cost you your life.” Cost us all our lives, Corio thought.

You didn’t respond, only stepping with his quickened pace.

“Are you alright?” You asked Coriolanus, peeking around the corner of the train station towards him.

He was surprised to see you, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. He assumed the ‘Princess of Panem’ would have her own private carriage on the train, not subjected to riding with him.

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that.” Corio gave a half smile, a tone much lighter than it was before.

You blushed, looking down. “I’m alright.” You sighed lightly. “I told your Commander that. I promise I don’t need an escort back to The Capitol.”

Coriolanus looked down at his bags. “I’m not- I’m returning to The Capitol as well.” He said, chest boasting at the words.

“Oh?” You lifted a brow. “No District Two?”

“No,” Corio shook his head. “I’ve been asked to return.” It was vague, and he knew it- knew it piqued your interest.

“Well, congratulations. I’m sure your family will be excited.” You smiled politely, lifting your own overnight bag when the train doors opened.

“Here,” Coriolanus stopped you, reaching for the strap of the bags. Your hands brushed in the smallest way. Overlapping as he took the bag politely, a surge of electricity jolted between both of you, rapid sparks that would crescendo in the days, weeks, years to come.

You blushed, turning your head to hide the way it flustered you. It was so embarrassingly juvenile, his eyes sparkling, lips tugging in a grin when he looked at you, pinky grazing over your knuckle just for a moment before he held the bag.

“Allow me.” Coriolanus was smug, proud, pulling the bag up. He let you on first, placing the bags away, eyes cutting towards you. You were stealing a glance at him, turning after being caught sheepishly.

You had the window seat, looking out at the smoggy station. “Is this seat taken?” Corio asked, hand resting on the arm of the seat next to you.

You shook your head, moving your hands to your lap. You were so poised, Corio knew it had been drilled into your head since you were young, just as it was to him. His mind raced with excitement, the idea of getting you to be so improper, defile you.

“Do you know your orders once you return?” You asked, looking at him carefully. The trains whistle trilling in the background.

“I’m not sure.” It was a complete lie, he only knew a fraction of what awaited him when he returned. All the more reason he needed an ally, a powerful one at that.

“Why?” Corio pressed, leaning forward to look at you. His dog tags hung loosely around his neck, draping over his underclothes of his uniform. It made your heart race.

“I was just curious.” You shrugged, swallowing gently.

“You were wanting to see me again?” Corio pressed, boldly. His heart skipped when you whipped around, staring at him with a wide eyed expression.

“W-What?” You choked out, trying to remain calm, composed, but your heart was beating so fastly you were sure it would burst.

“Were you wanting to see me again?” Coriolanus hummed, shifting in his seat to turn towards you. You were pressed against the glass, pinned by his gaze. “Because I was hoping to see you again. If you’d have me.”

“You would?” You squeaked, sure that your fluster was apparent all over your face.

“If you’d let me.” Corio purred smoothly. “I’d like to take you out sometime. Get to know you better. I’m very,” His fingers brushed over your own hand, satisfied at how you shuddered. “Interested in getting to know you.”

You swallowed. No man had ever been so direct with you. He’d saved you the night before, so effortlessly. The feeling of his bicep around you, shielding you away, strong and steady. It had you sneaking your fingers between your thighs later that night shamefully at the thought.

“I-I would like that.” You nodded, mind screaming when his hand held your, cradled with such care, you almost forgot how brutal he was yesterday.

“Tomorrow?” Coriolanus asked, head tilting to the side. He wanted to set the date before you forgot, before you had time to ask around about him or think too much about his actions before.

“That-That would be lovely.” You nodded, tongue swelling thickly in your mouth, heart hammering as he pushed closer and closer.

His hand cradled your jaw softly, thumb stroking over your cheek bone. “May I?” Corio hummed, eyes lustful.

You nodded. You weren’t quite sure why, you’d certainly never done something like this before. But then his lips were on you, hand cradling your jaw, moving to the back of your head gently. He migrated into your chair, somewhere between the Districts, hands on your back, pulling you in closer and closer. He kissed you like a man starved, possessively and passionately all at once- it made your head spin.

It dawned on Coriolanus, what Dr. Gaul was talking about. Sacrifice, while brutal, was necessary. Losing Lucy Gray, Sejanus, without that would it have ever brought you to him? He would be in the woods, starving with a girl who nearly used him to survive, or hanging from a tree next to Sejanus. Certainly not sitting side by side in the train car, stealing small smiles and gentle kisses with you. His fate had turned, re-routed and he could see it now- his future, his empire with you.

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aidaronan · 1 year

Text

"First movie you ever saw in theaters?" Steve lounged opposite of Robin on the couch in his living room, the stereo on low, spitting out Madonna on the local radio station.

"Oh, that's easy." Robin bit off part of a licorice. "Freaky Friday. I remember because I was terrified for weeks that I'd end up switching places with my mom and have to, like, balance a checkbook or something."

Steve laughed, separating m&ms in his hand. "You still don't know how to balance a checkbook, do you?"

"Like you do." Robin playfully glared at him. "Okay, here's a good one. First kiss."

Steve ate the sole blue m&m first, a grin spreading across his face because he usually lied about his first kiss, but he didn't have to. Not with Robin. "Camp Stronghold when I was nine. We met up in the boathouse after lights out to trade contraband."

"Contraband, huh?" Robin raised her brows.

"Candy. I swear my parents loaded me up like I was going to prison. 'This is as good as cash in there, Steven.' I think my dad wanted me to network or something. Because, you know, I was totally gonna start a small business with a group of eight-year-olds."

Robin snickered. "And the kiss?"

"Ah. I didn't actually want candy. I just wanted this kid to like me so bad, and I didn't know why until we were there in the dark tripping into each other because we couldn't see. I had all these butterflies, and we were standing close enough that I could feel the heat off his sunburn in the air." Steve could still picture it. The way he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face. "Then he kissed me, just this quick peck on the lips before he turned tail and ran. I left the boathouse with a Snickers and one massive first crush."

"Did anything else happen?" Robin asked.

"No. It was the last week of camp and I think he freaked himself out over it. I don't know. He didn't even really say bye to me after we climbed off the bus to meet our parents. Never saw him again. I honestly never even thought to get his name."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I just hope he's doing okay, you know? That he's got people in his life that make him feel like he's allowed."

Robin looked at him softly, reaching out to give his ankle a squeeze. "Hey, you never know. You might run into him again someday. Maybe he's your soulmate or something."

"Please. I think you're pretty obviously my soulmate." Steve nudged Robin with his foot. "But I guess he could settle for 2nd place."

"Oh, there's a toast for sure." Snacks tumbling off her lap, Robin reached for her can of Coke on the coffee table and raised it as high as she could reach. "To both of us finding our 2nd places."

"Cheers to that." Steve thrust his own Coke into the air.

____

It felt like a big cosmic joke that Steve would be in a boathouse when he realized who Eddie Munson had been all that time. Eddie had looked so different when he'd transferred into Hawkins that Steve had never even given him a second look, not during their shared classes, not during any of those cafeteria tirades. Not during the numerous occasions where he gave the kids rides to D&D.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!"

It was the eyes that finally pulled back the curtain and cut away all those in-between years. Steve had never been close enough to clock them, but he couldn't deny them now. Not at such close range, Eddie holding a broken bottle against his neck, trembling with so much fear that Steve worried he might actually use it.

Dropping the oar from his own shaking hands, Steve said the only thing he could think to say.

"Well, this brings back memories."

Eddie didn't respond, the fear in the air drawing out every second, making it feel infinite. Behind them and in another universe, Dustin said a bunch of stuff Steve barely heard for the pounding in his ears. He watched beads of sweat roll down Eddie's forehead and waited for something to give.

Like clouds fat with rain, Eddie finally broke open, tension draining out of him, arm and weapon dropping to his side. He exhaled a shaky breath, maintaining eye contact, his expression too complicated for Steve to fully read.

Steve was about to say something else when Eddie finally spoke, cocking his head to the side and leveling Steve with a look.

"And here I spent all these years thinking you forgot."

#steddie #ficlet #mine #long post #first kisses

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frogchiro · 7 months

Note

HII HII ur writing is perf 4 this idea but you don’t hav 2 do it !! i js thought of u <3 little red riding hood reader & big bad wolf (ko, ghost, price) any cod guy & i think it’s js soo cute !!!

[art by doujinpearl]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS SO CUTE??? YOU NEVER MISS LOVE!!! And thank you it really means a lot to me that you like my silly writing <33

tw// horror elements and this has like one mention of a 'off-screen' death but no one major

I think I'm gonna go with König for this one?? Bc something about him just screams big bad wolf to me y'know? Also for the sake of this story, König is described like on the pics above, so his lower half is life a literal werewolf.

okay also i'm putting this under the cut because this somehow grew into a whole fic?? My dear @9irly9irl if you see this know that I love you and this was so. freaking. enjoyable to write??? I love this so much??? Also I'm sorry for the horror themes but I'm getting ready for October and the gloomy weather outside made me do this. I hope you still enjoy and PLEASE send me more for this au!!

Big bad wolf König who is on the prowl for some time now, he's on a hunt for you, the sweet girl who lives alone with her mother on the edge of the dark forest your good old momma always tells you to stay away from and for good reason. The townsfolk from the villages around whisper in fear and dread about a monster lurking in the woods, half man-half wolf with an insatiable taste for blood; they call the beast König, the undisputed King.

And honestly? König likes that rep. It means less annoying pests wandering around his territory safe for a groups of young guys from time to time who think they have the balls to try and 'kill the beast' but they are dealt with...pretty quickly.

But no, König has his glowing eyes set on something more...Exquisite. On something soft and pliable, sweet smelling and so so pretty. Namely on you. The werewolf guesses he has to be thanking his lucky starts or whatever bullshit that while sniffing around your cottage he overheard your mother talking about going out into the forest to bring her sickly mother, your grandma, a basket full of food and some other supplies and being the sweet little thing that you are, you of course cried and volunteered to go yourself, that your mother is already older and that you will make quick work of it.

König swears that day that his blood never rushed downward to his dick so fast. You, soft little you, all alone in his forest? His territory?? It's like you're begging to get taken and mated! The trek from your cottage to your grandma's home would take you about 2-3 days as she lives deep in the woods, the perfect timing for him to reveal himself and take you away for himself into his den in the darkest parts of the forest where you will have the perfect life with him! No more worrying about food or warmth during the cold, dreary winter months, he is more than a capable provider for his future mate, not to mention your future litter of happy yipping pups you will birth for him! It's a perfect plan!

And so he waits. And waits. And waits until the day you finally leave with your cute basket in tow and a tearful goodbye with your mommy dear that you will return as soon as possible. Yea, sure sweetheart.

I think he'd reveal himself by the time it's getting nighttime, when the sun sets, the air is getting cold and a ominous darkness sets over the forest where your trembling body sits in a makeshift nest made of a blanket and a thick animal pelt under a old, big tree. Everything seems so loud, the cries of nocturnal animals sound much more bleak and unnerving, not to mention the weird, chilling feeling of...something following you. Like there were a pair of eyes trained on you since a few weeks ago but you never mentioned this to your poor mother as you didn't want to worry her, but the feeling only amplified ever since you left your home and went on a trip to your grandmother.

You couldn't help the loud yelp you let out when suddenly a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared in the small clearing around the tree; a pair of glowing, unblinking orbs that seemed to be suspended in the air in the surrounding darkness, the weak fireplace you managed to make doing basically nothing to light up the area and your poor little heart started to beat like crazy when you noticed the eyes moving forward, closer and closer to you until the light finally caught what was moving towards you...or more like who.

It was an enormous man, easily over 7ft tall, his broad, bulky shoulders moving as he stood from the position he was in to his full height and those ominous glowing eyes still were unblinking as they stared at you like you were just some lamb and...you probably were.

The one thing that somehow stood out the most, even amidst literally everything else unnatural about this man, were a pair of ear on top of his head, which only now you noticed was covered in some sort of tattered old hood with holes for the eyes and ears, and a huge fluffy tail which was wagging faster anytime you seemed to look the man over, but what really brought it all together was his lower half...it-it was all fur. His legs were that of some bipedal wolf and in that moment a silent scream tried to make its way out of your throat; it was König, the brutal and unforgiving beast that resided in the surrounding forests, the one that people tell horror stories about around campfire and...he was here. He was here before you to tear you apart and leave nothing behind, not even bones.

Tears were streaming down your face, a look of utter defeat on it because after all, what more could you do? You can't possibly fight him, you can't outrun him, hiding is out of the picture too...You were ready to feel the unimaginable pain of those jaws locking themselves on your throat and draining you of your life but the you felt...warmth? A slick, warm feeling on your cheek and when you opened your eyes a bit you saw what it was. It was König, or more like his long tongue licking away at your cheek in an almost comforting matter, his wide unblinking eyes still trained on you though his pupils seemed to grow in size, now taking over most of the glowing yellow and when he deemed you to be clean of your tears, a large crooked nose with a scar running across it nudged into your cheek and took a deep sniff to get your scent. A stray thought ran through your mind when you took a closer look at his uncovered face and noticed another huge scar across his face and a few smaller ones, who or what in their right mind got close enough to inflict such wounds on someone like König?

When you stayed still and just stared at him wide eyed and out of breath König let out a deep growl like purr of content; he could hear your small aborted breaths still coming out quick and your heart fluttering in your chest like a small erratic bird but he could see that you were a tiny bit calmer now and not on the brink of hysterics like a few seconds before. He couldn't help but grin in delight, a nasty, wide thing that revealed rows of sharp teeth. He finally had you. He had you exactly where he wanted and now you were his. Well not completely yet, you two would need to mate first but still, everyone had to start somewhere right? For now he had you calmed down even for a bit, showed you that he wasn't a threat to you and wasn't going to hurt you. It was still only the night of the first day of your travels and he will offer to guide you, he couldn't possibly allow such a cute young lady to just wander around the deep dark forest all alone, right?

Of course he won't mention it that he will be herding you away from the path and instead guide you deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods where his den in. He won't mention it that he will be making very obvious and insistent advances at you, insisting on staying close at all times and wrapping his huge body around you at night for warmth, nosing and nudging at you to cover you in his scent and maybe make you a little bit hot under that deliciously low neckline of the dress that you're wearing, the cape in a lovely shade of red acting like a blanket to shield you away when König is nosing at your neck and bosom, greedy for all the tiny, shy, flustered noises you make, greedy for making you all hot and ready for him.

And of course he certainly won't mention to you about your poor old granny's corpse, rotting for weeks already in her old, decaying house where she died of some illness or old age. No, no, your new life is here, with him. Forever.

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #hybrid au #werewolf!könig #red riding hood au #könig x reader #könig #konig x reader

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selfishdoll · 6 months

Text

❛you wanted this, right?...❜ ━━ ft. ghostface! gojo & geto

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 SUMMARY. ━━ after disclosing a fantasy you had, your beloved boyfriends decided to make it happen. them in masks, you the victim, and you all inside a big mansion they rented out. an unfair game of cats and mouse seemed delightful, no?

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 NOTE. ━━ this took much longer then i wanted & went on much longer then i wanted 😭🙏🏾. as always please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

the anticipation swelling inside you was almost nauseating. your pretty manicured fingers digging into the little pleated skirt you wore. everything you wore was little; little white top, little denim skirt, and little pink thong. why? easy access.

you waited so impatiently for the car to stop, eyes peering between the seat and your phone, feeling your panties wetten as your thoughts swarmed with the events bound to transpire soon. to think your beloved boyfriends would actually make a disgusting fantasy of yours come true.

not without a little teasing of course.

“us, in ghostface masks?” gojo asked with a little grin, coming close to you. “you want us to chase and fuck you, huh?”

“and you’re letting us use knives, right?” geto asked next, a simper pulling his features. his eyes ran down your form, feeling excitement brew inside him.

it didn’t take much coaxing, given they were as freaky as you were. you three decided on a nice gothic mansion, four-story, furnished with several rooms. several hiding places.

whether for you or them.

next were the rules, establishing a perfect plan so everyone was comfortable. the knives used were only sharp enough for thin fabric, you had a word to say incase you got too scared, and also; you had an objective.

you would start at the top floor, your goal to get outside the house through the front. along the way however, your lovely boyfriends will be obstacles. but.. if you could guess correctly who was under the mask whilst they played with you, you were allowed to run and they had to stay put.

easy right? you think so. despite the fact one missup, and you lost. you had to be careful, calculated. sure of your decision before it exited your lips.

“miss, is this your stop?”

you quickly blinked out of your inappropriate thoughts, turning back and forth. you were sure this was the right place, an exact replica to what you saw online. with a sweet smile you thanked the uber driver, exiting the car and collecting your things; your phone and a flashlight. you didn’t need anything else.

shutting the door behind you, you headed up the grand walkway of the mansion; glancing at the pretty windows and rose shrubs standing tall outside. it was beautiful really, you wondered what it was used for before your perverted adventures.

grasping the door, which was unlocked, you entered the mansion and stepped into the dark foyer. you licked your lips nervously, shutting the door behind you. you quickly texted your lovers you were inside the house, knowing they were on the way.

satoru <3

we’re three mins away, sweetheart.

suguru <3

hurry up & find a hiding place, you don’t get a grace period.

you didn’t need to be told twice, flicking your flashlight on and rushing towards the stairs. you bounced with each step, ignoring the slight pain as you continued up them. you made it to the second floor when you heard the front door slam open and close, fear running through your body as you dashed across the hall to the next set of stairs, making it to the fourth floor.

your whipped around back and forth, searching for a perfect spot to wait out the next five mins. those were the intervals you were allowed to wait in one room, before you were expected to move. your eyes quickly settled on one second to the one at the end of the hall, rushing over and opening and closing the door.

you gripped your arms close, regaining your breath and sinking against the wall. you tried to calm down, tried to hear what was going on outside. had they made it to the fourth floor yet? maybe. but even so, you couldn’t hear a damned thing.

the ringing of your phone caused you to gasp, quickly pulling it from your chest to glance down at the bright unknown number, glaring at you. you hissed, accepting the call and placing it against your ear, whilst standing from your spot against the wall.

it was about three mins. you needed to find somewhere else to hide.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you rolled your eyes, a little grin covering your face. “you’re so corny, baby.” you murmured, slowly opening the door and peeking out with your flashlight. luckily you didn’t see their large forms, allowing you to step out into the hall.

“you want the ghostface masks, you get the ghostface treatment, princess.”

“mhm. you’re only trying to get me to talk so you can find me.” you hummed, continuing down the hall to the next room, opening and shutting the door behind you.

the man released a soft cackle, his breath fanning against the receiver of the phone. “oh no, i’m not doing that. i already know where you are.”

you blinked a bit, whipping around in time to spot a large form burst out of the closet and head towards you. a delighted, yet fearful shriek escaped you as strong arms locked around your body. his gloved hand pressed against your mouth, bringing you against his form.

