#love the hue shifts in this style | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elioslover · 10 months

Text

Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

🍒

Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation.

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance.

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin.

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant.

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him.

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you.

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put.

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding,

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.”

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace.

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you.

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets.

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features.

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso.

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist.

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat.

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake.

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you.

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers.

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release.

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck.

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth.

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep.

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock.

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface.

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically.

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar.

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him.

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you.

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines.

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible.

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more.

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state,

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again,

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder.

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear,

“Ask me nicely.”

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him,

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him,

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now.

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms.

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction.

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed.

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.”

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast.

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly.

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together.

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another.

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction.

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job.

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking.

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours.

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress.

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own.

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back.

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure.

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last.

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness.

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.”

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin.

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life.

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.”

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.”

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck.

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso.

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips.

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat.

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention.

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind.

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige.

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

1K notes · View notes

mtkay13 · 9 days

Text

My version of the wardrobe template! yay!! I had a LOT of fun doing this and feel like I could elaborate a bit more on each of those.

It's already linked up here, but here's once again a > link to the post.< Anyway! More about these designs below!

So first, for WKX's template! - Chapter 2: Grey robes I had already made my design of those for the full TYK lineup I made a while back. I really, really like those, and took inspiration from some of the robes SHL!WKX wears in the show for the shapes. - Chapter 69: dark robes with dark red belt I expected to like that style for him, but not that much! I had seen a tutorial on how asymetrical hanfus were worn by archers in the past and that inspired me, purely on a fashion level of course. I like how intimidating he looks with those and enjoy the touches of blue in the inner layer of the robes. - Chapter 75: dark red robes The GVM robes! which I also designed a while back when researching for the illustrations of the Mt Fengya battle scenes that I wanted to make. I reworked them just a little bit and got rid of some details that I didn't like anymore. I tremendously pleated skirts for WKX so I went at it once again. I also used shifts in hues to make it look like it could have been drenched in blood. - Extra 5: deep red robes For the reminder (since apparently some people are not aware of extra 5's existance), this extra is set 5 years post-canon. I wanted WKX to wear something that looked comfortable for traveling but also practical and fashionable. The teal jacket is of course another nod at SHL since the red and teal combo was an absolute banger. Let's say I didn't want WKX to just sport an all-red look. Furthermore, the teal really works to adorn the red hues. - My personal favourite I actually don't really know whether those are my actual personal favourites, but I've come to LOVE WKX dressed in red and white thanks to @kwehxing's designs. I think it really suits him and on top of that it avoids the question "is this Hua Cheng" LMAO--okay jokes aside, I combined most of the shapes that I really like for WKX (wider shoulders, wide sleeves, and long robes with pleated inner robes) and I find him very elegant like this. Now, for ZZS! - Chapter 1: sapphire blue scholar robes Those had already been designed before as well! They're my go to generic TC!ZZS robes, haha. I was a bit extra with the blue colour here, but oh well. I'm quite obsessed with the silver brocade cynching his waist, haha. - Chapter 2: stolen farmer robes A classic as well as far as I'm concerned--of course, inspired by his hobo fit in SHL because it was quite efficient. I'm forever fond of my scruffy hobo!Xu and his toes poking from his sandals. - Chapter 18: luxurious robes from the Gao family Those were a new design! Which I had a lot of fun coming up with. Putting ZZS in a different colour scheme was also really nice. For those who don't remember, ZZS feels quite ridiculous when he sees himself in a mirror wearing those fancy robes while being so emaciated and still sporting his hobo mask. I wanted to give this "out of place" feeling; and also work on a very "wuxia" style for the robes, since this is jianghu and they were provided by Gao Chong. - Extra 5: black robes I'm incredibly fond of this design. I worked quite a bit on it, since I wasn't sure of where I wanted to go. My main guidelines were: practical and cool. I really like ZZS having a lot of room to move so ideally not too much fabric in the way, and I think he also needs arm braces to be rid of annoying sleeves. Of course, him looking much healthier and having a dynamic ponytail really works to "complete the look", and I find that he looks really cool there haha. - My personal favourite This one has been refined over the months, but it's definitely, overall, my favourite look for him in terms of shapes and construction. I like that the robes are short, I like the more fashionable jacket. I'm especially into the "pants tucked into the boots" silhouette, as well as the little ribbons keeping them tight around the ankles. I'd say that this leg shape + short robes + a bun (or sometimes a ponytail) is THE ZZS design combo for me, haha. It looks practical and fun and adventurous, just how I like it.

To conclude the whole post, I had more fun doing this than I even expected, and needless to say that I'm very excited to see other versions of them following this template. It was a good opportunity to try and project what the characters look like throughout the book, and a fun design exercise as well. I actually don't really like doing character design usually, but for characters I'm obsessed with, it's of course a much nicer experience. Anyway, thank you for reading!

#tian ya ke #wenzhou #meta #character design #wen kexing #zhou zishu #tyk #zzs #wkx

180 notes · View notes

milkie2 · 2 months

Note

I've been really admiring your ava art; I REALLY REALLY ADORE THEM SO MUCH!!!❤️😭💕💕 and I’m kinda interested in your ava art style. Could you do tutorials with tips or techniques on how to draw in your “ava art style”? I'm really inspired by your work and would love to incorporate some elements of your style into my own art style practice. I don’t want to force you to do this. It’s fine if this is something you prefer to keep to yourself. Btw, Love your work! ❤

AAAAA HIHIII Here's my art process of how i render stuff^^^

Entire explanation and process here:

I make a sketch first and then do base colors underneath

(occasionally I might skip the sketch entirely and go straight into colors, but thats a bit more complicated)

I then merge the layers and start painting on top of it (on the same layer), using the lineart of that sketch as a guide

The reason why I am doing this all on one layer is so that the colors mix and blend together in the way seperate layers just won't do.

I paint two layers of shadows, each with a slightly different hue (usually shifted towards the cooler tones)

After that, I paint the lighting. This time the hue I will use is to a warmer one, painting over the shadows with a warmer tone for the reflective lighting as well

I also do fixing and cleaning up (which is what I really like about coloring on one layer since its easier than doing it with multiple)

Then I do shading again, this time with another layer clipped with 'multiply' on

as well as add another layer for the 'overlay' and edge the shadows

I clip two more layers, one for 'multiply' and one for 'add' for lighting using the gradient tool

Occasionally I will also add an extra 'add' layer and put a color gradient on the shadow for that extra oomph on the lighting

Final result :33

Hopefully this isn't too confusing and fast FJDKSLFLSD Im pretty bad at explaining stuff 😭

#ask #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm #avm purple #my art

231 notes · View notes

frenchkisstheabyss · 11 months

Text

♡ ａｔｏｍｉｃｂｌｏｎｄｅ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!mingi x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: Comforting your boyfriend after he gets a new look gets you into trouble but the good kind.

♡ Genre: smut w/ a dash of fluff

♡ Word Count: 1.4kish

♡ Warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (ya'll know better), creampie, a lil spanking, scratching, nibbling, some rough play (nothing major), pet names (baby, my girl, etc).

♡ A/N: Mingi's wrecking me and I am not okay. Just FYI.

@anyamaris save me from myself

“You hate it” Mingi sighs, staring at his choppy blonde hair in the mirror. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to take a pair of scissors to his hair. He had no plan going into it. Only that he needed to do something…anything…different to get out of his own head. But you can see it all over his face that he's second-guessing it. Stepping into the bathroom, you dodge the clumps of fire-red hair scattered across the tiles, to get a closer look at your boyfriend’s new hair. “I love it” you smile sweetly, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

Mingi watches you in the mirror for a moment, skeptical. He tousles his hair, trying and failing to style it. “It’s okay. You don’t have to lie.” You grab his arm, turning him to face you. “Hey, look at me,” you say, momentarily losing yourself in those gorgeous pools of sable he calls eyes, “When have I ever lied to you?” Mingi cracks a faint smile, his lips pressed together to keep him from full-on cheesing. “Never.” You play with his hair a bit, gathering them into small spikes. “Exactly. I think it looks pretty hot. I’d definitely throw my panties at you.”

Your comment gets a laugh out of him precisely as you intended. All you ever want to do is see that adorable smile of his. It’s your favorite thing in the world. Sometimes Mingi gets down on himself, wondering if he is, in fact, good enough in one way or another. When you feel that way, doubt weighing heavy on your shoulders, he makes sure to remind you how special you are. “Yesterday, today, and tomorrow” he likes to say. A small reminder that you were, are, and always will be perfect in his eyes.

Pinching his cheeks, you plant a quick kiss on his peachy lips. “Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, remember?” Mingi nods, feeling all of the blood rush to his cheeks. He turns back to the sink, rubbing his cheeks to chase that rosy hue away. “Anyway…” he mumbles, shifting his focus to cleaning up his mess. “Anyway?” you scoff, rolling your eyes, “I’m glad we could have such a touching conversation. I have to get started on dinner. I’m out of here.” You walk off with your arms folded across your chest and your nose in the air. As fake offended as a girl could ever be.

You make it a few steps down the hall before Mingi’s behind you, his arms around your chubby figure as he trails kisses along your neck. “What was that you were saying about throwing your panties at me?” You giggle, your body wriggling against his, “That’s what you got out of what I said? Really?” You never wear pants around the house, a habit he’s grateful for when he easily squeezes your fluffy thighs. It tickles enough that you twist away from him, stumbling backward. “Mingi…I have things to do!” He raises an eyebrow at you, taking one step forward for each one you take back.

“So do I.” “Aah!” you squeal, being pulled into an intoxicating kiss. Even with your eyes closed, paralyzed by the artful way his tongue dances with yours, you’re seeing stars. Holding you firmly by the hips, he guides you into the bedroom without even looking. Your shirt’s being pulled up over your head before you make it through the doorway with his following right behind. When he gets like this he has a one-track mind. Nothing else matters. He only wants one thing and it’s you. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you run a hand across his lean chest, the other palming his thick bulge through those godforsaken gray sweatpants.

An invention by the devil if there ever was one. Mingi’s knees nearly buckle from the unexpected friction. Each time you brush your palm against him he gets harder and the warmth between your legs intensifies. By the time his sweatpants are at his ankles, his leaking tip on your tongue, he’s throbbing. Placing your tongue on the underside of his head, you lick upward, collecting his precum on your tongue. Mingi pets your cheek, watching intently as you take him into your mouth, your warm, tight lips hugging his length with no room to spare. “So…fucking…beautiful,” he says, each word broken by the flutter of your cheeks.

There’s something about feeling the pulsing veins of his cock through your cheek, your head rocking back and forth, that he can never get enough of. You gag the tiniest bit when he hits the back of your throat, knowing how insane it drives him when you take more than you can handle. He can already sense that familiar feeling prickling in his stomach. Shit, why were you so good at this? Mingi grabs you by the neck, not too hard, just enough to rip himself from your mouth with a wet suctioning noise. You look up at him so innocently, proud of being able to push him to the brink that quickly.

“Bend over” he commands, your gentle giant replaced with something more domineering. You slide back on the bed, spreading your legs to expose your moisture. “Only if you say please.” Without a word, he reaches out to stroke your clit through the thin lace. Your breaths grow shallow when his fingers push the fabric to the side, sinking into you until his knuckles are flush against you. “Please” he whispers, rotating his wrist at just the right angle to have you pushing against him for more only to snatch his fingers away, “Pretty…pretty…please”. “Mmhmm” you whine, tossing your panties behind you and getting on all fours.

This view of you is so tempting. That juicy ass of yours sticking out. Your pussy so wet and desperate to take him. Taking a deep breath, he gets his head together. Not yet. A marvelous sting radiates through your body when he palms your ass with a slap, pushing you forward to lap at your entrance. “Mingi, fuck, yes” you’re moaning and he’s thrusting his tongue into you. He brings his fingers back up to massage between your petal-soft folds. Each time your body quivers, pert nipples dragging against the bed heightening your pleasure, it only deepens his hunger for you. The way he’s devouring you, drinking you down like a man who hasn’t had water in days, has you screaming every filthy word you know into the sheets.

Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it. Motherfucker. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me” you cry out, nearly throwing a tantrum, an explosion brewing in your core. You feel his husky laugh vibrate against you. “What was that?” he taunts, flipping you onto your back and climbing on top of you. You lick yourself off of his lips, dragging him into a kiss. “Fuck…me” you moan down his throat. He drives into you, your body immediately erupting into shivers as your walls clamp around him. Your world's shattering. Your heart's racing. Is he trying to kill me? The room’s spinning. You’re lightheaded. I might be dying. Worth it.

“Is my girl gonna cum for me?” he’s almost singing, nibbling at your bottom lip. Your nails digging into his back is as close to an answer as he’s gonna get and it’s enough for his motions to grow harsher. Your ears are ringing, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Such a mess you’re making creaming all over him like this. “That’s it, baby. Mmm” he coos, keeping his pace even as the overstimulation tears you apart, but that doesn’t last long. Soon his motor skills go to hell and he’s pouring into you, whispering praises into your cleavage.

Your bodies go limp together, your muscles as strong as a pot of boiled spaghetti. Mingi flops down beside you, struggling to catch his breath. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your panties near your head. You pick them up, throwing them on his head. “There, I threw my panties at you.” “I’ll…treasure…these…forever” he pants, twirling them around his finger. You cozy up to him, resting your head on his chest. “You know, that’d be a nice color on you.” “Hmm?” You gesture towards your panties, “The pink.” Mingi stares at them, weighing his options. “Pink” he sighs, kissing you on the bridge of your nose, “I like it.”

#mingi x reader #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #ateez x y/n #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x reader #ateez x you #chubby smut #plus size smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

574 notes · View notes

aerahyasashi · 4 months

Text

IDIOSYNCRASIES CHAPTER THREE

Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo's Sister! Reader

Sypnosis: Where suguru geto founds himself deeply enamored with satoru's non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession.

Note: This is a fanfic and i originally posted this on quotev. I'm still learning on how to use tumblr so the aesthetic might be a lil shitty.

TW; Sexual assault, Parricide, Sexism, Non-consensual touching, Infidelity, Attempted Rape, Gore, Incest.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter four and five

Chapter six and seven

•───癖好───•

IT HAD BEEN A COUPLE of weeks ever since [Name] had encountered Suguru, and currently, [Name] found herself seated on a comfortable chair with a mirror positioned directly in front of her. She had meticulously styled her hair into an elegant princess-inspired half-up, half-down hairdo; the upper part of her hair adorned with the intricately braided strands that Satoru had woven for her before going out.

Tonight, they were hosting a grand party for some unknown reasons, and though the idea of attending wasn't exactly her preference, Satoru had adamantly insisted, and thus [Name] reluctantly agreed. However, she was determined not to appear disheveled or bring further humiliation upon her esteemed clan.

Taking great care, she applied skillfully chosen makeup, adorning her face with a touch of gray eyeshadow accented by glitters and other luxurious embellishments that Satoru had bought for her.

Her eyeliner possessed a refined precision and her lips were adorned with a soft, yet eye-catching, pink hue.

Her gaze shifted towards the necklace Satoru had given her as a birthday gift the previous year, which, until now, had remained unworn.

It was probably very expensive, considering that Satoru tends to buy her a lot of expensive things. The necklace silver-tone glistened and was encircled by dazzling diamonds.

Adorning this piece were crafted flower-shaped jewels, and at the very center of it all, a resplendent circle housing perfectly cut rubies.

Placing the necklace around her neck, [Name] examined herself in the mirror, feeling a subtle twinge of self-consciousness regarding her appearance.

‘Do i even look good...?’ she thought to herself, her self consciousness getting the best of her once again.

She was donning a simple azure-hued dress which was enhanced by a few tasteful pieces of jewelry, that again, was given to her by satoru. Satoru was mostly the one who buys her things as their clan seldom bestowed any items upon her.

What makes this even more remarkable is that Satoru consistently selects the most costly presents to give her. Although [Name] is not unappreciative, she cannot help but perceive these extravagant gifts as too expensive for someone in her circumstances.

Speaking of Satoru, [Name] wanted to ask for his opinion on whether she looked good or she looked like shit. (even though she knows that satoru would always say that she's pretty)

However, Satoru was temporarily absent, presumably occupied with the task of greeting their arriving guests.

Releasing a gentle sigh, her eyebrows knits together as she contemplated whether or not to proceed on going to the damn party.

Discord permeated her relationship with her clan, and vice versa. Yet, Satoru insisted that she attend the party and divulged that they had agreed upon her involvement due to an impending announcement. A flicker of doubt whispered in her mind, speculating that they might subject her to humiliation, but surely, Satoru wouldn't permit such degradation in public, would he?

he adored her and reciprocated her love; hence, he would shield her from any harm. right? Right? Right? He would protect her.

Her muscles tensed slightly at the sound of the door to her room opening.

“Satoru?” She swiveled her head towards the entrance, anticipating his arrival. However, to her disappointment, it was not Satoru who crossed the threshold; instead, her father made his way into the room.

Her eyes widened and instantly, her muscles clenched and her jaw tightened as she observed who it was.

‘Shit! What is he doing here?!’

[Name] panicked internally and struggled to put up a relaxed expression.

“O-otou-sama..,” [Name] whispered under her breath, her voice cracking and barely audible as she shakily rose from her seat and placed the pillow on the chair before bowing respectfully—not really wanting to anger her father.

Upon noticing his return, her eyes scrutinized him from head to toe, sensing his gaze on her body which made her uncomfortable .

“You've returned...”

Summoning a smile, she forced herself to feign happiness.

“Welcome back, Otou-sama” she greeted, though her smile was forced and unconvincing.

Her heart raced within her chest as she averted her gaze, keeping her eyes away from his piercing stare. “If I may speak.. what brings you here?” she inquired tentatively, anxiety griping her every word.

With each step he took towards her, her father's mere presence sent shivers down her spine. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her body to tremble involuntarily.

“Your father has missed you dearly,” he spoke softly, his touch lingering in an uncomfortably intimate manner. She couldn't help but feel that a father's touch should never be this way.

He shouldn't touch her like this.

A father should not touch her daughter like this.

“You have grown into a remarkably beautiful woman,” he remarked, his words causing her discomfort. Unpleasant memories resurfaced as she noticed the scent of alcohol emanating from him.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, finding no solace in the way he had complimented her. It had been five long years since she last saw her father, because he was overseas, and the dude too, was often abusive during her earlier years. However, something about his current behavior unsettled her, creeping her out in an inexplicable way.

“It must have been quite challenging for you to handle Satoru in that way...” He let out a light chuckle as his fingers gently traced circles on her tense shoulders, causing her to feel a mixture of revulsion and fear.

Disgusting and utterly repulsive was her father.

“I-it wasn't that bad,” she responded, her voice trembling slightly. Ofcourse, satoru sometimes acts like a man child, but it was only because he hadn't been given the chance to be a child and [Name] loves his brother.

“Satoru is a good person” she stated.

‘Unlike you.’ she added mentally.

“I'll go and call satoru,” [Name] said, her heart racing inside her chest, as if it were about to burst through her ribcage. Her instincts were in overdrive, her flight and fight instincts were screaming at her. She wanted satoru to just come back so bad and take her away from this creep of a pathetic excuse of a father.

“No,” he firmly stated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“Why not?” she questioned.

“Because it would deeply sadden me,” he declared with a touch of theatricality, causing [Name] to resist the temptation to glare at him.

“You would do anything to keep me happy, right, [Name]?” he questioned, seeking assurance from her as she hesitantly nodded in response. Of course, she had her own boundaries and limits, and she wouldn't go to extremes for his happiness.

“Beloved daughter,” he whispered in a low voice, and she visibly flinched when his hand began to inch toward her hip. Attempting to distance herself, she took a step back, yet he followed her, backing her into a corner until her back collided with the wall. Her heart raced with unease as his grubby hand veered towards her inner thighs but she swiftly slapped it away and she earned a glare from it.

“Speak as you're told,” he commanded, his words causing her to swallow uneasily. Her response had to be compliant.

“Yes... yes, I will,” she murmured, detesting the tone she was forced to use. The anticipation of Satoru's return grew with each passing moment, as she increasingly felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort, a foreboding feeling that something dreadful was bound to happen.

“You are nothing more than a mere accident that occurred during the prenatal development in your mother's womb, [Name].” he told her and she raised an eyebrow, finding his statement to be random.

Of fucking course, she doesn't fucking need to know that.

She knows that she's an outcast.

She knows that she's just a mistake.

They don't need to remind her about that fucking truth, for she's aware of it.

“Satoru is meant to be a sole child.”

He added.

“But speaking of your mother... She no longer fulfills my needs,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

‘Like i give a damn,’ she thought bitterly.

“Her beauty has diminished,” he uttered, causing her to freeze as his hand stealthily crept beneath her dress.

“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” he inquired, drawing nearer, subjecting her to the repulsive stench of alcohol.

“I think that you'll be able to satisfy me, daughter.”

His words had a paralyzing effect on [Name], rendering her unable to react or defend herself, it felt as if she was nailed in her place.

“...”

The desire to push him away and slap his hand away was evident, yet she found herself immobilized, as if invisible strings were pulling her to stay still against her own will, like a marionette in the hands of a puppeteer.

‘Satoru, where are you?!’

Looking anxiously at every nook and cranny of the room, her [E/c] orbs searched desperately for a familiar face: Satoru. The urgency in her grew increasingly intense as she was in dire need of help.

In her time of distress, it was Satoru whom she longed for. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Only Satoru. His presence could provide the security and support [Name] craved.

It was satoru, always satoru and only satoru.

Her dependency on Satoru was very evident and She was scarily dependent on the white-haired lad. Her fingers curled up as she swallowed a lump in her throat.

“What's that supposed to mean, Otou-sama?” she feigned innocence, cringing internally at herself for sounding so dumb. Certainly, she was fully aware of his intentions. She wasn't intellectually naive by any means. She comprehended precisely what he was alluding to, the repugnant depths of his perverse desires that he was referring to.

The mere thought of it caused an intensely uncomfortable sensation to ripple through her entire being, primarily because she shared a bloodline with him as her own flesh and that she was his blood daughter.

“Can you explain it?” she asked, trying to look ‘cute and confused’ and making a genuine effort to maintain a composed facade. Yet behind this facade, she was gripped by an overwhelming sense of panic, frantically attempting to stall for time as a means of gathering her thoughts and possibly finding an alternative solution—and for satoru to arrive, ofcourse.

[Name] shivered as his dirty hands ascended towards her delicate face, enclosing it within his grip.

“My daughter, so pure and untainted,” The ugly man uttered, causing a nauseating sensation within her. He sarcastically murmured, emphasizing her purity and innocence. “How adorable,” he remarked, revealing a sinister undertone. With a sinister intention, he offered,

“Stay still, alright?” her father's disgusting voice echoed in her ears.

[Name] swallowed thickly, the rhythm of her heartbeat reverberated through her chest with an alarming force, threatening to break free from its bony confines. The sound of blood rushing through her veins seemed to echo in her ears, serving as a reminder of her vulnerable state.

In this vulnerable state, she was left pondering the same question over and over: Where the fuck was Satoru when she needed him the most?

‘Satoru, where are you? I need you...’

As she inhaled and exhaled deep breaths, attempting to calm her racing pulse, the absence of Satoru loomed over her like a dark cloud. Satoru's absence only magnified her sense of helplessness, increasing her yearning for his presence like a beacon of hope.

“W-what are you doing?”

She squeaked as she experienced a sense of repulsion as she felt his dirty grubby hands clutching at the strap of her dress, as if he wanted to take it off and the mere proximity of his hands filled her with revulsion. She wanted nothing to do with his touch, especially since he was her own father, making the situation even more disturbing.

“Otou-sama.. this is wrong...”

She was a minor. She was 16. He's a fucking adult. This is fucking pedophilia. This was incest. This is infidelity. This is so wrong in so many ways. And more especially, this is sexual assault.

This whole scenario seemed morally and ethically wrong in countless ways. Her jaw clenched tightly, her eyebrows furrowed, and a scowl formed on her face as she directed her intense gaze at him. She was disgusted, angry, and scared.

“Please don't touch me...” she gritted out.

Sensing her disapproval, he paused in his actions and met her gaze with a hint of irritation.

“Don't you fucking dare to look at me like that,” he uttered with a sharp, venomous tone, as if he wasn't talking to her in a sweet voice before and acting as if he wasn't being a creep earlier and lusting at his own daughter, prompting her to suppress a snarky reply.

“What do you mean—”

SLAP

Her [E/c] eyes widened as an abrupt, stinging sensation spread across her face, causing her head to turn to the side due to the force of the slap delivered by her own father. Despite the pain, [Name] remained silent, raising a trembling hand to touch her tender cheek.

The impact of the slap left a prominent, reddened mark on her delicate skin, causing her to clench her teeth together and direct an intense glare towards the ground, desperately holding back tears.

It was so fucking painful.

Suddenly, [Name] felt his hand cupping her cheeks, a invasive gesture that further heightened her discomfort. His words only added to her distress as he coldly remarked,

“If you didn't provoke me, I wouldn't have to leave such an imprint on that pretty face of yours.” He then proceeded to openly scrutinize her body, examining every curve and contour, which made [Name] bite down hard on her lip in nervousness, trying to cope with the overwhelming emotions swirling within her.

“Otou-sama, don't do this” she managed to whisper.

“P-please stop...” She winced in pain, her eyes welling up with tears, but he glared furiously at her and forcefully gripped her throat, applying just enough pressure to leave her gasping for breath. The sensation of his hands crushing her windpipe sent a searing agony throughout her body.

“You dare command me to halt?” he hissed menacingly.

“You were practically begging for this, parading around in an immodest dress and presenting yourself like a harlot,” he accused, causing tears to cascade down her face.

[Name] struggled to breathe, her larynx engulfed in excruciating pain. Eventually, he released his grip, allowing her to desperately gasp for air.

[Name]'s throat was ablaze with agony, and she instinctively clutched at her neck while trying to steady her rapid breaths. In truth, she had not worn a provocative dress, but rather a modest and unassuming one. So how could she have possibly provoked him in any way?

[Name] wasn't begging for it. He was fucking delusional.

In this moment, she longed for Satoru's presence, yearning for his support and help to escape this horrifying situation.

She absolutely despised being trapped in this predicament and her mind continually echoed her brother's name, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

[Name] felt an irrepressible urge to scream, to call out for Satoru's help, but she couldn't summon the courage.

“Satoru..” [Name] breathed out shakily, trying to scream but she couldn't do it.

With a heavy heart, she fell into silence as her father began to kiss her neck, an unspeakable violation of the boundaries between a father and his daughter. Helplessness engulfed her entirely as she grappled with overwhelming feelings of disgust, fear, and anger. Why didn't satoru returned? why wasn't he there when she needed him the most? Why wasn't satoru—

A sudden realization washed over her, causing her to come to a halt. It was a frightening realization that she had become excessively reliant and dependent on her older brother.

She found herself unable to defend herself in any situation, constantly relying on him for protection and support. The mere thought of standing up for herself seemed impossible. The depths of her dependency on Satoru was alarming.

As her eyes darted back and forth, her pupils began to tremble, accompanied by a nauseous sensation.

It was alarming just how reliant she had become on her older brother, Satoru. She couldn't even protect herself; constantly relying on him for both defense and support. She was utterly incapable of standing her ground or facing the world on her own.

The depth of her dependence became increasingly clear as her very core began to tremble. The nauseating urge to vomit overwhelmed her when her father, with his hand on her waist and thigh, pressed an unwanted kiss upon her shoulders. It was at that moment that she understood the root of her helplessness, connected intrinsically to her reliance on Satoru. This dependence, she couldn't deny, made her vulnerable to abuse.

Her vision became clouded by tears, prickling at the corners of her eyes, as the weight of her powerlessness enveloped her. She couldn't accomplish anything without Satoru by her side.

She was nothing without satoru.

In her eyes, she saw herself as weak, nothing more than a mere shadow, incapable of even the simplest tasks without satoru's guidance and protection. Her entire identity seemed intertwined with this inescapable dependence, leaving her questioning her worth and purpose.

She's useless. Just like they had said.

Yet, amidst her turmoil, a glimmer of realization began to take shape within her. Just because she's a non-sorcerer doesn't necessarily equate to constant reliance on Satoru.

Slowly, she began to understand the necessity of her own dependence if she ever wanted to taste the sweet freedom she so desperately craved; She needed to be independent. No longer did she wish to be shackled by her dependency on Satoru; it was a burden.

In this moment of clarity, she could feel her hands clenching into tight fists, and her knuckles turning white.

When she felt his grimy hands tracing up and down her thigh in a lewd manner, an intense wave of fear surged through her.

Then she screamed, the thoughts of being independent going through the back of her mind as she completely forgot about it.

“SATORU! SATORU! HELP!” she cried out in desperation, as he pushed her father away from her and attempted to escape towards the the door while continuing to scream for satoru, her trembling hand desperately gripping the doorknob as she continued to scream for satoru. She banged on the door loudly, hoping to alert satoru.

“SATORUUU! HE TOUCHED ME!”

Meanwhile, her father grimaced in pain but managed to muster a threatening remark,

“You insolent brat...”

“SATORUUU! OTOU-SAMA IS TRYING TO RAPE M— MMPHH—!!” her voice was abruptly muffled when her father covered her mouth with his other hand, silencing her screams grabbed a handful of her hair, his sharp nails digging painfully into her scalp and she began to sob on his hand.

“Shut up!” he hissed and dragged her forcefully towards the bed and pressed his body against her.

“No one will come to your rescue. They will simply turn a blind eye to someone as pitiful and insignificant as you.” A malicious grin spread across his face, a grotesque display of his sadistic pleasure.

“You are nothing,” emphasizing his contempt for her. The pain intensified as his razor-sharp nails continued their assault on her scalp.

“Poor thing, can't even use jujutsu and yet you dare to talk back to your superiors” he scorned, belittling her inability to utilize jujutsu.

[Name] teared up as she tried to scream but her screams were muffled by his hands. Expressing his derogatory views towards women, he continued,

“Women like you are feeble, incapable of defending themselves, always needing a man to protect themselves” He further degraded her, completely aware that [Name] Is dependent to satoru.

“I bet that if you were given a chance to go out, you would go show your body off to men like a whore, because you are already doing it right now in our house.”

“Women are meant solely to satisfy and serve men, bearing and caring for children.” He let go off her hair with one final and painful tug.

“So you better do your purpose as a woman and satisfy me”

He then pulled at the straps of her dress, ripping it off. she let out a scream that was muffled by her father's hand, as she squirmed in discomfort as his hands shamelessly explored and fondled her chest.

In a desperate attempt to defend herself, she delivered a knee strike to his groin, causing her father to emit a pained grunt as he stumbled backwards, ultimately collapsing in agony on the ground.

she tumbled to the ground, falling in a heap alongside her father. The impact caused her elbows to press into his stomach, inflicting a sharp pain that left him gasping for breath. Without wasting a moment, she promptly rose to her feet whilst clenching her teeth together and fixing a piercing glare upon her father.

She wasted no time seizing a momentary opportunity to unfasten the sharp hairpin that had previously secured her braids. As her lustrous [H/c] colored locks cascaded freely around her face.

Writhing in pain, clutching his injured groin, her father managed to wheeze out in a raspy voice, his words dripping with contempt, “You insolent child!”

Without granting her father even a moment to react, she lunged forward, the pointed end of the hairpin finding its mark in his eye as she stabbed him in the eye. Initially, the sharp tip of the hairpin pierced the delicate iris, causing it to recoil instantly. Blood erupted from the wounded eye, splattering both her and her father as he unleashed a horrifying scream, desperate to rid himself of the searing agony consuming him.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she repeated shakily.

Unrelenting, she slammed her feet firmly on his chest, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Crouching over his writhing body, her teeth clenched with as she applied intense pressure, feeling his bony ribs crack beneath the pressure exerted by her mere feet, causing bone fragments to likely disperse throughout his entire body, inevitably inducing excruciating agony.

Lost in a blood-red haze, she acted on instinct alone, unaware of her own capabilities and the reasons fueling her actions. However, the satisfaction derived from defending herself against her tormentor overwhelmed any semblance of rational thinking.

Driven by an insatiable thirst for vengeance, she plunged the hairpin deeper into his eye, mercilessly breaking through the fragile barrier of the eye itself. With a twist of the hairpin, she targeted and severed the optic nerves, thoroughly obliterating his vision. All the while, her father's cries of agony served as an eerie soundtrack to her brutal assault.

However, she remained unsatisfied with the extent of his injuries.

Suffering from fractured ribs and a severely injured eye proved to be insufficient in punishing him adequately. The gravity of his sins, which involved attempting to sexually assault her and subject her to abuse, demanded a far greater retribution. He undoubtedly warranted a punishment of a much higher magnitude.

He deserved this for looking at her in such a dirty way. He deserved this for trying to rape his daughter. He deserved this. He deserved every single part of it.

Her father was still writhing on the ground, uttering agonizing screams. With her free hand, she began to gouge his eyes using her fingers. The crimson liquid spurted onto her palm, and the squelching noises resonated in her ears as she pressed her fingers into his eyeball, causing them to penetrate the outer layer—the sclera, and eventually piercing through the iris. As her fingers continued their destructive path, they shattered and obliterated the delicate lens within the eye, she delved even deeper into the eye socket, curling her finger upwards and effortlessly piercing through the gel-like vitreous humor, permanently robbing him of his ability to see.

The sensation of the eyeball squirming under her touch intensified his torment, causing him to cry out in excruciating pain.

She then finally distanced herself from the horrific scene, leaving behind the haunting image of the hairpin penetrating his eye, her trembling hands glistened with crimson liquid. Breathing heavily, she bore the weight of her strenuous exertion. But she wasn't satisfied yet.

Making her way back to her previous spot, she seized the chair and launched it at his defenseless body, a reflection of the fury in her trembling eyes. She was grateful for being away from the other rooms and she was grateful the blaring music that drowned out the sound, for she knew the wretched screams of her father, an abomination seeking to violate her, would go unheard.

Unleashing her pent-up rage, she struck him repeatedly with the chair, causing his face to become disfigured and adorned with grotesque wounds. A broken nose and a swollen, battered lip, gouge out eyes were the least of his deserved punishments—and many more.

How dare he kiss her space with his repulsive, chapped lips? How dare he tarnish her with his grimy hands? The chair continued to collide with his wretched body, until it succumbed to the sheer force, shattering into fragments. The pieces, now stained with blood, came to rest on the floor, which too had become drenched in the crimson fluid of the disgusting man.

Breathing with intensity, she was overwhelmed by the putrid aroma of her father's blood permeating her senses, finding it as repulsive as his very presence. In response, she made a conscious decision to inhale solely through her mouth, bypassing the revolting scent.

She clenched her fists tightly and repetitively punched him. The force behind each blow became so relentless that her own knuckles ruptured, causing her blood to intermingle with his as she persistently aimed to annihilate him.

As she delivered her punches, she could audibly discern the sound of his skull fracturing. The exertion of her physical strikes caused her breath to become labored, each inhalation eliciting a searing pain in her chest, and with every exhale, it felt as though her lungs were on the verge of bursting. In addition, her windpipe seemed engulfed in an inferno, intensifying her discomfort.

As she readied her hand once more for impact, the sight of her knuckles, now exposed and vulnerable due to the blistered skin, revealed the delicate hue of her light brown bones.

She experienced excruciating pain throughout her entire body, but she paid it no mind and pierced through the flesh of his countenance, the contact between her hand and his skull sending a shudder through her being.

But it wasn't enough. She wasn't satisfied yet

•───癖好───•

Support me in wattpad?🥺

#jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #yandere satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere suguru geto #yandere geto #cw: gore #idon't know what the fuck i am doing

165 notes · View notes

writerpetals · 1 year

Text

artificial heart | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

w: android!au

“He’s… a lot taller than I imagined.”

Your heart drums so hard in your chest the thumping reaches your ears as you stare at the machine before you. He's nothing like you imagined after being told you would be receiving an artificially intelligent assistant to handle your schedules, setting up meetings, endorsements, and interviews. You imagined something more… robotic, but the man that stands before you looks like nothing more than human, and you would believe him to be just that if it weren’t for the amount of money you spent on him.

“Yes, well, don’t be intimidated by his size,” Mr. Park, the owner of the company you purchased your new android assistant from, begins to tell you as he circles the robot, hands behind his back and a proud smile on his aged face. “He was made specifically for you to do whatever you wish as well as protect you and keep your best interest in mind. You’re an actress, yes?”

You can only blink as you stare at the android, taking in his soft expression, his eyes, hair pushed back and styled neatly to make a good first impression. Gulping, your eyes scan his jawline, down to his shoulders covered in the soft, silk dress shirt, tie, and suit jacket he adorns. He looks perfect. Too good to be true, if you’re being honest.

“Uh, yes. Yes sir, I am.”

Part of you wants to believe it’s not real, but the dent in your bank account and the fact that the perfect assistant (as promised by Mr. Park) is standing before you forces you to understand it’s real, and he was made just for you.

“This android here is capable of handling important meetings, setting up interviews, and booking endorsements. He knows thousands of recipes and can plan a proper diet if that’s what you wish, as well as different exercise routines programmed into his memory if you need them.” Mr. Park stops circling the android to stand at his side, patting him on the shoulder. The android flashes a soft smile that would be comforting to anyone that wasn’t aware of what he was. To you, it puts you on edge, wondering where is the flaw. How can he appear so perfect? “He can act like a bodyguard, designed to read situations and do what is in your best interest. He is also… a companion of different sorts.”

“What do you mean?” You step closer, furrowing your brow as you look between the two. “I thought he was only an assistant.”

“Well, yes. His first purpose is the protection of his companion, which is you.” Mr. Park offers a smile before your gaze shifts to your new android assistant, and he stares at you with his eyes shifting to white. Only for a moment do they flash bright, as if he’s trying to read the current situation to understand how you feel about him. “Second are the tasks you told us you wished him to complete when we were making the offer. Third is… a more personal relationship. Intimate, if you so wish.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you immediately object with a shake of your head, watching his eyes simmer back to the regular hue you were getting used to. “I just need a new assistant. Nothing more than that.”

“Very well.” Mr. Park claps his hands together and smiles wide. “I hope he is a good fit, but if you have problems or concerns don’t be afraid to get in contact with me. We took extra care in making him just for you, so we want to make sure it works out well for everyone.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Park.” You take his extended hand for a shake, smiling politely before turning back to him. He never took his eyes off of you, the same soft smile on his lips as he stands before you. You can’t calm your racing heart or the way your stomach does backflips. “I hope it works as well.”

***

“You have a lovely home, Miss.”

He looks around the room to study his surroundings as he enters your condo, two bags of luggage in hand and a smile on his lips that begins to put you at ease. On the ride home, he offered to drive, surprising you that he could drive, but you declined, telling him you already had a car waiting on the two of you. It gave you time to get to know him a little better, though you weren’t sure if there was anything to know considering he is a brand new android.

Still, you tried your best to ease the tension between the two of you, even if you were the only one feeling uneasy and awkward. You asked him a few questions you don’t remember the answer to due to only being able to concentrate on the deepness of his voice. It surprised you the first time he spoke your name, figuring it was probably already registered in his program before you even met.

It has you curious of what else he knows about you, but you assume you will figure it all out in due time. For now, you need to adjust to having an android as an assistant while allowing him to adjust to living somewhere new and handling all the tasks you have for him.

“Thanks. It’s a little too big for just me,” you tell him as you guide him to the hall on the right to show him where he will be sleeping, “but maybe with you here now it won’t feel so lonely.”

“Well, my purpose is to do as you wish, whether it be handling your schedules or keeping you company.” When you enter the spare bedroom, he sets his bags down as a grin crosses his lips, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Whatever you need, I will do it.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” you tell him, hoping he can’t sense the way your voice wavers a bit from just his presence alone. Mr. Park assured you there’s no need to be intimidated, but with your heels off now, he looks much bigger than he did back at the company you purchased him from. He towers over you, causing you to wonder if you could have chosen a smaller height for your new assistant as well. “I’ll let you unpack your things and get settled in. If there’s anything you need, just let me know, okay?”

“Miss?” he calls for you as you begin to step out of the bedroom. “My task?”

“Huh?” You blink.

“What task would you like me to handle first?” He takes a step closer, folding his hands behind his back and you can’t miss the broadness of his chest as he does so.

“Well, I guess I haven’t thought that far ahead,” you tell him honestly as he chuckles just as a human would. Interesting, you think, wondering if his reactions are based on the fact that he wants to make you comfortable, or if he truly has a mind of his own and thinks of your remark as humorous. “For now, just settle in. Then we can go over my schedule and I can give you all the important information.”

“No need, Miss.” He waves his hand to dismiss any worries. “Your schedules for the next month have already been programmed in my memory, as well as contact information, important business numbers, and a meeting with your agent next Saturday.”

“Oh!” You perk up, smiling at the news though you are surprised he already has everything figured out. “Then I guess you can just make yourself at home.”

“Of course,” he says with a nod of his and his lips pressed in a thin line. Then his expression falls, as if he’s just remembered something. “Dinner is soon. Would you like me to prepare you a meal?”

You realize he’s going to do anything but take it easy for his first night. Of course, that is what he is programmed to do and you decide there’s no use fighting it.

“Sure,” you tell him with a sigh, “I would like that. Thank you.”

He smiles and nods his head. “My pleasure.”

***

“Dinner is ready, Miss.”

He finds you in your apartment’s office an hour and a half later, his voice pulling you from the script you have been reading over to prepare for your next role in a few months. With a smile, you nod before following him toward the dining room that rests between the living room and spacious kitchen.

“I prepared a meal with the ingredients you already had,” he informs you, sliding out a lush dining chair for you to settle in. Laid out on the glass table is a plate of what appears to be chicken parmesan with a glass of red wine. The smell of the sauce hits your nose in an instant, steam rising from the plate and your stomach growls at the sight. You weren’t even aware you were so hungry, though most of your days lately have been spent diving into your work and not caring too much about meals, or anything else. You aren’t in a position to allow your mind to wander. Suddenly you’re thankful he is there to take care of things for you.

You imagine your last assistant went shopping just before being released if there were enough ingredients to make such a meal. Though it hasn’t been long since your old assistant has been gone, it feels as if it was forever ago since she was the one buying your food and tending to your schedules. She didn’t cook, however, so it’s a surprise he can offer such a service to you.

“Is everything okay?” He pulls your attention from your thoughts of how things used to be. You glance up to see him eagerly awaiting your approval, so you smile at him with a nod of your head.

“Looks great. Thank you.”

“Of course, Miss.” He offers a gentle smile, just as any human would, and it catches you off guard for a moment. Of course, he was designed and programmed perfectly. He was made with you in mind and so everything he does is what is best for you. You didn’t expect to nearly forget he wasn’t human in moments like this, when he chuckles or smiles or reacts in such a way. “Is there anything else you need?”

Then his programmed responses remind you quickly. You think for a moment, then decide to offer him a seat next to you.

“Would you like to join me?” He blinks for a moment, surprised at the question. You chuckle as you grab your fork from its resting place on a folded cloth. “I know you can’t eat, obviously. But… would you keep me company?”

His expression softens before his smile returns. “Of course.”

He slides into the seat opposite of you, his back straight and his hands folded in his lap. Now he looks more robotic than human, and you realize it’s going to take some getting used to. Though you remember Mr. Park telling you he will adjust even further the longer he is around real people. Maybe he needs time to pick up on little quirks and gestures of humans just to seem more real.

“I hope I am not out of line by asking,” he begins just as you take the first bite and nearly melt from the tastes bursting into your mouth, “what happened with your old assistant?”

In an instant, you stop chewing, not expecting to be confronted with such a question so soon. You knew the reason for your old assistant leaving would arise eventually, however. Even if you just met him today, you want to be open and honest with him due to you expecting as much in return.

“I hope I didn’t offend you, Miss,” he begins again when you don’t offer a reply, lost in a whirlwind of your own thoughts once again. “It’s just with the short timeframe I was made, it would seem there was an urgency for my assistance.”

“You’re aware of that?” A crease in your brow forms as you ask. You wouldn’t have guessed him to pick up on his creation process, but he is right in the fact that it was a quick one. You even paid extra to receive him quicker than most.

“I am aware of how I was made and the reason, yes.” He nods his head gently with a slight grin.

“Oh, well…” For a moment you bite your lip, trying to get your thoughts in order. “I just needed a new assistant that would be focused and loyal. The old one didn’t work out.” You manage to get the jist of the reason out without too many details, and he nods in understanding.

“I hope things work out for you this time,” he says as you take another bite of your food, relishing in the taste and deciding if you get meals like this every night, you hope so as well. “My focus is one hundred percent on you.”

You don’t want to acknowledge the way your heart flutters at his words, but you can’t deny it, either. You gulp down the bite in your mouth and force an awkward smile before taking a sip of your wine.

***

“Do you sleep?”

After dinner, he left you to your script while you left him to clean up. The two of you made small talk while you ate the rest of your meal, telling him about what you do as an actress and he listened with honest interest. You weren’t sure of too many questions to ask him since, well, he wasn’t made too long ago, but you left him with the hope of getting to at least feel as if you know him better.

A little time passed and you grew too tired trying to memorize your lines. You began to get ready for sleep, doing your usual routine of taking off your make-up, cleaning your face, brushing your teeth and it wasn’t until you went to get undressed that you remembered to check on him. You found him tidying up things here and there, taking care of what he could manage until you pointed out something for him to do. He followed you to your bedroom, lingering by the door while you grabbed your night clothes out of a white, wooden chest on the other side of the room.

He smiles at the question you asked, as if it was almost silly of you to ask it. “I rest,” he tells you politely. He always responds in a calm manner, his voice soothing to your ears and though you don’t know him well at all, it makes you feel relaxed around him. “Until you have another task for me.”

You bite your lip while tossing the clothes you wish to change into over the silk sheets of your bed. “I have a few errands to run in the morning. Need to actually buy food instead of ordering take out every night.” Especially if he is cooking, you think to yourself. He smiles at your remark, as if he knows what you’re thinking. “I have to train for my next role as well. It’s an outdoorsy adventure type hiking through trails, so lots of cardio is needed.”

You chuckle as he nods and smiles. “What time would you like me to wake you?”

You hum, wondering why the thought of a personal android alarm clock excites you in the moment. “Seven?”

“I’ll see you as seven, Miss.”

He offers one last smile, reaching for the door handle, and shuts it behind him. You’re left wondering how you will manage to actually fall asleep with someone new in your home, but you were promised by Mr. Park he is harmless. You don’t doubt it with how you feel so comfortable around him, if only a bit curious and intrigued. Still, having such a drastic change so suddenly does make it more difficult to drift off to sleep. Eventually you manage with the thought of being woken up early by him in the morning.

***

He knocks softly on your bedroom door right on schedule. You blink a few times to adjust to the light spilling through the windows before stirring beneath the covers.

Five more minutes, you want to tell him, having had a harder time falling asleep the night before than you would have liked. With your mind spinning from thoughts of your new assistant, to your old one, to trying to adjust to life as it is now, you can’t really be blamed.

You also can’t stay in bed, you realize, as he knocks again and informs you it’s seven a.m. You assume you take too long to get out of bed or even answer him when you hear the twist of a handle before the door slowly opens.

“Miss? Are you awake?” You hear his voice without seeing him, assuming he’s respecting your privacy while keeping your task of being your personal android alarm clock in mind.

“Mm… unfortunately…” You never were a morning person, but you can blame long schedules, weird filming hours, and jet lag for that. Still, you try not to make the impression of a grumpy, diva actress as you clear your throat and slip out of bed. “Sorry. Yes, I’m awake.” You rub your eyes and blink a few times while finally adjusting to the morning sun.

“Is it alright if I step in?” he asks, and you’re thankful of it. You wore warm, silky pajamas to sleep the night before, looking down at the pink and white pattern on your top and pants, and then shrugging to yourself.

“Sure,” is all you say, then you yawn and stretch your hands over your head. He steps in a second later, back straight, looking poised and proper. You take in his styled hair just the same as the day before, though he’s only wearing a white dress shirt and slacks today. You almost want to laugh to yourself at the image of “waking” from his rest and getting dressed in the morning, finding the thought of him as any other human quite humorous. You’re simply too sleepy to give it another second on your mind, however.

“I have scheduled you a car to drive you to your preferred gym. It should be here in approximately thirty minutes. Would you like me to lay out appropriate attire for you?”

As he talks, you make your way to the bathroom connected to your large master bedroom. Grabbing your toothbrush from the marble countertop, you turn the water on and begin freshening up while giving him a nod of approval. He hangs by the bathroom door, averting his eyes while turning his shoulder to you, but you can hear the polite smile in his voice.

“Great. Would you like me to begin preparing breakfast for you?”

“Mhm,” you hum, mouth full of toothpaste and normally you wouldn’t let anyone see you in such a state, but you’re far too sleepy and your mind is exhausted from running wild the night before.

“Okay. I’ll lay your clothes out on your bed for you,” is all he says before turning away to begin his tasks.

By the time you’ve washed your face and pinned your hair up for your work-out, you can already smell the aroma of bacon seeping from the kitchen and filling the bedroom. Your stomach growls as you look over the gym pants and tank top he laid out for you. A smile springs to your face before you begin getting dressed, realizing that he would do any and everything you asked of him. Part of you feels less like an actress with an assistant and more like a spoiled child, but the sensible part tells you he’s just being thorough and doing his job. After all, he was made just for you to meet any need you could ever have.

***

After a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast with a glass of orange juice, he leaves you to head to your work out with a long session of cardio while he stays in your apartment to clean up. You know you should feel at least a little uneasy with a stranger in your home while you aren’t there, human or not, but it comes easier than you imagined to be off on your own while he stays behind. He was made just for you, you keep telling yourself. Mr. Park has never had an unruly android sold to a client, or one that went off the rails as far as you knew. There’s no reason not to trust him.