“too bad, we just started and i already caught you.” ghostface snickered against your ear, plastic mask rubbing against your hot skin. his hand dragged down, the warm fabric tracing your skin. “what should i do first? should i cut these useless clothes off? maybe i’ll wait for the other ghostface to get here.. end this game quickly—“

“satoru!” you shouted out, hearing the man click his tongue a bit. the strong arms released you, a triumphant giggle escaping you as you rushed out of the room without even looking back. you ran down the hall, ignoring the other rooms and heading down the stairs.

you didn’t know where geto was, and you didn’t care; you were making far too much noise for the man to ignore. you quickly entered a room, pulling the door open and shutting it behind you. your eyes peered around, regret entering you quickly.

it was a simple room, no closet, no bathroom— nothing. your only hiding spot.. was under the bed. so fucking cliche.

with some effort you got to your knees, sliding your self under the bed with even more effort. you pushed up, assuring your legs weren’t stick out like all those stupid movies and waited. you had five mins, only five and then you’d have to figure out where to go next.

getting yourself from under this bed was bound to take some time, so you planned to exit a little early.

that was until, you heard them. heavy footsteps, pressing against the floor from outside the room. you quickly slammed a hand against your mouth to cover the small whimper, shaking as you watched the door push open. the person entered, black boots coming into view as he shut the door behind him.

they stood motionless for a moment, your eyes closing as you tried to relax your racing heart. hopefully, hopefully they thought you were too smart to slide under the bed. that they would exit the room and maybe go to the next one.

your heart rung in your ears, palm squished against your mouth to cover your small pants. that was until, a strong hand curled around your bare ankle. you screeched as you were dragged out from under the bed, being flipped onto your back, right on the cold wood floor.

you whined a bit as you felt the cold steel glide across your thighs, rising to pull at your thin thong string. “under the bed? really?..” the man purred above you, raspy voice slightly muffled from the mask he wore. you whimpered as your panties were cut off, revealing your soft, wet cunt.

you attempted to shut your legs, only for ghostface to be much faster; blade rising to press against your neck. you knew it wasn’t sharp enough to cut, yet, the thought alone had you keening— arousal dripping down to your ass.

the man hummed a little, fingers tapping on the handle of the knife whilst his other hand traced your thigh, slapping the inside of it. a high pitched moan escaped you, eyes pinched closed as his gloved hand soothed the skin.

“such a minx, begging for us to fuck you in masks. bet all that running around and hiding got you so wet, huh—?” his own question was answered the moment his fingers glided across your slit, slick collected on his gloved hands. ghostface swore softly, two fingers pushing into your entrance with no restraint. he wasted no time in curling them, pushing against your velvety walls all while the knife remained against your throat.

your eyes found the back of your skull, nearly forgetting your goal. you were supposed to be guessing who this was, currently ruining you so easily with his fingers. thumb pressing against your hardened clit, circling it slowly. your sweet moans covered the room, thighs squeezing his strong forearm as little tears threatened to spill.

ghostface leaned closer, his pace quickening. “oh, gonna come already baby? you know what that means.. means we’ll win.” soft squelches covered the room, hissing at the way your gummy walls clenched around his digits. “come on, come on— guess pretty girl, guess—“

your mind raced as he coaxed you, struggling to keep your orgasm at bay. you knew if you got it wrong, you lost. if you came, you lost. you wanted, needed the game to go on just a while longer. a harsh whine escaped you, “suguru!” you finally huffed out, feeling his fingers instantly stop inside you.

“good girl.. though, i doubt you have much left in you to run.” he spoke, a clear smirk on his features despite you couldn’t see.

the man even helped you up, you rushing out the room the moment you were on your feet. suguru was slightly right, given how much you wobbled about; legs shaking as you carried yourself down the end of the hallway.

you didn’t want to get to the next floor yet, fearful gojo was waiting on you. it was so frustrating how well they worked together sometimes.

you opened the door, closing it behind you with a soft sigh. your head rested against the cool mahogany wood, heart racing as a little giggle escaped you. to think you were having so much fun being used as prey for your boyfriends. you were a sick freak, really.

you clicked your phone, glancing down at the time. four more minutes, and you’d have to move. though as excited as you were, you did find this little rest enjoyable. they weren’t going easy on you, keeping you on your toes at all times.

a soft breath escaped you as you rose from leaning against the door. clasping the knob, you turned it, opening slowly— revealing the man standing right behind it.

you screamed as he lunged forward, snatching you out of the room and closing the door. once done you were pressed right back against the wood, squeezed between it and his large form.

“you’re so easy to track, princess— gotta be a bit quieter..” ghostface teased, snaking a hand under your thin shirt to grasp your breasts. he tweaked your hard nipple between his thumb and middle finger, enjoying the pretty moans that escaped your throat. “look at that.. leaking all over this pretty mansion. such a mess.”

you cried out as his palm smacked against your bare ass, keening once his fingers plunged inside you. your legs shook, arched perfectly against the door as his hand move; flexing and scissoring his thick, long digits in and out of your messy cunt. a string of moans escaped your throat, his hand releasing your chest to glide up to your neck, holding it gently.

“fuck.. sucking my damn fingers, so much.” he mused, masked face focused on your pretty pussy. your walls clamped down, desperately trying to keep them inside with each thrust he delivered. ghostface could feel himself growing harder and harder under his slacks, having half a mind to end the game right then and there.

“messy fucking pussy.. go ahead and come, pretty girl. you want to don’t you?— so greedy for our dicks, bet you can’t wait for the game to end.”

you furiously shook your head, eyes pinched as you clenched and clenched; struggling to hold back your orgasm. with the way he was fingerfucking you, you were sure the restraint would dissipate quickly, racking your mind. satoru or suguru? satoru or suguru? satoru or suguru?

“fu—fuck, satoru!” you cried out just when your peak nearly hit, hearing the man swear but release you. you breathed heavily, feeling him step away to give you space.

“tired, baby?” satoru said in a mocking coo, watching in delight as you lifted your body off the door.

without think you flashed your boyfriend the finger, collecting the scraps of your dignity and rushing down the hall and down the steps. you didn’t know if you could last much longer— no there was no way you could.

you felt way too damn good to even distinguish between the two anymore, mind melting away as they fucked you to ecstasy with just their fingers. you hated them so much, for how easily they played with your body.

you made it to the second to last floor, tempted to just take the final stretch, but deciding not to. you turned towards a door, rushing to open it and close it behind you. a bathroom. perfect.

no where to hide but the damn tub.

with a little grimace you pulled the shower curtains back, happy to not see one of your cloaked and masked boyfriends waiting patiently for you. you stepped inside, pulling the curtains closed once you were done. you leaned back against the white tiles, sighing softly as you closed your eyes.

these little moments of peace was so bittersweet, knowing they were short lived. your lovers were much faster then you, you were sure they were on this floor already.. waiting and searching.

you glanced down at your phone, a little surprised either of them hadn’t tried to call you again. it nearly made you giggle if it wasn’t for the heavy footsteps you heard passing by the bathroom. you hissed softly, quickly covering your mouth and pressing against the wall.

your heart beat harshly, hearing doors open, footsteps, doors slam shut, and more footsteps. you didn’t know if it was only one of them on the floor or both, unfortunately.

as the footsteps closed in on outside your door, your heart rate increased; ringing in your ears and nearly whimpering the moment the door opened slowly.

whoever it was stepped into the small space, standing and looking around. the only thing between the two of you being the decorative shower curtains.

more agonizing moments passed before you heard a soft sigh, hearing a footstep towards the door and it opening and shutting shortly after. your hand slowly fell, feeling your lips curl into a little smile.

so silly, you thought to yourself, fingers curling around the curtain. they didn’t even check the tu—

“your hiding places suck, pretty girl.” ghostface chuckled, snatching you out of the tub right as you gave a fearful yelp. the man easily turned your positions, pushing you to lean against the sink, pressed up behind you. a hand came to curl in your pretty dark braids, grabbing a handful and lifting your head.

the moment your eyes landed on your face in the mirror you glanced away, whining as you felt his other fingers gently pinch your clit. “no, no.. no looking away. watch yourself as i fuck you with my fingers, sweetheart.” three fingers easily slid inside your sweet cunt, instantly clamping around the digits.

you reached back, hand gripping his wrist as he fingerfucked you, the other hand steady in your scalp. you watched as your lips parted, moans escaping and eyebrows pushing together; all while your masked boyfriend stood behind you, arm moving with each thrust he gave you.

it was such a sight, making you even wetter by the second, arousal dripping down your thighs. you whimpered as his fingers curled, legs shaking as heavy pants escaped you.

“oh, is this the last round?” the man behind the mask mocked, feeling your pretty walls clench and clench. “you had such big talk, claiming you would get out before we caught you.. was that all it was— talk?” he angled his fingers, pushing against the spot inside you that caused stars to collect in your vision.

“mmm— fuck, fuck!” you cried out, nails digging into his wrist as your head leaned against the mirror. “it— its ah— suguru!” you felt triumphant the moment his fingers were removed, gently letting go of your hair.

before you could think you were rushing out of the bathroom, chubby thighs carrying you down the stairs to the final floor. you gasped out, looking back and forth, and feeling your blood run cold the moment you spotted a large form standing at the entrance of the mansion, waiting ever so patiently.

you moved to run, making it about two feet away before your were snatched from the ground, arms tight around your waist. you huffed softly, kicking for a moment as a sharp, “satoru!” escaped you.

instead of being released, you heard soft chuckles. your eyebrows pinched close, attempting to move away. “don’t cheat, satoru!”

“oh, i’m not satoru, princess.”

your eyes went wide, whipping around to watch the man tug his mask off. and much to your dismay, suguru stood in all his glory, eyes gleaming with excitement as he took in your withering form. “looks like you lost..” his tone was sing-songy, tossing the mask to the side.

“but.. but i thought i w—“

“won?” another voice cut in, watching as the other ghostface; satoru walked down the steps, approaching the two of you. he was close within minutes, sandwiching you between himself and suguru. “no.. you guessed wrong in the bathroom. i just felt so bad about you losing, i let you slip away.” his gloved fingers found your cheeks, a sick simper covering his features.

your breath hitched as you felt strong hands grip your thinly covered body, suguru’s face falling to your neck. “means we get our reward, right?”

you whined in defeat as they snatched you away from the foyer, carrying you towards a room— a bedroom. placing you on the bed, suguru moved first, pushing you to lay out across the blankets. revealing his knife, the man slid it up your simple white shirt, cutting it open and revealing your bare chest.

the cold air licked against your skin, feeling the bed sink in as satoru crawled on; face lowering to your chest. his lips clamped around your hard nipple, sucking and gently biting it. your fingers found his brightly colored hair, the pleasure covering your sensitive body.

you gasped as the cool metal carried down from the valley between your breasts, to your stomach, and finally your skirt. geto, effortlessly, slid the sharp point under the fabric, cutting it off.

“suguru!” you huffed, watching him toss the ruined garment to the side, knife following. said man only grinned, hand finding the inside of your thigh.

“don’t worry.. i’ll buy another one for next time.”

you weren’t given much time to dwell on his words before his fingers glided across your slit, the man watching in enjoyment at you flincing from the simple touch. “practically drooling, pretty girl.. fuck.” he drawled, fingers collected your slick, rubbing it further across your slit.

you clenched onto your boyfriends, head rested back against the blankets as whimpers escaped you. “please, please..”

satoru popped off your nipple with a small chuckle, fingers replacing to tweak at the wet bud. “mhm.. you can wait, right baby? had us waiting for so long, playing your little game. it’s only fair.”

you whined once again, causing another chuckle to escape your lovers. whilst satoru grabbed your chin and captured your lips, suguru’s fingers pushed inside you, wasting no time in curling and fucking you. they no longer had to hold back to give you a chance to run, you were stranded, right where they wanted you.

your fingers clung to satoru, all while your hips moved, angling to glide your swollen clit against suguru’s palm. you cried at as he curled the digits up against your sweet spot, angling just perfect to continuously thrust there. given how much you were holding back this evening, it was no surprise your end was approaching quickly; eyes closed shut as gasps and moans entered satoru’s mouth.

he pulled away, fingers rising to your cheeks to grip, taking in your expression with a soft swear. “so fucking close aren’t you baby? making such a mess on suguru’s fingers— greedy slut.”

“hah— did you seriously clench from that, (y/n)?” suguru’s words came next, your mind flooded with pleasure and far too fucked out to acknowledge their teasing. your thighs shook, trapping the dark-haired man’s forearm between them as you fisted satoru’s hair.

a drawn out moan escaped you, creaming all over his hand, arousal dribbling all the way down to your taint and the sheets.

the praises that fell from their lips caused your head to feel light, barely registering suguru removing his fingers. you regained your breath, sitting up when you realized the two had stepped off the bed.

you watched in excitement as they fiddled with their slacks, pushing them off with their boxers soon following. your thighs twitched, little hole clenching around nothing as anticipation collected in your tummy.

suguru moved close, gently grabbing your cheeks and leading you onto your knees on the bed. satoru moved behind you, pushing you into a little arch, hands massaging your ass.

you whined as his thumb pushed into your mouth, laying on the flat of your tongue. suguru watched as your lips wrapped around the digit, sucking it slowly. he didn’t let it go on for long before he was pulling it out with a soft pop, smearing your saliva across your pretty lips. “think you could put that pretty mouth to good use, princess?” he grinned, moving close and pressing the tip of his cock against your lips.

you attempted to wrap your lips around it, only for the man to pull back, hand falling to your chin. “so fucking greedy..” suguru hissed, instructing you to poke out your tongue. you obeyed easily, whining the moment you felt satoru’s hands large hands grip your ass, nearly turning to look back if it wasn’t for suguru’s hold tightening.

“nuh uh— eyes on me, beautiful. you don’t get to see satoru right now.” he groaned, slapping his tip against your waiting muscle. the soft plaps echoed in the room, all while you felt satoru’s fluffy hair glide across the curve of your ass.

at the same time satoru’s lick tongue slid into your entrance and suguru thrusted into your mouth.

you moaned around his length, eyes rolling back as satoru wasted no time in feasting away. hands gripping you tightly, keeping you arched right there as his tongue dragging across your walls, lapping and enjoying each drop that came from you.

your attention kept being knocked back and forth; suguru dragging his hips back as his hand found your hair, slowly, carefully setting a pace inside your wet mouth. your cheeks hollowed, glossy eyes peering up at the man as he fucked your mouth. suguru groaned at the sight, swearing as his pace quickened, pulling you flush so your nose brushed his stomach.

within minutes his tip was hitting the back of your throat, heavy, full balls slapping against your chin. you could only shake and take it, gripping the sheets under you all while satoru’s tongue never stopped inside you.

licking you up, mixing your arousal and his saliva, only to pull back and spit it right back against your messy pussy in a soft ptuh. slurping it all up, dragging his tongue between your folds.

“wanted this so bad didn’t you, (y/n)? you wanted us to win, to fuck you just like this.” suguru huffed, stuttering between each thrust inside your throat.

you squealed as a large hand slammed against your ass, fingers massaging the raw skin. “he asked you a question, princess— or is your mouth too full to respond?” satoru cackled right into your pussy, hand slithering to your entrance to push two fingers inside, all while he licked your clit raw.

you moaned around suguru’s cock, the man’s eyes rolling back from the vibrations, twitching as his peak got closer and closer. your jaw hurt, center was sore, and your palms ached from how much you were gripping the sheets. but you didn’t care— not one bit.

suguru delivered a few more thrusts into your mouth before his hips stuttered, coming deep in your throat. you moaned around him, your own orgasm peaking— making a mess on satoru’s face.

the man infront of you panted softly, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly pulling out; pressing the tip against your lips. your licked off the rest of his come, swallowing to which a soft good girl, escaped him, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss.

your lips moved slowly, feeling satoru leave the bed and soon you; being lifted easily by the two of them. like before they sandwiched you between them, your legs wrapping around suguru whilst satoru held your thighs.

pulling back from the kiss you tried to regain your breath, the action short lived as satoru planted his lips onto your own; stealing it right back away. your gripped suguru’s shoulders tightly, whining as you felt satoru slowly pushing his heavy length inside.

the man pulled back to grunt, fingers sinking into your plush skin as he continued to thrust in. “look at that, sucking me in so easily.” satoru teased, the pair chuckling at the whine that escaped you.

he was halfway before suguru came even closer, grasping the back of your knees and slowly, pushing in— right in the same hole. your head knocked back against satoru’s shoulder, lips parted as a silent cry escaped you.

you felt like you were being split open, arousal gushing and coating their lengths as they pushed inside you. you whimpered, never growing used to this stretch no matter how wet you were. “fuck.. oh fuck, suguru, satoru—!”

“i know, baby, i know..”

“splitting so pretty for us, sweetheart— taking us so well.”

their praises made your head feel light, finally breathing the moment their hips stilled. as desperate as they were to move they waited, knowing you were tired and possibly sore. suguru rubbed your legs carefully whilst satoru kissed the side of your face, whispering sweet words into your ear.

moments passed before your breathing settled, the men taking this as a signal to pull their hips back until only their tips were inside. with a harsh thrust, the three of you were moaning— the two men wasting no time in setting out a pace.

one that worked in rhythm, cocks driving in you and out of you at perfect tandem without a care for your well-being. your high pitched moans covered the room, gripping to your boyfriends tight as your legs shook.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out, tears trickling down your brown cheeks, feeling yourself gush all over their lengths. unfortunately they didn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm— ignoring your desperate pleas to slow down.

suguru leaned close, lips attaching to your neck as his fingers dug into your skin. “you really think we’re gonna slow down after waiting for so long, princess?” he questioned with a simper, teeth sinking into your skin just to hear you cry out.

satoru grinned, hand rising to gently wrap around your throat, the vibrations of your voice pressed against his fingers. his cheek brushed your own wet one, softly mocking your moans as his hips never stopped their harsh thrusts. “you don’t want us to slow down any, do you? such a fucking mess..”

you reached up, clinging to his wrist as each drive in and out of your messy cunt rendered your brain to mush; ruining you. your words became incoherent, fingers curling with your thighs wrapped tight around suguru. the pair enjoyed it all, each twitch, cry, moan— the way those pretty fucking eyes rolled to the back of your skull; it was no surprise their own orgasms were creeping up on them, fast.

“feel so fucking good, sweetheart.. so fucking good, keep making a mess of us.”

“gonna come again aren’t you? yeah, we can tell— clenching so damn tight— fuck..”

throat raw, breath ragged, and your voice pitched; you shrieked as your orgasm hit you like a truck, spraying all over their cocks.

their eyes widened at this, gaze locking and making a mental note to somehow get you to squirt again. for now their thrusts stuttered, becoming sloppy and desperate as their cocks twitched inside.

suguru was first, shoving himself deep and pumping you full of his come— satoru following shortly after with a deep groan.

the three of you simply panted, standing in the middle of the room for a moment before leading you towards the bed; where you laid down in a messy heap.

you whimpered as they pulled out of you, feeling their combined releases trickling from your entrance and to the bed. you warmed however the moment their hands caressed your body, kissing where they previously gripped, spanked, or bit.

“i should have asked for this a long time ago.” you murmured sleepily, hearing your lovers chuckle softly.

reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

2K notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 8 months

Note

I haven't seen any dog stories in a while. How are Charleston and The Hanukkah Goblin doing?

Dog updates!

The first one is a little sad, but also how life should go. Arwen is 14 now and while she's still moving, eating, pooping and generally enjoying life, she also has canine dementia and sundown syndrome where she gets extremely nervous and her dementia gets worse after dark. She'll be with us for a while yet, but it's something we have to manage now.