When your workout is finished, the car he called for you takes you back home, and you arrive just in time to spot him shuffling about and busy in the kitchen. For a moment you watch him, placing new ingredients in the cabinets and putting things away in the fridge and the bottom freezer drawer. When you let him know you’re home by asking where he got the groceries from (already assuming he had them delivered), he surprises you by telling you he went out and got them himself.

He continues to surprise you in the following weeks. He cooks for you for every meal, and you admit you’ve gotten too spoiled too fast with the delicious food he prepares. He even had some of your favorite recipes programmed in him before he went home with you, preparing them with ease each night for dinner. He spends his days cleaning up and tidying when you are busy tucked away memorizing your script. You sometimes smell a few of your favorite aromas that remind you of home with your family when you were younger, realizing he lit a candle just to relax you while you worked. After work outs, he even offers to run you a bath, but you quickly decide that you can definitely manage on your own. Even if he does your laundry and readies your clothes in the morning, which is something no assistant has ever done for you before, you tell yourself there are still a few things you will always handle yourself, never wanting to feel helpless instead of just taken care of.

Not to mention what comes as even more of a surprise is the way he grows on you, and your human characteristics begin to rub off on him. He picks up little quirks and gestures from being around you as well as all the people he comes into contact with while running errands for you. His expressions become more personal, realistic and it’s as if he loosens up a bit in the short time you’ve known him. He still remains proper with his calm tone and he is always professional with you, but he chuckles more and asks questions about your work, your past, and even sometimes the two of you have conversations about what you wish your future would be like.

You grow to enjoy his company more than his help. Even in such a short time, you start to think of him as a friend. You tell him when you’re feeling stressed and the burden of work is too much to bear. He responds with a hot cup of tea and an ear for you to vent. It comes easier than you expected to talk to him. And he listens. Truly listens, hanging on to every word you say and you aren’t sure if it’s because he cares for you (if he can care for someone since he isn’t even human) or if he only wants to pick up on more things. Still, you decide it’s nice to have someone to confide in when you need it.

His gentleness comes in handy the day you spot a vicious headline about yourself in a tabloid magazine. He and you were supposed to be out for the day as a way to take your mind off of work for a while after meetings with your agent and another script being sent in for a guest appearance on a TV show. He suggested it might help to get some fresh air, coming up with the idea to walk down to the coffee shop on the corner to clear your mind. He offered to order you a coffee and a strawberry pasty once you arrived, but you insisted you could manage yourself with a chuckle.

Sometimes, you quickly realized, you just enjoyed his company. So you ordered your drink and food, sat in the corner of the shop after he took your coat from your shoulders, and talked for a while. You admitted it did help ease your mind and on the walk back to your apartment, you were feeling lighter, more at peace.

That was until you spotted the headline on a street newsstand.

UP AND COMING ACTRESS STILL HEARTBROKEN OVER EX-FIANCE RUNNING AWAY WITH HER BEST FRIEND

The words caught you off guard, only because for once after the entire painful ordeal, your mind was the furthest from your pain. Not to mention the picture they chose to include on the front page of the magazine. It was the furthest thing from flattering, a scumbag paparazzi having taken the shot a few weeks prior when you were out at a restaurant with a friend, spilling your heart out to leave cheeks stained with tears, and the entire thing seemed to break your heart all over again.

“Is everything okay, Miss?” He asks when you finally arrive back home. In silence, he took your coat from you as you slipped your boots off at the door. The walk to your place wasn’t much better after seeing the headline. You fought back the tears. You pushed away the anger, but it was mostly due to you being mad at yourself for getting upset in the first place.

Things were getting better, you told yourself as you walked in silence next to him. I was getting better.

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m fine,” is all you tell him, quickly rushing to your office to shut the door behind you. You don’t even move from the spot, knees feeling too weak while your head falls back against the wood panel. Your eyes close, but tears still manage to reach your cheeks. You don’t know if you’re hurting, or just angry, or maybe a mix of both. It only takes something so small to bring all the feelings rushing back. It just takes one stupid little headline to bring that night back to life, where you found out the man you were supposed to marry in only a month was sleeping with your old assistant, your best friend.

Disgust rises in your chest because you thought you were over it. Insecurities and doubts suddenly fill your mind because of course you blame yourself and now it becomes harder to breathe in the moment. The tears continue to fall. You clutch your stomach and slip to the ground, anger bubbling right along with it to have you a mess of confusion and not understanding the sudden overwhelming emotions flooding you.

There’s a knock on the office door a moment later. Of course he would check up on you. It must have been surprising to him for you to suddenly be so cold, so out of it.

“Miss? Are you okay?” His voice is gentle as it comes from the other side of the door. For a moment, you still can’t move, but you take a few deep breaths and try to wipe your eyes. You’re sure your mascara is running, so you give a few extra swipes with the sleeve of your sweater before crawling to your knees.

Another deep breath and you’re on your feet. You pull the door open slowly, coming face to face with your android assistant looking more human than ever. His brow is wrinkled and there’s a deep blue hue in his eyes. For a second you’re taken aback. You’ve never seen his eyes shift to such colors before, blinking once, twice, and again to make sure you’re not imagining it.

“Are you okay?” He steps closer, somehow his voice even softer, more gentle than before. Part of you wants to collapse in his arms, though it wouldn’t be appropriate. His demeanor would make it so easy, so comforting, the perfect shoulder to cry on.

But you try to toughen up and force a smile.

“Yeah, sorry… just… allergies.” The way he stares at you tells you how terrible you are at lying. For an actress that would normally say far more than you would like but who could blame you after having a panic attack.

“Please tell me if something is troubling you.” He steps closer, confirming with words he doesn’t believe the horrible allergy lie. He places two large, gentle hands on your shoulders, thumbs massaging through your sweater. “I’m here to help no matter what it is.”

For a moment you only look up at him. The tears fill your eyes once more, chest aching so much it leaves you nearly breathless. Before a single drop can hit your cheeks burning hot, you crash into his chest, collapsing into his embrace just like you wanted to do. “Oh…”

He says nothing, only wrapping his arms around your body to hold you close. The warmth of his hold engulfs you as you cling tightly to his dress shirt. Tears fall to your cheeks and even soak into the fabric your head rests against, but he doesn’t let you go. He lets you feel how you need to feel, and he keeps you close. His hand begins to stroke your back, calming your cries and your body down from its overwhelming state. You push into him, allowing him to ease the burden, clinging to him to hold onto reality so your mind doesn’t drift too far away.

A minute passes like this, wrapped up in his comforting warmth. Finally the tears stop falling, though your head begins to pound from the pressure. Your cheeks still burn hot and when you pull away from him, you quickly wipe them with the sleeve of your sweater once again.

“I’m… sorry.” You sniffle and look away, never wanting him to see you like this. Never wanting anyone to see you like this, but how can that be when paparazzi takes pictures in your most vulnerable state and sells them to gossip magazines.

“Please, don’t apologize,” he says, placing a gentle hand beneath your chin so you’ll look him in the eyes. There you spot a different hue, a flash of blue and then pink, finally settling on purple. A second or two passes before you realize they nearly had you in a trance, watching the waves of colors. It somehow comforts you in the moment, staring into his gentle eyes, feeling his warmth, his careful touch on your face. “Are you feeling better now?”

You can breathe, so it’s a start. You refrain from telling him that, however. Instead, a weak smile forms on your lips and you nod your head.

“Would you like to talk about it?” The question isn’t pushy and doesn’t pry. You know he would have no need for such things. It comes as a genuine concern for you, wanting to help and make you feel better just as he was designed to do.

All you can do is wrinkle your brow and bite your lip as you keep your tears at bay, nodding your head to tell him yes. Gently, he guides you from your office to your living room to have a seat on the sofa. He sits close to you, without a word reaching to take your hand still trembling from your emotions in his own. Then you take a deep breath, trying to get your thoughts under control.

“I… saw a headline while we were walking home.” You pause, wanting to make sure the ache that was settled deep in your chest didn’t return. Of course, the feeling still lingers but as long as you can form the words, as long as you can breathe and speak without breaking down again, you want to keep going. “It was a stupid, dumb headline on a stupid, dumb magazine and I… I just didn’t expect to see it so suddenly. Not when I wasn’t thinking about it. Now when I… when I thought I was getting over it.”

“What was it about?” He never pulls his eyes away from you. Normally it would make you insecure. Even for an actress sometimes the thought of eyes on you constantly can be frightening, especially when you feel so weak, so vulnerable. As always, he puts you at ease. Everything he does is for you.

“I…” You bite your lip, wanting to tell him, just not knowing where to start. You decide you should start from the beginning. “I had this guy… my… fiance.” The last word releases in a whisper, as if it’s poison on your tongue. It stings in your chest at the thought. The thought of giving your entire life to someone that could crush your heart so easily.

“Oh?” he asks when you take too long of a pause.

“We were all set to be married a month ago. We were supposed to be married now.” The images come flooding back, the memories filling your mind one by one. The thoughts of testing cakes and picking out a wedding dress with your mother and best friend arise and nausea sets in. “A few weeks before the wedding I-” You gulp, hard, swallowing the words because you know if you speak them the voice that comes out will sound nothing like your own.

He gives a little squeeze of your hand, encouraging you to continue. He tells you without words he’s right there for you, whatever you need.

“I found out he was cheating on me.” For some reason, the words are a sudden blow to the chest followed by a weight from your shoulders all at the same time. You haven’t talked to many about your recent heartbreak, though you feel as if the world already knows everything thanks to “close sources” and nosy paparazzi. Though, telling him now feels as if it’s the one thing you needed to begin healing. You aren’t sure if it’s due to finally coming in check with the reality of what happened and how you feel, or if he is somehow so intent on helping you it suddenly makes you feel better about it all. You can’t seem to care either way. You’re thankful to him.

“He was unfaithful to you as a companion.” You chuckle with tears welling in your eyes at him making sense of it.

“That and a whole hell of a lot more.” Before you can wipe the drops that fall against your cheek, he reaches for you. His thumb brushes ever so lightly against your skin, ridding you of the tears and soothing you. “The person he decided to cheat on me with was also my old assistant. My… best friend.”

The words sting just as much as the first time you found out. Not only did you have to face the reality of your fiance no longer wanting to be with you, you had to come to terms with being backstabbed by the one person you thought would always be there for you. If that wasn’t enough, the two of them came to you later, informing you they wanted to be together and you needed to find a new assistant. As if you would somehow approve of their relationship. As if somehow you could ever want your best friend to assist you anyway.

In the end, you tried to convince yourself it was better this way. Better to find out before the wedding your ex was a total scumbag than after you were already married. It didn’t ease the pain any, and so you threw yourself into your work, studying scripts, signing another movie deal, pretending as if you weren’t completely shattered inside. Maybe it’s part of the reason you’re still taking things so hard, and something like a magazine headline could break your heart all over again.

“I am so sorry these people caused you so much pain.” His calm, yet deep tone brings you back to reality from your own thoughts. You look to him for the first time since you sat down, staring into the comforting eyes that shine a deep blue hue once again. He doesn’t say it, and you don’t question it, but it somehow feels as if he is heartbroken right along with you. There’s pain on his face, surprising you that for an android he has such a wide range of emotions. He feels for you in the moment, taking your heart ache right along with you, and something inside of you tells you he would take all the pain if he could.

“Well, it was a while ago,” you tell him, shrugging and forcing a small laugh to fall from your lips. Not that long ago, you remind yourself, but you try to put on a strong face for him. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m such a mess right now.” A strained smile forms on your lips, trying to ease the situation. His expression doesn’t change, however.

“Please don’t apologize,” is all he says, reaching to wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Don’t ever feel ashamed of your emotions. You never have to hide them from me. I’m always here for you.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to forget he is an android programmed to say the perfect things. For a moment, you tell yourself it’s all real, your feelings and his own. And for a moment, you allow him to comfort you not as an assistant, but someone that’s grown close to you in such a short time. You allow him to be your friend.

***

A few days after your panic attack and spilling your heart out to him, you begin to feel better. A weight was lifted off your chest when you were open and honest with him, allowing yourself to be vulnerable to the one person you are convinced could never hurt you. Well, the one android who could never hurt you.

You’re suddenly okay with that thought. He isn’t human, but as the last few months have gone by, you started to lose faith humans were any better. You couldn’t imagine him running off with your next partner. The thought even leaves you giggling to yourself.

Of course, good things don’t always last. One Sunday afternoon there’s a quick knock at your door, and your stomach feels heavy in an instant. Maybe it’s due to you always expecting things to go wrong when they seem right, but as your heavy feet carry you toward the door, your heart races while preparing for the worst.

The worst comes in the form of your ex-fiance’s sudden appearance at your home. He looks disheveled, longer hair than you remembered him having dangling in his eyes to almost cover the bags beneath them. Rough cheeks prove he hasn’t shaved in a while and his clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, look like anything but the normally put together dress shirts and slacks he wears.

“Sweetheart,” he says casually, as if just months ago he didn’t rip your heart into pieces. “It’s so good to see you. You look beautiful.”

You scoff. Normally you would be civil at the least, but just the sight of him draws back so many memories and feelings to the surface you didn’t want to deal with.

“What are you doing here, Brody?” From your words with your icy tone, he steps back. Did he really expect a warm welcome?

“I came to see you, sweetheart. It’s been too long and I…” He pauses, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “Well, I miss you, baby. I know things ended on bad terms, but I-”

“Bad terms?!” You don’t mean to, but your voice raises as you repeat his words. Anger bubbles in your chest to grow in your expression. You take a step forward, hands clenching into fists at your sides. “Bad terms? That’s what you call it?”

“Sweetheart, I-”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt, raising your chin proudly. You have too much respect for yourself to stand there and allow it. You may still have emotions you haven’t dealt with properly, but you won’t be a doormat. “Don’t call me anything. Just leave. I never, ever want to see you again, Brody.”

“Baby, listen,” he continues, stepping inside your apartment and closing the door behind him. Your mouth falls open, deciding if you’re either two seconds away from calling security or slapping him in the face. Of course, you’ve never been the violent type and couldn’t actually see yourself hurting someone, but if anyone can bring it out in you, it’s him.

“Brody, leave,” you repeat, tone more stern so he will get the hint. Even though, you realize, if he hasn’t gotten it by now, you aren’t sure what it will take.

“Just listen to me, I-” His words fall short, and suddenly his eyes dart to something behind you. In an instant his expression switches from nothing short of pitiful to almost offended. He straightens his back and wrinkles his brow, and it takes one quick glance behind you to spot your android assistant and see why his entire demeanor has shifted. “Who the hell is that?”

“That’s my new assistant.” You aren’t even sure why you answered him. He doesn’t deserve any explanations from you, but you guess maybe you’re a little proud of the fact you have him.

“Is everything okay, Miss?” He doesn’t hesitate to step behind you, so close you can feel the warmth of him on your back. When you turn to look at him, however, he isn’t looking down at you, but he is staring a hole into Brody.

“Everything is fine. Brody was just leaving.”

Your ex’s eyes bounce between the two of you. Suddenly he’s at a loss for words. You guess he’s feeling intimidated by the android’s size, or maybe it’s just his cool, calm, and collected attitude that makes him even more mysterious to strangers. But soon that intimidation turns to jealousy and anger, not wanting to feel weak in the moment, wanting to make himself bigger than he really is.

“I see what’s going on,” he begins, chuckling darkly and shaking his head. “You found someone new to fuck so you don’t need be anymore.”

You want to laugh at the ridiculous accusation, but you refrain. “Sure, that’s it,” is all you say with a roll of your eyes. A part of you wonders how you could have married someone like that, but jealousy is the ugliest trait. You decide you don’t care what he thinks. He’s no one to you anymore, and you only want to get rid of him. “Leave, Brody.”

His gaze switches between the two of you for a few seconds later, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched. For a split-second you’re worried he will lash out even more, but all he does is huff, shake his head, and turn around to leave with a slam of your door.

Finally you let out the breath you were holding. Turning to your assitant, you notice the ice cold expression he was giving Brody suddenly softened. His eyes fell to his usual color, easing the tension in the room as you looked into them.

“I’m so sorry.” You shake your head while sighing. “God, he’s such an asshole.”

“Are you alright?” He leans closer, placing his hands on your shoulders as if to inspect you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” You take a huge breath to exhale in a puff. You hate how worked up he can get you. Even after not seeing him for so long, all the old memories mixing with the anger to spiral into tense aggravation has you on edge. “I can’t stand what he does to me. How upset he can still make me.” You bite your lip, harder than usual, as your brows furrow and your foot taps eagerly on the wooden floors.

“May I suggest a method of calming you down?” he offers. “I want to help you relax.”

You ponder the thought, then eventually give in with your shoulders slumped. “What do you have in mind?”

“A massage. To ease the tension in your body and stress you’re currently under.” The suggestion has warmth blossoming inside of you. Such acts have never came up in the time he’s been with you. Though, you’ve never had to deal with your ex before, either. You do recall Mr. Park saying he could read situations and come up with solutions to help you.

Though, the thought of him touching you makes you feel… well, you aren’t really sure. Of course you feel safe with him. You’re convinced he could never hurt you, and would never be inappropriate with you. Everything he has done from the moment you got him has been professional, kind, and courteous. Still, a massage seems so personal. So intimate.

“Just your shoulders, Miss.” You assume you’ve been lost in thought for too long. “I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I just want to help you.”

“Oh, I know.” You chuckle more to yourself than to him. “I trust you. I really do, I just… you know what? Okay!” What the hell, you tell yourself. How many people get the opportunity to get a skilled massage from an android? Considering all the programming he has with cooking, you’re sure his knowledge in massages can’t be far behind.

A smile forms on his lips. “Great. Why don’t you get undressed and get ready for me on the bed. I’ll get a few oils and lotions I have.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Undressed?” You assumed it would be a simple massage. Nothing is simple with him, you think. Of course he would want to do it the proper way. As if you were getting a professional massage at a spa, something you have done hundreds of times. It’s no different with him.

He raises a brow. “Would you like to keep your clothes on?”

“No, it’s okay.” You quickly nod and smile.

“Okay, I’ll grab a towel for you so you can cover yourself.”

With a nod, he’s off grabbing a fresh towel from the linen closet and you’re making your way to your room. Before he grabs his oils from his own room, he knocks gently on the door before passing off the towel to you, making sure not to step in too far in case it would make you uncomfortable. Then he steps away to give you privacy, and you begin stripping down to nothing but your panties. There’s no need to take them off, of course, and you wrap the towel around you while waiting for him to return.

“Are you ready, Miss?” you hear his voice through the door, and all you can manage is a hum of ‘mhm’ before he steps inside the bedroom. “You can lay down, if you’re ready.”

He remains calm and professional, but your heart feels as if it will beat right through your chest. Relax, you tell yourself, it’s just a massage… I’ve had hundreds of them. None by any androids, however. None by him.

The thought sends your body reeling. Warmth builds in your chest, feeling the jittery nerves of excitement and anticipation mixed with the heart racing insecurity. You tell yourself to get it together, it’s no big deal. Part of you wants to believe it, but as you lay down on your stomach in nothing but your towel with panties underneath, you know it’s a new experience for the both of you.

“I’m going to use a calming oil that will relax your muscles. It’s lavender scented. I hope you enjoy it.” He talks as you hear the sound of him rubbing the oil in his large palms, and there’s no doubt inside of you that you will enjoy it. That’s what has you on edge. “I’m going to begin with your shoulders now, is that okay?”

Your heart flutters in the way he asks permission. He is always taking care of you, making sure you’re comfortable.

“Mhm,” you hum, scared if you actually speak your voice will be unsteady as it falls from your lips. A few seconds later, you feel his hands on your body. His palms press so gently against your shoulder blades as his fingers ghost over the sides of your neck you want to melt right into the mattress. He takes his time, easing you into the moment by caressing your skin, and when he hears the softest whimper leave your lips, he deepens his touch.

God, you think, his hands are so warm. So big and warm and touching you. You feel like a silly little girl for even caring, but his touch is so gentle, so careful and soft for a robot that can be so intimidating. He works the tension out of your shoulders, easing you into a relaxed state of bliss as your eyes begin to flutter. He takes his time and your body has his full attention. You feel him caress your shoulder blades, the sides of your neck, even a little farther down until you decide you don’t care at all where his hands go, you just want him to touch you.

You call for him, voice so airy and light with his name you almost didn’t recognize it.

“Yes?” he replies, not taking his attention away from his task.

“You’re so… gentle.” You giggle to yourself, suddenly on a natural high from feeling so at ease. It’s clear you haven’t felt so relaxed in months. “I didn’t expect it.”

“You expected something different?”

“Well, no,” you say, chuckling again, then whimpering when he begins working down your back. You hate to acknowledge the way your body reacts to him. You can feel your nipples hardening from his touch, pressing into the silk sheet beneath you to add even more friction. Your body is so hot beneath his hands, so worked up you begin to form an ache between your legs. You’re sure if you were to check, there would be a darkened spot on your panties from your arousal. Your cheeks burn at the thought, embarrassment flooding you all at once before it’s replaced by need from the tender way he touches you, but you can’t help it. His hands feel too good. It’s been too long since you’ve even been this personal with someone. “I guess I never expected you to be so… so careful. I’ve never… never been touched like this.”

“Does it feel good?”

You swear you think you heard a darker hint to his tone as he asked, sending a wave of heat through your body bursting from your core. You gulp, trying not to let the thoughts overwhelm you as he deepens the massage, his large, skilled hands working over every inch of your back.

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, then you bite your lip to keep yourself from making any more noises. You shut your eyes tight, but that doesn’t help, either. Instantly images of him pop into your mind, him going further, him touching you in different places.

You try to shake them from your head, but the longer he touches you, the worse it gets. You can just imagine his hands if you were on your back, massaging your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples by rolling the erect bed against his fingers. His gentle, careful hands would ease down your stomach, slip deep into your panties to feel how wet you’ve grown for him. Would he like it? You aren’t sure, but you can’t imagine him disappointing you if just his back massages feel this good.

You can only imagine what he could do between your thighs. Stroking your slit, teasing your clit, easing his long fingers inside your dripping heat to make you come against his hand.

Instantly it’s too much. You push the thoughts from your head before beginning to stir on the bed.

“I’m feeling better!” Carefully, you pull the towel up to cover your breasts before you stand. Your face is burning hot, body feeling so weak with need you suddenly feel lightheaded.

“Is everything okay?” Concern strikes his features. “Did I do something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

No, you want to tell him, my own thoughts made me uncomfortable. God, how could you get carried away like that? It was only a simple massage. How could you start having a full-blown fantasy of your assistant? He’s not even human.

“You’re fine. I am feeling much better now, thank you.”

He hesitates like he doesn’t believe you. But you’re sure he can sense you’re trying to convince him anyway. He doesn't push any further and you’re grateful.

“I’m glad you feel better, Miss.” He nods and steps back. “How about I get dinner started for you?”

“That would be great, thank you.” You can barely look at him as he walks out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Once you’re alone, guilt instantly weighs heavy in your chest. You hate yourself for allowing your imagination to run wild. How could you think such things of him, especially when he has always been kind and professional? The question runs through your mind again and again, and you have no answer. You only know you don’t want him to get so close and personal again.

***

For a while after the massage from him, you keep any and all physical contact at bay if only to keep your own emotions in check. Even if you still feel safe and comfortable around him, knowing he would never do anything to bring you harm, you suddenly don’t trust yourself as much.

As the days pass, even if you keep your distance, you can’t help but to notice him more. You catch yourself staring when you think he doesn’t pay attention, realizing just how handsome he is. Of course, you knew that from the beginning, but it’s different somehow. As if when you look at him, you completely melt on the inside. His laugh has become all the more human, all the more real, and it has warmth blossoming in your chest when you hear it. Just being around him puts you in the best mood, and your troubles before with your ex-fiance and old assistant seem like such a distant memory.

It makes getting back to work easier, knowing he will always be there for you right by your side. You feel secure as long as he’s close by, and you even brought him to a party the director of the last movie you starred in was throwing. You decided to bring him as your unofficial date, even though only the two of you knew about it. To anyone else, he was just your assistant, but to you, you brought him along as a friend and someone to look out for you.

You dressed up in your favorite black, sparkly cocktail dress, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw him ready to go in his 3 piece suit and his hair combed back and styled perfectly. For a moment, you could only stare, suddenly feeling warm from how good he looked, and you couldn’t help but feel prideful in the fact that he was yours.

Your assistant, you quickly reminded yourself, shaking any other thoughts from your head as the two of you made your way to the party. Once you arrived, the lavish room of his home completely decorated with golden balloons, streamers, a table with expensive treats and his very own bartender to make you wide-eyed, the director pulled you away to gossip with this new actor and that one. You tried to be polite and make acquaintances, shaking hands and getting kissed on the cheek, but really all you wanted to do was know where your android was. It took a few glances around the room to spot him close by, keeping an eye on you as you politely downed another drink someone shoved in your hand and carried on the conversation with a chuckle here and there. You felt as if the room was spinning in no time, though that’s how these parties usually went. You were never one for this side of the business, but of course to get gigs you had to show up with a friendly face and make nice.

So you chatted some more with people you barely knew, always looking every once and a while to make sure he was close by. At one point, you turned to notice a few drunken d-list actresses clinging to him, and you could only imagine the conversation.

Thought it didn’t bother you. Once you met his eyes, he gave you a reassuring look to let you know his focus was on you, and you went back to listening to a boring actor talk about the last movie he worked on. You really didn’t care, but thankfully you had alcohol to make it seem like you did.

“So, like I was saying,” he begins again after finishing his shot, “I was on set with two tigers, and they warned me not to get too close, but I was like “Hey, I’m me!” and did it anyway, and then…”

His words drowned out. He has to possibly be the most boring, conceited actor you have ever met. He should get an award about having a story with tigers and you somehow still want to fall asleep listening. But you smile and nod, just like you are used to doing. By now, your face burns hot from the alcohol, feeling a little drained and ready to get out of the dress and heels.

“...so what do you say, sweetheart?” Your attention turns back to the man before you, watching him flick his hair from his eyes and sport a cheesy smile. “Wanna get out of here?” He reaches to place a hand on your shoulder, giving it a little squeeze with a lick of his lips.

Before you can tell him absolutely not, your assistant appears before you, his big body stepping in the way of the actor to block his view of you.

“Let’s go,” he says in a whisper, but you’re curious and the alcohol is causing a bit of confusion with you. Though, his stern tone makes your heart skip a beat, wondering if he knows something you don’t. “Please, come with me now.”

“Hey, we’re talking here…” The actor tries to shove him by his shoulder to get him out of the way, but your android assistant doesn’t even budge an inch. It was like a child trying to move a fridge, which irritated the man further. “Did you hear me?” The actor comes to his side, and you assume this can’t be good. He’s probably had too much alcohol and the last thing you want is to cause a commotion in the director’s home.

“This is my assistant,” you quickly tell him with a giggle. He finally acknowledges the actor, and for a moment you notice the shift in his eyes. The hues switch from a soft hue you’re used to into a fiery red in seconds.

“Oh…” It’s clear the man noticed the androi’s eyes, taking a step back. “Oh, your assistant is one of those.”

It’s not unheard of for androids to take on everyday roles now. They came into the limelight just a few years ago, and it seems every other person has one. The actor’s surprise of him shouldn’t come as a shock, but the tone in which he addresses him fills you with irritation.

“Funny,” he begins, becoming bold knowing the androids don’t have any violent tendencies. Well, as far as this guy knows, but you don’t doubt he would go to great lengths to protect you. “I thought it was supposed to take orders from you, not the other way around.”

The last thing you want is to put him in such a situation, however. You quickly apologize to the boring actor before your assistant guides you out of the party, already having called a car to pick the two of you up.

You call for him after slipping into the backseat of the black limo and feeling the car pull away to head home. The solid black partition was already raised, giving the two of you privacy. “What was that about? Why did you want to leave in such a hurry?”

“I noticed a shift in his tone and body language.” He says, turning to you with his soft eyes once again. Though his tone hasn’t eased any, and you wonder if the man inside the party somehow got to him. “He had impure motivations with you, Miss. I felt it was my duty to get you somewhere safe.”

Suddenly you burst into a fit of drunken giggles. “Is that all?” For some reason, you can’t stop laughing. He remains confused, brow wrinkling as his eyes flash between the normal hue and white, as if he were trying to understand what was so funny. “Most of the men there have those intentions. Not like they had a chance, anyway.”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe. You were intoxicated and your judgments could have been impaired.”

As he speaks, your laughter settles. “Oh well,” you sigh, getting more comfortable in your seat while drunkenly resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes close, listening to the hum of the engine mixing with the tires on the road, suddenly so sleepy. “I was growing bored. My feet hurt.”

“Would you like a massage?”

If you didn’t drink so much, just the mention of the word massage would have made you a mumbling mess thanks to the last time he performed such an act on you. But you are too drunk to care, and too comfortable to move as you lay against him.

“No, thank you,” you tell him, snuggling closer and resting your arm around his stomach. “Will you hold me instead? Just until we get home?” Though it’s breaking your rule of no physical contact, you grow awfully needy when you’ve been drinking. Not to mention how warm he always is. It nearly puts you to sleep just laying beside him, and even more so when you feel a strong arm wrap around your body. He holds you close without hesitation as the two of you ride home in silence.

When you stumble inside your apartment, he helps you take off your heels at the door. Your hands fall to his shoulders to keep from being so wobbly, and he is gentle as he slips each one off with a grip on your calf. Before he stands, he looks up at you, his eyes meeting your eyes to see a soft, pink glow.

“How are you feeling?” The question makes your heart burst with warmth. He is always so attentive, so careful of you and what you need. He always says the perfect things at the right time, always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable.

“I-I’m okay,” is all you can manage, watching a smile form on his lips.

“Want me to help you to bed?”

You hesitate for a moment. That would also be breaking the rule of no physical contact, but you’re still feeling the effects of the alcohol and nothing sounds better than being taken care of in the moment. All you can do is give a quick nod and he’s rising to his feet. He takes your hand in his own, guiding you to your bedroom.

Once inside, he steps toward your bathroom to leave you lingering by your bed, the pillows and sheets looking ever so inviting in the moment. Then he returns, a few fresh make-up wipes in his hand. You almost want to laugh because of course he’s thought of everything, but all you can do is smile at him. Tenderly, he begins swiping the wipes over your face, cleaning the foundation and eye shadow, and even taking extra care going over your lashes. Once again, he’s as gentle as ever, taking his time to do it properly. It’s hard not to think about the fact that you’ve never even had a boyfriend so attentive. It’s easy to feel spoiled with him. It’s even easier when you’ve been drinking. You allow him to pamper you for a moment, clearing away the make-up and when he’s done, he steps behind you to tug on the zipper to your dress.

You call for him, feeling hot beneath his focused gaze.

“Yes?” He pulls his hands back, waiting on your voice to guide him.

“I think… I think I’ve got it from here.” You don’t know why it was almost difficult to tell him to stop. Maybe because part of you wants to see how far he will go, what lengths will he reach to please you. The other part is scared, but not of him. You’re scared of your own feelings, and your own heart, knowing how someone like you, once so broken and alone, could begin to fall for someone like him.

You don’t give yourself the chance.

“Goodnight, Miss,” is all he says, offering a smile before stepping out of your bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

***

They say when it rains, it pours, but they don’t tell you that there are moments of sunlight between the storms. You feel as if that’s what the past year has been for you. From finding out your ex-fiance was cheating on you with your best friend, you went into a spiral of overwhelming workloads to take your mind off of it. Then you met him, feeling as if there was a little hope for you to get your life back on track with having someone to actually assist and be there for you.

From tabloid headlines to bring all the memories back to finding comfort in his arms, all the way to feeling as if the storm was finally over just to be reminded of it all with a visit from your ex. In one way or another, life remains a rollercoaster for you, and now that you’ve had too many good days, the storm begins to roll in once again.

“I just can’t believe she could ask me that!” You pace back and forth in your living room, seething, on the verge of tears once again due to your past. Funny how you can hurt so much and it’s not even your fault. “She sat there and just said it! Flat out asked me how I feel about them getting engaged!”

He remains quiet, allowing you to pace, and vent, and do whatever you need to do, as long as you remain safe. He is settled on the couch, watching you stomp around in a circle, throwing your hands up in the air. It’s almost as if you’re having a conversation with yourself, but it’s not like you’re giving him much chance to speak, anyway.

“I spent months filming a movie and working my ass off only for them to want to bring up the fact that my ex-douche of a fiance cheated on me with my best friend and now they’re getting married.”

You huff, and groan, and eventually you fall next to him on the sofa. He says nothing, waiting until the time is right to speak, so you begin talking to yourself once again.

“Not to mention I no longer have the two people I was closest with in my life. I feel so alone sometimes even though it feels as if the whole world is looking in on my personal life and having opinions!” Leaning forward, your head crashes into your hands. “I thought at least the interviews and the press would take my mind off of it, but how could it when they only want to mention the one thing that absolutely crushed my heart. And you know what… it’s not even like I care! Let them get married. Whatever! But why is that all anyone wants to talk about? Why is that all anything everyone thinks of when they think of me? They are the ones that fucked up and I am the only one facing the consequences of it.”

Finally, it all comes crashing down at once. You realize how exhausting venting is, crumbling into the cushions to bury your head like a child. The tears well into your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. Not anymore. You’re too tired of crying over them. And it’s true, you don’t care they are getting married. You’re only upset that it keeps haunting you and not allowing you to move on. Not to mention how you felt like an idiot having to sit there and smile through the interview, letting the hosts get away with nosy questions they shouldn’t have asked in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say, pulling yourself from the pile of cushions and turning to face him. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you. I just… well, I don’t have anyone but you.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Miss.” He reaches to take your hand in his. “Your comfort is my top priority and as I understand it this ex-douche and your old assistant continue to cause you distress.”

You can’t help but to chuckle at him repeating your newfound nickname for your ex-fiance. He truly does know all the right things to say, even if it’s by accident.

“How about I run a hot bath to help you relax?”

At first you want to disagree and tell him that’s not necessary, but the idea of soaking your tense muscles in steaming water really does sound appealing. After a moment, you agree, and he is off to start running the water after telling you to wait just a moment. You remain settled on the couch, minutes passing until you hear him entering the living room once again.

“It’s ready,” is all he says before you rise to your feet and he guides you to the bathroom in the hall with a large jacuzzi tub. The smell of vanilla enters your nose in an instant, realizing he has dimmed the lights before placing a few candles around the bathroom. The water still runs gently into the tub, continuing to fill up while waiting on you. There’s a clean town ready for you on the side, along with a washcloth, and a fresh change of clothes for when you’re done.

“I added some drops of relaxing oils to the water. They should help sooth your muscles and make your skin feel soft.”

He’s thought of everything, you think, grinning to yourself. “You did all this just to help me?” He nods, flashing a bright smile you suddenly can’t seem to keep your eyes off of. You don’t remember ever seeing him grin so wide, as if he were proud of himself. The sight of it melts your heart.

“I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Thank you.” You smile in return, heart fluttering while feeling weak in the knees.

“Of course. It’s my pleasure. Would you like me to help you undress?”

Your eyes grow wide for a moment. Of course your first instinct is to shy away from him and tell him no. Though suddenly something deep within you is tempted to say yes. Maybe it’s the frustration you’re feeling, so tired of all the bad news, the heartache, the sudden emotions that come bursting to the surface. Maybe it’s in the way he always puts you at ease, and you just don’t want to be alone in the moment.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll leave you be. Just know that I only want to help.” You hesitate for a moment longer, flipping back and forth between saying no, and begging him not to go, not to leave you. Eventually, the need to have him stay outweighs everything. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you tell yourself. He’s there to help.

“I would like that.” Your voice seems so small in the moment, so shy and insecure at him helping you. He understands your hesitation, not daring to move too fast or too sudden as he reaches for you. He begins with the buttons of your blouse, plucking them slowly one by one while you look anywhere but at his hands working.

“Your smile earlier,” you suddenly say, maybe out of nerves as he undresses you, trying to think of anything else in the moment but how the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering like crazy. “Sometimes it’s so human... I guess that was the first time you’ve smiled like that.”

Your heart races as he grins wider, as if to show off the proud, human smile you’re talking about.

“I hear it eases humans and they find kind smiles attractive,” he replies. “Do you?”

Suddenly, you feel as if your heart will beat right out of your chest. There’s a playful tone in question. Was this an android’s attempt at flirting with you? “Well, yeah of course.” Then you chuckle, shying away from him with a bite of your lip. “You look so believable, yet unbelievable sometimes. Everything about you is so real. Sometimes I forget…”

“I’m not human?”

“Yeah…”

“I was made just for you. To make you comfortable and assist you. All of my features were designed specifically with your satisfaction in mind, even down to the smallest detail. Do you want to touch?”

Your eyes grow wide for a moment when you turn to look at him just as he peels back your shirt from your shoulders, leaving you in your skirt and silky, black bra.

“Touch?” You gulp, feeling so exposed, so hot under his gaze but not wanting to stop. The thumping of your heartbeat reaches your ears, already on edge, feeling jittery from the nerves, but you can’t imagine what will happen if he doesn’t continue.

“Yes,” is all he says, “you can touch me if you would like.”

You never thought about touching him, only what it would feel like if he touched you, but now you can’t turn down the opportunity. As you think it over, he eases your skirt down your hips to fall to your feet a few seconds before you finally reach out to brush the tips of your fingers over his cheek. In an instant his eyes flash, first white, then a pretty, pale pink, before settling back to the usual hue.

“Your eyes,” you comment. “They change colors sometimes.”

“Ah, yes,” he begins with a grin, “it’s how I show a response to certain situations. It’s the only way I can communicate without purpose, or to put it simply, a natural reaction to what is happening.”

“So… the pink? Is from…”

“Your touch.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t want to get your hopes up that it means more than it actually does, but you can’t help it. You’ve seen his eyes a natural color, deep blue when he comforts you, even red when getting between you and the drunk actor at the party. All the way down to white when he is thinking something over, but pink…

Pink is for when the two of you are close. When he takes care of you. When he touches you. And now, when you touch him.

Your fingers continue to graze over his flesh, soft and clean and feeling so pure, before your thumb moves to his mouth. You feel the warmth of his bottom lip, the fullness and the way you move effortlessly over his faux flesh. As you touch, you notice the tiny pores beneath his lip. It’s such a small detail but it makes him so much more human. A perfect little imperfection and suddenly there’s warmth blossoming in your chest.

He’s perfect in every way. You feel like you don’t deserve him, but you don’t want him with anyone else, either.

“Would you like me to continue?” he asks, and then you realize you’re in nothing but your bra and panties. The tub is almost full by now, so before you respond, he reaches behind you to twist the faucet and turn the water off. You peek into the tub, seeing the steam rising to carry the scent of the vanilla candles on the counter through the entire room and out into the hall.

“Yes,” you quickly say before you lose the courage. It’s not even like you to be so shy in front of men, having been more than confident in the bedroom. But he is no ordinary man. He’s no man at all. He’s perfect, and he’s yours.

Without a word, he steps behind you to tug at the clasp of your bra. Gently, he allows the straps to fall from your shoulder before the fabric to the floor. You’re curious of his next move. Will he try to look at you? Try to touch?

He does neither. Instead he carefully tugs at the straps to your panties, slipping the thin fabric down your legs to pool at your feet. You’re completely bare in front of him, exposed, vulnerable.

Yet for the first time in a while, you don’t feel the need to shy away. Your heart is still racing, of course, and your knees feel weak, but the doubts and insecurities have turned to thrill. It’s exhilarating being in front of him like this. So carefree and open, he takes your mind off of your worries.

He steps in front of you a moment later. Your eyes meet his, but suddenly they no longer shine the pink hue you were getting used to. Now they’re red. A deep red, reminding you of passion and longing. Your heart skips a beat. Could he really be feeling attraction to you?

“Ready to step in, Miss?” he asks, keeping his cool, calm, collected aura though his eyes tell a different story.

You blink a few times just to make sure you’re not imagining it. “Your eyes…”

All he can do is look right back at you. As if he has no explanation for it himself, and maybe it’s better that way. Though it does leave you curious, and soon that curiosity turns to longing. There’s something igniting within the both of you, even if it doesn’t make sense. There’s no way he could feel anything for you, right?

In a sudden moment of boldness, you find yourself leaning closer, reaching for him, gripping his dress shirt tight in your fingers. You want to feel him near you, feel his soft skin against your own, those perfect lips against your flesh. Without thinking, you close your eyes, pressing your mouth to his, the softness of his skin heating you up, making you whimper against him. You linger for a moment, deciding you could die right then and there and it would be nothing but pure bliss. He’s warm against the kiss and you deepen the gesture by leaning into him. He accepts you, finally placing his hands on your bare hips and you can’t even think of being naked in front of him in the moment. All you can think of is how you have wanted to do this for far longer than you would like to admit.

When you pull away, you’re gasping for breath. Reality quickly sets in as a wave of embarrassment floods you, cheeks burning hot and now you’re too shy to look at him.

But when you do look at him, you’re stunned in silence. His eyes flash between different colors, white, pink and red. There’s bursts of purple and then they turn yellow, back to white, and then settle. It’s as if he’s overwhelmed and it’s the only way he can let you know, truly know, and your heart races beyond belief at the sight.

“I-I’m ready… ready now…” It takes you a moment for the words to come properly, remembering the steaming hot bath he prepared you. You realize there’s a small burst of pride blossoming in your chest, as if you finally got the answer you wanted all along. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to you in the moment, but you admit it feels right.

He nods and assists you into the tub. You ease your body into the warmth of the water, sighing at the way your muscles loosen in an instant. Though it doesn’t help the butterflies in your stomach any, but you have him to blame for that.

Still, you try to relax considering he prepared this all for you. Your eyes close and you sink lower into the tub, only hearing him shuffling about until his voice finally spills into the air.

“I’ll allow you to rest,” is all he says, and in an instant your eyes open, heart already longing for him when he’s not even gone yet.

You straighten your back and bring your knees to your chest. “Will you stay?”

The way he hesitates for a second would tell you he’s surprised, but then he smiles and nods. “Of course.” You’re smiling as well as he takes a seat on the edge of the tub.

“Will you hand me that washcloth?” You point to the fresh washcloth he had readied for you earlier, and he grabs it without hesitation to hand over. “Actually… will you…” You don’t finish the question, only handing the cloth back to him, and he quickly gets the idea of what you’re hinting at, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt to unveil strong arms with veins appearing from his hands and spiraling upward. It’s another small detail to make him more human, but it also makes you more breathless, finding him attractive while yearning for his touch.

“Sure.” He dips the cloth in the water to wet it before squirting a dollop of soap. He lathers it up for a moment, and you turn back around to offer him your back. Within seconds he’s washing you, rubbing the cloth from shoulder to shoulder, causing you to whimper once again beneath his touch. The memories of the massage come into mind, his gentle hands and the way he was so careful. Heat washes over you, an ache settling between your thighs.

You allow him to take his time. The feeling of him washing you eases every inch of your body, even if you are becoming aroused all over again from the situation. You try to ignore it, letting yourself be pampered by him.

When he pulls away, you assume he’s washed all he could reach. So, you lean back against the tub, exposing your chest, your breasts, for him. He waits a moment as you take a deep breath, then he leans in to begin tending to the newly uncovered areas.

His touch remains delicate. He’s gentle as he moves over your skin. You feel your nipples hardening as he brushes the cloth past them, offering a quiet moan in return. You want to know what his expression looks like as he washes you, but your eyes are shut too tight. You’re far too nervous to take a peek, so you keep them closed to focus on the feeling of him taking care of you. Warmth spirals from between your thighs to the pit of your stomach and finally your chest. The ache grows nearly painful between your legs. You lick your lips and whimper beneath his touch, breaths becoming heavy, needing more.

You call for him, but you aren’t even sure what to say. What could you say? How do you tell him his touch does incredible things to your body and you want to get off? Even the thought sounds ridiculous to you. How could he make you ache with need more than any man ever has when he isn’t even human? How could you be so turned on from the simplest of touches from him? “Could you.. I mean… I need…”

You’re a mumbling mess, not knowing how to beg for him even if you could muster up the courage. Your head falls back against the tub, trying to clear your head with a gulp, and he continues to massage your chest though he’s been done washing you for a while.

But it’s as if he can sense what you need. Like he was made to give you what you crave even when you can’t ask for it. He disregards the cloth to the side, allowing his hand to meet your skin and you release a gasp in return. He’s touching you, all of you, running his hand down your chest, over your breasts, remaining cautious the entire time. You can’t help but to whimper while pushing your body into his hand. Even if the words fail you, you realize you can ask in other ways. You can show him what you need.

“Can I touch you?” he suddenly asks, and the simple question leaves you breathless. His tone is deeper, darker, suddenly needier than you have ever heard him before. Considering he’s already touching you, the question can only mean one thing. “Can I pleasure you?”

Such a simple question but it leaves you shaking with need. It burns hot inside of you, feeling as if you’ll combust if he doesn’t do just that.

“Please…”

It’s all he needs to hear. His hand brushes past your stomach, fingers dancing for a moment below your belly button. It’s as if he’s giving you a chance to tell him no, to back out. But you say nothing, only parting your thighs for him before he dives deeper into the water.

The moment you feel him brush over your mound, your senses go haywire. A rush of lust and heat overwhelms you, eyes shutting tight as you lick your lips, back arching from the side of the tub. Just the simple touch already has you so worked up and you’re dying for more.

As his fingers slip down your slit, a gasp falls from your lips. Ever so slightly your hips roll, begging for more without words. He wastes no time giving you what you need, though he does draw the moment out. His fingers caress up and down your slit, working you up further, drawing out a quiet whimper before you’re breathless. He teases and plays between your thighs, surprising you that he can already know how to touch.

Finally he finds your clit, brushing over the swollen bud to leave you gasping. You bite down on your bottom lip and grip the edge of the tub, feeling his fingers ease over your delicate areas with care. He starts slowly, massaging small circles into your flesh, and your body calms from being tense. You give into the pleasure beginning to build, allowing him to take control of the situation, to make you feel good. He tends to your aching folds as you begin to whimper, heavy breaths falling, hips moving against him.

You call for him, releasing his name in a breathless whisper. “God, please… please, don’t stop.” No longer are you feeling shy and insecure. He brought out the desires in you and now you only have one thing on your mind.

“You’re shaking,” he tells you, his deep, needy tone hinting at amusement. His fingers begin to work faster, drawing out each and every bliss-filled moan from your body. You can hold back no longer, letting go of all your worries and giving in to the way he makes you feel. “Does it feel good?”

“Y-Yes,” is all you can manage, biting down on your bottom lip a second later while focusing on the feel of his fingers against your skin. Suddenly, he leans closer, his deep, dark voice a whisper in your ear.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” The question leaves you even more breathless, as if the words suck the air right out of your chest. His tone demands an answer and his fingers work quicker against your clit.

“God… yes,” you gasp, back arching from the side of the tub, thighs threatening to close around him. “It feels so… so good.”

“Come for me,” he encourages with a low growl in your ear. “Come on my fingers. Let me hear those sweet little noises you make when you come undone.”

God, who was he? He was suddenly a different person, though you couldn’t complain. The words were everything you needed to hear as he brought you closer to the edge. His fingers on your clit felt like magic, warmth bursting through you without warning, bliss finally spilling over and surging through your body. Your head falls back, thighs clasping around his hand, rolling your hips and whimpering, moaning, so breathless all at once. Your body shakes beneath him, trembling with pure pleasure, stars in your eyes from how tight you’re squeezing them shut.

Then you begin to come down, still shaking, still breathless. He soothes your body with a gentle kiss to your temple, making your eyes flutter open to look at him. There you notice the hue of his eyes, a color between pink and purple, almost as if it’s melting between the two. You look at him for a moment, so at peace, so relaxed and on cloud nine. He grins in return, only staring back at you for a moment before he leans in to press his soft lips against your forehead.

You don’t say much as he helps you finish your bath. You realize you’re too exhausted for words. Instead, you allow him to take care of you. He pulls the drain to the tub before helping you out, grabbing the towel to begin drying you off. He remains careful with his every motion until you’re dry and he wraps the towel around you. Then he guides you to your bedroom before you crawl into bed, tossing the towel to the side and slipping beneath the covers.

You call his name.

“Yes?”

You bite your lip to hide your grin. Somehow you’re still on cloud nine. “Will you stay here tonight?” you ask him, feeling shy with your voice low. “With me?”

His smile flashes once again. “Of course.”

***

In the morning, the memories of the night before hit you like a ton of bricks. It feels like a dream at first, only hints here and there of what happened. Images of him helping you undress fill your mind first, then you touching his face comes next. What follows is a quick sequence of you stepping into the tub and then suddenly you’re begging for him to touch you.

Your eyes pop open, heart pounding against your ribs. Suddenly you can’t breathe, but for different reasons. Suddenly embarrassment floods you, feelings of guilt weighing on your heart, wondering how you could be so stupid to do such a thing.

He isn’t real.

He’s not human.

How could you use him like that just to feel close to someone after so long? Have you really gotten that lonely? Has your heart been broken beyond repair?

The questions run through your mind one after another, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach and needing to get out, away, anywhere but there. Luckily, he isn’t next to you when you hop out of bed.

Good, you think, you can maybe sneak past him to head out. You aren’t even sure where you’ll go, you just need to get out. Clear your head. Take time to think away from the enticing android probably in the kitchen making you breakfast.

The thought sends your stomach churning all over again. You aren’t sure if it’s because it makes you feel so pathetic in the first place, or if it’s because part of you feels as if you have somehow taken advantage of him. He has been nothing but kind and professional since he arrived. How could you start to feel so many things for him all at once? How could you ask him to perform such an intimate act on you?