One person who is very much helping her manage is Herschel. My parents are traveling a lot while they still have the knees for it so I spend a lot of time up at their house, and Charleston and Herschel come up too. Being a Corgi, Herschel likes to manage things, and Arwen would like someone to manage things for her so he's become her self-appointed guide dog.

When I call the dogs for food or outside, he goes and finds her deaf ass and herds her to the location. Normally she doesn't go outside after dark but when the boys are there she's willing to wait for Charlie to chase away anything that might be lurking out there, and then follow Herschel's ass around the yard at night.

Very literally.

She's also got cataracts forming and I think his bright white backside is easy for her to see in the dark, so she follows it around.

During daytime walks she sees well enough but neither she nor Charlie are fans of strange off-leash dogs running up to them (a regrettably common problem out here. I don't care if your dog is friendly MINE ARE NOT!), so both of them prefer to walk half a pace behind Herschel so his more socially adept and knife-filled face is out front to intercept any unwanted solicitors. This does tend to give people the opposite impression though- because he is so much shorter, Herschel gives the impression of a tiny, charming mafioso flanked by his two large and surly bodyguards.

Like, they absolutely would kill a bear for him.

But Charlie and Arwen would also try to kill a bear on general principle.

At night, when Arwen barks at shadows, Herschel runs up and stand between her and the alleged menace, and does his best to look large and intimidating and for as silly as he looks, he does have a very good growl. After a moment, when the alleged bear or congressman or other horror fails to appear, he will stick his nose into the offending shadow, and finding nothing, be satisfied that their joint effort has successfully chased the problem off, and report back to her. This, more than anything else, seems to alleviate Arwen 's fears.

I guess we all just need someone to take us seriously when we're frightened.

Charleston, meanwhile, has gotten into giving safari tours of the front range's small vertebrates.

After eight years of managing his exceptionally high prey drive, something clicked earlier this summer and instead of immediately lunging his whole face at any approximately bite-sized animal in an attempt to expedite it's journey into his stomach, Charlie has started *pointing* at things until I come look at them and tell him he's a good boy. This started with a mole, something he'd never seen before and that moves above ground in a strange way, so he wasn't sure about eating it, so he only alerted at it. "GOOD BOY!" I shouted, giving him all the cuddles. "GOOD SPOT! GOOD JOB NOT EATING IT!"

It's important to reward behavior you want to see.

Since then, he's been trying out pointing at small creatures in the grass and then making very pointed eye contact with me until I come look at them. This is a little tricky when walking both dogs because Herschel is still very much in his "inhale wildlife" phase, but usually I can lock the little gremlin's leash and go look at whatever Charlie has cornered while Herschel attempts to develop telekinesis to will the critter into his mouth.

So far, Charleston has found: a baby rabbit, several baby rabbits in a cluster, an adult rabbit with Jackalope virus, several voles, several moles, a fledgling owl, only the two mice, several mouse-sized grasshoppers and cicada, someone's pet rat (the person was searching within earshot and 'Socks' was collected forthwith), a beanie baby that had me fooled for a hit minute too, a marmot which I didn't know lived down here, a groundhog which I didn't know lived up here, a mink, so many toads, a wild turkey chick, so many more garter snakes and last night, an aquatic shrew.

I don't know if there's an Audubon Society for small things that scuttle around in the undergrowth, but I am inclined to join solely to get Charleston recognition for his service in surveying them.

#dogs #Charleston Chew #Arwen the crime dog #Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin #family lore

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yougotthatbilly · 1 year

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romanée-conti (m)

→ member: jung jaehyun → genre: sugar daddy!jaehyun | slowburn | smut → playlist: alone with you x alina baraz, break the ice x britney spears → word count: 24k → warnings: LEGAL age gap, praise, oral; giving & receiving, unprotected sex (be smart pls), jaehyun likes her head to toe (literally), ‘do/can i call you daddy now?’ jokingly, one real ‘daddy’ (comes with the territory lol), petnames; baby, thumb in butt, probably more ↳summary: Having a sugarless- sugar daddy is proving to be more difficult than planned.

Dark brown eyes resting above prominent eye bags that look like they came from either genetics or lack of sleep—possibly both—are the first thing your eyes zone in on when you approach the table the owner of said eyes is sitting at, waiting for your arrival. As soon as he noticed your presence and looked up from his phone, it was hard to pay attention to anything else.

Until he smiled.

The curve of his lips and flash of his teeth are friendly and welcoming, with the slightest hint of shyness, and you truly see that pictures don’t always do people the justice they deserve. Faint crows feet appear due to his smile reaching his eyes, and somehow, they only add onto his appeal.

“Hey,” his gentle, deep voice pushes through your thoughts. He stands and your eyes travel up to follow his face before flashing downward at the sight of his hand being presented to you, and back up to his eyes. “I’m glad you could make it,” he says as he shakes your hand softly, letting go soon after to motion for you to sit across from him with both hands.

“Me, too,” you softly smile back, setting your purse beside you.

You finally look away from him to take in your surroundings. When you walked in, you barely paid attention to anything, only having the mind to scan people’s faces until you found one you recognized. Now, after greetings and the initial shock of just how gorgeous this man is, you can take in how this is a pretty nice place; everyone dressed in business casual attire, like this is where businessmen and women come after a long day or week to unwind. Dark, sleek wooden surfaces and furniture paired with deep red decorations that give the place a simple and mature feel.

Taeyong catches your eye from the bar nearby and he quirks a brow in question. You blink once and look away.

“I knew from your photos that you were pretty, but you’re much more beautiful in person,” is said when it’s clear you’re done observing the place. Under the dim, artificial lighting of the overhead lamp above your table, the softest pink flush on his ears is clear as he compliments you, and it leaves you both intrigued and confused.

“And you’re much more handsome,” you compliment right back. There was a fear of him being a catfish or using a picture from when he was younger to reel you and others in, and you’re pleasantly surprised and thankful the man waiting for you is actually the one from the photos. The angles of his face are soft and so are his features; gentle yet mysterious eyes and a pouty bottom lip that’s caught in between his teeth because of your words.

His fingers drum against the wooden tabletop before he pulls his hand into his lap. “Would you like some wine?”

“Sure.”

He raises his hand, pointer finger lazily lifted. In no time a pretty server is at your table, setting wine glasses in front of the both of you.

“Red or white, sir?” she asks, and you guess he’s a regular here.

“Whatever she wants.”

Both pairs of eyes land on you and make you blink.

She’s gone and back in the blink of an eye when you choose red, carefully pouring the wine of your choice into the glasses before she disappears again.

“If you don’t like it, let me know and we can get you something else.”

You gently swirl the deep, pretty colored liquid around a few times then sip.

Oh. This is nice.

“How was your day?” he asks.

Long. Extensive. “It was good,” you say instead. “Pretty productive and eventful. How about yours?”

“Productive but not quite eventful,” he laughs softly. He relaxes into the cushion behind him, and you note that his shoulders are broad even when they’re not up to his ears in a tense manner. His black button-up looks nice on him, stretching across his shoulders and chest in a snug fit. “Is it alright if we talk a little before getting into things?”

“Of course,” you nod. There hasn’t been a conversation since he asked you for your number a week ago other than when tonight’s date was planned, so you don’t quite know him. You’re someone who relies heavily on your gut feeling and right now there are no warning bells going off in your head, but chatting for a while will definitely give you a better feel of things.

“Tell me a little about yourself?”

You tell him what you’re sure he already knows from your bio; your name and age, where you’re from and a few of your hobbies, in addition to your occupation. He listens intently, eyes taking in your features as he nods along to the information he’s receiving, drink never too far from his mouth. And when you can’t think of any other description of yourself that’s appropriate for a first meeting, you drink a little more.

“How about you?”

He hums, visibly racking his mind for something to tell you.

“Well,” he says a moment later. “I’m Jaehyun, I recently turned thirty-eight, and I’m from Seoul.”

And when he stops there, his face showing he doesn’t know what to continue with, you realize he isn’t very social. The pretty much awkward atmosphere, the shyness of his smiles and fidgeting of his fingers make you wonder if this is also his first time doing something like this, if he’s just shy overall, or both. This is nothing like what you thought it would be. You expected to be asked a lot of personal questions from the jump. You expected to get an earful of how great and successful he is, to get an earful of all the things he could do for you in exchange for whatever he wanted. You didn’t expect a socially awkward sugar-daddy-to-be.

Luckily, you’re a great conversationalist.

“So what brings you to New York?”

“My father owns a few businesses and I chose to run the one here.”

“Do you like it here in the states?”

His eyes squint in thought before answering with, “I’m not sure,” and when your head tilts to silently ask him to elaborate, his explanation is: “I lived in Connecticut for a little when I was younger and I don’t remember much about it, and I’ve been here for a few years but I only go to work, cafes, business events and home if I’m not traveling.”

“You travel a lot?”

He rubs his lips together and tilts his head side to side with a pondering hum. “You could say that.”

“So how often would we meet?”

Jaehyunhyun blinks at your question.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, looking past his shoulder and meeting your cousin’s gaze once again. “We haven’t even gotten into that territory yet.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just glad you’re still considering it.”

Well, things are going well in your opinion, and even though he’s socially awkward, as far as you can tell, he’s good company. You’re good with conversation and take pride in brightening situations, so this arrangement could go well. He’s a busy guy so you wouldn’t see him often, which means there won’t be any major changes in your lifestyle, and that’s perfect. You have no complaints so far.

The last of your wine is sipped and you eye the last small drop that sticks to the bottom of the glass, almost tempted to ask for a refill just because it’s the weekend, but you know Taeyong will chew your head off and you’d rather not hear that on the way back to your place.

“Everything is ultimately up to you, Jaehyun,” you shrug. “I’m down if you are.”

His arm is up again and in seconds the server is back with the bottle of wine in tow. She moves to pour more into your glass but you stop her with your hand. “I’m okay, thank you.”

Jaehyun squints as his glass gets filled half-way.

“You didn’t really like it, did you?”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth. You’re amused and touched that he actually cares about what you like already.

“I promise I did,” you laugh, resting a gentle hand on the back on his own that found the table again. He doesn’t flinch at the contact but his eyes grow in size for a split second. “I’m a bit of a lightweight and I do have to drive home.”

When he’s convinced, you bring your hand back in front of you.

“Mind me asking how you found yourself looking for a… companion?” you ask him, grinning at the way his dimple makes an appearance at your choice of words.

“It was suggested, actually,” Jaehyun responds. “I said something about always being left alone at business events because all of my partners are either in relationships, married, or like to sleep around. Plus, all I do is work, so a friend told me about the website and here we are now.” You nod along, imagining being left alone to just drink and talk business while his business partners disperse with their romantic partners. It must be boring. “What about you?”

“Also suggested,” you chuckle. “I love my job and I live pretty comfortably, but I have goals I’m working on and I’d like to do so without having to think about a bill or getting another job. My best friend successfully found a perfect match so she was sure I would, as well.”

“Before anything,” he clears his throat, looking down at his glass and watching the deep red slosh in circles due to the movement of his hand. “I want you to know I meant what I said about no special favors. I truly don’t want anything other than your company… maybe a few times a month?” he glances back up at you with flushed cheeks. Cute. “Would that work for you?”

“That’s perfect. Do I call you Daddy now?”

He chokes on the sip he was in the middle of taking and you have to bite the inside of your lips to stop a giggle from coming out. “I’m kidding.”

He blinks at you a couple of times before shaking his head. “You’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you wink.

“If it’s alright with you, we could discuss all the paperwork the next time we meet. I wanted the both of us to get a feel of one another before we made any legal decisions.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“I want you to do something for me.” At the rise of your brow–which was only out of curiosity and to prompt him to continue--he backtracks. “That sounded really suggestive, I apolo—”

“Jaehyun,” you call, biting back another laugh. The panic in his eyes goes away at your touch. “we already discussed there would be no sugar given, it’s okay. What do you want me to do?”

“Think of a price if you haven’t already.”

It’s up to you?

“Really?” You ask. He nods. “You’re not going to decide? I thought that was how this worked?” You’re comfortable showing your naivety in this situation because it’s quite obvious he’s no pro at this either.

Jaehyun frowns at your words and sets his glass down, leaning forward. “Just like in any healthy or ethical relationship, business or personal, this works both ways. So with anything from this point on, if you want something or have concerns about anything you have to let me know immediately, alright?”

You nod, taken aback. “Got it.”

You’re getting the vibe that he’s serious about every move he makes, every word he says, and you can see why he’s probably such a successful businessman. He hasn’t said much but he doesn’t beat around the bush, and the transition in his aura from having small talk to talking about business, the way he just laid down the law, admittedly sparked something in your gut.

“Think about it and we’ll discuss it next time.”

“When will ‘next time’ be?”

“Let me check,” he mumbles, digging for his phone in his pocket.

At the duck of his head, a waving hand from behind him catches your attention. Taeyong’s brows are raised, his fingers forming the okay sign. You blink a single time once more.

“I fly back in on Wednesday next week,” Jaehyun says. “Does Wednesday afternoon work for you?”

“Sounds good,” you nod.

He glances back down at his phone. “I don’t mean to rush things I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,” Jaehyun nibbles on his bottom lip. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss tonight?”

You look up as if you’re thinking, and when Taeyong meets your eye, you subtly tilt your head in the direction of the door and naturally blink three times. “I think we covered everything so far.”

Taeyong finishes his beer and pays for it out of the corner of your eye.

“Okay then,” Jaehyun slides out of the booth and stands to your side, extending his hand for you to grab.

Add gentleman to the list of characteristics.

You grab your clutch in one hand then his own hand with your other and scoot yourself out of the booth with his assistance. He doesn’t let go, his grip loose but warm.

“It was really nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

“So?”

You cut your eyes at your cousin as you buckle your seatbelt.

“Can we get out of the parking lot before he comes out and before you start questioning me?”

Taeyong grumbles something under his breath but backs out of the parking space nonetheless. And as soon as you’re on the main road he repeats himself.

“He’s nice,” you hum, leaning forward to undo the clasps around your ankles, wiggling your heels off with a sigh. “I like him. He’s cute.”

Taeyong scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re really doing this.”

He wasn’t onboard with it one bit, which is why he immediately agreed to be your backup just in case. The whole ride to the bar consisted of him making sure you had the signals down packed; blink once if things are peachy, blink twice if you feel uncomfortable, and blink three times (he said thrice but that word rubs you the wrong way) when it’s time to go. Oh, and repeating that you didn’t need to do this. You appreciate him and his worries but it’s not like he’s going to help you with your debt.

You’re young, confident in your looks, confident in your personality. Nine times out of ten, you have no trouble getting what you want, so why not get a sugar daddy that doesn’t have sex as a requirement?

When Sooyoung told you about getting a couple grand a date from her guy—more if she threw in a hand- or blowjob—and she has well over enough money to blow after paying bills and saving, you were intrigued. You’re no prude or anything but you knew you wouldn’t want to jump in offering ass to almost sixty-year-old men, so when she told you that you can make it clear that you weren’t down for special flavors and that some relationships are innocent, you thought why the hell not.

Plus, you’ve been bored and wanted to do something new, something exciting.

“Well believe it because we’re meeting again Wednesday,” you lilt. “He’s a sweetheart, really. You know how I am with catching vibes.”

“Pft. It could be an act,” he grumbles. You sigh and dig your phone out of your clutch, going to your music app. “What if he’s a narc—”

Thank god for bluetooth.

Taeyong glares at you when you turn the volume up and your favorite song blasts from his speakers, but he doesn’t try to carry on the conversation, instead singing along because you’ve played it too many times for him to not know the lyrics and because he finally caught the hint.

And when you get a message an hour later asking if you’ve made it home safely, you trust your gut a little more.

Today you woke up late and your outfit and hair definitely showed it when you first arrived at work, but thankfully you keep a travel-sized stash of makeup and hair tools in your desk and you were able to get yourself presentable before your first-period students piled in and took their seats.

Being behind on grading tests and homework from last week with another pile of tests from yesterday you need to get done in time for your students to be able to see their mistakes and retest before break in a few weeks, potential sugar daddies have definitely not been on your mind.

Not until you get a message around two-thirty while you’re halfway through the homework pile.

[2:15pm] Jaehyun: Good afternoon, I will be landing shortly. Do you still want to meet today?

“Shit.”

“Language.”

You completely forgot Jisung was staying after to retake a test from weeks ago. But from the looks of it, he’s done and just chilling on his phone. A glance at your desk lets you know he’s already gotten up, walked over to your desk and put his test down in the corner. This is exactly why you shouldn’t stay up until three in the morning lesson planning and only getting three hours of sleep.

“Hey,” you beckon him over to the seat next to yours. “Wanna help me?”

“Do I get extra credit for this?” he asks as he eyes the pile of work and the answer key you give him.

“Maybe.”

You’ll probably give him a donut or something tomorrow.

[2:17pm] you: Hey! I’m finishing up at work right now so just let me know when you’ve arrived.

After Jisung finishes his pile and you’re almost done with the new pile you started, your phone starts buzzing.

“Hello?” you answer, making sure to turn the volume down because Jisung is a nosy little thing.

“Hey,” oh, you forgot how smooth his voice is. “I’m at this cafe a couple of blocks away from the bar we last met. Would you like to meet me here and then maybe find something else?”

You take in the few tests and homework assignments left to grade. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Send me the address and I can be there in about twenty.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Did you start dating?”

You ruffle Jisung’s hair. Absolutely not telling him just so he can tell his partner in crime. You wouldn’t hear the end of it tomorrow if you did.

“Thanks for helping, hun. Am I taking you home?”

You barely make the twenty minute mark from the time Jaehyun sent you the address and you have to stop yourself from running inside of the cafe like a mad woman. Dropping Jisung off was no issue, his house was on the way. Your eyebags, smeared eyeliner, and dry ass lips were the problem (how some of your students can manage to fancy you when you’ve occasionally gone to school looking like a mess is beyond you). An extra five minutes or so in the parking lot of your destination resulted in you looking far better, but not nearly as good as you did the first night.

Not nearly as good as Jaehyun does sitting there waiting for you with a small mug in his hand while he holds a newspaper with the other. He’s just barely slouched, a white button-down covering his upper body this time. He looks photoshoot ready and you’re grateful you took the time to fix yourself up.

“Hey,” you greet quietly as you sit in the chair across from him, hooking your purse onto the back of it. “Sorry I’m late. I had to give one of my students a ride home.”

Jaehyun puts the newspaper down after folding it in half. “You’re not late, no worries.”

He looks tired. His bags look like how yours did before the second layer of concealer for the day, his eyes low in comparison to the last time you saw them. You wonder how far he traveled.

“How was your flight?”

“Twelve hours too long,” he sighs. When he makes a move to take another sip of his coffee, he pouts at the realization his cup is empty. “I could barely sleep.”

“We could’ve met another day, you know?”

“I know. I wanted to see you.” He’s not flirty, but upfront. You like it. “Did you think of anything to do?”

“Well, you look like you could fall out any minute now,” you half stall, half voice genuine concern. “Maybe we should wait until your next free day to actually do something?” You’re more than fine with just sitting here for a while longer and having a collection of brief conversations with him and looking at each other until he gets too sleepy or has to leave because of another early meeting in the morning.