You can’t give the thoughts another second of your time. At least not right now, deciding to rush to the bathroom to freshen up as quickly as you can before getting dressed. After washing your face, brushing your teeth, and managing your hair enough so it doesn’t actually look like you just woke up, you throw on a simple t-shirt and jeans before sneaking out of your bedroom.

You peek into the hallway first, spotting him nowhere in sight and not taking a moment to realize how ridiculous this is. You shouldn’t be sneaking around. You should face your problems head on, admitting to what you actually did with him.

But it’s all too overwhelming, and you can’t even understand your emotions at the moment. How could you face them?

Tip-toeing into the living room, you finally notice him in the kitchen as the smell of breakfast hits your nose. His back is to you, guilt weighing you down all over again as you think for a moment about if you could sneak past him. Just slip on by, grab your shoes and bag, and run out the door.

Before you have the option, he turns around to spot you. Instantly, he brightens the entire room with his smile. “Good morning,” he greets you, as if nothing is wrong. As if what happened the night before didn’t actually happen. “I’m making you breakfast. Toast and eggs, just how you like.”

The sight of him instantly has your heart crumbling into pieces. You want nothing more than to pretend nothing is wrong, but the guilt and embarrassment won’t allow it.

“Sorry,” you quickly say, turning away from him because you’re afraid if you stare at him any longer, you’ll be tempted to stay. “I have to go.”

“Go?” he asks, but you ignore him to slip on your sneakers resting by the door. “You didn’t have anything planned for today. Would you like me to-”

“No!” You turn around, shaking your head and clearly leaving him confused. He blinks a few times, eyes flashing white while trying to read your mood, but you have already stayed longer than you would have liked. “No, sorry, I just really need to go…”

With that, you rush out the front door without another word. You’re rushing too fast toward the stairs at the end of the hall to focus on the guilt building in your chest, the way your stomach churns. On top of coming to terms with what happened the night before, now you feel worse for brushing him off as you did.

He didn’t deserve that, you tell yourself, he did nothing wrong. It was all me.

Tears begin to well in your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. You blink them away while rushing from the apartment to the sidewalk, ignoring the looks a few pedestrians give you while making your way to the only place you can think of in the moment.

***

It’s been a while since you’ve been to Mr. Park’s office. The furniture in the lobby is rearranged from the last time you were here picking up your new assistant, and he even has a new secretary settled behind the desk. The secretary that is now rushing to you, informing you can’t possibly barge into Mr. Park’s office, but that’s exactly where you’re heading.

“I need another assistant.” The words come bursting out the second you walk in, spotting Mr. Park behind his desk, glasses on his face that are now lowered to see his brows raised.

“Ma’am, you can’t be in here!” the secretary continues to tell you, but Mr. Park shoos her away, telling her it’s okay.

“Something wrong with your android?” he asks, setting down the papers he was reading to give you his attention. “Was there a malfunction or-”

“No, no that’s the problem… he’s perfect. Too perfect!” You sigh in frustration, sinking into a leather chair on the opposite side of his desk. “I need someone not so… young, and good-looking, and someone that doesn’t say exactly what I want to hear and do everything I want him to do in the moment, and someone…”

“Someone that’s not perfect for you?” Mr. Park interrupts, a coy smile on his lips. You aren’t even sure why he’s humoring you considering you barged in. Reality sets in and has heat bursting into your cheeks, wondering what has gotten into you lately. You would normally have never been so rude. “He is everything you asked us for, isn’t he?”

“...and more,” you admit in a low, hesitant voice, slumping down in your chair with a frown. Mr. Park laughs, ridding the room of tension even though you feel completely miserable inside.

“Having second thoughts about an android as an assistant?”

“More like too many thoughts, and feelings, and even more I should not be experiencing.”

“Who says?” He frowns with the question.

“Me! I say! He’s not even human, but I’m…” You pause mid-sentence, causing his eyes to grow wide. “He’s perfect. He’s too good to be true, honestly. I don’t know how to accept how I am feeling for him when I feel so ashamed because he isn’t even real. He’s perfect for me because he was only programmed to be. Nothing more. It’s not actually real.”

“Well, that’s only partly true.”

Your eyes flick toward him with a furrowed brow, a sudden spark in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“Sure, this android might not be one hundred percent human, but he once was.” Mr. Park pulls the glasses from his face before rubbing his eyes, making it clear he has been reading his paperwork for too long. Maybe that’s why he’s humoring you. He just needed a break, and maybe some entertainment considering you’re a second away from a meltdown. “Many years ago, the first ever android made by our company was modeled after a real human being.”

You blink, mind already spinning with questions and curiosities, but you say nothing and allow him to explain.

”Real human, real personality, characteristics, history, feelings and responses to situations. We have even had androids who once were thought to be malfunctioning because they expressed their own desires and emotions, and were eventually thrown out. Turns out, after a few years we realized we could use that mistake to better them.” He offers a smile at the thought, as if he is proud of the progress his company has made. “Since then we have, of course, advanced our technology and creation of the androids for many purposes, but the core of what makes our androids special will always remain the same.”

“What are you saying, Mr. Park?” You sit up in your chair, giving him your full attention as you hang on to every word.

“He is as real as you want him to be. He grows with you, learns from you. After a while, though our important programming and data will remain functional, he’s hardly our creation. He’s yours.”

“You mean…” You feel as if your heart will stop beating at any second. “He can feel things for me? He can grow to…”

“To care for you and eventually love you?” He chuckles, and your mouth falls open the moment he nods his head in delight. “Of course. The technicalities of what makes him run may not be human, but what he develops to feel for you certainly is. It came from a real place, after all.”

There it is. The main thing holding you back from him. After months of ignoring your feelings and desires, Mr. Park tells you in a few words it was all pointless anyway. There’s no need to worry over him not being real when the things he can feel (and it surprises you he even can feel things) are very much real. The way he responds to you is real and is natural. It’s the reason his eyes shift colors. It’s the reason it makes it so easy to fall for him.

“But I… I mean I did… things…”

Mr. Park smiles, getting the hint from your shyness and the way your words fall that you are hinting at the physical relationship with him. “Do you feel guilt because of it? Because you allowed yourself to be loved? You allowed yourself to be shown pure affection?”

“Well ,when you put it like that…” You bite your lip, images of the night before flashing in your mind. He took such good care of you, and it’s hard to deny how much you needed it. Your body craved him, but even more, your mind deserved release and your heart was dying to feel something other than pain and distractions. “I guess I feel like I did something wrong because I didn’t think he could feel things. How could he agree to do… that with me when he’s programmed to do whatever I want? I didn’t want to force him. I didn’t want him not to have a choice.”

“Oh, believe me,” Mr. Park begins, throwing his head back with laughter, “an android will never do something it doesn’t want to. They have a lot more free will than one would like to believe. Trust me, I could tell you a few stories.”

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling a little more at ease over what happened.

“Yes, yes, I could, of androids hating their original purposes and picking completely new ones all on their own, but we’ll save that for another day,” he says with a smile. “Your android was programmed to do what you wanted, that’s true, but it’s not the specific actions that are just some simple tasks his processor handles. He was programmed to be your companion, your protector. What that means for him is ultimately up to him, do you see?”

As he speaks, the guilt weighing you down like a thousand pound weight feels lighter with every word. He was created for you, to be perfect for you, but the relationship the two of you have is real. What he feels for you is real, and what you feel for him in return is not wrong. Maybe the parts aren’t human, that’s true, but the experiences the two of you shared, the way he makes you feel warm and safe, your happiness when he is near, it’s incredibly real and nothing to be ashamed of. You see that now.

“Thank you, Mr. Park.” You quickly stand with a smile before your emotions begin to overwhelm you.

“Of course,” he says, standing to walk you to the door, “but how about a phone call first? You bursting in here nearly gave me a fright and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Oh, right,” you begin, giggling in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Thank you!”

You leave his office while giving an apologetic glance to the secretary to finally make your way home.

***

“You’re troubled.” He sits with you at dinner, though the two of you haven’t spoken much. When you arrived home, you admit you were feeling better thanks to the talk with Mr. Park, but you still had to deal with actually facing your emotions. It’s one thing to talk about it with someone not involved, and an entirely different thing to be face to face.

You apologized for running out on him, and of course he told you it was nothing to apologize for. He asked if everything was okay, and you lied and told him you were fine, only to sneak away to your office to clear your head before dinner. A little while later, he called you when it was ready, realizing he had another one of your favorite meals laid out on the dining room table.

“I just have a lot on my mind,” you tell him, and it couldn’t be more of an understatement.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he says, just like he always does, and no matter what you do or how you act, he is always there to comfort you. The thought has you both the warmth spiraling in your chest and guilt weighing you down, but it’s only from not knowing how to tell him what was bothering you. You want to be open and honest with him. He deserves that much.

A few moments of silence pass, and he doesn’t push any further.

“How do you feel about me?” you suddenly ask before you lose the courage. You look to him, staring into his eyes as if it will help you find the answer.

“My purpose is to assist you and be there for anything you need,” he replies, and you almost want to laugh at his proper, programmed response.

“No, I know, but I mean… how do you feel about me?”

He pauses for a moment and you grow more anxious with every second that passes. Your heart beats quicker, harder, nearly on the edge of your seat until his calm, soothing voice brings you back down.

“Being with you makes me happy. I don’t want to be anywhere else if it’s not by your side. Seeing you every day gives me purpose. You put meaning into my life, and I hope for it to be that way for as long as I live.” You have no words the moment he stops speaking. All you can do is stare at him, blinking, lips parted, on the verge of tears because his words wrapped around your heart and nearly squeezed all the life out of it before receiving you once again, but you don’t allow them to fall. His confession overwhelms you, not knowing exactly what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. He notices he left you speechless for a moment, so he continues with a smile, eyes falling to his lap as if he’s suddenly in his own little world. “Seeing you happy makes me happy, but more than that… I feel complete. You’re the reason I exist. You’re my reason for everything. So I want to be with you, not only because it’s my purpose, but because I love you.”

The first tear hits your cheek when he stops speaking and by the time you call his name, they fall freely. You can’t hold them back. You can’t hold yourself back, either.

You rush to him, wanting to feel him close, wanting him to hold you. And he does, wrapping arms around you as you settle in his lap, lips crashing into his as you clutch his shirt tight in your fist. The tears continue to fall, but you don’t pull away, so overwhelmed with relief and so full of love for him.

You love him, and he loves you, and it’s completely, entirely real. There’s no explanation needed beyond that. You don’t need a reason to feel the way you do, you just need to love him.

“I’m sorry,” you say when you pull away. “I went to see Mr. Park today because of what happened. I was so scared of how I was feeling and I was so worried I did something wrong. I felt so ashamed for feeling the way I felt and I just wanted… I just…”

You’re breathless by the time your rambling words fail, and all he can do is pull you close. Your head falls against his shoulder, allowing him to hold you as you cry.

“You don’t ever have to apologize to me.” He begins caressing your back to soothe your tears. You can only clutch him tighter, never wanting to let him go in the moment. “I understand. There were… moments when I felt confused as well. I can only imagine the emotions you were experiencing.”

Pulling away from his chest, you sniffle and while wiping your cheeks of the tears. “You were confused?”

He grins and nods. “I wasn’t prepared to feel the things I felt for you. I was tested a lot when I was made. I was given instructions on how to do many things, but falling in love with my human was never brought up.”

His way of speaking, his serious tone and matter-fact-words as if everything has to be textbook definition explanations makes you begin giggling. He chuckles as well, pulling you to him and wrapping both arms around your body now. You can’t resist leaning in and giving him a peck on the lips because God, you’ve wanted to do it for so long and be like this with him you feel as if you have to make up for lost time.

“But they said you were a companion… able to get, uh, physical if the person wanted.” You aren’t sure why it still makes you so shy to think about. Maybe it’s because it’s all so new or maybe it’s just because he is perfect, and you never want to be anything less than that for him as well.

“That’s true, I am capable of responding to my human’s needs after reading their body language.” Your cheeks are suddenly hot with his words as he speaks, wondering just how far he could go. “Physical relationships are different from emotional ones, however. They told me you needed an assistant and nothing more. I never expected to get so close to you. I never expected…”

“To do what you did last night?” For a second his eyes flash that dark, deep red that makes your body burn, and then they settle. “I didn’t expect it either. Any of it, honestly, but I can’t help it. I love you, too. I’m not ashamed of it anymore. I want to be with you.”

His eyes shift from his default color to yellow as you speak, and your chest blossoms with love all over again. It fills you up just to look at him, so in love and for the first time, it’s all you feel. You feel his love and he feels yours, and for the first time in a while you’re truly happy.

***

A few days pass while getting comfortable with your new relationship with him. Even if you aren’t ashamed anymore, it does take some getting used to. You’re less shy around him, allowing him to run your baths and pamper you without worries. He even sleeps in the bed with you. Well, you sleep, and he rests, and you enjoy his warmth all night long while he lies next to you, holding you, keeping you safe and comfortable in his arms.

You don’t bother pushing the relationship any further because it’s all so new and enjoyable to be with him as simply as that. He still cooks for you and manages your work schedules just like he was programmed to do, but there are times when he feels more like a boyfriend and less like an assistant. The thought always makes you giggle, and you want to bring it up to him one day, wondering what you are to one another, but in the end you decide it doesn’t matter. He’s your android, and you’re his human. It doesn’t need any more explanation.

Eventually, the desires do rise again. Especially in the moments when he offers to give you a massage, or tends to you in the bath. When he kisses you good night, holds you against his chest, and does all the things a proper boyfriend would do. You fall even more in love with him and with nothing holding you back, each day that passes you grow more curious about his response to your needs, as he put it. Your body begins to grow hot at the simplest of touches. It’s clear you crave to get closer to him, going further than you went before when he touched you between your thighs. He never pushes, however. He never does anything you don’t want him to, but you aren’t sure how he will respond when you make it clear exactly what you’re wanting.

You’re also more than curious about him, seeing and tending to his body just like he has yours. There’s been a few times during a massage or bath that you’ve wanted to touch him as well, though you never knew how to go about it. Of course, you’re more than confident he wouldn’t mind, but you wanted it to feel right.

One night while you’re in bed after you’ve showered, the curiosities get the better of you. “What you said about responding to my needs…”

“Yes?” He arches a brow, looking over you tucked beneath the sheets already. He was just getting situated himself when you decided to ask, so he settled for having a seat on the edge of the bed in front of you.

“What about your needs?” You bite your lip, waiting for him to answer.

“My needs?” His expression twists to surprise, but you can’t blame him.

“Do you have needs?” you question, voice lowering with every word. “Can you feel pleasure, too?” It’s not that you’re embarrassed to ask him, but more so you aren’t sure how to get the point across. You wonder if it’s silly to think about such things. You imagine most android owners don’t bother with their needs, but you want to be mindful of what he wants as well. You’re also curious. Can he feel pleasure? Can he even get aroused?

“Of course,” he begins, and you assume he’s going to tell you how your pleasure is his pleasure, how making you happy makes him happy, but that’s not what you want to know.

“I mean… sexually…” Now you’re feeling shy, but you gather the courage to sit up from the bed and reach for him. “Like… how does this feel?” Your hand falls to his thigh, caressing over the blue, silk pajama pants he wore to bed. Suddenly you feel him tense beneath your palm, the muscles of his thighs tightening much to your surprise. You didn’t even know he could react in such a way.

“I like it,” he says without hesitation. “I feel … good when you touch me.” You look up, meeting his eyes to spot a familiar deep red hue within them to confirm the words he tells you.

“Can you become… aroused?” The last word leaves your lips in a whisper. You feel so silly in the moment, being shy about simply asking questions, feeling like a school girl in sex-ed getting too curious for her own good. “What if I touched higher?” Before he can reply, your hand shifts up his leg, skimming over what feels like a bulge in them. You gulp, never having touched him like this. Suddenly your nipples are hard, pressing tight against your thin nightgown, heat building between your thighs.

You palm him through his pants, surprised to feel him growing harder beneath your touch. Your heart races but you can’t pull away. You want to touch him, and from the groan he releases, he wants it, too.

“I am currently aroused, so yes, I can become aroused.” You giggle and bite your lip at the way he answers. It suddenly lightens the mood, realizing he is enjoying what you’re doing to him.

“You’re getting hard.” You meet his eyes again to see the passion burning within them. Part of you only did this as an experiment because you were curious. The rest of you wants to finish because he seems to be enjoying it so much.

“You’re touching me,” he replies, a smirk appearing on his lips that makes you giggle again.

“I’m sorry for the questions,” you tell him, “I was just curious. I wasn’t sure… how it worked.” But you don’t stop caressing him. You don’t think you could stop at this point after feeling him grow beneath you and his eyes telling you how much he likes it.

“How it worked?” He raises a brow and smirks. “I can show you.”

Your cheeks burn hot from his words, knowing he was only teasing you, easing the tension in the situation to make you feel even more comfortable. “I mean, being with you. How all of that works. You responding to my needs. How it feels for you when I touch you.”

“Do you want it to feel good?” he asks, tone deepening to send a shiver down your spine. “Do you want to bring me pleasure?”

Your breath catches in your throat. Images flash in your mind of all the ways you could make him feel good, all the ways you want to make him feel good and all the things you want to do to him.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “I want to make you feel good, just like you did for me. Is it possible for you to, uh, for you to… you know.”

“To have an orgasm?” He doesn’t beat around the bush. In the moment, you’re thankful, even if the blunt words catch you a little off guard. You nod your head in response. “Sure, but not in the typical way humans do.”

“How so?” You cock your head to one side, embarrassment pushed away for the moment to fully take in his words.

“My senses aren’t like yours, but I do have them. They can become overwhelmed in a positive way with certain emotions, certain affections from someone I am fond of. The sensors inside me either react positively, negatively, or neutral to the source of the touch.” Your eyes are wide as he speaks, hanging on to each word because it’s so new and interesting to you. Not to mention it will help you become closer. You’re thankful of that. “If there’s a lot of positive response all at once, which I imagine any pleasure from you would cause, well… you can guess.”

He “comes”, you think, but you keep it yourself.

“So it feels nice?”

“It’s one of the best feelings I am told, but I haven’t experienced such a thing myself. Some would say it’s close to being in love, but nothing can compare to being in love with you.”

Smacking your lips, you roll your eyes before giggling. “When did you get so cheesy?” Before he can reply, you lean closer, pressing your lips to his, showing your thanks for him putting up with all your questions, and even letting him know you don’t mind his cheesiness once in a while. He pulls away from your lips smiling, and you’re grinning from ear to ear yourself.

“As I was made to believe, human women enjoy this kind of romantic banter?”

You burst into giggles at the statement, but you can’t disagree. It does feel good coming from him.

“True,” you tell him. “There are other things human women and men enjoy that we haven’t went over, yet.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, and in a moment of courage, you go to him. Swinging a leg over his lap, you straddle him, wrapping arms around his neck while looking down at him.

“I can show you,” you tease him just as he did before, watching his eyes flash between pink and red. The sight makes you giggle and bite your lip, realizing it’s his form of being flustered.

“I would love nothing more than to know.” His response sends a child down your spine while feeling his hands grip your hips. Without thinking, you begin to move back and forth over his lap, grinding softly against him until you feel his arousal once again.

“Sometimes it feels good like this,” you tell him, voice becoming unsteady due to you wearing no panties beneath your nightgown. Your bare slit rubs against the silk of his pajama pants, feeling his hard and needy cock against you. “I can feel you getting hard. It makes me really wet to feel you like this.”

For the first time he shows with more than just his eyes how flustered he’s become. His lips part and his eyes widen, fingers gripping your hips tighter as you grind against him. Of course, you’re sure if he can know the proper ways to touch you and get you off in the bath, he probably knows anything else you can tell him. But the game of teacher and student is suddenly too thrilling. It has warmth flooding your body, feeling so powerful on top of him, telling him what you like and finally understanding what makes him feel good as well.

“Does it feel good to rub your clit against my cock like this? To feel how hard you’ve made me?” His expression darkens, deep red in his eyes once again. He plays along with you, understanding in an instant your mood and what your body needs. You bite your lip, nodding and pressing yourself harder against him as the heat rises to your cheeks. Your body aches for him, clit throbbing and dying for his attention.

“It feels so good,” you tell him, breathless from your swollen clit rubbing against silk. “I could come like this, riding you just like this, but there is another way I like to get off.”

“Mm, how’s that?” He can’t help but to groan. Clearly you’re hitting all the right sensors in his body while straddling him. It begins to affect you more as well, feeling your nipples harden, pressing against your nightgown, as well as the arousal that drips from your core. You feel yourself growing hotter, wetter, grinding against him as the bliss fills your body.

“By you tasting me,” you answer, feeling even more bold than before. You’ve thought about his mouth on you, those perfect lips pressing to your slit, giving you pleasure, sucking on your clit. The images flash in your mind and it’s suddenly all too overwhelming. You crave him. You need him.

“I would love to taste your pretty little pussy, baby.” He reaches to cup your cheek, causing you to gulp from his words and become breathless at the sudden term of endearment. It makes you feel warm all over again, and at the same time, so loved. “I would love to feel you come on my tongue, feel you shaking beneath me as you call my name and I give you pleasure.”

“Oh…” You can’t help but to lean in, pressing your lips to his, showing him passionate affection in the heat of the moment. He grips your body as you lean closer, giving him your all as his hands cup your ass and hold you close. You whimper against his lips, wanting more, needing all of him in the moment.

You pull away breathless and it only takes him a few seconds to have you on your back, carefully placing you next to him on the bed. Then he crawls to his knees, and you can’t take your eyes off the bulge in his pants. It makes your body yearn for him, to feel him inside of you, but first, he wishes to taste you just like you mentioned.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commands, voice deep and needy. You do as he says, opening yourself for him as his head dives between your thighs. You feel his lips against your flesh a moment later, placing an open-mouthed kiss to your mound, teasing you, working your body up only for him to offer the release for you to come back down.

You call for him, reaching down to entangle your fingers in his hair. He groans from the sensation before you feel him part your folds with his tongue. A gasp fills the bedroom, back arching from the bed as he slides his tongue down to your soaked entrance and back up to your clit. Your mind grows numb, body too overwhelmed to think about anything other than focusing on the pleasure, the feeling of him messaging your flesh. He takes his time, starting out slow, teasing you, drawing out a few whimpers and curses beneath your breath. Your hips move to grind yourself against his face, coating his flesh in your slick arousal, hearing him groan from the way your body responds to him.

Then he drags his velvet tongue down to your entrance once again, dipping inside your heat before moving to your clit in a blissful pattern. Your body begins trembling just like he said it would, so far gone while losing control of your senses. Filling the bliss building between your thighs, you call out his name, breathless, gasping for air and gripping the strands of his hair tight. He groans between your legs while leaving open-mouthed kisses over your clit, all before massaging the swollen bud in circles.

His mouth drives you wild. Your back arches from the bed, eyes screwing shut, mouth falling open. Whimpers fill the room and he never pulls away from between your thighs even as you cry out to him that you’re coming. The bliss builds and bubbles over to send red hot pleasure surging through your entire body. It builds at your core and reaches your fingers and toes in waves, shaking, rolling your hips, getting every last ounce of pleasure you can from him.

He doesn’t pull away even after you begin to come down. He offers sweet, soft kisses against your inner thigh to soothe your body, hands caressing your sides as you try to catch your breath. Even if the room is still spinning, your eyes flutter as you look for him. You meet his gaze as he stares up at you from between your legs. His eyes are a pale pink, yet so warm and inviting. Just the sight of him brings you enough peace to feel as if it will last forever.

You would like nothing more than for this moment to last as long, but you also want to prove you meant what you said about making him feel just as good. As you begin to gain control of your senses, he crawls up your body to rest next to you on the bed. His lips fall to your skin, pressing soft kisses here and there, against your cheek and temple, but it doesn’t take long for you to take control of the situation.

Carefully, you push him down to the bed while settling on your knees. “I want to make you feel good.” The words have his eyes flickering between pink and red, sending another wave of warmth through your body. This time it’s for the love and affection you feel for him, knowing he feels the same.

“I would enjoy it that very much,” is all he can manage, causing you to smirk. Gently, you tug on the hem of his shirt and he gets the idea. He helps you pull it over his head before you toss the fabric aside, leaving him in nothing but his pajama pants as your eyes scan every bare inch of him.

Of course, he’s been shirtless a time or two around you in the middle of changing, but you’ve never seen him like this before. You’ve never taken a moment to study the outline of every curve and muscle. You’ve never had him in such a position, lying beneath you and waiting on your next move as you reach to brush your fingers across his skin. You feel his bare chest, the soft flesh beneath earning goosebumps over your own skin as you explore him. He’s still so warm, so perfect and inviting. Your thumb brushes over his nipple and suddenly he tenses beneath you.

“Is that okay?” you ask, wanting him to be comfortable just as he made you.

He nods, never pulling his eyes away from your face. “It feels nice,” he assures you, “I enjoy your hands on me. It brings me pleasure.” His words bring a grin to your lips. You continue exploring his body, running your fingers down his stomach before reaching the hem of his pants. You notice the bulge still pressing tight against the silk, making you feel flushed all over again.

“Can I touch you here?” Part of you already knows he won’t mind, but you still want to be just as careful with his body as he always was with your own.