“Are you sure?”

You’ve been speaking all day. This is a nice wind-down from repeating yourself and having to raise your voice.

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I sat in a cafe and just chilled,” you sigh, taking another glance at your surroundings.

“I’m getting another cup. Do you want anything?”

A thousand a date seems… excessive. Sooyoung is high maintenance so it makes sense for her to want that much as a minimum, especially when she goes on a date once a week. But for you, that amount is a lot when meetups with Jaehyun are going to be really chill. So when he suggests two grand every week since you still couldn’t think of a price for your possible relationship, choking on the sip of tea you just took is a reasonable reaction.

“I mean, anything less wouldn’t make much sense to me. You’re a teacher so you probably don’t make that much when student loans are involved, right?”

You blink stupidly at his bluntness. “Well, yes. But--”

“Do you have someone to help pay your bills?”

“No…”

“And you said you have goals. I want to help invest in those. Are you opposed to that?”

“Not at all.”

“So what’s the problem?” If he partakes in the debating and persuading at work, you’re sure deals end with additional zeros in his bank account. He has you stumped and you’re almost positive he proved his point with little to no thinking process required. “I was actually going to suggest more, but I figured we’d start off small. Do you just feel uncomfortable with that amount?”

It’s interesting yet almost frustrating how he’s kept the straightest face this whole discussion. Just sipping on his coffee and never breaking eye contact. You need to take notes so that your higher ups take you seriously when you address an issue.

“No, it’s not that.”

“So,” he clears his throat, sliding a piece of paper and pen closer to you, “do we have a deal?”

“I guess we do.” You sign the contract (that you’ve already looked over a couple times) and shake his hand when he presents it in front of you. “You’re intimidating when you talk business, you know.”

His smile is wide as he shakes his head, telling you he’s been told once or twice.

Big, excited brown eyes stare down at you as you hold Nala up in the air and softly wiggle her. Her tail wags wildly when the click and push of your front door resonates throughout your home.

“Babe?”

“In here!” you call, still giving your baby your undivided attention.

Sooyoung walks in the living room, leather pants and a fur coat adorning her figure. She tsks at the way you’re laid out on your couch, completely neglecting the powerpoints and Kahoots you were making a while ago. “Procrastination at its finest.”

Nala is taken out of your grasp and Sooyoung gives her the same treatment you just were, so you take the time to stand and stretch. “You shouldn’t have asked me out while I was in my zone. Now I’m not touching that until tomorrow,” you wave in the general direction of your Macbook.

She snorts and sits down while you go to your room to get ready for your date.

The two of you walk into a bar with R&B Hip Hop playing at the perfect volume some time later. The lights are dim and set the perfect mood for drinking and catching up. She leads you to sit at the bar and orders the both of you something that won’t exactly get you fucked up, seeing that the both of you have jobs to attend to in the morning.

“So,” Sooyoung spins towards you, crossing her legs dramatically.

“So?”

“Jaehyun. Tell me about him. How are things going?”

You learned from the first few times of being with Jaehyun that you’ll be doing most of the talking, but he always responds and asks a question or two, genuinely interested if the tick of his eyebrow means anything. It’s nice to have someone new to share stories with, especially since your schedule clashes with your best friend’s. Also because within the last couple of years, most of your experiences with guys have been the same: mostly physical attraction from both sides and it turning into a relationship where you get the shit end of the stick and get hurt. When it comes to Jaehyun, yes the physical attraction is there, but though you don’t know much about each other, you enjoy the platonic bond that’s building… as well as your growing savings account. You don’t text unless someone sends a simple have a great day at work or good night text (and when it’s sent to you, you usually find yourself smiling before getting out of bed or falling asleep). You never talk about anything deep like your past, dreams for the future (aside from briefly discussing the business you want to start up eventually), or theories about life, but the trivial conversations you have about work and the news and whatever else is always enough.

“He’s kind of awkward but it’s nothing unbearable,” you begin, eyes wandering as you think of ways to describe him. “He’s tall, fine as hell for him to be almost twice my age, and…” you trail off, head tilting as you think.

She looks at you impatiently. “And what?”

“He’s such a gentleman,” you finally come up with. “I get to do whatever I want with no complaints, he makes sure my fridge and pantry are stocked, and doesn’t require a lot of my time. I can’t complain at all. Especially when he’s investing in me.”

“Show me what he looks like again.”

You pull up a picture you took with him during your museum date and hand her the phone.

“You look good together,” she compliments after a while of observing the photo.

You agree.

“You sure you wanna keep up your abstinence when he’s your sugar daddy?”

You scoff lightheartedly, taking your phone back. “Is that all you think about?”

“I mean, no, but,” She gestures weirdly with her hands. “He looks like that. And he clearly treats you amazing. I would’ve been busted it open for him.”

“We both agreed on sugarless interactions,” you humph proudly. “But if this lasts a while, I would consider it.”

No point in bullshitting her when she’s known you for over a decade. You’ve been abstinent since your last relationship because you don’t like the thought or feeling of sharing such intimate energy with someone who doesn’t give a fuck about you or wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you caught a flat on the side of the road. Your last few situations with men haven’t been the best and you’ve chosen to focus on healing and growing, and most times than not, sex has interrupted that healing and growing. You don’t want to repeat the same lessons after learning them.

“Is someone crushing on their sugar daddy?” she practically sings around her straw, eyes full of mischief.

“I can’t talk well about someone without having a crush on them?”

“‘He’s such a gentleman,’” Sooyoung repeats in an exaggerated dreamy voice, topping off her performance by dramatically fitting her chin in the hand that’s propped up by her elbow on the bartop. “You already knew he wasn’t going to act like guys our age but you’re still gushing over him and considering fucking him.”

“Crush is too strong of a word,” you roll your eyes at the knowing smile she gives you. “He’s kind, attractive, successful, respectful, and helps me out financially in addition to expanding and stocking my wine collection. How else am I supposed to feel?”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Plus, he’s pretty...” you trail off to find the right word. “Guarded. We only talk about me or surface level things. Kinda hard to really like someone you hardly know.”

“Don’t act like you’re not into the mysterious type,” Sooyoung says flatly before sipping. “There was Sehun, Hyungwon, H–”

“How’s Yuta been treating you?”

And that’s all it takes to direct the conversation to her life and stop coming for yours. She gives too many explicit details but you can’t find it in you to complain because her stories are always interesting as fuck and you aren’t getting any action. She doesn’t exactly have feelings for him, only caring about how great the sex is and the amount of money that goes into her bank account, so she can’t quite relate to the very slow building fondness you feel for Jaehyun. She was right, though. The concoction of his attractiveness, success, and mysteriousness has definitely made you develop a crush. You have other things to worry about, so you don’t exactly think too much of it and just enjoy your time with him a few times a month.

You call it a night after one more drink, and on your way out your phone vibrates.

[10:50pm] Jaehyun: Brunch tomorrow?

[10:51pm] you: Sounds good

[10:56pm] Jaehyun: I’ll pick you up at 11:30.

You can’t help but smile at the image of Jaehyun in his work attire, sitting in the booth with a grease-stained menu in his hands as he figures out what he wants to order. Brunch didn’t go quite as planned with the work you had to finish, but dinner worked perfectly for the both of you.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Your smile only widens. “Didn’t expect you to be the hole-in -the-wall burger joint type, is all.”

“I’m treating myself,” he explains. “Yesterday was a successful day and what better way to treat myself than a greasy meal and your company?”

Your brows shoot up at his last couple of words. “My company, huh?”

He nods, averting his attention to the menu again. Though you want to press the situation a little more, you drop it, but you’re now smiling for a different reason.

“So you said yesterday was successful?”

“Mhm. I closed an important deal and it was finalized yesterday.”

“Congratulations. Our ideas of treating ourselves are certainly different, but I’m glad to be your treat,” You wink, having one more jab at him. And the color of his ears deepen.

Somewhere in the midst of ordering and having small talk, the topic of stocks and investment comes up.

“One of the smartest things I’ve ever done for the company was to invest in Bitcoin and that’s basically why I got the opportunity to run the office here,” he tells you.

“I kind of understand the concept, but I don’t understand the benefits and all that.”

This prompts Jaehyun to go on a lengthy explanation of how it works. He explains something called Blockchain then how the rapper 50 Cent accidentally got a lot of money because he invested in it when a fan of his wanted to buy an album and that was their only form of payment. You prop your elbow up and rest your chin in your palm, his words go straight over your head. In the middle of explaining how Blackbear got rich off of it and that’s why he makes terrible music now, he pauses and blinks.

“I didn’t mean to go on a tangent, I’m sorry.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t apologize, I wanna hear more.”

He looks at you skeptically, so you slip your foot in between his calves and look at him expectantly. You don’t understand the details but you appreciate the topic because it’s something he’s interested in and it’s the first time you’ve seen him talk about something with this much passion. His eyes were shiny and everything.

You raise your eyebrows and blink until he picks the conversation back up.

The glint in his eyes comes back while the two of you eat. Yeah, definitely crushing.

You open your front door after a loud, sudden knock resounded throughout your apartment to find no one, but instead a few boxes and a bag waiting for you on your door mat. You tilt your head to the side and think for a moment. You didn’t order anything.

Looking into the red bag to see if there’s a sign or clue of who these came from, you find a white envelope with your name written in cursive on it. With another glance around you, you decide to open everything inside instead. It’s cold. The packages range in size, so you pick up the smaller packages and kick the biggest one inside of your apartment.

Seated at your dining table, you open the envelope and pull the card out.

Saw these and thought of you. I hope you like everything. -Jaehyun

You fight the smile that wants to take over your face. You figured it was him or Sooyoung. Your best friend likes to send you random things when she comes across something she knows you’d like but wouldn’t buy yourself.

Actually looking at the bag, Cartier is written across it, and your eyes widen. Inside, there are two different sized boxes. The smaller one is their love ring, and the bigger one is the matching bracelet, both in yellow gold. With a grin, you nibble on your lower lip and read the card that comes with the jewelry.

Too excited to wait until you look at the other packages, you slip the ring on your middle finger. It doesn’t go past your second knuckle, so you try your ring finger, and it fits perfectly. Next is the bracelet, which is a bit loose, but you’re sure that’s an easy fix.

Grabbing your phone, you take a picture of the jewelry on you and send it to your sugar daddy.

[1:23pm] you: Thank you so much, Jaehyun. I love them.

His reply comes a lot quicker than you’d expected.

[1:24pm] Jaehyun: Of course. How do they fit?

[1:26pm] you: I could size down on the bracelet but the ring is perfect.

[1:27pm] Jaehyun: We’ll get that fixed soon. Did you get everything else I sent?

Oh yeah. There is more. You put the jewelry back in the respective boxes and move on to the biggest box, which turns out to be a blender and juicer in one. This actually brings the smile out. The last time the two of you were together, you’d said in passing that you want to start making your own juices and smoothies and stuff instead of buying the processed ones from stores.

The next box is a few bottles of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti and now your teeth are showing with how much bigger your smile gets.

[1:35pm] you: Yes I just opened them! I appreciate everything, thank you Jae.

[1:40pm] Jaehyun: Anytime, beautiful. Remember, you can ask me for anything you want and I’ll get it, okay? [1:41pm] Jaehyun: I want you to actually tell me when you want or need something [1:41pm] Jaehyun: And we’re still good for Saturday, right? I want to pamper you a little.

He’d mentioned it the last couple of dates, that he’d like you to send him pictures and screenshots of things you’d want and need when you come across them, to not worry about spending your own money when you’ve got him.

[1:45pm] you: Yes sir. And I’m all yours Saturday.

The moment you step into the nail salon, an older woman at the front greets you with a genuine smile and welcomes Jaehyun back.

“The usual?” she asks Jaehyun, to which he nods and returns her smile. “And what about you, honey?”

“A full set with gel polish, please.”

She grabs a basket of the gel polish swatches and hands it to you. “When you’re ready you can go to seat three.”

You eye the colors, but the same few colors you always gravitate towards catch your eye.

“Hey,” you call quietly to get Jaehyun’s attention. “Can you pick a color for me?”

Not only would you like a change, you’re also curious about his taste. He wears nothing but neutral colors, as far as you know, so you wonder if it’s just for the job or if he is really just that simple of a man.

The lady on the other side of desk three smiles brightly at you as you put your purse on the hook next to you. “Did you pick a color yet?”

You point to Jaehyun, “I let him decide for me today.”

Her eyebrows slowly rise. “He’s finally gotten himself a girlfriend?” she asks the woman beside her. They just exchange a look that you don’t quite understand or care enough to try to understand.

Right as she begins prepping your second hand, Jaehyun sits down beside you at desk two and sets his chosen color beside you.

A neutral pink. Fitting for the season, but a color you definitely would’ve chosen yourself.

“This with the white tips. I like that look,” he explains. Good taste. You haven’t had french tips in a while.

He watches the nail technician he was assigned to as she works, the two having small talk and you take a wild guess that she’s the woman who usually, if not always, does his manicures, meanwhile you watch the tv above your tech’s head. This compilation of aesthetically pleasing videos is playing and it’s admittedly hard to take your eyes off of it.

The video plus getting pampered has you relaxed in your seat, the stress from the school week that just ended melting away. Your nail technician is so gentle with you, you could doze off. She eventually asks a few questions like if you’re from around the area, if you know there’s a bruise on the middle finger of your dominant hand (from holding pens/pencils all damn day) and more all in a gentle voice, and before you know it she’s done with the structure of the acrylic and the filing, sending you off to rinse your hands off well.

You come back to the sight of Jaehyun stifling a big yawn behind his free hand, shaking his head as if to gather himself right after. Once again, instead of getting some rest after a long flight, he’s out with you. This is the third time. A big part of you is flattered, really, because you enjoy being with him and the feeling is clearly mutual. But, you’re sure he didn’t get proper rest last night or today.

You stick your right hand out for the tech to start on and place your free hand on his bicep to gain his attention. He blinks at you, confused, and you ignore the sudden warmth that spreads in your chest at the adorable look on his face.

“Why do you keep postponing sleep to take me out?” you ask.

The blinking continues, taken aback at getting called out. “Because I look forward to being with you after business trips?” he asks more than states, and you just continue to admire his straightforwardness.

“Do you trust me to drive back?” You caress his blushing cheek with your thumb because you can’t help yourself when the color fades in, and he doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans into the touch, much to your surprise. “You look like you could fall out any second.”

He nods slowly and you return the gesture with a smile, muttering out a soft ‘okay’ before putting your hand back in front of you.

“I’m glad to see you’ve found someone that can deal with your busy schedule,” his nail tech says, sighing like a relative that’s been waiting for him to get married for the longest. “You two are a lovely couple.”

The two of you thank her, both glancing at one another.

“Speaking of schedules,” Jaehyun says as if just remembering something. “Are you busy on Saturday?”

“Not if you need me.” Saturday was just going to be spent reviewing lesson plans and doing self-care with Bella.

His dimples appear at your response. “We have a business event to attend to.”

“Ah,” You nod and squint in mock suspicion. “You’re buttering me up to surround me with a whole bunch of men talking about boring business stuff. Got it.”

“It’s not even like that,” he chuckles deeply. “You know I need you by my side.”

And yeah, that is in the contract, but the tone of his voice and look in his eyes make you believe that your agreement isn’t the only reason for his words. Now you’re the one with a warm face.

Back in the front of the salon, after Jaehyun has paid, he gently grabs your hand and lifts it up to look at your nails. He nods, satisfied with how they look, clasping your hands together to lead you out of the salon. Not before thanking and saying goodbye to the staff.

Jaehyun opens the door of the driver’s side with his free hand and gestures for you to get in. When you just stand there, he says: “You said you’d drive, right?”

“You’re one hundred percent sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your initial thought is why would you be because even Taeyong doesn’t let you drive his baby, but you don’t question him further. You just slip into the car and he’s fighting a smile at the way all of your teeth are showing due to your excitement. He closes the door and makes his way into the passenger seat.

You’ve never felt so giddy to adjust mirrors and the seat of a car before.

“Where to?” you ask, seatbelt on and ready to go.

“The mall we passed on the way here. I saw something I thought you might like.”

You absolutely adore the matching Saint Laurent bag and heels; black with gold accents.

“Oh wow.”

Jaehyun’s reaction to you opening your front door is enough to let you know he thinks you look as good as you feel, if not better. Admittedly, the heels are the most uncomfortable pair you’ve ever walked in, but when they look this pretty, paired with the sleek, tight emerald dress that you were gifted a couple days ago with a note reminding you of tonight’s events, who really cares about comfort? You’ll likely be sitting down most of the night, anyway.

You smile slyly at his lack of words. “Hey, handsome. Come in, I’m almost done.”

“You smell good,” is what he says as he walks past you and into your home, and you’ll take it. You did bring out your favorite scent tonight after all.

“Thank you,” you chuckle. “I’ll be right back.”

Maybe you walk a tad bit slower than usual because you have a great feeling he’s watching you as you disappear into your room. You grab your purse and trench coat, check your lip gloss, then make your way back to where you left Jaehyun.

“Sorry,” he begins as you walk up to him, prompting you to raise a brow. “Good evening. You look amazing and I was lost for words for a moment.”

“Thank you,” you repeat. You fix the flap of his tuxedo jacket as you return the compliment. “And thanks for the dress. You have a weirdly good eye for what looks good on me.”

“When I saw the dress I just knew,” Jaehyun shrugs, eyes definitely on what the neckline exposes before they move up to your eyes. “Ready?”

On the way to the event, Jaehyun gives you a small rundown of what to expect.

“Most of the people you’ll meet are cool, they may talk your head off, though.”

“Nothing I’m not used to,” you shrug. Being a teacher calls for lengthy conversations you’d rather not participate in. “‘Most,’ though?”

“There are a few guys I’m personally not fond of and wouldn’t be working with them if it weren’t for my father’s connection.”

You nod. “I’m sure I can make interactions a little more digestible for you. I mean, that is why I’m here.”

“Just let me know if it becomes too much. I’m not opposed to leaving early.”

You’re sure you’ll be fine, but you hum in affirmation.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“My restaurant.” Of course he owns a restaurant. “When we have special occasions I shut it down to the public and we have our events there.”

You lightly hit his shoulder. “You’ve had a restaurant this whole time but let me struggle to pick somewhere to eat for the last couple of months?”

He grins, grabbing the hand that hit him to kiss your knuckles apologetically.

“It’s cute to watch,” he admits, laughing at the glare you send him.

It’s almost as if Jaehyun turns into a different person when the two of you step into the restaurant. Instead of the shy smiles you’re used to, you’re met with the sight of his grin and lidded eyes as he returns the greetings he gets while you walk past the bar where most of the men are seated and standing around to wherever he leads you, left hand on the small of your back. Even the smile he gives a few that show all his teeth don’t give you the usual feeling you’ve grown accustomed to. The usual warmth in your chest travels down to your abdomen as you witness him in his element, around his employees, business partners, and others. You smile and follow Jaehyun’s lead perfectly, but in the breaks between speaking to random people you catch yourself looking at him from the corner of your eye.

Yeah, you like this side of him.

You’re led to a table and Jaehyun pulls a seat out for you to settle down in.

“What do you want to drink?” he asks, hands still on the back of your seat from pushing it in, bent down to your level. And your body decides to become hyper aware of his proximity, of his minty breath fanning against your ear. You turn to catch his gaze, and he licks his lips.

“What are my options?”

His response is a deep hum, followed by: “I’m sure I’ve got whatever you have a taste for.”

You squint a little, observing him.

“Yeah?” you ask. And the grin you receive in return confirms your suspicions. He’s flirting.

“Whatever you’re getting is fine.”

“I’ll be back. No one should bother you,” he promises before he’s off to the bar.

No one is apparently a tall man with long, black hair that’s pushed back and an undercut. And a smile you can’t decipher.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, beautiful,” is the first thing he says, leaning his weight onto the hands he sets on the table. “I’m John.”

You look him up and down. “Nice to meet you, John.”

You’re stuck on introducing yourself, unsure if he really knows who you are. You remember his face when vague introductions were made, but he’s the only one that has done more than just stare and smile at you. You briefly look in the direction Jaehyun left to and he has a flute in each hand, caught up talking to an older man.

“I’m not trying to get at you,” he reassures you with a laugh. “I take it you’ve never heard of me and I’m hurt, honestly. I’m Jaehyun’s best friend.”

That explains a lot.

“John.” Champagne is set down in front of you, but before you can thank him, he’s speaking to your new acquaintance. “Let’s not do that thing you like to do.”

“Am I not important to you?” Johnny asks dramatically after they give each other a hug. Jaehyun ignores him as he sits down beside you “You’d think after all these years I’d come up in conversation with your–”

“You’re doing the thing,” Jaehyun interrupts. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

John’s smile is slick but he leaves without another word. But not without a wink that makes Jaehyun’s face somehow get straighter.

“He’s your best friend?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink. It’s dry going down, and you make a mental note to get something else once you’ve finished this flute.

“I question myself on it, too.” The drink goes down smoother for Jaehyun. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, though.”

“You’re a big question mark,” you laugh lightheartedly.

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t know much about you.”

There’s a moment of silence as he slowly nods his head, and you almost regret saying anything. While your best friend was right about mysterious guys being your type, you’d think after being in each other’s company for so long you’d know a little more about him than just the basics and his everyday life. With the tiny crush you’ve acquired, your curiosity has increased, but you’ve never brought the matter up because you almost feel as if it isn’t your place to.

“What do you want to know about me?” he finally asks. His flute is set on top of the table and he leans into you, giving you his full attention.

“Whatever you’re comfortable sharing. Nothing crazy like your childhood trauma or anything but I’m just interested in you as a person.”

You enjoy the small details you learn about him each time you meet, you just want to go a little deeper than the surface. You’ve gotten the chance to hear about his family and his relationship with them a little, but you’d like more.

You don’t think you’re doing this sugar baby thing correctly. You probably shouldn’t be so invested in who Jaehyun is as a person outside of his status and money wiring. You definitely shouldn’t be liking him to the extent that you do.

The man beside you hums, rolling his lips together like everything you’ve said since John left requires extra processing, which leads you to down more of the dry drink anxiously.

He ends up scooting his chair closer to yours.

“I’ve been told I’m boring,” he confesses.

“Quiet, maybe,” you correct him. “But I doubt you’re boring.”

“Ask me whatever you’re interested in knowing about and I guess I’ll let you be the judge. Does that sound good to you?”

Nervousness transmutes into excitement that you have to bite down, literally biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling at this little breakthrough.

“Sounds great.”

“You have to reciprocate, though,” is Jaehyun’s condition. “I definitely want to get to know more about you, too.”

More of Jaehyun’s close friends and the employees that aren’t afraid to walk up to him and speak about something other than work come by the pair of you, and you’re perfectly content with mostly just sitting on the sidelines and observing. Dinner won’t actually start for another half hour, apparently, so now is when everyone is mingling. Comments have been made about how the two of you look good together, even some separate compliments about you, but mainly directed at him.

An older man puts a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, making his presence known and stealing his attention away from the conversation Jaehyun is having with an intern that so clearly looks up to him. One glance up tells you all you need to know about this man. Jaehyun’s smile turns fake.

“Mr. Park,” he greets politely, nodding to the intern to silently tell him they’ll talk later while standing, hovering over the elder.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on the big deal again,” Mr. Park says, gaze trailing down to you. You throw him a polite smile. “And to say hello to the beautiful woman you’ve been hiding from us.”

And there it is. The compliment is completely different from the one John indirectly gave you, his tone enough to create an uncomfortable atmosphere. You slowly rise to your feet anyway, extending your hand towards him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Park.”

“And she’s got manners,” he continues. Your hand is grasped, but lifted up to his mouth, and he plants a kiss onto your knuckles. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

As you pull your hand away, you introduce yourself. You discretely wipe your hand off onto your dress and intertwine your fingers with Jaehyun’s.

“A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.” The line is as outdated as he is but you keep a pleasant expression on, thanking him. “Why is this my first time seeing you?”

“Conflicting schedules,” you say. “But I had to come and celebrate with him this time.”

“You’ve caught a good one,” the elder man winks. “Better keep her close. Never know who’d want to take your place.”

His laugh annoys you. The sound is high pitched and almost taunting.

“Very unlikely they’d get the chance to, but thank you for the compliment.” You lift your hand to caress the nape of Jaehyun’s neck, getting him to look down at you. “He’s perfect, how could anyone else even compare?”

And there’s the shy smile you’re familiar with.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun asks, so you continue to milk your performance for Mr. Park.

“Mhm,” you nod, letting your hand rub down his chest, intensifying your gaze. Nothing but solid muscle is felt beneath the fabric of his shirt. “You know how good you make me feel.”

Jaehyun doesn’t have a comeback, but his smile widens as he lets go of your hand to slide it to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him—he smells so good. He cranes his neck down until his nose brushes your own. Having him this close, his breath fanning over your mouth, your own breathing gets heavier. At the corner of your eye, the older man continues to watch the interaction, and when you lift your chin just a little to brush your glossy lips against Jaehyun’s, your audience finally takes the hint, telling you it was nice to meet you and congratulating your date before briskly walking off.

“Was that too much?” you whisper when it’s just the two of you. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Jaehyun laughs, more to himself, caressing your exposed back with his thumb. “Not at all.”

“I don’t like him,” you confess, hand still on his chest. Peeling your body from his own isn’t an appealing thought right now. He doesn’t make a move to do so, either. “He made me uncomfortable so I had to return the feeling. I hope he enjoyed the show.”

“So I’m perfect, huh?” The brunet prompts, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the perfect package,” you say matter of factly. “You’re kind, respectful, successful, and handsome with a great head on your shoulders…” The sight of his tongue swiping over his lower lip–licking over your peach flavored gloss– momentarily distracts you.

“Even though you don’t know much about me, you still think so highly of me?” Did his voice get even deeper somehow?

“I’m sure you’ve got your fair share of skeletons in your closet but who doesn’t? And after seeing you interact with everyone I can see why half of them look up to you.”

You can’t get your eyes off of the lower half of his face, can’t find it within you to care that he’s definitely noticed by now. Especially when he smiles, the skin around his nose creating what looks like whiskers.

“I guess I know who to go to whenever I doubt myself now, huh?”

Smoothing your hand back up to the nape of his neck, you hum. “I like to think I’m good at making people feel good.”

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips again before he clears his throat, hand slipping to your waist as he takes his time detaching from you. Your own hand drops pathetically. “Do you want another drink?”

“Just water, please.”

At his lack of presence, you sit back down, blinking in disbelief. Jaehyun’s a smart man. He has to know how him touching you like that—holding you like that—affected you. Every interaction makes you fall for him a little more, makes you desire him a lot more.

You close your eyes and sigh. “I like to think I’m good at making people feel good,” you mock yourself under your breath.

When you peek at Jaehyun while he’s at the bar, you notice he takes a moment to himself to take a deep breath, laughs to himself, and shakes his head before proceeding to get two glasses of the water you requested.

Spring break.

A week without having to wake up at the asscrack of dawn, without three periods of high schoolers getting on your damn nerves, in addition to a few teachers having sticks so far up their asses and other unorganized, difficult staff and faculty. Not as long as winter break but the weather is nicer and you can go to the beach to relax and unwind this year.

Taeyong’s girlfriend has a beach house that she told him to invite you to because she knows with your profession you’d highly appreciate the peace and quiet, and you agreed immediately, your bags packed containing mostly bathing suits and sundresses. A week at the beach where you don’t have to put much effort into doing your hair and makeup unless someone decides they want to go out for dinner? Perfect.

“Hellooo?”

Taeyong appears a few seconds after his greeting, holding up an untouched smoothie in one hand and a brown bag you’re sure has a muffin in it in the other one. Bless his soul.

He has a big smile on his face and the black rimmed sunglasses with red lenses that you got him for his birthday and a sweatsuit similar to the one you’ve got on.

“Aw, you wanna be like me.”

He rolls his eyes once he sees what you’re talking about. “Are you ready?”

You scan your bed. Toiletry bag, chargers and hair products and tools inside of your suitcase, check. Shoe bag, check. Accessories, check.

“Ready,” you nod, finishing up by zipping up your suitcase and shoe bag.

When he’s by your side he bumps your hip with his, telling you he’s got your bags and to just take what’s in his hands.

“I know you haven’t eaten yet,” he gives you a parental look and effortlessly picks your heavy ass suitcase up to settle it on the floor and extend the handle. “so I got you something small because Seulgi is cooking for us right now.”

You hum a thanks, slipping your slides on.

“Be good while I’m gone, okay?” you coo to Nala as you pick her up and hold her out in front of you. She lets out a tiny bark. “I’ll miss you too, sweetie.”

A kiss to the top of her furry little head before she’s free to roam around as she pleases.

“Don’t forget the alarm.”

“Yes, mother,” you mock, and when his mouth opens to ask another question you quickly add, “I texted Jisung the code and Nala’s schedule. Now go.”

When your music starts playing in the car, Taeyong side eyes you.

“You listen to the same three songs, Tae,” you deadpan.

He doesn’t even try to deny it, instead, starting up a conversation on what you’re not going to do to embarrass him since it’s your first time meeting his girlfriend.

Taeyong gently sets down all of the bags at the front door, then beckons you to follow him quietly.

Music is blasting and a feminine voice is singing along. When you two round the corner you’re greeted with the sight of hips moving side to side, her back to the two of you as she cooks.

There’s already plates set up at the table on the other side of the kitchen, and in the middle of the wooden tabletop, there’s a variety of sides, a bottle of wine that has recently become your favorite, and another bottle of sparkling water.

You stay put at the entrance of the kitchen while Taeyong sneaks up behind her, hands behind his back as he leans close to say something you can’t hear in her ear. Her voice cracks when she screams, body turning around to immediately fight him, fists positioned until she sees it’s just her boyfriend. She calls him a jerk and pouts, but then her arms are around his neck for a quick hug and kiss, eyes widening at something else he says before her attention snaps to you. A big smile takes over her face and she all but pushes him away to make a beeline for you.

“Will you be uncomfortable if I hug you right now?”

You blink. “No?”

She wastes no time to do just that, rocking you side to side with a sigh. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. Taeyong’s told me so much about you,” she laughs, giving you a big squeeze before letting you go. “Hi, I’m Seulgi. I asked Taeyong what you like to eat but he’s no help and he wouldn’t give me your number,” she rolls her eyes. “He said something about you being embarrassing.”

Not only is her beach house lovely, with a beautiful view of the beach that you haven’t even fully gotten to see yet, she’s gorgeous and kind. You like her already.

“I’m not picky,” you wave dismissively, Taeyong snorting, “nor am I embarrassing,” you direct a glare at your cousin when he passes on his way to get the luggage.

It would’ve been nice to have a chat or two with her before officially meeting.

“Let me show you your room.”

Seulgi grabs your hand softly and leads you up the stairs, makes a right then opens the second door on the left.

Huge bed with black and white sheets and a white comforter, huge tv on a black wooden dresser that matches the nightstand beside the bed.

“Sorry for how dark it is, my sister decorated it.”

Taeyong comes in and sets your bags in front of the bed, then he’s got an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Closet is right there,” Seulgi points to a door on the right side of the main door, “bathroom is here,” her finger flies to the other side of the room. “If you need a nice bath you’re free to use the one in our room, just let me know so we can get out of your way. Any questions or concerns?”

“Nope,” you take another glance around the room. “I’m good. Thank you for letting me stay here.”

She gently swats a perfectly manicured hand at you. “Please, if you ever need to get away from the city for a couple of days just let me know, you’re always welcome to stay.”

You might be looking at her the same way Taeyong is right now. Completely enamored.

A timer sounds from downstairs, Seulgi perking up.

“Food’s done. Come down whenever you’re ready,” she says to you and Taeyong, patting him on the back before heading downstairs.

“I love her.”

Taeyong laughs with a nod, taking a seat at the foot of your bed. “Yeah, me too. I knew the two of you would hit it off but I was still nervous.”

“When you fuck up I’m snatching her,” you say with a wide smile as you walk out of the room.

Lunch goes amazingly. There’s endless conversation filled with learning about each other and you only try to embarrass your cousin once just because of the lecture in the car, to which you earned a flick on the forehead for, but Seulgi pinched his arm for you. You get both sides of the story on how they met at the gym, your cheek in your palm as you watch the couple reminisce with banter and heart eyes, appreciating the display of love.

Clothes get changed into bathing suits and then the three of you are walking barefoot in the sand, headed closer to the ocean. The walk is short, and only a couple of minutes later towels and lounge chairs are spread out, the cooler filled with water bottles and wine coolers is set down somewhere in between, and all of you are lying down under the sun.

The star is blazing and you’ll never admit it to him, but you’re thankful Taeyong asked if you applied sunblock before you stepped outside (“I’m a responsible adult, Taeyong. Of course I did.”). The breeze against your skin is pleasant combined with the bright, hot sun.

Conversation naturally slips into silence, Seulgi on her stomach to tan her back, Taeyong up and becoming one with the ocean because he takes astrology seriously now. You check the texts Jisung sent less than an hour ago, updating you on how the walk with Nala went and that he ate all of your grapes with a smiling emoji. Your eyes roll when you tell him to eat all he wants.

A soft call of your name takes your attention off of your phone and directs it to the woman the voice came from.

“Yeah?”

“Are you in a relationship?”

You snort. “I’m very single.”

An intrusive thought of Jaehyun surfaces, but you push it out just as fast as it arrived.

She frowns.

“I’ll try to keep down the affection with Taeyong in front of you. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Even with her invitation, you’re the one that’s kind of interrupting a romantic vacation, whether they view it that way or not. Your plan is to be a ghost, chill on the beach and read as much as you can and let the couple do all of their couple activities without the thought of you being here until it’s time for dinner or any other group event.

“Don’t worry about me,” you smile, adjusting your sunglasses. “I don’t mind PDA.”

“Just let us know if we’re being gross, okay?”

You nod, but you doubt you’ll catch them being gross often with how you’ve planned your visit.

An hour after Taeyong snatched your phone out of your hand and dropped it in the sand beside you to throw you over his shoulder and bring you into the water with him, you’re exhausted and smell like salt. You don’t know if a shower has ever felt this good before. The water’s temperature is just right, the pressure is great, the loofah that was waiting for you is perfect, and it could also be the many wine coolers and shots you downed, but you feel amazing. The more it sinks in that you don’t have to deal with fifteen through eighteen-year-olds nor do you have to plan anything for them for the next six days because you already lost sleep making sure you had papers printed and powerpoints made a week in advance, but your students do have homework and study guides complete before Monday, the lighter your body feels. Oh, you’re going to sleep amazingly tonight.

A long swipe of your hand across the foggy mirror shows you an image of you looking the most content you’ve seen yourself in a while. Your skin is a little darker than when you first arrived and glowing, Eyes heavy from the drinks and sleepiness, the smallest of smiles playing on your lips.

Tightening your towel around you, you get to work combing your drenched hair out. There’s music playing from the speakers around the house, faint but loud enough to recognize the beat, your hips moving along to it. You squeeze some product into your hand then smooth it throughout the detangled half of your head before doing the same on the other side.

The calm atmosphere is ruined by your name getting called by a familiar yet unexpected voice and your body jumps because of it. The mirror has cleared up for the most part and when you lift your eyes from the reflection of your fingers in your hair to the reflection on the man in dark clothing you scream, bringing your hand to the secured knot that’s keeping your towel and turning around.

What the actual fuck.

“Shit, Jaehyun,” you place your free hand over your heart, exhaling loudly.

A loud call of your name from your cousin sounds from downstairs but you’re too busy staring at the man in front of you dumbly. He’s looking at you the same way. Heavy footsteps up the stairs end when two concerned faces pop up behind him before you can open your mouth and ask how the hell the two of you are in the same place right now.

“Oh,” Seulgi says, wide eyes moving back and forth between the two of you before she pushes Jaehyun into the room that you now know is behind the extra door you peeped before getting into the shower and her voice goes out as she asks, “when did you even get here?”

The look on Taeyong’s face shows he’s waiting for his girlfriend to be far enough away for him to ask, “Isn’t that-”

You nod. “Yep.”

“Come downstairs when you’re done?” Seulgi asks, popping her head back into the bathroom. Once you nod again, she pulls Taeyong away with her and shuts the door.

You finish up your hair and get dressed quickly. You don’t understand how the hell you ended up in this kind of coincidence, but your buzzed mind doesn’t bother to try to put any pieces together, especially since you’re on the way downstairs to get answers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on the way?” Seulgi asks from the kitchen.

“You knew I was coming…” Jaehyun’s deadpan voice makes you smile, but you straighten your face when you round the corner and get into their line of sight. You make your way beside Taeyong, whose eyebrows are pulled in as he stares at the side of the newcomer’s face. A touch of your hand on his arm relaxes his tense form and breaks his one-sided stare off, eyes soft when they land on you. Soon everyone’s attention is on you. Jaehyun doesn’t seem surprised anymore. More like he’s just taking in your reaction to everything, seeing how he should regard you.

“So I forgot to mention my cousin would be here,,” Seulgi starts with an awkward, apologetic smile. “And I forgot to mention you were coming,” she says, looking and pointing at you. She proceeds to introduce you and Taeyong to Jaehyun and vice versa.

You push yourself off the table and walk up to him, hand presented between you two for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

His lips go thin before he lets out an amused breath through his nose. He grabs your hand and gingerly shakes it. “Likewise.”

A knock on the half-closed door grants you access to the view of Jaehyun slowly sitting up on his bed, one hand caressing his chin while the other holds his phone.

“So,” you hum, leaning against the doorframe. “Looks like we’re together this week after all.”

The other day he told you he’d be on vacation for a week so he couldn’t meet up with you, which was perfect because you were in the same situation, and now look at you. The cousin of the love of Taeyong’s life is the man you meet up with weekly. the man that adds money into your bank account weekly. You’ve sobered up since the bathroom incident and honestly, you’re pretty happy to spend more than a few hours at a time with him.

“All week, at that.”

“I’m excited,” you admit. “If it storms, your bed is fair game, right?”