His eyes flash for a moment, lips parting for a split-second as he blinks. “Y-Yes…” The strain in his voice speaking the word takes you by surprise. It’s the first time he’s ever responded in such a way, proving his arousal and the fact that you have him worked up.

Biting your lip, you push his pants down his hips in a slow, gentle motion. His erect length comes to attention, earning your full focus as you take in the sight of him bare for you. Your eyes scan the length, gulping at the girth and feeling so overwhelmed all in such a short time. Without a word, you reach out to wrap your fingers around him, taking a peek at his face to see his intense gaze focused on you. You watch his eyes as you drag your palm over his silky, hot flesh, noticing the way the hues melt into pink, reds, and even purples. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was malfunctioning, but previous experiences such as your first kiss together convinces you it’s his honest way of proving how much he enjoys your touch.

“Does that feel alright?” you ask in a whisper, continuing to stroke him, motions slow and steady. All he can do is nod, and eventually he closes his eyes as his head falls back against the bed. Your heart races. You’ve never felt so in charge and so in love.

You’ve had moments in past relationships where you pleasured your partners of course, but nothing can compare to being with him. Such a new, thrilling experience to get to bring pleasure to someone you love so much, finding new ways to make him feel good.

“What if I… used my mouth?” Your pulse spikes at the question, becoming bold. Suddenly he’s tense beneath you once again. You assume the images are running through his mind before he can even answer.

“I… uh, God… yes, please.” It’s the most human reply you could imagine him having, giggling triumphantly. It’s easy to admit how good it feels to be needed, and you feel even more powerful knowing your big, strong android becomes so weak at the thought of you simply sucking him off.

“Will you watch me?”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He props himself up on his elbows to get a better view just as you grip him tighter while leaning close. Your tongue flicks out first, testing the waters to gauge his reaction. His body tenses as a groan builds in his chest. He really enjoys it, you think, sending a surge of heat straight between your thighs. You don’t dare stop, meeting his eyes while you wrap your lips around him, so hard and needy and hot in your mouth, and his jaw slacks as you do so. Meanwhile, your fist around him pumps slowly, gently, allowing him to get used to the sensations, but you can tell from his creased brow and parted lips, as well as his eyes beginning to go haywire, he loves it.

It fills you with pride and your own sense of bliss. It makes you feel good to give him pleasure, beginning to lower your mouth onto his length while stroking his shaft. Simple groans turn into grunts that turn into him thrusting his hips toward you. Without you mentioning it, he reaches down to grip a fistful of your hair, causing you to whimper against his skin from the sensation.

You focus on his face while sucking him off. He never tears his eyes away from you. Groans and moans fill the space between the two of you as he watches you go down on him. You can’t put him completely in your mouth, but your tongue massages everything that will fit past your lips. A tight fist around his length takes care of the rest, stroking him, milking him close to his own bliss.

“Baby,” he groans, and the cute little pet name falling from a strained tongue sends your heart soaring. “I… I’m… overwhelmed.”

You immediately pull back. “You mean…” He’s going to “come”, of course, though you aren’t sure what that means for you. His tone would suggest his wishes for you to stop, leaving you confused considering that was the whole idea. “You want me to stop?”

“No,” he whispers, reaching to wrap fingers around your wrist and pull you closer with a gentle grasp. “I want to be inside of you.”

His words leave you breathless. You feel yourself ache with need all over again.

“Here,” he says, then reaches for the hem of your nightgown. You help him with the rest by pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor, leaving you bare for him. His eyes scan your body. He’s seen you lots of times by now, but never in such a position. Never so close and intimate like the two of you are now. You feel warm under his gaze, but not embarrassed or shy. You feel his love as he looks at you, and when he pulls you closer to straddle his body, you feel his need, too. “You’re so beautiful.”

His words take you by surprise, but you feel the warmth swell in your cheeks. “You know what that means?” you ask, feeling silly a second later for doing so. “I mean, you know when something is beautiful?”

“I know when I look at you I don’t want to look at anything else,” he tells you honestly, making your heart flutter in your chest. “Isn’t that what you do with something beautiful?”

Your face grows warmer as you lower yourself to his body. You press your soaked folds against his arousal, watching his eyes light up while his hands fall to your hips. Though they don’t stay there long, beginning to wander and touch every inch of skin he can reach. Large palms brush over your stomach, your ribs, reaching your breasts and cupping them gently in his hands. The sensation has you whimpering, and even more so when he caresses your hardened nipple with the pad of his thumb.

You can hardly take it anymore, needing to feel him inside of you as you grip his length between your thighs. Aligning yourself against the tip, he brushes against your folds to make you whimper. Without hesitation, you begin to lower yourself onto him, easing him into your drenched heat while keeping your body relaxed. Your eyes flutter closed, pushing the head past your folds, coating his flesh with your juices from the pleasure he gave you earlier, moaning his name softly while sliding down his length.

His hands fall to your hips a moment later. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding you tight while a deep groan builds in his chest. He’s just as worked up as you and needs his own form of release. He makes it clear from the way his hips thrust into you from below ever so gently, pumping his cock deeper inside of you to make you gasp.

Then finally you’re completely wrapped around him, allowing him to fill you up while your mind grows hazy with lust. He enters you so deeply, hitting spots you weren’t even aware you had and it’s all suddenly too much too fast. You bite your lip to begin grinding yourself against him, listening to his beautiful cries of bliss while you ride him. His hands grip you even tighter, guiding your body to a pleasurable rhythm while his hips move beneath you, fucking himself into you.

“God…” All you can do is cry out, a mix of whimpers and moans, curses beneath your breath and calls of his name. He thrusts into you so deep it’s almost mind-numbing. Your body trembles on top of him. Unsteady hands fall to his stomach to support yourself, continuing to rock your hips back and forth, raising your body just a little only to sink down onto him again.

The sounds of whimpers and moans, flesh pressing to flesh, his cock pumping into your wet heat fill the room all at once. It’s too overwhelming for the both of you. You feel the heat bubbling between your thighs and though your eyes are closed so you can’t see his expression, from the way he holds you to the way he thrusts beneath you and the noises he makes, you know he is feeling the same.

Goosebumps form along heated flesh as you throw your head back, becoming lost in the pleasure of feeling him fill you up over and over. You press harder against him, rolling your hips so his cock hits the end of your channel. Over and over, just the way the two of you learned to love.

“I… I’m…” He begins to stutter, and you know he’s getting close to reaching his own end. Slowly, your eyes open as you continue to ride him. You spot his face twisted in pure pleasure, his wrinkled brow, his jaw slacked, his head thrown back. His eyes remain closed but you can only imagine the wild array of hues flashing through them.

So you push your pleasure aside for the moment to bring him closer. You focus on him, the noises he makes when you move a certain pace, the gasp he releases when you grind against him harder, faster. You keep the pace until he grips your hips so tight you wonder if it will leave a mark. It only adds to the bliss, however, loving the way he holds you tight while you ride his cock.

“Come for me,” you tell him, leaning closer to press your body into his own. Your lips fall against his. He instinctively wraps his arms around your body. You don’t slow your pace, only moving your hips back and forth, easing yourself up and down his length. You whimper into the kiss from the sensation of him hitting deep into your walls over and over, and just when you aren’t sure if you can hold off any longer, he tenses beneath you.

A wave of overwhelming emotions wash over him as he comes undone. He begins to shake, but he never releases his hold on you. He grunts and groans, eyelids fluttering, nails even digging into your skin. You continue to ride him, trying to focus on his pleasure but the feeling of him being so overwhelmed against your own body brings you closer to the edge. Knowing the pleasure he is experiencing in his own way, knowing you’re the cause of it, has the warmth surging through you.

A final gasp falls from your lips, feeling the heat spiraling uncontrollably from between your thighs. You quiver and shake, cry out that you’re coming, screwing your eyes shut and giving in to the bliss all over again. Your trembling body collapses against his own, growing too weak to hold yourself up as the pleasure rides through you. Wave after wave of pure ecstasy fills you from head to toe, making the room spin, leaving you breathless.

And finally you’re coming down right along with him. He pulls out of you but he doesn’t let you go. He keeps you tight against his chest, holding you close, caressing your back and soothing the shaking in your limbs. He kisses your forehead and a sleepy smile forms on your lips. Everything is too perfect with him. You couldn’t imagine anything better, even if you tried.

The two of you stay like that for a while longer, enjoying the feeling of each other’s bodies. Enjoying being held and taken care of, just like he always has, and just like he always will because he’s perfect for you. He was made for you, and somewhere deep down inside of you, you believe you were made for him as well. After all, you are his purpose.

#bts smut #marvel smut #call of duty smut #twilight smut #harry potter smut #jungkook smut #loki smut #nct smut #got7 smut #monsta x smut #stray kids smut #harry styles smut #ghost smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #marvel scenarios #stray kids scenarios

2K notes · View notes

elryuse · 8 days

Note

Yandere wonyoung x male childhood friend. But this time both YN & Wonyoung had a good & happy ending.

HAPPY ENDINGS

YANDERE WONYOUNG X MALE READER

The hallway echoed with the rhythmic clack of Wonyoung's patent leather loafers. Her dark school uniform, tailored to accentuate her impossibly small waist, seemed to billow with an unseen wind as she stalked towards Y/n. His deep laugh, punctuated by the giggles of his girlfriend, Jihyo, grated on Wonyoung's nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

They used to be inseparable, Y/n and her. Crawling through mud puddles, building sandcastles that vanished with the tide. But high school brought new priorities, and Jihyo, with her warm smile and infectious laughter, had become Y/n's new companion.

Wonyoung stopped a few feet behind them, her meticulously styled dark hair framing a face that could switch from cute to chilling in a heartbeat. Her usually large, doe-eyed gaze narrowed into slits, the playful glint replaced by a cold, predatory gleam.

Jihyo, sensing the shift in atmosphere, turned around, a smile faltering on her lips. "Oh hi, Wonyoung! "

"Hey," Wonyoung replied, her voice a saccharine syrup laced with venom. "Nice… picnic for two?" Her eyes lingered on Jihyo's hand, innocently intertwined with Y/n's.

Y/n, ever oblivious, turned around with a goofy grin. "Wonyoung! Didn't see you there. What's up?"

Ignoring Y/n, Wonyoung leaned in, her voice a chilling whisper that only Jihyo could hear. "He doesn't belong to you. Not anymore."

Jihyo, pale and trembling, mumbled a quick goodbye and practically ran away. Wonyoung watched her go, a satisfied smirk curling her lips. Now, it was just her and Y/n.

"What was that about?" Y/n asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Wonyoung's smile disappeared, replaced by a mask of vulnerability. "I just miss us, Y/n. Remember those times when it was just me and you?"

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We can still hang out, Wonyoung. It's not like Jihyo replaced you."

Replaced. The word sent a spike of murderous possessiveness through Wonyoung. Replaced? He was hers, always had been, even if he couldn't see it.

"But it's not the same," she whined, her voice thick with feigned sadness. "She doesn't understand you like I do."

Y/n opened his mouth to protest, but Wonyoung cut him off. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they were cold, devoid of real emotion. "Do you even remember what happened the last time you told me you liked someone else?"

Y/n's eyes widened. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the "accident" that had mysteriously broken his first girlfriend's leg, effectively ending their relationship. Wonyoung, ever the concerned friend, had been there to comfort him then too.

Suddenly, the seemingly innocuous childhood games of hide-and-seek and truth-or-dare took on a sinister hue. Was it a coincidence that every girl Y/n showed interest in ended up ostracized or worse?

Terror replaced confusion in Y/n's eyes. He took a hesitant step back, but Wonyoung was quicker. Before he could react, she grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice sweet but laced with a chilling possessiveness. "Now that you remember, we can be happy again. Just you and me, like it always should have been."

Y/n was trapped. He had to play along, at least for now. But a small seed of defiance bloomed in his heart. He had to find a way out of this twisted game of love and fear.

As Wonyoung linked her arm through his, her perfect smile masking the darkness within, Y/n knew this was just the beginning of a terrifyingly sweet nightmare. Sleep became a stranger, replaced by the constant vigilance of not upsetting the delicate balance of Wonyoung's affection.

Nights were filled with whispered threats disguised as promises, and days a suffocating routine of Wonyoung orchestrating every aspect of their lives. Yet, amidst the terror, a strange realization dawned on Y/n. Wonyoung, for all her twisted devotion, cared for him deeply, in her own warped way.

One stormy night, as Wonyoung held him close, her grip tighter than usual, Y/n decided he couldn't live like this anymore. He had to take a chance.

"Wonyoung," he said, his voice barely a whisper. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a manic adoration that sent shivers down his spine. "Yes, Y/n?"

"I… I know you care about me," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "But this, us being like this… it's not healthy. It scares me."

Wonyoung's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing her features before it was masked by a pout. "Why does it scare you, Y/n? Don't you trust me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you," he said, taking a deep breath. "It's just that… I don't think this is love. This isn't the way friends treat each other."

The words hung heavy in the air, a challenge to the twisted reality Wonyoung had constructed. A tear rolled down her cheek, this one seemingly genuine. "But I love you, Y/n. I always have."

"And I care about you too, Wonyoung," he said, reaching out to gently wipe away her tear. "More than you know. But maybe… maybe our love can be something normal. We can be friends again, the way we used to be."

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Y/n braced himself for another outburst, for the possessiveness to resurface. But instead, Wonyoung surprised him.

A single tear escaped her eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Do you think… do you think that's possible?"

Y/n saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, a glimpse of the girl he used to know, hidden beneath the layers of possessiveness. He squeezed her hand gently. "It won't be easy, Wonyoung. You have to trust me."

A long moment passed, filled with unspoken emotions. Finally, a small smile bloomed on Wonyoung's face, hesitant at first, then widening. It wasn't the chilling, calculated smile he was used to. This was a genuine smile, filled with a newfound hope.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I trust you."

The road to normalcy was long and arduous. Therapy sessions became a regular part of their routine, Wonyoung slowly learning to manage her obsessive tendencies. The fear that had crippled Y/n gradually receded, replaced by a cautious trust.

The childhood games they used to play took on a new meaning. Hide-and-seek became a playful chase, not a test of dominance. Truth-or-dare became a bridge to rebuild their fragile friendship.

It wasn't always sunshine and rainbows. There were arguments, relapses, and moments where the old darkness threatened to resurface. But through it all, they held onto the fragile thread of trust they had built.

Years passed, and their relationship blossomed into something beautiful and unexpected. The possessiveness morphed into a fierce loyalty, the obsessive need to control transformed into a supportive partnership.

One day, under the shade of the same tree where they used to play as children, Y/n knelt before Wonyoung. In his hand, a simple silver ring sparkled in the sunlight.

"Wonyoung," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "we've come a long way. You're no longer just my childhood friend, you're the strongest, most amazing person I know. Will you marry me?"

Wonyoung's eyes welled up with tears, this time tears of genuine joy. A thousand emotions flooded through her – fear, doubt, and a happiness so profound it took her breath away.

She looked at the ring, then back at Y/n, her childhood friend, now the love of her life. With a shaky breath and a smile that could rival the sun, she whispered, "Yes, Y/n. Of course I will."

Their wedding wasn't a grand affair, just a small gathering of close friends and family. But the love that filled the air was more potent than any fireworks display. Wonyoung, no longer the yandere schoolgirl, stood beside Y/n, a woman who had conquered her darkness and found love in the most unexpected of places.

#ive wonyoung #jang wonyoung #wonyoung #wonyoung story #ive #izone #kpop #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere roleplay #yandere #kpop yandere #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #apreciation post #update #happy ending

85 notes · View notes

thewritersaddictions · 6 months

Text

Day Twenty-One: Ada Wong + Panties/Lingerie

You see, Ada's favorite color on you was red.

It could be anything, the Christmas sweaters you wore during the cold and harsh winters.

You always wear that red cocktail dress when the two of you go bar hopping.

God, those red pumps that you styled with pretty much anything just so you could show off how good you walked in them.

To say that Ada loved you in red was an understatement. She had never clearly said that she would rather see you in red than any other color, but you already knew that about her.

That's when you get an idea of a surprise for the both of you in a way. You shifted through your clothes, socks, and panties drawer before finding no stylish and new lingerie sets. So, you were set out on your mission.

You made your way to the mall. The large letters above the store's entrance lit up with pink hues. "Victoria's Secret." It was a store that you very rarely ever came into now.

But for Ada, you'd do and spend whatever just for her.

You walk into the crowded store. Women and young girls are all walking about the store. You are bee-lining it towards the sexier, less teenage side of the store. The mannequins that are around are dressed in beautiful sets of pink and black bras, but that's not what you're looking for.

Then out of the corner of your eye, you watch the glimmering sparkles of red. A flowing top that barely covers the tops of your breasts. As you get closer, you see that the panties are basically nonexistent.

You grab two before grabbing a few other things. When you walk up to the checkout, the woman standing there is smiling with a bright smile. "Did you find everything you were looking for?" She asks you. You nod, "Who helped you?" She asks. You don't want to answer her question.

You just want to slip out of the mall and back into your car before you go home and can surprise your girlfriend.

"I was able to find what I needed without help. Can you wrap that one up separately?" You ask, pointing towards the other set of lingerie. The woman nods, wraps that one up, and then everything else.

When you get home after the backup on the highway, that made getting home, take an extra hour half. Ada is thankfully not due home for at least another thirty minutes, so it gives you time to take a quick touch-up shower and get into your set of lingerie before wrapping yourself up in your fluffy gray robe.

You set the small Victoria's Secret bag on the table, moving it around as you try to set up something special and sexy. You crack out and open a glass of wine for the both of you. When you hear the front doors lock turn and you feel your heart start to beat up.

At first, Ada isn't paying attention, dropping her bag at the front door and slipping from her boots.

"Y/n?" She yells from the front door, "In the kitchen, babe." You yell back and hear the light footsteps padding through the apartment. Silence, then a question, "What's this?" Ada asks, staring at the Victoria's Secret bag. "A present, my love.' You say to bring her a glass of wine with you after refilling your own.

"A present?" You nod, "Open it." You demand, waiting long enough to see the glorious expression on her beautiful face. She tears into the pink wrapping paper, and when she finally grabs the lacy fabric, her cheeks go just as red as the fabric in them.

"What is all of this for baby?" Ada asks, but when she turns to get the answer from you.

You've dropped the fluffy gray robe down to the floor of the kitchen. You're on complete display for her to see. Plush skin held in by sweet lace. Her mouth drops open.

"So we can match Ada." You murmur gently, taking a small sip of your wine. Ada smirks and bites her bottom, 'Give me a moment, my love, and I'll be right back, and we'll continue this." Ada says with a promising glint in her eyes.

Completed on: 08/05/23

Posted on: 10/21/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

Resident Evil Master List // Resident Evil 4 Master List // Kinktober '23

224 notes · View notes

wakeup01 · 3 months

Text

The Shorts, Like, Maketh The Man

The black shorts were just laying there, hanging off the empty bench. I know, I know. But I wasn’t usually the type to pick up sweaty used clothing in the street, but there was something drawing me to them. Calling out to me. They weren’t really my style even, clearly gym shorts for the sort of person who spends at least an hour a day looking in the mirror. I’d never even set foot in a gym. But still, they were…nice. The polyester material felt good in my hand. Silky. There was clearly some text on the back of them but I was too excited to bother reading it. Maybe I could have them? It didn’t seem like the owner wanted them anymore anyway. I look around for any onlookers and quietly take them, stuffing them away in my pocket.

I wanted to try them on. Needed to. Finding a secluded area, I remove my trousers and pull the smooth fabric up my unimpressive legs. They felt incredibly good around my waist, like they were made for me. There was a warmth radiating from them. Mmff. They seem to press against…all the right places. Clinging to my skin. I catch myself letting out a soft moan, my face blushing red at hearing the sound. Maybe I should take them off, it would be weird to walk home in someone else’s—someone…some..one. Mine. They were my shorts. I leave the baggy trousers behind and step out into the street, an extra boost of confidence in my step.

While I’m walking my body feels slightly off, as if my weight distribution had shifted. Each foot forward felt heavier, stronger. People start to turn and gaze at me. I catch a glimpse of my chunky arms; were they always that veiny? Huh. I see my reflection strutting in a shop window and freeze on the spot. What on earth? There was a completely different person staring back at me. He was sexy as all hell. I looked like a utter gymrat. I touch my sharp, smooth jaw and run my fingers over my harsh buzzed hair. The visage in the reflection copies my exact movements, a large, self assured smirk set on their face. Curious, I lift the hem of my t-shirt. Woah! I was completely jacked! You could sharpen a blade on these abs.

Somehow I had gained pounds of lean muscle in a matter of minutes and my skin had been tanned a luscious golden hue. Certainly, I wasn’t about to complain about this turn of events. Maybe I should pick up discarded clothes more often!

Fuck, my body was li—like, fit. Just check it out. I pull out my phone and take a selfie. Okay. Maybe several selfies. Fine, maybe it was a couple dozen. Who gives a fuck when you look this hot. I didn’t even care about the pedestrians walking past and staring. They SHOULD stare. Admire this prize. This TROPHY. I was in peak form from head to toe. The shiny shorts accentuated my thick, meaty legs perfectly.

My eyes suddenly catch the time on my phone, pulling me out of my shameless self obsession. Damn, at this rate I was gonna be late for Daddy. Wait. Daddy? That’s not right, I wasn’t…

Ugh. My mind felt all jumbled up, like a finished jigsaw puzzle suddenly dropped to the floor. Pieces scattered. It was…I needed to…Daddy! Like, of course. After all, I was just a trophy boy. HIS trophy. An accessory for him to show off. Sculpting my body just how daddy likes it; my muscles existed for his enjoyment. Not that I didn’t enjoy them too…hmm.

My head hurt. Fuck. Was that right? No, I couldn’t be just some brainless boy toy. Now it made sense why the owner abandoned these damn shorts. Shit, It was altering my mind. I was becoming…I needed to remove these—mmff. But right then I feel the shorts squeeze on my bulge. It felt incredible! I shouldn’t, but I never, like, you know, wanted it to stop. My sensitive cock pulsed, thickening while stretching across the fabric. Ahhh! I grin inanely as pre drips down my leg. Like, yeah. Da—daddy loved his boy all hard. He loved when I did as he instructed. A pretty plastic toy to pose and play with. I was so proud to be his. Yes, I was his; body and mind. Like, how did I forget? I can be such an air-headed ditz sometimes. It’s a good thing Daddy also likes his twunky boys dumb; dumb, vapid and full of cum. I was good at those things. Huhuhuh.

I turn around - biting my lip - and look at my tight rear. The shorts thin fabric was digging between the two round globes. ‘Daddy’s Trophy’ was emblazoned on the back, across my cheeks. Mmff. I give my butt a light slap and watch it jiggle. I happily let out a pleasurable moan; it made me feel nice that everyone would know what I am. Explaining it was like, soo difficult and stuff. Daddy says I shouldn’t stress my pretty little head over such complex things. Uhhh. Anyway, these shorts were his favourite, all his boys wore them. He loved watching me dutifully clean the house in them. Or working out in them. Or obediently fucking him in them. Or being fucked…bouncing on his lap.

Oh right! I just remembered! I was supposed to meet him. Sir wanted to finalise our arrangement, there was one last thing to change before I could sign that dull agreement. His trophy boys were always blond. Blond and basic. Huhu. Just like I was about to be.

#brainwashing #transformation #gay #twunk

128 notes · View notes

thesharktanksdriver · 2 months

Text

Cabin 10: rose scented lace, seafoam perfume and pink pearls

Headcanons of being a child of Aphrodite

These might not be canon at all and mostly personal headcanons but who cares!