Jaehyun shakes his head with a smile, but responds with: “I’ll keep the doors unlocked.”

When you knock on Jaehyun’s door the next day around noon, it takes a moment for him to grant your entrance, and when you open it he’s on his laptop.

“Is this not a vacation for you?” you tsk after catching a glimpse of the screen.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “It is, but-”

“No buts,” you interrupt him. “If it isn’t detrimental, I’d like your company on the beach.”

“So we’re not pretending we don’t know each other?”

You take a seat next to him on the edge of his bed.

“Taeyong was there the first night we met,” you admit, to which Jaehyun nods.

“You came prepared.”

“You could’ve been a creepy seventy-something year old man trying to get his dick wet,” you say, and he chuckles, nodding again. “I don’t think he’d say anything to Seulgi, honestly. But even if he did, we’re grown.” You shrug.

Jaehyun saves a document and exits out of it, closing his laptop to put it to the side. He finally looks at you for more than a quick second, and his gaze lingers on the bikini and the see-through cover up you have on.

“That’s a pretty color on you,” he compliments before getting up and walking to his suitcase.

“Thank you.” You watch him as he squats down to open his luggage, rummaging through his clothes until he pulls out a pair of swim trunks. In your internal excitement that you’ve successfully pulled him away from work to come to the beach with you, you fail to decipher what the expectant yet amused look on his handsome face translates to when he’s back to his full height.

“Are you comfortable?” Jaehyun asks, the corner of his mouth lifted. You open your mouth to question what he means but when he slowly lifts his shirt off, you understand. You nibble on the inside of your lip.

How bold do you want to be?

You’re on vacation with your sugar daddy, even if that wasn’t the original plan. In a beach house, alone—the couple went out to get more groceries because Seulgi got carried away yesterday in the kitchen. You know exactly how you feel about the man before you, and even though he’s still hard to read, his glances and touches either give you an idea of how he might feel, or they just make you delusional. You doubt it's delusion, though, if you’re being honest.

The contract, though.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” you finally say after a long moment of silently staring at one another. “Want me to pack any drinks for you?”

“It’s only noon.”

“You’re on vacation,” you counter, hand lingering on the door under the guise you’re just still having conversation. All of those hours in the gym have done him well.

“A couple of beers wouldn’t hurt, I guess.” He shrugs.

“There ya go,” you lilt, smiling widely, finally taking your leave.

You’re definitely going to make the most of this trip.

With only sunglasses and black swim trunks, Jaehyun makes his way towards you on the beach after a while. You’re in the midst of putting on sunscreen, struggling to reach the middle of your back.

“Do you need help?” he asks, sitting next to you on your lounge chair instead of the one you set up for him a couple of feet away.

“Please,” you exasperate. You hand him the bottle and turn your back towards him. He rubs the lotion onto your back with the perfect pressure, starting from your shoulders and gradually making his way down to your lower back. Head tilting to the side, you let out a hum of appreciation. “I just know you give good massages.”

“I’ve only given one or two,” Jaehyun admits, hands still going even though he’s covered basically every inch of your back. His fingers slip under the horizontal strap, spreading outward and grazing over the side of your breasts. “Always been on the receiving end.”

“Well,” you sigh, enjoying his lingering touch. “I’ll gladly be your test dummy. I’ve got some knots in the back of my neck and my feet could definitely use some TLC.”

Jaehyun chuckles, adjusting your bathing suit strings before handing you the bottle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you need me to put some on your back?” you ask, happy to return the favor.

He thinks about it for a moment before he nods and turns. You shake the bottle and pop the cap open before squeezing the sunscreen onto the palm of your hand, throw the bottle to the side and rub your hands together before running them up his back.

“You talk about me,” Jaehyun laughs breathily when he shivers a bit at your touch. You hum in question, working your fingers into his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles and having the need to release some of the tension while you’re here. You appreciate how his muscles feel under his smooth skin. “Might have to start going to you for my bi-weekly massages instead of the spa.”

You enjoy spending time with him. You enjoy learning new things about him. You really enjoy the intimate moments the two of you share.

“I think that’s something we could arrange.”

Finishing up, you rub the residual sunscreen on your hands down his arms and give a squeeze, signaling the end of his impromptu massage.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Jaehyun asks once the two of you are laying side by side in the chairs.

“Sit in the sun for a while, get in the water for a while, drink until I feel like I’m one with the ocean, and leave once I’m burnt out,” you list for him. “You down?”

He nods. “I am.”

And when it’s time to get in the ocean, the waves are stronger than you thought they’d be. Nothing crazy, but with how deep you wanted to go, the water smacks into your face sometimes.

“Come here,” Jaehyun finally says after laughing at your cute struggle. He grabs your waist and tugs you into his body, and after you place your hands on his shoulders, he lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

The added height and being pressed against his toned body make the experience even better.

The rest of the time spent in the water goes by like this, not many words exchanged, but you lightly clinging onto him, his hold on you strong but not restricting, and the two of you just enjoy the surprisingly almost empty beach together. You leave when both of you are raisined, and come back to the beach house to Taeyong finishing preparing lunch.

–

You can’t remember the last time you were in a jacuzzi.

Taeyong urged you to get in because he wanted to spend some alone time with Seulgi while they cooked dinner for everyone and you had no qualms. You made sure to grab a bottle of wine and a wine glass before getting kicked out, though.

You’re in the middle of pouring your second glass when you hear the sliding door open and close, then Jaehyun is walking towards you with a towel slung over his shoulder and blue swim trunks sitting low on his hips.

Is he genuinely this oblivious to how captivating he is?

“I got kicked out,” he tells you, kicking his flip flops off.

“Join the club.” You raise your glass towards him before taking a sip.

You watch him as he climbs in, settling down on the opposite side of where you’re sitting, arms spread out to his sides. There’s a still moment where you observe one another, a slight smile on his face while you continue to drink from your glass.

“I’m surprised you’re not sick of that wine by now.”

“It’s been my favorite since the night we met,” you admit, hiding a shy smile behind the rim of your glass. “I’m almost out of the stock you gave me.”

“I’ll send you some more when we get back,” Jaehyun promises. “Have you tried the white?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t want to open a bottle and waste it if I didn’t like it.”

“I want you to try it. It’s my favorite.“ He stands up and climbs back out of the hot tub.

Jaehyun disappears and he’s in and out quickly with the bottle, bottle opener, and glass in hand, this time sitting closer to you when he’s back in the water. He fills up half of his glass before holding it out to you. Setting your own down, you grab Jaehyun’s and take a sip, swishing it around in your mouth to get rid of the other wine’s taste and swallowing before taking another to really taste it.

“I like it.” You nod.

“Clearly not as much as the red,” Jaehyun laughs, taking the glass back to drink it himself.

You don’t, but you might also just like it because he took it upon himself to get out of the jacuzzi when he’d only been sitting in it for a couple of minutes just to go back into where he got kicked out of, just so you can taste his favorite wine. Granted, Jaehyun is drinking it himself, but your mind focuses on how he possibly just got softly chewed out for going back in for you.

“Why are you still single?” you practically sigh, not quite understanding how a man of his status, with his looks, kindness, and personality hasn’t been swept up and married by now.

Jaehyun’s brow raises mid-sip.

“I could ask you the same,” he retorts instead of giving a real answer. You’ve known him long enough to know he won’t just give you the information you’re searching for, you’ve got to give him a piece of you before he returns the gesture. And you have no qualms.

“Well,” you start, turning towards him more, kicking your feet up so your heels rest upon his lap. He doesn’t even blink at the change of position. “I’m taking the time to build myself and the life I desire without too many distractions. I’ve had ideas and goals for myself and my future for years, but when I’d get into a relationship I always ended up slacking and pushing those goals aside for later. I’m now at a place in my life where I love myself enough to not let me sweep my goals under the rug for the love of someone else. I’m still young, I have time to find love after I’ve established myself to an extent that I’m more than content with.”

Jaehyun hums, setting his now empty glass aside before your foot is in his hands with his thumbs digging into your sole firmly.

“Do you not think it’s possible to establish yourself and find love in the process?” he prompts.

“That hasn’t been the case thus far,” you chuckle, the sound trailing into a quiet groan. Whatever pressure point he just pressed into feels like heaven. “You sure you’ve never given a massage?”

The brunet flashes you a satisfied smile, shaking his head softly. “Sounds like your previous partners were distractions rather than supporters.”

“My taste in men was terrible,” you agree instantly. “I was always the one to love more and make more sacrifices for love while I got gaslit and mediocre sex in return.”

You’re saying more than you’d intended to, and you definitely blame your slight intoxication, but it’s actually nice to talk about this with someone who isn’t your cousin or your best friend. You don’t mind opening up to Jaehyun at all. His presence has been warm, inviting since day one, and he doesn’t give the impression to be one to judge.

Jaehyun lifts your leg to dig into your calf muscle, resting your foot on his chest. “You have pretty feet.”

You laugh at his compliment, raising a teasing brow. “A foot fetish, huh?”

The corners of his mouth fight to not lift. “When was your last relationship?”

“About a year and a half ago.” You set your glass next to his and fit your cheek into your propped up hand. “I’ve been abstinent since.”

Jaehyun’s eyes grow big. “Really?”

“It’s not that hard.” You shrug. “Definitely gets boring, though. But that discipline has allowed me to get further with my passions than ever before. Well, the discipline plus you.”

Jaehyun’s pretty fingers just so happen to find another spot, this time in your calf, that makes you practically whimper from the pleasurable pain. The moment of eye contact that comes right after lets you know you didn’t bite it down enough to mute the sound, as well as the way his movements falter.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “From funding?”

“Mostly, yeah. But you’re a really disciplined person who many look up to. You even work on vacation,” you tsk lightheartedly. “The energy has rubbed off on me a little.”

“Being around you has definitely made me cut back on how much time I put into work.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve gotten to actually spend uninterrupted time with Seulgi. And bond with Taeyong for the first time in what? Three years?”

Now that he’s mentioned it, you realize just how much more frequent your meetups are in comparison to when you’d first met. You see him every week, and while every date isn’t full of long conversations and massages, he rarely checks his emails or ends nights sooner than expected because of early mornings ahead.

“So basically I was a great addition to your life.” You nod, wiggling your leg out of his grasp then presenting your untouched foot for him to start working on. “Okay–your turn to talk.”

He sighs deeply, gaze dropping from your face to the task at hand.

“I’m similar to you, in regards to being the one that loves more than being loved. I’ve always tried to be cautious because I’m a bit of an easy target.”

“How so?”

“I come from generational wealth and I love giving,” Jaehyun elaborates for you, glancing up at you briefly before watching his fingers knead into your calf. “Even with being cautious, I ended up falling for women who pretended to love me to reap the benefits of being associated with me.”

You hum, frowning a little. You’ve dealt with similar situations, only instead of being used for your money, you were used for your body and loyalty.

“I was really in love with my ex, even Seulgi befriended her. One day Seulgi overheard her talking to someone on the phone, making plans to get flown out by some professional athlete. I don’t even know the whole story but I broke up with her and blocked her on everything before she could try to explain.”

The situation still hurts him, it’s evident by the sadness that washes over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jae.” You pout. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jaehyun gives you a small smile. “In hindsight, it was obvious she didn’t actually like me. I just liked her too much to leave without a reason, I guess.”

Story of your life.

“How’d you get into this business then?” you ask, gesturing between the two of you.

“Like I said, I love giving. I love spoiling someone, typically only one person at a time, though.” Not that you ever really questioned or even thought about it before this very moment, a wave of warmth passes through your chest at knowing you’re the only one that gets to have these moments with Jaehyun. “And my friend has had a few babies and recommended it. I get to spoil someone–you, without having to assume you love me for me and not just my money and without getting my heart broken. Plus the benefits of having someone by my side at events.”

“Am I your baby?” you lilt, cheesing at the way the male fights a stupid grin.

“Yes,” he agrees easily. “You are my baby and I think we got lucky for this to be our first time.”

You pull out of his hold to sit beside him, propping your elbow up to fit your cheek into your palm, and face him with a grin that tells him you’re about to drag this. “So I can actually call you daddy now? Because I really like how you just called me your baby.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” he laughs it off, moving to pour himself another half glass. “I’m not opposed.”

Your brows lift in surprise.

“So you have a foot fetish and a daddy kink?” you tease.

“How much have you drunk tonight?”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

He scoffs behind his glass and mumbles, “I enjoy it more than I probably should.”

You let your grin reach your eyes as you just watch him take gulps instead of his usual sips. You’re getting somewhere now and there’s no way you’re going to let the moment slip through your fingers.

“There’s a lot more to enjoy,” you tell him, taking the glass out of his hand to finish the little amount of liquid inside. You like the flavor a little more than before.

Brown eyes follow the trail of your tongue as you lick off a droplet of wine from your bottom lip, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Is that so?”

“It’s up to you if you want to find out,” you tell him, still giving him time to reject your advances. Being so close to finally getting a taste of what you’d been wanting has your heart beating faster than before, and the only thing on your mind is finally crossing this line you’ve been straddling.

“Maybe a preview.”

You sit up to lean into him, hooking a hand behind his neck to pull him down to your level. Testing the waters, you press a soft kiss to his lips, but when he presses back with no hesitation, you easily slot your lips with his. They’re soft and careful, just like the hand that comes up to your side to pull you even closer.

You almost sigh into the kiss after watching his mouth as he spoke for the last couple of months, tilting your head to deepen it. Jaehyun easily follows, letting you lead the pace and intensity.

After backing away a couple inches and observing him, Jaehyun’s eyes flutter open and show that he’d definitely be okay with continuing, but with your building desire for him, you don’t trust yourself to lean back in and end the exchange with just an innocent kiss. You did sign a contract after all.

So you get up, carefully stepping out of the hot tub, grabbing the towel you brought out. You wrap the white cotton around your body and head to the back door, slide it open and walk inside. It smells good, and you let the couple know as much when you’re walking past the kitchen to make it upstairs quickly before you get fussed at.

A cold shower ought to do it.

Maybe you and Jaehyun should talk about what happened in the jacuzzi last night.

You didn’t trust yourself to carry on a conversation after the moment you shared, with his eyes all lidded and lips red and just waiting for you to lean back in a repeat the action. At the dinner table there were silent glances, mostly his eyes zooming in on your mouth as you spoke then meeting your eye when he got caught.

Everyone did their own thing today for the most part. Taeyong woke you up and you all had breakfast as a group, but after that, your cousin and his girlfriend said they’d be back later and walked out of the house. They came back when it was about to be dark.

Jaehyun claimed he had some work that he actually couldn’t wait until getting back into the office to do and disappeared into his room, leaving you to enjoy your second to last full day at the beach house by yourself. You sat out on the beach for hours until the sun exhausted you, finished your book, had a long FaceTime call with Sooyoung as you cooked and ate lunch, then took a nap until Taeyong and Seulgi got back in.

You’d caught maybe two glimpses of your sugar daddy throughout the day before dinner, and while he conversed with you all, there was still something off.

A loud crack of lightning jolts you out of your thoughts as you lay on your back in bed. Followed by thunder a few seconds later. You blink up, practically glaring at the sky like you could see it through the white ceiling.

Heavy rainfall begins.

You sigh deeply, but then the dramatic exhale is cut short when you remember the short interaction you had with the man on the other side of the bathroom your first night here. You slip your robe onto your body, slide into your slippers and grab your phone before walking through the bathroom and knocking on the door opposite of yours.

It’s silent on the other end, even after another round of knocks, but the door gives in when you twist the knob experimentally. The sight of Jaehyun with his back against his headboard and laptop on his lap in dim lighting isn’t a shocking one. He’s got AirPods in, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song is playing, and you guess they’re on noise cancellation mode when you call out his name.

In your best attempt to not startle Jaehyun since his peripheral vision is blocked by his glasses, you pat the bed to get his attention, and that does the trick. His head quickly turns in your direction, and when he catches your gaze, he plucks one of his AirPods out.

You point to the window to his right. “It’s storming.”

“It is,” he says matter-of-factly with a nod. After a moment of silence, his facial expression morphs into one of understanding. “Oh. It is. ”

“Is your bed still fair game?” you ask, nervous around him for the first time since you two met. “I won’t interrupt,” you gesture at his laptop.

“I was just finishing up, actually.”

You take that as a yes.

He saves whatever he was working on before shutting the technology down and tucking in under his bed. His glasses come off and are set on his nightstand. You kick your slippers off as he does so, shrugging off your robe to drape it over the chair at the desk in the corner.

When you turn back towards the bed, Jaehyun’s giving your short, silky pajama set a onceover, averting his gaze when he realizes you’ve noticed and flipping the corner of the comforter over as an invitation for you to make yourself comfortable. And you do just that.

“Not judging,” Jaehyun disclaims. “But you’re genuinely afraid of storms?”

Pausing in the midst of snuggling under his covers, you check to see if he is judging or not. His expression is neutral, so you’ll take his word.

“Yep.” You pop the ‘p’, getting back to getting comfortable. “Just the loud ones like tonight.”

All Jaehyun does is nod in understanding.

The two of you have had your fair share of silence while together, but up until right now, the silence has never been loud. He’s not acting standoffish or anything, but his lack of eye contact is something you’re not used to. And his body language is similar to when you’d first met.

You know you should say something because you know it’s about last night and you were the one who initiated the kiss, but now that you’re here, in his bed beside him, you kind of just want to pretend like it didn’t happen if he isn’t going to mention it himself. Is that the right thing to do? You doubt it.

But is that exactly what you’re about to do? Absolutely.

“When’s the last time you shared a bed with a woman?” you ask, turning towards his still seated up body with perfect posture.

“Some months,” he confirms your suspicions.

“Do you snore?”

He shakes his head. “I do not.”

Another bout of silence.

“Are you uncomfortable with me in your bed?” you finally prompt. And when Jaehyun looks at you in confusion, you gesture at the clear difference in how the two of you are positioned. “Or are you just not ready to go to sleep yet?”

“No you’re fine,” Jaehyun reassures you, standing up in the process. “I just haven’t gotten ready for bed yet.”

You nod towards the bathroom. “I’ll be here.”

A good ten minutes later Jaehyun’s back in his room, jeans and t-shirt gone and now shirtless with loose shorts on. You put your phone down on the nightstand and turn towards his side of the bed in time with him slipping under the covers.

“Do you need me to keep the light on?”

You shake your head. “You can turn it off.”

Then it’s pitch black, not even the moonlight peeking through the blinds or curtains. And a loud crash of lightning sounds, making your body convulse.

You laugh it off, though unable to see the worried expression you’re being given.

“How can I make this less scary for you?” Jaehyun prompts after a moment, voice low and hesitant.

“How tired are you?”

“Barely.”

“Distractions always work,” you supply. Usually you’d put noise cancellation headphones in when you’re alone because this is kind of an embarrassing fear to have so no one really knows about it. Taeyong was aware when you were kids, but as far as you know, he thinks you’ve outgrown the fear. You used the storm as an excuse to come see Jaehyun and get rid of the air between the two of you but you’d only thought as far as just being in the same room as him.

“Which kind?”

You shrug. “We can talk. Watch a movie or something. Being held always helps, too.”

“We can touch on what happened last night.”

You’re actually surprised he brought it up himself.

“What about last night, exactly?”

Jaehyun lets out an unamused exhale through his nose. “Let’s not play dumb.”

The tone you just received is new and it admittedly does something to you.

Here you are, comfortable in bed with the man of your desires, who’s only clad in shorts. There’s really nothing to talk about, in your opinion. You both wanted what happened last night and you want it again. Right now.

You scoot closer to his warm body, your knees gently colliding with his thighs. Jaehyun stays still, even when you reach out, using the slight sight of his silhouette as a guide to run a hand down his shoulder to his defined chest, your fingertips brushing against his nipple.

“I’m not,” you tell him, letting your hand continue down his torso. “A few things took place last night.”

“But you know–”

“I remember you calling me your baby,” you interrupt. Your digits stop when they get to the waistband of his bottoms. “Which I enjoyed. A lot.”

Jaehyun’s resolve starts to crumble. He doesn’t say anything, allowing you to continue your recall of last night’s events along with your light touches, which are now going back up his stomach.

“And then I gave you something to enjoy. Is that what you want to talk about?” You curl your hand around the side of his neck, playing with the hairs at his nape. Jaehyun relaxes more into your touch, but you receive no answer to your question. “We could pretend it never happened, if you want.”

“I don’t,” he finally says, and you assume he’s responding to the suggestion.

“Or it could happen again.” You finish the thought, moving your thumb to brush it against his pouty bottom lip. “But I don’t think there’s much more to talk about, Jae.”

A strong hand pulls you into his body by your back before lips crash into yours. You smile as you let him control the kiss, satisfied with breaking him enough for him to initiate it. Your fingers go back into Jaehyun’s hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp as you open your mouth for his searching tongue. His mouth nor his hold are rough, just firm, and you practically melt into him.

His kisses are noisy, the sound of his lips smacking against yours practically echoing in the spacious room. The rainfall is still heavy but the crashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder sound further away than before.

He lets out a stuttered breath at the tug of his scalp, nipping your bottom lip in retaliation as his hand leisurely slips down to the back of your knee to hike your leg up around his waist.

You tilt your head up to catch your breath and Jaehyun uses the opportunity to use his nose to guide him down to your neck before pressing open mouthed kisses over a sensitive pulse point. And when you quietly moan, it only spurs him on to circle his tongue around it.

Whimpering out his name, you pull him flush against you by your leg and the hand in his hair. He continues to focus on that spot on your neck, nipping and sucking lightly but with enough bite to have your silk begin sticking to the apex of your thighs. And it’s almost like he can tell, with how his hand slides across the smooth fabric over your hips to rest on your ass, the tips of his fingers centimeters away from the mess he’s creating.

Using his hair, you guide his lips back up to yours for a slower, wetter kiss that you lead this time. And Jaehyun just follows, letting you suck on his tongue as he gropes you, unintentionally rubbing over right where you want him and pulling a gasp out your mouth. You push back to feel more and this time it’s intentional on both of your parts, the tip of his finger shallowly dipping into your silk clad entrance.

Your moan brings him back to reality, it seems, because soon his hand is slowly retracting, finding the side of your face to give you a couple more kisses that clearly signal the end of the moment. You want to pull him back in when his body starts to retract, want to settle on top of him and go further, but you don’t.

You can’t.

There’s some rummaging and the light of the television screen ahead illuminates the room as you wrap your head around the moment that just passed.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Jaehyun asks in a rough voice that makes your stomach turn. His body turned so that he’s laying on his back, one arm behind his head while the other scrolls through streaming services.

“Uh.” You clear your throat. “Something funny, I guess.”

He chooses a romantic comedy from the early 2000s and pulls you back into him, wrapping an arm around you so you can rest your head on his chest.

The storm has calmed down by now, but your mind is anything but calm.

Your eyes slowly flutter open and it takes a moment to realize your surroundings are different from what you’ve gotten used to this past week. And then you’re aware of a weight draped over your waist, and you remember the storm, the kiss, and the cuddling.

The digital clock on the nightstand reads 10:40 a.m and from a glance behind you, Jaehyun is still asleep. You’re usually awake and downstairs an hour earlier than this, and he’s always drinking a cup of coffee when you make it to the kitchen.

You do feel well rested.

It’s easy to slip out of his hold and get your day–your last full day here– started. You take a shower, throw on a matching short set and head downstairs, meeting Taeyong and Seulgi in the kitchen.

“Sleep well?” Taeyong asks, handing you a mug.

“I did.” You nod. You pour some coffee into the ceramic, followed by creamer and agave. “The storm put me to sleep.”

Your cousin eyes you for a moment and you sip from your mug, raising a brow.

“You wanna join me on the beach today?” Seulgi prompts, cutting the silent communication off and turning your attention to her. “Let the guys bond while we have our own day?”

Jaehyun rounds the corner and enters the kitchen at that moment, brow raised at his cousin’s last words. Taeyong also hands him a mug, the mug Jaehyun’s used every morning, to which the brunet thanks him for.

“Is that okay with you?” you ask, momentarily distracted by your sugar daddy sleepily rubbing his bare chest as he fills his cup with coffee. You figure she’d already run this plan by Taeyong. Jaehyun nods, sending you a gentle smile.

You return the nod and give your attention back to Seulgi. “Sounds perfect. What do you have planned?”

The pair of you end up walking along the shore, picking up the prettiest seashells you can find. It’s nice to bond with her without anyone else around, though it was quiet at first.

“Has Jaehyun been treating you well?” she asks, catching you off guard.

You’re not sure if she means during your stay here or in general, if Taeyong eventually let her know, so you just nod and answer as vaguely as possible. “He has. He’s very kind.”

“I was a bit nervous he’d be his usual uninterested self but I had hope he’d be a good host to you,” Seulgi admits with a relieved laugh. “He’s not the most social, though he does seem to talk to you pretty easily.”

“It’s my charm.” You flip your hair playfully. “Working with kids, you’ve got to be likable and easy to talk to. But yeah, he’s been great company.”

You bend down at the sight of a really pretty shell with pink on it, dusting it off to examine if it’s worth taking back with you before putting it in your little bag.

“I know you mentioned not dating anyone, but are you interested? Like, are you going out on dates and stuff or just not feeling it at all right now?”

“I’m going on dates,” you tell her. You technically go on dates with Jaehyun, “but I’m not looking to be in a relationship just yet. If it happens organically I’m not opposed, but it’s not exactly high on my list at the moment.”

She hums in understanding and nods, then changes the subject to how she doesn’t know where her mental health would be without this beach house because it’s her happy place.

Tonight is your last night of freedom. The only connection you’ve had to your work life for the last week is Jisung with his updates. He’s decided to send you daily pictures of your baby and they make you miss her a little more.

The men took it upon themselves to make dinner and it was ready by the time you and Seulgi got back in, the sun almost completely set. You appreciate how almost every meal you’ve eaten since being here has been as a group at the table, barely any phone usage (Jaehyun stopped checking his notifications so often, deciding to wait until everyone was done in the kitchen–all it took was a stern look from you when he grabbed it as soon as it pinged one night), just conversation and laughter.

It’s planned for you all to come back during your next break from work, which will be during the summer, and it works out perfectly for everyone else.

You don’t live close enough to a body of water you could submerge into, so on this last night, you’re taking advantage of the jacuzzi again.

The couple went upstairs soon after dinner to watch a movie, taking popcorn with them and all. They invited you and Jaehyun, but you told them your plan for the night and Jaehyun just declined.

He’s probably doing last minute work or just watching something on tv or his phone, but you’d prefer his company right now. So you grab your phone off of the side table and scroll to his message thread.

[10:01pm] you: Come join me in the jacuzzi?

You wait for a response for a couple of minutes, but when you don’t get one, you just put your phone back with a small sigh. But then you get bored and pick your phone back up to scroll through your explore page.

A few minutes into scrolling, the back door slides open and closed, and Jaehyun’s making his way towards you with swim trunks and a towel when you take a look behind you.

“I thought you might not join me tonight,” you admit, putting your phone aside, for good this time.

He shakes his head, dropping his towel and phone on the table before stepping inside the jacuzzi.

“When have I ever not given you what you wanted?”

At your silence, Jaehyun chuckles, settling down at a distance that isn’t far but far enough in your opinion. Especially after how close you two got last night.

That’s actually your answer to his question that you guess was supposed to be rhetorical.

“Last night.”

His brows furrow, genuinely confused.

And it’s not like you asked him for what you wanted. You didn’t tell him you wanted to go further than the kisses you shared. Didn’t ask him to stick his hand in your shorts and relieve you of what you’ve been missing for what didn’t feel like a long time until you were that close to him.

“You didn’t give me what I wanted last night,” you explain with a shrug. “But it’s nothing, really.”

Giving Jaehyun the time to make sense of your vague explanation, you extend your legs and flutter them in the water. You’re going to miss this place. You love your kids, but it’s so peaceful and lighthearted here. Well, for the most part.

“I don’t want to assume you’re alluding to what I think you are, but–” His voice is deeper than you’ve heard yet, almost strained.

“I am,” you hum. You’ve been shown that he wants you in similar ways that you want him. Last night was too much yet not nearly enough. “I know what I want and I’m almost positive you want the same thing.”

“You also know we signed a contract.”

“We’re also two consenting adults,” you remind him.

“Who signed a contract that states there won’t be a sexual relationship between us,” Jaehyun retorts. It’s been a while since you’ve seen such a stern, serious facial expression on his face. “A kiss or two is one thing but–”

“Jaehyun–”

“While I don’t think you’d try to blackmail me or send me to court for anything,” he interrupts right back, and you sigh as you listen to the rest of his statement, “a breach in the contract would allow for that and I have too much to lose.”

You take a steadying breath, understanding where he’s coming from and not taking his words personally. Of course you wouldn’t do that to him, you hadn’t even thought of that scenario until he just brought it up. All you know is he is the first man in over a year to make you want to break your abstinence and if there is a way around this you’ll take it.

“Answer this with a simple yes or no: is the feeling mutual?”

His pretty lips part to say something other than one of the two word options you gave him, getting him a pointed look.

He scrubs his face and sighs. “Yes.”

You didn’t think it would stress him out this much. You didn’t forget about or ignore the agreement between the two of you. You just wanted to let him know you’re definitely down for a revision.

“You can record me giving my consent, then we can make a new contract,” you suggest. He looks at you for a moment, like he’s processing. “If you want this to happen, get your phone. If you don’t, this conversation never happened.”

Jaehyun reaches behind him for his phone, taps the screen a few times before aiming the mic towards you. You state your first and last name, the date, and your consent while maintaining eye contact with him so he knows you do care about his career and reputation and your desires are sexual, even a little emotional. But not manipulative.

He stops the recording then puts the device back where he got it from. His body language is less tense than before, the air lighter between the pair of you. Jaehyun’s worries are gone, and that’s all you wanted.

“Any more qualms, Mr. Jung?”

By the way he licks his lips, you’re going to assume he likes being addressed as such.

“Just one,” Jaehyun begins, grabbing your calf to bring your foot to his lap, giving it the same treatment from the other night, digging his thumbs into the sole. You lift a brow, not actually expecting another issue. “Your abstinence.”

Bless him for caring about you and not just getting his dick wet. It only makes your desire for him grow.

His thumb presses into the arch of your foot and your back almost arches, a muted airy noise leaving your mouth. And by the glint in his eyes, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I already told you,” you exhale, relaxing your head back even more. “I know what I want. I can break it whenever I’d like.”

“You think I’m worth it?”

You do. You really do.

“I think you should show me that you are.”

Smiling that stupidly attractive half smile of his, Jaehyun pushes into that pressure point again, loving the way you visibly hold back a sound of pleasure, before your leg is lifted higher and higher, until his lips make contact with your heel in a sweet kiss.

“You think so?”

He just continues to kiss upward as you watch him in anticipation and desire.

“I knew it.” Your voice is a lot more airy than accusatory than you’d intended, Jaehyun’s brow lifting in response since his mouth is occupied with shallowly sucking your big toe into his mouth. “Knew you had a thing for feet.”

Jaehyun laughs, watching you just as closely as you watch him. His tongue swirls around the tip and your teeth worry at your bottom lip. There’s already a dark look in his eyes.

“I don’t.” He sets your foot down gently and his arms fall to his sides after one last peck to your arch, body language open and inviting. “I just have a thing for you.”

“Smooth.”

“Honest,” Jaehyun counters. “Come here.”

You sit up carefully and make your way to his side of the tub. You settle on his lap, stomach twisting. Images of your first meeting with him flash through your mind, and you almost laugh at how much has changed between the two of you since that night.

A strong grip on your hips pulls you out of your thoughts when they pull you in, aligning your hips and settling your core right atop his semi.

“Do you know how hard it was to pull away from you last night?” His deep voice is like velvet so close to your ears as he guides your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“It broke my heart when you did.”

You wanted nothing more than his fingers knuckle deep in you when he brushed over your core, and now, with the position you’re in, you just want him inside of you.

Apologetic hands caress your hips and waist, up and down. “I know, baby.” You lick your lips, eyes getting heavy at how easily the term of endearment rolls off his tongue and how nice it sounds to be on the receiving end. “I had to, though.”

“I know,” you sigh.

He nudges your nose with his own before he slants his lips over yours. There’s more passion, more desperation in this kiss now that there are no hindrances. His tongue laps against your bottom lip before it licks your own, pulling a low whine out of you as the wet muscles circle around each other slowly, filthily. His hands aren’t hesitant, simply caressing as they please.

“You want me to make it up to you?”

He’s already forgiven, but you nod anyway. “How will you?”

“I’m going to Bali in two weeks and I could fly you out to meet me,” Jaehyun suggests, peppering open mouthed kisses down your neck. “You can get massages, eat fresh fruit off of platters in the pool, do yoga with baby goats–” he lists and you hum at the plan and the delicate way his lips and tongue caress your skin. “And whatever else you want while I’m in meetings then we’ll go out once I’m done. I’ll show you my favorite spots and we can go anywhere you’re interested in.”

You wouldn’t mind missing a few days of work for that.

“And what else?”

An amused smile spreads against your skin before Jaehyun nips at your neck, laving his tongue over the bite. “I’ll add more money for the next few weeks.”

“What else?” you pant, gripping his locks.

The knot keeping your bikini top together is slowly pulled apart until the man underneath you can peel it off of you and set it to the side, taking a quick moment to appreciate the sight of your breasts before he dips down to run his tongue over your nipple. The tip of his wet muscle circles the nub a few times, then it’s sucked into his mouth and your grip gets even tighter. The hand that isn’t pressing into the middle of your back to keep you close to his mouth comes up to the unoccupied side of your chest to squeeze and pull at.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, your hips slowly grind down against his hardening dick, trying to relieve the ache that’s only getting more intense the longer your breasts are fondled and sucked. You think you might actually come from this alone.

Jaehyun switches sides of your chest, repeating the same attention and affection. His tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers bringing increasing pleasure to your body.

“Jae–” you whimper desperately, grinding harder, the water surrounding your bodies splashing more intensely.

He hums, sliding his hand down your back and around to your hip, gripping the soft flesh to halt the movement of your lower half. He unlatches from your chest and lightly pushes you off of his lap and you blindly follow his lead as he guides you to turn and bend over the edge of the jacuzzi.

It’s quiet for a while after you bend over, so you look behind you to catch Jaehyun admiring the shape of your ass and hips and how easily you get into position for him. His hands grasp both cheeks, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Glancing down his body, you see his dick straining against the front of his swim trunks.

“I can make it up to you right here,” Jaehyun offers, breaking the tunnel vision he had on your shape to catch your eye. “Or we can go upstairs.”

A bed would be more comfortable and convenient, so you give it a moment of thought while the man behind you continues to trace the curves of your body. All he has to do is untie your bikini bottoms or push them to the side right now. Walking upstairs seems like too long of a process.

“Here,” you decide.

And that’s all you needed to say for him to pull the strings on both sides of your hips to unravel the bows you tied earlier. The soaked bottoms get discarder right along with your top. Two fingertips glide up and down your wet slit a couple of times before they draw slow, wide circles over your clit.

“You wanted me so bad you couldn’t wait long enough to go back inside?” Jaehyun’s guttural voice asks close to your ear, his body towering over your own, his chest against your back. He hardly gives you a chance to respond before the same fingers plunge into your pussy.

“Shit,” you hiss, nodding at his question. “Wanted you so bad.”

Wet kisses trail down your spine as his hand picks up a steady pace. It feels so good to have his thicker, longer fingers deep inside of you when your own digits don’t fill you up as well or hit the same spots.

The coil in your stomach tightens embarrassingly fast and your moans get harder to suppress when his speed and force increase. Your head hangs forward, eyes closed as you focus on the feeling Jaehyun is bringing you with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. It’s unlikely the couple will hear you out here, or anyone since there is a lot of space in between the beach houses. You just don’t want to chance it.

But when he carefully sinks a third finger into your cunt, it’s not as easy to control your volume.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, body going tense.

“Too much?” Jaehyun asks, attentive yet still distracted by the way you suck his digits in. You shake your head. He starts back up slowly, giving you time to adjust and for the discomfort to pass before speeding up again when you moan in pleasure. “Need you to come around my fingers, okay baby?”

Jaehyun hums in content at how your lower half practically chases him when he barely pulls away. He reaches around with his other hand to find your clit, rubbing tight circles with a pressure that’s perfect, and he gets what he wants.

Your breath stutters when you feel the wave of intense pleasure wash over you, and you reach your first climax in a low groan, the noise swallowed by the jets in the hottub and the squelching of Jaehyun’s digits as they move up and down since the vice grip your walls have on them leave little room for him to thrust them in and out of you at this point. Your legs shake and your fingers fail to grip the slippery edge of the jacuzzi.

When you begin to come back down, sighs of content leaving your mouth, Jaehyun slowly retracts his hands and gives you a moment. There’s rustling behind you, and you sneak a glance back.

He’s naked and spreading your essence up and down his shaft, his bottom lip hanging in pleasure. He’s long and thick, but not in an intimidating way. You make a move to turn around, wanting to replace his hand with your own and your mouth, but his free hand stops you.

“I wanna suck your dick,” you tell him, yet still get back into position with your ass stuck out for him and your upper body supported by your forearms.

“Think you can wait until I’m about to come?” Jaehyun asks, rubbing his thumb over your entrance, catching the essence that drips from your fluttering hole. “Really wanna be inside you now.”

You nod again, fine with going with whatever he wants to do and how he wants to do it. You have no complaints about him being inside of you even sooner.

He pushes in slowly, enjoying the gasp you let out as well as the view of him disappearing into you inch by inch.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” you say weakly, licking your dry lips.

Jaehyun grabs your hips, both to keep you in place and give him leverage, then begins slowly pulling out and thrusting back in until your walls have engulfed him fully.

He lets out a deep exhale, head tipped back, and gives you a moment to adjust to him. The way he fills you up is unlike anything you’ve felt before and you don’t want to wait any longer.

“Move.” You push back to emphasize that you’re ready. “Please.”

His movements are fluid yet careful, not too lost in his own pleasure with how snug and wet your walls are around him, but Jaehyun watches and listens so he can make sure you feel nothing but pleasure and enjoy every moment.

Your head hangs low as you get accustomed to the delicious stretch, the friction.