This goes out to all the cabin 10 girls and guys who need more attention. Honestly the Aphrodite cabin in my opinion is one of the most undervalued and underrated

To be a child of Aphrodite is to be loved from the minute your born

Aphrodite quite literally is the part of embodiment of love itself

Her gentle touch lingering in the way she shaped your cheeks and jaw

A wistful sigh as she wraps you in silken cloth and kisses your nose when she sends you off to your human home

Growing up you’ll hear stories of her from your parent, the way that effortlessly beautiful woman appeared one day

Glimmering eyes and a sea tinted perfume lingering wherever she went

They say you inherited her eyes, ones that sparkle like gemstones and the natural beauty of someone wholly ireplaceable

It’s because of this and many other reason that your told your unique

You have something that makes you different from most children that you can’t know about yet

It’s confusing but as you navigate school and life as a kid you see things that others can’t

For some reason you can tell when someone has crush on someone else

When your hair is out of place a gentle breeze fixes it

Chocolate of a expensive kind placed in your bag without any clue to as who put it there on your bad days

A single beautiful rose placed on your windowsill each birthday

It’s odd but at some point you stop questioning it

Accepting it as it is and placing the long lasting roses in a special vase, the dried petals still somehow keeping their hue

You’ll notice how people gaze at you with awe

Some are vocal in their praise and others are silent in their admiration

None dare to cross the line though of ever making you uncomfortable

If they do an untold bout of bad luck seem to occur to them

Along with this sometimes you can seemingly charm people into doing what you want

A simple shifting of tone accented with a simple please and fluttering of your eyes can make even the most stubborn of mule back down to your whim

You can’t explain it like the many other facets of your life

So you once more ignore it

Same as the times you’ll ignore the feeling of home in a woman who’ll never quite look the same but you know is at heart

She’ll appear to you different each time

Sometimes she’s a woman in an expertly tailored suit, her hair is tucked into a bun and her hands have a French tip. She looks at you from beneath the rims of Prada glasses with a soft and gentle look of longing before flashing a smile

Other times she appears as a woman in showy clothes that others look at in disdain. Despite how others discourage you about what she wears you think she’s the most prettiest person you’ve ever seen, her red tinted lips quirk up as you keep sending shy glances her way

Each and every time she appears she feels familiar and acts as a sort of inspiration to you

Whether that be finding your personal style or becoming more confident in your own skin

The woman who is never quite the same yet you somehow know is guiding you gently

Nudging you towards your path in life and letting you walk the rest of the way

Her gentle hands try and push you away from ever realizing what exactly you are but it’s only inevitable

like all half-bloods the realization of your part divinity comes quick and hits hard

Like a gunshot ringing into the night as the smoke chokes your mind

No matter how you end up at camp everyone seems to immediately know without a doubt what cabin you belong to

As do your siblings who swarm you, dragging you to your new home as they begin to look you over for injuries

You’ll find that your siblings are from all walks of life, all beautiful in different ways wether that be conventional or something unique

One of your brothers comes from a single mom who runs a bakery and he’s as sweet as cake

A sister of yours is as muscular as a ares kid and grew up in the wilderness

Another is the daughter of a up and coming designer

They all welcome you with open arms, showing you to your already made bed

A chest is in front of it, your name written in cursive and embellished with your favourite flowers, a quote, the scent of your favourite perfume

You don’t know how anyone of your siblings would know this about you

You say so aloud and get a coy smile from one of them along with

“She’s the goddess of love, but love isn’t just romantic it can also be motherly”

It takes awhile to get used to camp, but your siblings are there for every step of the way

They show you the ropes as the camp activities become something you need to get used too

Your older sisters and brothers find out your strengths, showing you the social structure of the camp and the rivalries between certain cabins

To say there’s some petty shit happening within the camp is an understatement

Ares and Athena kids are at each others necks, Hermes’ cabin is perpetually filled to the bring with unclaimed, children of minor gods and the actual children of Hermes, ect ect

Meanwhile your cabin is given the jurisdiction of “shallow” “bitchy” and essentially the stereotype of “dumb blond/bimbo”

It doesn’t surprise you but it isn’t a nice feeling knowing what other kids assume because of who your parent is

The way Athena kids scoff when your sisters paints your nails or helps style your hair

When Demeter kids scoff at the flowers in your arm given by an admirer

How Apollo kids admire you for your beauty but just that

It’s hard and it’s sad

But quickly the older of the cabin show you the upside to this

Your underestimated which makes you much more dangerous

Sometimes you don’t even need to use charmtalk to get what you want

Just act dumb and slide up beside a blushing boy to ask a question

The Athena kids don’t know how their capture the flag plans were leaked to the ares kids

But they sure as hell don’t suspect the “ditzy” cabin 10

Speaking of which both Ares and the Aphrodite cabin get along well despite the major differences between the two

And it’s not just because both ares and Aphrodite have a thing going on either

Both in the camp are underestimated and not well liked

Sure, there are reasons at to why that is but the fact still boils down to parentage

Ares is seen as just a violent brute and Aphrodite a shallow bimbo

Thus their kids are typically just boiled down to just that

Which in turn leads to both cabins relating to being seen as nothing more

Whilst Ares kids focus on the violent aspects of war that isn’t to say their just as strategic as Athena kids

Spartans were violent warriors but they were still smart

And it’s the same way for Ares’s children

In similar fashion as to how Aphrodite children see them the Ares kids also see cabin 10’s strengths

Beauty and love are such a fickle concept that causes so much destruction

Paris’s love for Helen cause the Trojan war and Odysseus’s love for his wife kept him determined to return home after 20 years

Love and beauty are dangerous concepts and it’s why love and war go together so well

Love is its own type of battlefield

It can ripe and tear you apart better than any sword or battle strategy

It’s something that even the gods fight over

It’s an unseen terrifying force that’s usually aquatinted to as something pure and beautiful

That’s not to say love isn’t beautiful

But even the prettiest flowers can be poisonous

Gemstones are still sharp

Thorns are still on roses

Love can be something all consuming and corrosive

The border between love and obsession can be a fine line that once crossed leads to disaster and ruin worse than war

And they see that

They see it better than anyone else in camp besides Chiron and Dionysus

Both of which have either seen it first hand or how truly powerful your mother is at pulling heartstrings to her hearts content

She is both Kind and can be exceedingly cruel and petty if your on her bad side

Something of which you’ll never experience because first and foremost Aphrodite is a loving mother

It’s seen in myths like Eros and Psyche

In how she curses with those who slight her babies

Her love is not physically seen but it’s through actions and gifts

Sometimes you’ll find things when you wake up that you know are from her

There’s a reason all of cabin 10 is rocked out in designer clothes

Most attribute it to being kids of rich human parents but that’s usually far from the truth

In reality It’s all from her

You’ll awake to it in the morning, a box with a ribbon tied in a bow on the chest engraved with your name

Sometimes the lingering scent of perfume and the warmth of a mothers kiss on your forehead

Pears or flowers woven into your hair

The clothes are always the ones you’ve looked at in advertisements or magazines

Hoping and wishing that one day you would have it

What’s more touching though is that some of these items modified for you

In your favourite colour, a shade that matches your eyes or even having your name on it with a small heart which is either stitched or engraved

Some of these items you’ll get date back to before you were sent to camp

The times as a kid you’d skim through a catalog in some random magazine and suddenly stop on something that caught your eyes

A thing you knew your human parent could never afford on your birthday so you kept it in the corner of your mind and memory

Along with this you’ll get small letters or notes

Some complimenting your look today

How your eyes were made by her to glimmer like the biggest of sapphires

The message of how much she loves you no matter what

And perhaps that is something other cabins are jealous of

“If you ever doubt yourself know your siblings love you.I love you.”

Even if your powers aren’t helpful in the way of battling one another just know your always safe under her watchful eye

remember hell hath no fury as a woman scorned, let alone a goddess and a mother

People tend to forget that Aphrodite as a goddess of love also has domain over motherly love

And you are no exception to that

From the moment you were born you have been loved

And you will continue to be loved

#pjo x reader #Percy Jackson and the Olympians x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo

134 notes · View notes

dev1lm4n · 1 year

Text

4 + 1

pairings: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader

summary: the apocalypse didn't happen. joel shift jobs into becoming a bodyguard for a billionaire’s wife. four times joel realized he's in love and the one time he actually did something about it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: explicit (18+), p in v, no protection, infidelity, implied domestic abuse (not by joel)

notes: this is my fav to write by far ♡ if ur a writer or loves reading, chat me up and let's be moots

Clementine hues of orange sauntered in through the slick frame of her kitchen windows, causing a layer of tinted filtering to be added throughout the boring beige paints littered all around. Everything was in honeyed tones, beautiful and soothing. He had to admit that there was something godly about your kitchen. Something he couldn’t resist.

It was much different compared to the heavy smell of paint and cement he’s smothered in back when he’s still dwelling in construction. Instead of the constant buzz of drilling and swings of hammers into wooden panels, he’s now embraced in an endless collection of Jazz. His shoes are now polished— he could even see his own beaming reflection in the shiny black. A fitted tuxedo snug against the broad of his chest— a total 180° change from his Texan classic style of flannels and denims.

Joel used to think that he’s all too ill-mannered to be participating in the posh bullshit rich families are prone to, but when he saw the ads your husband was posting out, he couldn’t possibly decline the offer. The pay was enough to get Sarah all the way through university without picking up loans and it came with barely a risk.

He was just there to follow a billionaire’s pretty little wife around, carry your bags of impulsive purchases, and drop you off to go drink martinis with your girlfriends. The gun tucked into his back pocket was merely for show. After all, his dirty scowl is usually enough to set people aside. So, he signed the contract and was tied to what he envisioned to be a snobby flashy gal.

But you were an anomaly.

You were the opposite of the few descriptive words your husband mapped you out as, which he recalled to be ‘bimbo’ and ‘a pain in the ass’. You were lovely. The kind of girl that’d bake your husband a sweet tray of apple pie in your cute little dotted blue apron. He was guilty of watching your every move. Every bend, perk, curve of your body. Because, duh, he had to make sure you weren’t harming yourself. What if you accidentally set a fire off in the stove? At least, that’s what he’s telling himself to fend upon his guilt.

“Come on. Open your mouth, Joel!” you cheered excitedly at the sight of your glistening apple pie, cut open into perfectly eight slices. As the fork pierced through the warm, flaky crust of the apple pie, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and baked apples filled the air. The crust crumbled ever so slightly as the fork lifted a generous slice, revealing the warm, gooey filling. A persuasive look keen on your face as you raised your fork forward, just a few inches away from his pursed lips.

“I don’t think I should, ma’am.”

“Why not?”

“Your husband’s coming home soon..” he trailed off, uneasy about the increasingly delicate situation.

“So? Married people can’t have friends now?”

You could closely watch his determination waver, because god did your apple pie look good even from a distance. But he shouldn’t be doing this on the job, right? Playing kitchen with you out of all people.

“We’re not friends.”

“Oh, we’re not?”

“No,” he shook his head.

Only to entertain you and play into your own rhythm of things, Joel sank his teeth into the tender apples and buttery crust, sweet flavors exploded on his tongue. The warm, rich filling oozed out of the pie and coated his palate in a heavenly blend of spices and sweetness. What made it better was the shy smile you had on your face, unmarred by what the world had to offer. Your eyes twinkle fondly, sparking what felt like fireworks in his belly.

“Good?”

He simply nodded. Joel chewed slowly, averting his gaze away from you because who knows what he might start to imagine if he’s constantly being presented that view of you.

“Mr. Waterford’s gonna like it,” he reassured.

“Wait. Joel. What does that spell out?”

You enquired, brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of the word he’d just put together on the tiled board. Your lips pursed and you tilted your head slightly to the side, as if trying to get a different perspective. It seemed that your feigned innocence managed to work wonders in your bodyguard’s head, because his brows knitted along with yours, seemingly worried that he might actually get the word incorrectly. It may have been the nth time that you toyed around with him childishly, but it’s not your fault he always had such a silly expression to share each time.

“Darling,” he read the word aloud innocently. Texas twang dripping from every syllable.

“Yes, honey?”

Joel looked away bashfully at your playful banter. You could tell he’s raking his head to find ways to try and guide the conversation back into a safe spot. To maintain professionalism, where his heart doesn’t have to race a million times per second and his palms doesn’t have to turn all clammy from a childish joke. But he’s failing. Miserably at that. He tried to muster up the courage to respond in kind, but his mind went blank, leaving him tongue-tied.

“I’m just joking. You’re not mad, are you?”

Of course, he’s not mad. He could never be angry at you even if you sometimes do the weirdest things he could ever think of, like that one time last week where you decided you should try out every single barbeque sauce available in the supermarket. You’re just too sweet to be angry at. Snow could melt if you were there beaming that same dear smile of yours, miracles could happen if it was you. Joel thought that this was his punishment. A karma for all the terrible things he did throughout his twenties, the girls he fiddled and the money he possibly swindled. It’s hard to watch you and not be able to put his hands on you. It’s unfair.

“No,” he whispered vaguely as he drew more tiles from the messy pile. Joel looked amazingly dedicated for a bodyguard who’s being forced to play Scrabble with his employer’s wife— you found it hilarious, which resulted in the delicate giggle you uttered.

“Why don’t you hang out with your actual friends, Mrs. Waterford?”

You frowned.

“First of all, never call me by his name. Second, why do you care so much about who I hang out with?” you seethed out petulantly.

Even when you’re throwing a silly tantrum, he still looked at you as if you held out the sun and the moon. As if you’re the beginning and the end, but you weren’t going to assume what might just be a figment to your foolish imaginations.

“Sorry. I just.. I don’t have to play the dutiful, elegant wife when I’m here. I don’t have to pretend like I enjoy tea times and chalky macarons.”

You hate playing dress up when you’re just there to be your husband’s little pet. Ready to serve him at your every move. It’s suffocating to pretend like you’re content with how your life turned out to be, to giggle at condescending jokes other wives make, or to let your husband degrade you in front of other members of the high society. You felt like a mannequin and you’d rather be here, comforted in your own qualms with Joel. Simple ol’ Joel from Texas who took such good care of you.

“I can’t say I understand.”

Joel chuckled, thinking back to his rather ordinary background. He didn’t think he ever had to participate in any social events unwillingly, except when his mom dragged him to church on Sundays when he was younger, but that was different. You were in another realm. Someone who’s not equal to him.

“Although, I’m glad you feel at ease with me.”

He’s so good with his words, you sometimes wonder if those sweet compliments actually meant a thing. You simmered at his encouragement.

Tonight marks the evening of the Annual Spring Ball. Joel, being the country boy that he is, didn’t have much clue regarding what significance this particular event held. Although, he guessed that it was a big thing considering the pile of dresses you’ve dumped carelessly in front of your walk-in closet. You’re always so messy. Maybe he liked that about you.

He stood aimlessly, feeling like a nervous boy waiting for his prom partner to reveal themselves. It crept from inside his stomach and the grip it had on his throat grew tighter and tighter the longer you took in that damned dressing room. You’re not even going with him to this presumptuous event. You’re going with your damn husband, so why is he getting ahead of himself?

“What do ya think?”

You came bursting out of the pale blue curtains like a ray of sunshine, cladded with a long fitted evening gown. He was convinced that black belonged to you. The gown was made of flowing, luxurious fabric that draped elegantly down the womanly curves of your hips.

He couldn’t help but take a peek down your classic plunging neckline, like a fucking pervert. A flattering scoop that showed off your delicate collarbone and décolletage. Viewing a glimpse of your soft mounds propped up by the tailored bodice had him shifting from one leg to the other. God, you looked like a goddess blessed you personally. Waterford is a lucky man having you by his side.

“Is it too much?”

“No. It’s just..”

Joel swallowed thickly. How he wished he could say how you’d stolen his heart and robbed him of common sense.

“You look beautiful. Mr. Waterford would’ve-”

“Can we not speak of my husband?”

You interrupted bitterly. He wasn’t sure if he saw it correctly, but he could see a look of solemn ghosting over your sweet features. How you suddenly stop being all chirpy and instead, settle on chewing your inner lip. Joel was worried and it took all of him not to prod into whatever it is you’re hiding behind all the kind and warm facade. He was simply your bodyguard and that’s all he’ll ever be so why impose?

“Will you help me with my pearls?”

“Of course.”

He swiftly walked over to the jewelry case he’s grown accustomed to, not because he ever had thoughts of stealing your precious belongings, more so because you’ve allowed him to enter and assist you in your bedroom way too often. He’s memorized every inch of the blush tinted room without fail, maybe because he was a good help or maybe.. because he’s undeniably infatuated in you. With much precision, he held the shiny pearls in between his rough fingers. Only to gently clasp the chain around your neck. The ghost of his fingers on your bare skin made you shudder in anticipation.

He might’ve overstepped his boundaries by tracing over the exposed skin of your back, feeling the bumps of your spinal cords as if he’s a professional harpist. His gaze settled on where you felt the most plush and smooth. How he wished he could feel more of you; was the rest of your unexposed skin this delicate? Did you like this?

A pregnant silence enveloped the both of you. A mutual understanding. You were nervous, enough that you could listen to how your heart pumped blood into your increasingly warm cheeks.

“What is this?”

He broke the sacred silence at the irregular hues blooming from beneath the velvet fabric. Blues, purples, some were still inflamed, red marring your sacred skin. You were bruised. Bad. His eyes went wide at the sight of permanent scars shaped like a long rod buried deep in your skin, the new skin much lighter than your skin tone. If he weren’t attentive, he would’ve missed the way it hid underneath the hemlines.

The worst part was you didn’t say anything. Just showcasing him the same ol’ smile as you turned.

Ever since he saw your marks, the ones you’ve tried your very best to cover and withheld from the world, you’ve avoided him more than ever. Joel Miller was specifically assigned to you. To cater to your every need and protect you from the danger you might encounter, but it’s hard to do his job properly when the danger was from within.

He’s seen the way you lock your doors in his presence, leaving him uneasy as he guarded in front of your door. He’s also noticed how you stopped baking sweet apple pies, quit picking the juicy strawberries in your garden, and were lost in your own thoughts more often than anything. Maybe you’ve had enough of playing house with the lousy bodyguard he was. Maybe he was too old, too wrinkly, and too nosy for your taste.

“Joel?”

“Yes,” he answered almost too eagerly at the pleasant call of his name. His puppy-like brown eyes peaked through the small crack of your door.

“Come in. I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise for him? Didn’t you hate him? Joel looked almost entranced at the sudden knowledge. He took a determined step into your room, your wooden door creaking close behind him. You narrowed your eyes to strengthen your vision towards his striking figure. Without shame, you took in all of him. You’ve missed him as much as you hated to admit. Joel was a crucial part to your daily life. He’s a breath of fresh air. The only thing keeping you alive when you’re caged in this mansion.

“Winter’s coming.”

“It is,” he spoke softly, out-of-breath at the sight of you in your nightgown. His pupils dilated erratically at what you’ve blessed him with.

“I knitted you and Sarah matching scarfs.”

You pulled out the most beautiful pair of scarfs out of your side table, decorated with your favorite shades of ballet pink and powder blue. It wasn’t the cleanest work out there. A few loose and uneven threads here and there, but it was the most someone has ever done to him in a very long time.

It felt sincere and heartfelt. You even knitted one for his daughter who he’d only mention briefly during your time together. Once during your weekly Scrabble game and the other time when he entertained you during a house party. He smoothed the thick fabric down, tears pricking his eyes from the emotions budding from within.

“Are you seriously crying?”

You chuckled at the sight, arms crossed in front of your chest at the sight of your tough and grouchy bodyguard tearing up over some scarf. Joel meant more to you than you could ever admit. Maybe this’ll show him that part of you, just enough that your husband would never notice and you could still play it off as an act of kindness.

“That’s so lame, Joel.”

Fact is.. you were magnetic. The sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed in his long thirty six years of life, yet you’re stuck here playing wife of Waterford. Joel wanted to be your knight in shining armor and bring you to safety where he’d cherish you all his life, but what could he do? Should he just witness you wither away into an empty shell? The thought brought up the long awaited bravado and he was already bringing you up into his arms. Wrapping you in a tight embrace where all he could feel was you and only you. The softness of your pliant body, the smell of strawberries and cinnamon, and your undeniable warmth.

“You’re not happy,” he muttered underneath his breath, brows knitted and wrinkles evident.

“I will be.”

You paused.

“I have to be.”

You reassured him, pulling away from his grasp slightly. Your longing eyes bored into him with a tinge of emotion he couldn’t quite decipher, but it all became clear when you finally kissed him. You tasted better than he could ever imagine.

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

His voice was tantalizing, the rough bristles of his scruff tickling the curve of your earlobes in a manner that made you feel small. You couldn’t really pipe up a sweet comeback to what he had to say. Not when you’re pinned face down onto your fresh floral sheets, the same one you’ve spent countless nights with your estranged husband.

The crisp fabric felt cool and smooth on your squished cheek, you could even smell the lingering notes of softener wafted through the air. Joel caged you in like some sort of feral animal. Thick muscular thighs pressing next to your own as he loomed over you.

“You’re driving me insane, darlin’. Bending over with that silly knitted dress of yours.”

He murmured out into the junction of your neck. Always so careful with you, he made sure to smooth down every inch of your pristine skin, over each and every one of your scars and marks. His fingers were electric, jolting you every time he made bare contact.

You whined a soft tone when he pulled the wool hem of your dress upwards. Leaving your perky butt exposed to the cold air with nothing on but the panties you’ve chosen specifically for him. The one with the pretty pink bow and lace rimming each side; the one you knew he’s secretly pocketed a few times.

“Fuck. Such a pretty cunt. Is this for me or for Waterford?”

You were just too good to be true. Someone so perfect like you was willing to let him have a taste of what heaven on earth was, even when your husband was downstairs mingling with the other party guests. Joel was ecstatic at the thought. His eyes twinkled with obsession as he pulled your panties aside, probing a finger into your sloppy hole. One of his fingers was swallowed whole by your throbbing cunt and all he could hear was the loud squelching noise it made. It was as if you hadn’t been filled to the brim for a very long time. What a waste.

“For you. Only for you, Joel.”

Joel couldn’t hide the smugness running deep in his expression, pulling onto each corner his mustache. The constant need to prove himself to you tipped him over the edge. He wanted to be gentle with you, to be kind and cautious, because you were his everything, but it’s harder when he’s already leaking in his boxers. Seven inch, uncut, and sensitive. His fat cock thrived at the thought of you aching beneath him.

“He didn’t fuck you well, did he? Left you all wet for me.”

He teased sweetly as he unzipped his pants eagerly, only to tug at his waistband swiftly. Joel felt the adrenaline rushing through his headspace. It might be fucked up but somehow he wanted to prove how good he is for you, how he’d let your husband barge in if it meant proving how you’re such a good fit for his girth.

At the thought, Joel leaned forward to nip at your pulse point. You whined for more. He cooed softly, making sure you were slick enough as he flicked his cock along your needy slit. His thick raspy groans were heavenly, yet sinful for you to hear. You’re married for goodness sake.

“Put it in me, Joel. Fuck me. Please. Now.”

Your incoherent begging was music to his ears, enough that he gave in to your requests. He prodded his leaking tip into your entrance. Joel was unable to hide his pleasure, lashes fluttering as he rolled his hips in one sharp movement. He had to stop immediately once he’s buried deep in your velvety walls. Knowing he’d burst if he was to continue. He let out a breathy chuckle, grounding himself with all his might.

“Joe-el!”

That’s all you could muster as you pushed your hips further back into his, babbling hopeless pleads in hopes that he’d move and solve the everlasting coiling need. Such a slut.

“I got you, darlin’”

He held you steady by the small of your hips, adding ample pressure to have you arching back nicely. Joel fulfilled his promise by sheathing himself entirely within you. Slick and sloppy, he pounded into you. You’re on cloud nine. Desperately muffling his name into your bed sheets as if it’d make a difference in the boundaries you’ve crossed on this eventful day.

The golden ring band encircling your finger taunted you whilst it glimmered underneath the dim lights: all about your failing marriage and your stupid affair. You knew this wasn’t going to last long. Hell, things could fall apart if your husband caught a whiff of Joel’s cedar cologne on you.

“Stay with me, please, darlin’”

Joel looped his tough arms over your chest, effectively straightening you upright against his firm chest. His tip probed deeper inside you at the new position, exploring places you didn’t think was possible. You couldn’t see him and you thought it might be better. For you didn’t have to remember how unbelievably hot he looked while fucking you from behind; you’d worry his name would slip in your head when Waterford finally required you to cater to his needs.

“Run away with me.”

He tried once more and you had to say, it was quite a romantic gesture to attempt when he’s twitching vulgarly inside you. There was a sense of need in his voice. He’s begging you to leave all this luxury and royalty behind for the love he had to offer. What was it.. modern times Romeo & Juliet? You let out an airy moan in response, backing up even further to fulfill your burning desire. The coily dark trim on the base of his slick cock scraped your soft skin. He’s inside you entirely. Without any barrier because god did he secretly want to pump you full of cum. Maybe he'll let you wander back onto your husband's arms with his cum still stuffed deep within you.

“I can’t.”

You shook your head, a soft gasp slipping past your lips as his grip tightened around your wrist. His nails dug out crescent shape marks into your skin uncomfortably.

“Joel. Shit. Don’t move.”

He obeyed. A small grin taking over when he witnessed the shake of your legs and how you looked heavenly even when you’re seconds away from climaxing. He relished in the way your tongue cutely darted out like a dog in heat. You’re still cute even when you’re all spread out for him.

“I love you.”

He whispered once more, voice fleeting against your ear. Joel needed to kiss you. Needed to feel your soft lips on him for what might be the last time. His nimble fingers gently guide your jaw to turn his way, wrapping you in such an emotional kiss. As if you’d wither away if he didn’t hold you down tight enough.

“Please say it back, darlin’. Please?”