“Lift your knee up for me, baby,” Jaehyun gently commands, tapping the back of your thigh.

You settle your knee beside your elbow, and that’s when he hits that spot within you that makes your arch back even more.

“Oh. Fuck,” you cry, to which Jaehyun hums at.

“Right there?” he asks, a groan threatening to slip out at how your walls flutter around his cock deliciously.

You nod your head aggressively, squeezing your fists together since you’ve failed to grip the edge of the tub with your slippery hands.

“Everything about you is just so pretty,” he compliments, sounding like he’s in awe as he gives you even slower, deeper strokes, keeping the angle that keeps you keening. “Pretty pussy,” A thick droplet of spit lands on your asshole then his thumb traces your rim a few times, catching your reaction before the tip breaches the surface. “Pretty body.”

“Oh—shit,” you moan brokenly. “Yes.”

“And you make such pretty sounds for me.”

His thumb pushes further into you and your face contorts in pleasure.

“What the fuck, Jaehyun?” you whine, the pleasure almost becoming too much at this point. His thick, long dick hitting all the places you need, his thumb lazily wiggling inside of your ass, his velvety voice. You’re so close it almost hurts.

He just laughs under his breath, using his grip on your waist to pull you back, silently telling you to move.

Your hips meet his strokes halfway, your eyes closed and practically rolled back as you match his rhythm to get you closer to coming around him then having him in your mouth.

“You feel so good, baby.” His compliments only urge you to fuck back harder, the drop of your hips creating a loud slapping noise that only turns you on even more. Jaehyun lets you take over for the most part, thrusts lacking the power behind them so he can focus on caressing your ass, hip, and waist with his head dropped back and eyes closed. “Just like that.”

You transfer most of your weight to one arm, starting with tight, quick circle against your clit. Your breath quickens and you bite your lip to stop the sounds that want to come out.

“Let me hear you.” Jaehyun says. “Need to hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your fingers work faster, to the point of just swiping the bundle of nerves back and forth and cries tumble from your lips, pleas and curses mixed in.

“I’m gonna–” you begin to confess, but the pleasure heightens ten-fold and you let out a dry sob.

“Go ahead,” Jaehyun encourages, putting more effort into his thrusts again, moving his thumb in and out of you.

You have to quickly catch yourself and hold your body up with both arms again when the feeling overcomes you. You’re doing your best to stay up when your body starts to vibrate, especially when your walls become more sensitive to his thrusts. Your walls spasm around his cock and there’s a harmony of voiced pleasure.

Jaehyun pulls out when your hand starts pushing at his lower abdomen, starting to feel over stimulated. His hand slowly strokes his length to maintain his pleasure, watching you sink to your knees and he gives you the time you need to catch your breath and come back to the moment with him.

“You feeling okay?” he asks in a gentle voice, helping you turn towards him with his free hand. He cups your chin, looking down at you with blown out eyes. You nod, head still fuzzy from your climax, wrapping your hands around the back of his thighs to pull him in closer, mouth cracking open to finally have him in your mouth. Jaehyun groans at the sight and taps the tip on your flattened tongue a couple times before you wrap your lips around him. He tastes like you and an underlying musk that makes you lave your tongue around the underside of his cock, caressing that vein that has him sighing.

You wrap your hand around the base, moving his own hand out of the way, and start pumping your fist. Your attention is mostly at his tip, sucking and licking and moaning around him because you want him to come, too.

Looking up at him, his lip is caught in between his teeth and he’s looking down at you with so much desire in his eyes.

“Shit,” Jaehyun says to himself, breathlessly. You bob your head back and forth, sinking further and further down his shaft until his tip causes the back of your throat to flutter. “Just like that, baby. Fuck.”

His hips shallowly thrust forward, enjoying the feeling of your throat spasming around his cock too much to not chase it, and before you know it, both of his hands are gently holding your head in place and his grunts are turning into moans. He doesn’t fuck your face, though you absolutely wouldn’t have minded, but he picks up his pace. You massage the bottom of his shaft with your tongue and pull him in even closer by his thighs.

“You want me to pull out?” he asks while he can still think straight. You shake your head no the best you can with him in your mouth, and that’s all he needs. His hips still, then ropes of cum land on the back of your tongue.

Your hand comes back to milk the rest of his cum out, your mouth sucks until his shaft gets too sensitive and Jaehyun has to pull out. As he catches his breath, grip loosening to the point of his hands dropping, you swallow your mouthful and wipe the excess fluids off your mouth and chin.

Jaehyun helps you back up to your feet and guides you to sit on the ledge, observing your fucked-out expression that mirrors his own. You look up at him with a content smile that lets him know he was definitely worth it. He gets your towel to wipe what your hands couldn’t get off of your face, smiling at the way you close your eyes and lift your chin up with a sigh.

“Worth it?” he asks softly, now caressing your lips with his thumb.

You hum, nodding.

“Do you want to stay here a little longer or are you ready to go upstairs?”

“I’m ready.”

He passes you your towel and you thank him. You wrap the cotton around your body and he wraps his around his waist before you both grab your belongings and make your way back inside.

“You can take your shower first,” Jaehyun says when you make it upstairs, about to pass your door. You nod, still not all the way in the present, twisting the doorknob. “And we can watch a movie in my room when we’re both clean.”

You smile up at him, nodding a little harder. He hesitates for a split second before he dips down to give you a lingering kiss, then he’s on his way to his room.

After your long, hot shower, hygiene and skincare routine, you lightly knock on Jaehyun’s door before entering. He’s seated at his desk, scrolling on his phone until he looks up at you and stands, grabbing another towel.

“Pick out a movie for us?”

“Okay.”

The door shuts behind him and you make yourself at home and get comfortable on the same side of the bed you were on last night. You scroll through Netflix and Hulu only to end up having to choose between a psychological thriller you heard a lot of good reviews on and another romantic comedy. You’ll let him choose when he comes back because you don’t know which one is more his taste.

He ends up choosing the psychological thriller because apparently he’s actually been meaning to watch it but just hadn’t found the time yet.

The rest of the night is spent watching the movie, trying to understand it and bounce ideas off of each other on the meaning of certain scenes, then when you can’t control your yawns and how heavy your lids are, you call it a night. Lights and the tv are turned off before Jaehyun pulls you in for chaste kiss that lingers, and you fall asleep with your head on his chest.

For the second morning in a row, you wake up in the loose hold of Jaehyun. You know you slept in again, you don’t even have to look at the time. But you do anyway, because you and Taeyong are meant to be on the road no later than one this afternoon.

It’s only a little past ten, and anything you don’t need to use today is already packed. You have a little more time to enjoy the moment.

Jaehyun stirs awake behind you, asking you what time it is. He’s set to leave a little later than you, so when you tell him, he hums and pulls you into his chest more.

“They’re gonna wonder where we are,” you tell him, even though you really don’t care. The warmth of his chest on your back and being so close to the man you’ve desired for the last month is enough to keep you here a little longer.

“Seulgi’s been trying to set us up,” Jaehyun informs you huskily. “She’s fine.”

You blink. “She’s been what?”

“Why do you think we’ve been left alone as much as we have?”

Now certain conversations make more sense. Her ploy may not have worked in the exact way she thought it would, but it definitely worked. And now that you think about it, Taeyong’s been giving you looks the last couple of days too, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in on it after a while.

“Oh, she’s good.”

“Not really,” he laughs. “I saw right through her. I don’t know how you didn’t.”

“My attention was elsewhere.”

“You’re right.” He tightens his arm around you even more, now so close that you can feel a hardness poke the back of your thigh. “It was on seducing me.”

You suck your teeth and roll your eyes, though he’s technically correct.

“And it worked.” You wiggle back into his arousal, enjoying his hum of appreciation.

“Baby it worked before you even started trying.” He takes hold of your hip to pull your ass back again. “This trip just made it obvious you wanted me and gave me peace of mind to go through with it.”

You love how much more comfortable he is with his words and affection towards you. The pet names, the cuddling. The directness of his desires.

“When’s our next date?” you ask, wondering how long it’ll be before you could possibly be in this position again.

“Probably Saturday. I have a busy week ahead since someone wouldn’t let me work.”

You scoff. He had plenty of time the other day to get his work done. “Are you complaining?”

Laughing, he presses a less than innocent kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Not at all.”

“Taeyong’s gonna kill me if I’m late,” you sigh after a while of enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin, but your words don’t match your actions, your hand coming up to the back of his head to feel more of his opened mouth kisses. “I should probably start getting ready.”

“Probably,” Jaehyun agrees. But he continues his ministrations on your neck, slipping a hand under your shirt and up to your breast, groping the mound. “Is that what you want to do, though?”

“Not really,” you sigh, failing to stop yourself from arching into his touch. “But I’d hate to be inconsiderate.”

It pains you to slowly pull yourself out of his hold, but Taeyong is the last person you want to get chewed out and lectured by. With a small stretch, you get out of his bed and sneak a glance behind you to see him looking at you with desire and a cute pout.

“Are you staying in bed or are you gonna get ready with me?”

You still want to spend more time with him regardless of what the two of you are doing.

He follows you into the bathroom and the two of you stand side by side, brushing your teeth in a comfortable silence. Jaehyun finishes his morning routine quicker than you, and takes the opportunity to stand behind you and fit his chin in the crook of your neck, arms sliding forward to encircle your waist. He simply watches you pat your face dry with a paper towel, sending you a closed-lip smile when you lift a curious brow at him. This extent of affection from him is new, and you’re not too sure how you expected your dynamic to change after crossing the line last night, but this wasn’t quite it.

Not that you’re complaining.

But when he straightens up some, his hard chest pressing against your back, you’re reminded of his morning wood, and everything makes a little more sense.

“Did all of your self control die last night?” you joke, twisting the top of your serum off.

He chuckles, and surprisingly nods. Burying his face into your neck now, he’s back to pressing tempting kisses on your skin, paying closer attention to the spot that made your breath audibly hitch.

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No.” You shake your head. You sit the bottle in your hand back down on the countertop and lean back into his touch. You suddenly don’t have the mind to continue your skincare routine. “I like it.”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun lilts, though one of his hands creeps under your shirt. He pinches your nipple, eliciting a tiny moan from you. “Maybe I should stop. Wouldn’t want to be inconsiderate.”

You hum in discontent. “Please don’t.” Gently grabbing his hair, you pull him out of your neck so you can kiss him. Arousal stirs in your abdomen all over again and you want nothing more than for him to continue kissing you, touching you. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” He voices his surprise. It really didn’t take much. “Are you sure you want to keep him waiting?”

Even though you’ll most likely be seeing him again in less than a week, it’s just so tempting to stay in this bubble with Jaehyun a little longer. To get your fix of what you’d finally indulged in last night. And honestly, being a little late won’t hurt anyone.

“We can make it quick?” you ask more than state, turning around in his hold to look up at him with inquisitive eyes. Taking steps forward, he follows your lead and walks backwards back into his room.

“I can try,” he finally says after you’ve stripped your clothes off, eyeing your body. You move to his shorts next and he allows you to pull them down before taking over to kick them off his ankles. “Lay down for me.”

He crawls over you, knees in between your legs as he hovers over you, putting his weight on one forearm beside your head. The kiss you share is languid yet sloppy, your tongues colliding and twirling around one another’s as his free hand immediately finds its way in between your legs, his middle finger running down your slit before sliding inside of you.

You break away from the kiss to catch your breath, chest already heaving up and down and it draws his attention, his mouth attaching to your nipple. Jaehyun sucks and nibbles on your nubs, inserting his ring finger in your pussy and pulling out a whine from your throat. His mouth continues to travel south until he reaches the apex of your thighs, taking a moment to watch the way your walls stretch around his fingers before sucking your clit into his mouth, giving it kitten licks.

You know you asked him to make it quick, but when he starts to pull away too soon, you push his head back in between your thighs and start rolling your hips, mouth agape with the smallest of moans and praise spewing out as you try to keep your volume down. You’re already so close, and by the way your walls flutter around his digits, Jaehyun understands as much and licks and sucks at your clit with more intent, stretching you out even more with his pointer finger.

Your orgasm is quiet, your fist blocking the sounds that threaten to come out of your mouth, lower body shaking. He lets you ride the feeling, lazily lapping at the wetness that gushes out past his fingers, circling the tip of his tongue against your clit before carefully pulling his digits out.

Wiping your essence on the comforter, Jaehyun comes back up to eye level with you, grinning down at your dazed expression, pecking your lips. He lines his tip up with your hole and studies you as he breaches your entrance, drinking up the furrow in your brows and lewd grimace that washes over your face. The pace he sets once he’s bottomed out is so different from last night, his thrusts quicker, more shallow, but still reaching all the right places.

You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh, my God.” Breasts bouncing from the force of his hips clashing into yours, you just take the onslaught of pleasure. “Fuck, Jaehyun.”

“Love how you say my name, baby,” Jaehyun hums, dipping down to scatter kisses and nibbles on your jaw. His voice is too stable and he’s so composed you compared to you and you already feel your second orgasm approaching. You need him to come with you.

Your leg is lifted to drape over his shoulder and your breath stops for a second.

“Daddy,” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back before you can see the way his eyes get darker and his control weakens. But you definitely feel how much harder he fucks you, how his movements lose a little finesse. “So good. Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come,” you ramble in his ear, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

“Yeah?” he grunts, out of breath now. Fingertips find your clit and rub quick, tight circles. “Gonna come all over my dick?”

You nod violently. “Yes. Yes yes yes,” you cry as quietly as possible, grabbing his hair to center you, trying not to pull too hard. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you chant as your walls flutter around his dick, body tensing before shuddering.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans. He grips your hip tight enough to bruise, but the pain hardly registers when he kissing you hungrily and your walls start becoming progressively more sensitive to the way his thick cock drags against them. It only takes a few more intense thrusts for him to bottom out harshly and release inside of you with the deepest moan that you swallow, that makes you clench around him.

Heavy breathing is all that’s heard for a while. He gradually softens inside of you as you catch your breath. Jaehyun’s head falls into your neck, his hand gently bringing your leg back down to the bed.

“Quick enough?”

—

Seulgi has a wide smile taking up half of her face when she walks into the kitchen.

“What?” Taeyong asks, suspicious.

She points up and remains silent so he can hear the tell tale sound of skin slapping and muffled pleasure. “They’re definitely fucking.”

He immediately regrets asking.

:) v self indulgent. but look at me posting a little more consistently. i hope you all enjoy, feedback is always accepted and appreciated (you could always buy me kofi too uwu ily) <3

#jaehyun scenario #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #nct scenario #nct smut

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luvtak · 3 months

Text

lullabye, lmh x reader

✧ genre/tw minho comforting you when you can't sleep <3 fluff to the highest caliber, one very sleepy sweet kiss, unedited.

✧ w/c 974

The covers felt too heavy and the arm around your waist was uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Usually sleeping with your boyfriend brought safety and sweet dreams, but deep into the night you still can’t find respite. Laying in the dark to not disrupt Minho and begging for the sweet relief of sleep to take you away.

Earlier in the night you had cuddled up on the sofa to watch a horror movie, an endeavor that the man beside you enjoyed and you not so much. You avoid scary things at all cost–no haunted houses, no camping trip scary stories, and most definitely no ghost movies at ten o’clock. It’s silly, to be grown up and still so frightened of scary stories, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from feeling that familiar blanket of dread climbing up your back.

You wished you could take back the happy smile you gave when he suggested it, but he looked so happy when he found it. You could’ve bottled the sound of his smiley voice when he asked, “What about this one, kitty!?” and you just couldn’t say no, even if you were terrified. When he was awake, it was easy to hide it from Minho, but the second his eyes closed and his breath steadied the shadows began to look more and more like made up creatures.

It’s while you’re tossing and turning and nestling further into the pillow; desperate to find the best position to fall into dreamland when his arm tightens–shocking you into stillness. It’s unlike Minho to wake up in the middle of the night, weirder still that his voice sounds fond rather than the sleepy irritation you were expecting.

“Honey? Why are you moving around so much?” leaden with sleep and worry, the man sounds more desirable than he usually does. Turning around in his hold, you see his eyes for the first time since you laid down–wide and blurry, fighting the whispers of sleep to bore right into your own. His hand slinks lower, from your waist to your hip, and begins a steady tapping in hopes to calm you.

“I don’t know, I just can’t get comfortable I guess.” you hope he’ll take you at your word, but he knows you too well– knows the glimpse in your eye comes from fear rather than discomfort. Frowning, he pulls you right into his neck, rubbing at your back until he can hear you sigh.

He whispers sweet words and quiet wishes, all while paying close attention to your rapid heart beat pressed against him; beating slower and slower as he speaks.

“You should’ve told me you were scared, I never would’ve made you watch something you didn’t like.” His voice, while not much more than a whisper, resounded so loudly through your body: ringing through your ribcage and up into your heart until you felt at ease–an ability no one but him has ever pulled off. You don’t quite know how to tell him that you were embarrassed, that it was something you didn’t like talking about.

Even more humiliating, you didn’t know how to say that watching scary movies with him could be addictive–the way his pretty eyes would get bigger and bigger as the story progressed… his hands pulling you closer to him as the score heightened. How could you vocalize how his little gasps of surprise made you feel, the same little gasps he would make when you kissed him in the spot beneath his ear.

Sure, watching him laugh at something funny or roll his eyes at something dramatic would also make you swoon, but there was something with the horror that became magic. Maybe it was the fact that he liked it, but you feel more that it’s his allowance to feel vulnerable. That he’s letting you see him scared and surprised, that instead of pulling away he pushes in.

Instead of this, you tell him, “Don’t worry, Bunny, I wanted to watch it too.”

“But you’re scared! And you can’t sleep!”

“That's just the consequence of a good time, baby.”

While he does laugh, he doesn’t seem happy. Saddened by the thought of you lying alone, anxious and dreamless, while he slept soundly.

You see the guilt, etching itself in the downward curve of his mouth and the grasp his fingers have on your back, and you will it away. He’s not at fault for you not speaking up, no matter how deeply he feels he is. When you tell him this, speaking with all the sincerity you can muster, you see he doesn’t believe you. And so you do the next best thing, winding your hands around his neck to hold at his cheeks–soft skin melting your fingertips and bringing with it dancing goosebumps along your skin. Slowly, with the same tenderness one takes with a wounded animal, your face approaches his–smiling when you see his eyelashes flutter close and settling your lips atop his. He responds with a sentimentality that is unlike him, slow and sure of himself. Your name on the tip of his tongue as he kisses deeper–mouth opening with a smile and tongue swiping needlessly at the seam of your lips.

It’s quiet and intimate in a way that only 2 am can bring–sleepy and clumsy in all the best ways.

When you break away, it feels much later than it was–the sandman finally coming to your call and settling sleep into your bones. But you’re still a little scared, and Minho can tell, so he holds you closer to his chest: your ear laying where his heart sits and listening as he begins to hum.

It’s a song you think you must know, sad and peaceful in the late evening light, and the mourning melody lulls you to sleep. The wordless melody following you into dreamland until the sun comes up.

#lee know #lee know x reader #lee know x you #skz x reader #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #lee know fluff #skz fluff #lee minho #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #minho imagines #lee know imagines

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keravnous · 1 month

Text

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

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