And just like that, he submitted to your wishes and let the mighty dam fall apart. A soft groan you’ve never heard before mused out his parted lips. He’s filling you up so full with a taste of him to the point that it’s leaking out each side of your thighs. A white rim left behind. Tonight he thought that maybe white belonged to you as well, just like black did.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine #joel miller smut

626 notes · View notes

wrestletotheground · 8 months

Text

crime and punishment - matty healy X reader

you'd been teasing your boyfriend matty all night, and he made sure you knew how much he needed you when you got home...

cw: 18+ minors dni!! - f!reader, smut, soft dom!matty, fingering, slight degradation, unprotected sex, choking if you squint

A/N: this is my first time writing and posting smut so pls be nice ok enjoy

the uber home felt torturously long. the air was thick with tension as it was the closest that you and matty had gotten to being alone since you left the house earlier that evening.

you'd been winding him up all night with each time your hand lingered on his thigh under the tablecloth; each time your fingers wandered up his suit trousers, palming his bulge and avoiding his gaze as he desperately held in the whine that was threatening to escape his throat.

the car pulled to a stop in the familiar neighbourhood on the outskirts of LA. matty paid the uber driver and thanked him, stepping out and walking around to open your door. he took your hand and helped you get to your feet. as he pulled you up, he brought his face to your ear and muttered 'you're about to be sorry darling'. 'for what?' you smiled up at him faking innocence, clinging onto his arm as you walked to the front door of his house.

he didn't need to answer, his dominant stare making your insides flutter. your plan was working. get him all worked up so he can't keep his hands off you. he unlocked the door, not taking his eyes off you and you'd barely stepped inside before he had your back pushed against the door.

'you fucking knew what you were up to today didn't you? feeling me up under the table, knowing it was driving me crazy that I couldn't have you right there and then.' 'what are you gonna do about it?' you whispered, leaning further into him.

a soft moan escaped your lips as his mouth met your neck viciously, sucking and kissing at the skin down to your collarbone. you loved when he left his mark on you, and heat rushed to your core in anticipation of what was to come.

suddenly, he pulled away and you whimpered at the loss of contact. he shrugged off his already open black shirt and threw it on the coat rack. his arms looked so good in the black tank top, but you didn't have time to stare before he picked you up bridal style, causing you to giggle.

your hands clasped around his neck while he carried you up the stairs and dropped you down on the bed.

you slipped off your heels as he went to the other side of the bed and flicked on the bedside lamp. you watched him through the long mirror at the end of the bed, admiring how his toned figure and pale skin seemed to glow in the orange hue of the light as he made his way back to you.

he caught you staring in the mirror and his eyes darkened as if an idea came to him. 'go up to the headboard, love', he said, towering over you as you scooted backwards, stopping once your back came in contact with the plush pillows. he climbed onto the bed after you, now kneeling in front of you. your stomach had butterflies, eagerly anticipating his touch.

'you're gonna do what I say ok darling? if it gets too much tell me to stop' he said in a hushed tone, as if speaking too loudly would ruin the moment. you nodded in reply. 'say it', he ordered, louder this time. 'yes' you replied, falling under his spell easily.

he took off his tank top revealing his partially inked chest, and shifted around so he was sitting beside you, back to the headboard. with his legs spread apart, you could see how hard he was. the outline of his arousal in his tight trousers a tribute to how much he needed you.

'sit' he ordered, pointing to the space between his legs. you hummed in reply, throwing your leg over him so you were straddling him. 'not this way fucks sake', he muttered harshly, grabbing your arms and twisting you around. letting him be rough with you turned you on, and he knew that. the warm feeling of his chest against your back made you roll into him, craving him at this stage.

his hands wandered every inch of your torso while still leaving red marks on your neck, as though he was claiming you as his own. his fingers lingered at the hem of your dress and he pulled his mouth away from your collarbone to say 'take it off for me sweetheart'.

you pulled the black satin dress off over your head, revealing a black lace two-piece. a low groan escaped his throat and you watched his face in the mirror, eyes scanning up and down your body, taking it all in. 'did you wear this just for me?' you nodded. 'my perfect little slut', he mumbled, before taking your lips in his again, this time more passionately.

his kiss was electric, fuelling the fire in your stomach that was burning with desire, the space between your thighs aching more and more at every movement.

'you're gonna watch everything I do baby, don't look away,' he said, turning your face to the mirror. the scene was erotic, his arms wrapped around you possessively in the dim lighting. you nodded and hummed in reply.

one of his hands trailed from your breast down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in its path, the other gripping your other shoulder, your chin resting on his forearm. your breathing got heavier and heavier and you whined desparately when he reached the fabric of your underwear. 'whos the one in charge now? pathetic', he muttered into your ear.

he plunged his hand down and started rubbing slow, forceful circles into your clit sending shivers through your body. your back arched in response, grinding your hips into his touch.

he dipped a finger into you, extracting a loud moan of his name. you had barely adjusted before he added another, your walls clenching around him. he moved at a slow pace, his thumb resting on your clit.

your hand went to cover his to push him further into you, before he slapped it away and continued, even slower now, drawing impatient whines from you.

'I'm not gonna have to tie up those pretty hands to stop you doing it yourself, am I?' he said softly. 'n-no I just- mfhh fuck', you mumbled, unable to form coherent words as his fingers started to fuck you at a heavenly pace.

he pushed into you further, deeper than he had been, and you let out a high pitched whimper, your hands instantly grabbing at his arm that was wrapped around your neck. he pulled you in closer, his arm pushing against your neck creating a euphoric buzz in your head.

your eyes fluttered shut and he grabbed your face roughly, turning you back towards the mirror. 'I said look at me', he spat, his voice stern. he pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, bringing them up to your lips.

he didn't need to tell you what to do as you tasted yourself on him, licking his fingers clean.

he groaned at the feeling, the thought of you licking your own arousal off his soaked fingers. 'I can't stay like this much longer, you're killing me darling', he said, unzipping his fly and keeping his unflinching eye contact in the mirror. 'please, need you so bad', you whined in response, throwing yourself forward onto the bed, propped up by your elbows, ready for him. the words came out strained and needy but you didn't care.

he pushed off his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion, only moving away from you for a second to discard the clothes onto the floor. he was kneeling behind you, already throbbing, aching for you. one of his hands went to his cock, stroking up and down in preparation for you. wetness pooled in your cunt, soaking through the lace that clung to your body.

he grabbed the back of the thong with his free hand and pulled it down. you lifted your knees as he pulled it off your legs gently. 'fuck, look at you, dripping for me', he smirked, making eye contact with you through the reflection. he swiped two fingers past your slit, and plunged them into his mouth, tilting his head back and groaning again. the sight was pornographic, and made you shudder, begging for him to fuck you. 'matty, please,' you begged. 'patience, love', he replied, reaching over to the bedside table to grab a condom from the drawer. 'babe you don't need to, I'm on the pill'. he looked at you. 'you sure?' 'please', you replied, desperate to feel him fully.

he pushed forward, teasing up and down your entrance slowly, causing you to rut backwards, a loud groan leaving your lips. a low buzz of pleasure came from his throat.

he spent another few moments stroking up and down, his tip grazing off your clit painstakingly lightly, until you were practically a puddle under him. 'please, I can't wait, need you', your voice was shaky, and you were getting more worked up by the second.

the desperation in your voice was clearly enough for him to give in as he pushed forward, stretching you out slowly. loud sounds of pleasure filled the room, echoing from both of you.

he started slow as he usually did, but sped up as you cried out for him. he grabbed your hair into a ponytail with his fist, using it as an anchor to pull you further onto him.

every inch of him filled you up with each thrust, stretching your tight pussy. his grip tightened on your hip, rough fingertips digging into your skin. the feeling of matty all over your body, everywhere at once was dizzying.

he leaned forward, his bare chest now flush with your back. you felt his arm snake around your waist to rub fast circles into your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. a moan escaped your throat, and the knot in your stomach tightened upon seeing mattys intense expression, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and jaw hanging open above your head.

he buried his head in the crook of your neck, his noises spilling into your ear, spurring both of you on.

the combination of his cock pulsing inside you and his skilled fingers was pushing you closer and closer to the edge. his movements became faster and sloppier, indicating that he was close too.

'matty, I'm gonna-', you barely got the words out before your vision blurred, crying out as your whole body went fuzzy with euphoria. your legs were about to give out as he worked you through your orgasm. 'I've got you darling, mmph, fuck-', his voice was reassuring at first, being broken by sinful noises as he pushed into you hard.

the two of you moaned each others names practically at the same time as you felt his warmth spilling into you. his legs started shaking, and he pulled you into his lap, collapsing into the pillows behind him. he clung onto you as your breathing slowed, both of you silently catching your breath and melting into each other.

his cock twitched inside you and you could feel his cum sliding down, threatening to drip out. 'I'm gonna lift off you, that ok?' you whispered. he nodded and kissed your cheek before you sat up, letting his arms fall to his sides. you whimpered at the empty feeling when he pulled back.

he immediately wrapped his arms around you again when you lay back into him. he interlocked his fingers with the back of your hand, but he was still looking into the mirror, distracted. 'what are you... ,' your voice trailed off, realising what caught his attention.

the white liquid was dripping out of you, sliding down further and further. 'sorry', he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your hand. you giggled up at him and his face flushed. you reached down with your interlaced hand and ran your finger through the mess between your legs. he watched you intently as you brought your hand up to your mouth alongside his and sucked it clean. he groaned and mumbled 'you're fucking perfect', causing you to giggle and lean your head into him.

'let's get you cleaned up', he said, tapping your thigh and moving to get up. 'I wanna stay here forever', you mumbled, still feeling fragile.

'so do I baby but I care about you, let me look after you,' he said, placing a soft kiss on your temple. the contrast between how dominant he had been earlier, fucking you so hard you could barely move, and how soft he was now, making sure you were ok, made you fall deeper in love with him.

all you could say in response was 'I love you'. 'I love you too', he replied, a genuine smile appearing on his face. it wasn't the first time you'd said it, but it still warmed your heart every time.

'come on, I'll run us a bath and order your favourite food', he said, standing up. you followed him into the bathroom and kissed him softly to the sound of the running water.

#matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #trumanblack #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x y/n #adam hann #ross macdonald #george daniel #matty healy imagine #dom!matty

276 notes · View notes

mellifluouaamor · 19 days

Text

TANJIROU KAMADO ⍣ FEMALE READER

synopsis. tanjirou thinks you're like a flower.

you're just like a wisteria flower, TANJIROU would always think to himself. beautiful and elegant, kind yet resilient - and your beauty was akin to that of a blooming flower. there's an air of tranquility around you whenever you're on the battlefield, the smile you'd wear soothing your frazzled teammates and reassuring them that everything will be okay.

tanjirou never regretted meeting you that day - the day he saved you from being devoured. you were the only survivor of the squad that was sent to the inn infested by a formidable demon, and he clearly remembered witnessing you struggle to live as you fought with a breath style that he had never seen before: the breath of ayatori style. it appeared to branch off from the breath of love style as it heavily involved agility and flexibility, and the blade of your nichirin sword was also identical to the love pillar's. watching you fight was like watching a dancer perform, and he had never been so mesmerised by graceful movements meant to kill.

after his first meeting with you, the two of you grew closer to each other, and slowly but surely, stronger feelings blossomed in your hearts.

when the sun rose from the horizon, marking the break of dawn, tanjirou was prompted to pick up his pace and ended up jogging the rest of the way to the butterfly estate. he had received worrying news of you returning from a mission severely injured just as he completed his, and he wanted to check up on you as soon as possible.

as he approached the familiar gates of the butterfly estate, he spotted a particular flower growing amongst yellow daffodils. its striking purple colour reminded him of you, causing him to stop in his tracks. would you like this? he could bring it as a small gift since he didn't think of bringing anything for you until this moment.

without another second to waste, tanjirou knelt down and plucked the sweet violet.

❀

tanjirou spotted you lying on your side on the veranda. you were fast asleep, eyelids drawn shut and lips slightly parted as soft breaths slipped past them. traversing the garden, he soon came to a stop in front of your resting form before reaching out to brush away the stray strands of hair covering your face.

he hesitated to wake you up because of how peaceful you looked. although he could have just left the violet for you to wake up to, he wanted to give it to you in person, all so he could see your expression light up like the sky at dawn. tanjirou released a long, drawn-out sigh and then lowered himself on his knees, eyes never leaving you. he subconsciously moved his free hand to cup your face, his thumb tenderly caressing your cheek.

as if on cue, you drifted out of your slumber, your eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. a slight frown etched itself onto your countenance when you tried to figure out who was in front of you.

"tanjirou...?" you mumbled, recognising his scarlet hair, "what are you doing here?" stifling a yawn, you carefully propped yourself up on your elbow, kneading one eye with a fist.

"why are you sleeping out here?" he asked, chuckling, "the mornings are still cold."

"i was stargazing last night... i guess i accidentally fell asleep," you replied, scratching your lower cheek sheepishly. you then gave tanjirou your signature smile and added, "welcome back by the way! you must be tired from your mission."

he beamed. "thank you! but i'm probably not as tired as you. you should sleep on a proper bed since you're still healing from your injuries..." his gaze swept over the bandages on your body as his red hues flashed with concern. "how are you feeling?"

"some parts of my body are sore, but i'm generally feeling okay. kochou-san said i should avoid strenuous work for now," you said, shifting your body to sit properly.

suddenly remembering the flower in his grasp, tanjirou presented you with the sweet violet he had intended to give you, making your eyes widen.

"it's for you!" he chirped, "i found a flower that reminded me of you on my way here. i... think it suits you."

your cheeks heated up at his remark. with a shy "thank you", you happily accepted the flower and inhaled its sweet scent. "it smells nice... and it's so pretty."

"just like you," tanjirou blurted out before covering his mouth upon realising what he just said.

instead of getting embarrassed, you surprised him by leaning over to kiss his cheek, eliciting a blush from him.

"you're so cute~" you cooed, giggling.

tanjirou let out a huff. before your brain could register what was happening, you found yourself being carried like a princess in his strong arms. you immediately clung to his shoulders with a squeal, afraid that he might drop you (even though you knew that he wouldn't) as he strode away.

"h-hey! put me down!" you exclaimed, kicking your legs.

feeling a bit bold, tanjirou leaned towards your face and lightly bumped your nose with his, smiling. your breath hitched in your throat; that little gesture was effective in silencing you as he brought you inside the infirmary and tucked you in bed.

truly, you're a flower he wants to protect with his life.

#loveletters—!#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #scenario #female reader

96 notes · View notes

exquisiteserotonin · 8 months

Text

In the Velvet Light

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector X F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: After you get off work early, you visit your boyfriend Steven, then Marc at the museum, with intention of asking him for an interesting but important request concerning your relationship

Warnings: A little bit of angst, some Spanish, dirty talk, oral sex, somewhat dubcon (if you squint), polyamory (if you squint) knife play, cunnilingus, and a lot of other things that I want to put but I don't want to put in here bc I don't want to ruin the story...just know there are very explicit adult things that happen here OK?

A/N: This is my very first Moon Knight fic and Oscar Isaac character fic. I know I have kept it to Pedro up to this point, but I definitely wanted to branch out. Hope you all love it.

And as always, so much love to my magical sluts @redhotkitchen @imalrightllama @blueheat1-blog @basicoccult @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @arcanefox207

In the Velvet Light

If there were any place in the world that whispered the word peace it would be museums. This was a universal truth, no one could convince you otherwise. The cleanliness, the quiet, the vast spaces, and the tiny corners gathered all in one massive space where no one dared intrude upon the reflections taking root and growing in your brain. It didn’t matter what type of museum: art, science, history. They all gave you the perfect place to let brilliant ideas percolate.

The loud, hydraulic hiss of the bus echoed to the ears of all the passengers as rolled to a stop at the British Museum. It was a stop for locals and tourists alike and today it was yours as well. The sound and smell of the rain on the pavement greeted you as the doors of the bus opened. A breath of excited anxiety escaped you. The way that the raindrops splashed on the growing rain puddles mirrored the way your heart was beating quickly in your chest.

The majesty of the foyer and everything in it always reminded you of how much bigger and older the world really was. You walked amongst the other visitors, several smiling faces from the staff greeted you in friendly recognition.

“How are you today, love?” said a tall, burly security guard with the warmest smile.

You kissed him on either side of his brown, jovial cheeks.

“Hello Ollie, doing well today?”

“Always, love,” every word from his mouth seemed to float out full of kindness, “meeting Steven a little early today?”

A knot formed in your stomach at the question. You would meet Steven for work occasionally, just to surprise him. Today was different, you felt in every part of your body. From the moment you woke up to this moment, you’d been nervous about meeting him today. With a nod and a smile, you answered Ollie’s question and left a tiny skip in your step.

Before losing yourself in the museum, you found a moment to freshen up in the bathroom. It was quiet and dark, nearly the exact opposite of the brightness and bustle of the Great Court. You stood in front of the sink and pulled out your lipstick from your purse. A twist of the tube revealed a vivid red, a color you normally wouldn’t have chosen for yourself. As you smoothed the rich color over your lips, you kept your eyes on your reflection in the triptych style mirror. You looked from left, right, and then back to center, marveling at how different you could look in such a deep color.

I wonder if he will notice. You thought to yourself as you combed your fingers through your hair.

The black hue of your boots stood in stark contrast to the pristine white floors and walls of the court. The rain-kissed sunlight filtered through the tessellating roof, casting warm and shifting shadows on your face, neck, and shoulders. You twirled around, letting the prismatic light bathe you and your pirouetting shadow, helping you to briefly forget the feeling of excited anxiety that continued to settle in the pit of your stomach. You began to draw, doodle, and write whatever came to you, letting it flow from your veins, through the pen, and onto the paper. You laughed at the three cute little doodles you made of your boyfriend.

Nonsense. You murmured silently in your head.

The afternoon moved and with it the sunlight filtered through the roof. You followed the golden beams, like you were skipping through a creek trying to find the sunbeams hiding in the shadows cast by leaves on a tree. The little game you made to pass the time had you so engrossed that you didn’t even notice Steven standing in a single beam of sunlight that broke through the glass roof. You couldn’t help but smile seeing him, something about his face. The way his eyes were so bright and open and full of wonder at everything. He wrapped his arms around you, enveloping in an embrace full of warmth and love. You squeezed him tightly as he held you, leaning your head closely to the side of his face, nuzzling your nose into his neck and into the soft curls of his black hair. He sensed something. You knew it in the way his long fingers slowly caressed the sides of your waist as he unraveled you from his embrace. His fingers moved lovingly up your arms, until they laced themselves in your waves while his palms cupped your face.

“Did I ever tell you that I have the best girlfriend ever?” he said very matter-of-factly as the pads of his thumbs caressed the sides of your face.

“Oh my god, I had no idea!” You teased, pulling him by the lapel of his jacket. “Who is she?!”

“I don’t know, but she’s certainly never tempted me with this shade of red before,” he said, bringing gentle fingers to your chin just below your pout.

He scrunched his nose as the most charming grin situated itself on his face before he moved in to kiss you. It was so difficult to explain, but that little crinkle of his nose was something you found so endearingly irresistible about him. The gesture was so perfectly Steven and so perfectly kissable.

“I also know,” he said as he intertwined his fingers in yours as you walked towards the exit of the museum, “that you’re definitely keeping something from me.”

A secretive silence took over you as the sunlight began to wane over the glass rooftop. When he turned to you again, the beams of light waxed and waned with kaleidoscopic triangles of light and dark illuminated his chiseled face. With a light cough, you cleared your throat, a small feeling of guilt settling over your chest. There was no use in hiding things from him, considering your unique situation.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You insisted as you walked outside, your steps rippling your reflections in the puddles the rain left behind. “You know I don’t keep things from you.”

“Not intentionally, no,” he said as his expression suddenly turned to confusion as you continued towards the crosswalk. “Wait, sweetheart, why’re we crossing the street?

Turning to him, you smoothed the wrinkles in his jacket and kissed him, wiping your thumb along his lips where yours had left their mark. He sucked a deep inhale into his chest, and you could see the small glimmer of yearning shine in his eyes. The rain had stopped enough to let the sunset work her magic on his olive skin, highlighting it with warm colors of gold and coral.

“Come home with me tonight,” you whispered as your lips parted from his.

A combination of excitement and trepidation filled the lines around his expressive brown eyes. It wasn’t about sex, you knew that. You had already taken that much needed step in your relationship. Sex was far from being a problem in your relationship. No, you know from how his eyes hollowed in fear that this was something much more.

“Oh, love,” he said letting go of your hands to wring his nervously, “aren’t you worried about---”

You wrapped your hands in his to alleviate some of the anxiety that lived in his shaking hands.

“Steven,” you said, keeping a steady gaze on him, “you trust me, right?”

The inner corner of his eyebrows raised up as he nodded in earnest. It was difficult for him not to hang on to every word that left your mouth. Keeping his hand in yours, you crossed the street just as a bus stopped, ready for you to embark. You led Steven towards the middle of the bus, finding two empty seats. Steven gestured for you to take a seat first. When he sat next to you, you hooked your arm under his, your hand finding its way back to hold his. He leaned towards you, turning to give your forehead a kiss before you rested your head on his shoulder.

Your eyes turned to look out the window, watching as the remaining raindrops trickled down the window. The dusky sunlight reflected off them like liquid gold.

“Why do you have such a hard time opening up to him?” The sound of a subtle New York accented voice, pressed lightly against your forehead.

In the window, you glanced at the reflection of your boyfriend’s face. His thick brows were lower, his eyes narrowed with greater focus, and his jaw and neck muscles were taut with stoicism.

“Marc?” you inquired, still not used to how quickly he could appear without warning.

He pulled you in with his gaze. It was one of concern, but in a different way from Steven’s. When he looked at you with that furrowed brow and discerning expression in his eyes, it was easy for you to see that he understood without words the feelings you were going through. A small, but grateful and earnest smile grew on your lips before you gave him a kiss. He didn’t melt quite the same way Steven did, but you could tell from the gentle caresses on your fingertips that he was letting himself relax.

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit unfair to be talking to me about stuff that bothers you and not him?” Marc asked.

“Marc, it’s not like he doesn’t find out anywa---,” you started, but Marc was so quick to interject.

“Nah, no it doesn’t work that way, sweetheart,” he insisted while shaking his head at you.

You took note of his words and lingered on ‘sweetheart.’ It was one of the terms of endearment that both Steven and Marc shared for you. You could never explain to anyone how your relationship (or was it relationships?) worked. You were in love with more than one man who shared the same face and the same body, but with distinctive personalities, distinctive lives. When you wondered how you’d introduce your friends or your family to him, telling them the truth was the worst possible option.

Ok, friends, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, well boyfriends, really. He has, they have Dissociative Identity Disorder.

No, that wouldn’t work at all.

“I’ve just been anxious,” you explained to Marc, expressing all that floated in your head in the least number of words possible. “We’ve been together for a while now and it always feels like I’m having to navigate something new.”

You caught Marc briefly looking at the window.

“He’s listening, isn’t he?” You asked.

Marc nodded with a raised brow and a shrug of his shoulders. The gesture told you that Steven “listening in” on your conversation was inevitable.

“Look, you don’t need to be scared about telling us anything, everything even,” Marc assured you with a gentle squeeze and massage of your thigh.

It was unexpected and sent shivers up your core, reminding you of why you were so anxious in the first place. Another glimpse of Marc looking in the window caught your eye. You wondered what knowing glances they shared with one other. What did each of those glances mean when they were clearly shared about you?

“I know, you’re right,” you acknowledged.

“So, tell me, tell us,” Marc uttered before giving you a gentle kiss, “we’ve got a long ride home.”

The long, stop-and-go bus ride was tolerable because you had Marc with you. When you arrived at your bus stop, you felt Marc’s fingers tighten in yours. Each step that you both took echoed on the cobblestone streets that led to your flat. And with each step that you took, Marc’s hand squeezed yours harder, an unspoken indication of his growing anxiety. Marc dug his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath as you unlocked your door. Before you walked in, you took his face gently in your hands. You looked deep into his eyes, searching for every part of him in those glossy brown globes of his.

“Do you trust me?” You asked the same question you asked Steven.

He rested your forehead against yours and nodded, kissing the inside of your palms.

He followed you up the short set of stairs to your inside door. You flipped on the wall switch, filling your living room with warm light. Marc walked around your flat, taking note of the decor, a mix of mid-century, bohemian, and Scandinavian. A smile spread on his face with the thought that all of it was so perfectly you.

“Make yourself at home,” you whispered softly in his ear, “I’ll be right back.”

Everything in your bedroom was perfect just as you had planned it to be. The terracotta-colored bed sheets were freshly washed. The lamps on your nightstand gave off a dim but romantic glow better than any overhead light could. You had even cleaned the circular mirror that hung over your dresser and the large arched, floor length mirror that rested against the opposite wall. Before you returned to Marc, you undressed from your work clothes and put on a purple, gauzy and lace chemise, paired with a slinky lace thong, with a deep teal kimono over it. You looked at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your waves and putting on a sheer gloss over your red lips. You understood, all of this didn’t make any sense. You knew he’d be ripping it off you in a matter of minutes, but he’d never been to your home. This was going to be something you made sure you would remember.

You watched as Marc awkwardly walked around your small living room, pacing around wondering if he should sit or remain standing. It was almost Steven-like. As you glided back to him, he stopped in his tracks, paralyzed by the vision of you.

“So, this is what you were hiding?” Marc growled, as he admired you, grabbing you by the ass and pulling you towards him. “Don’t think Steven will be too upset about it as long as he gets a turn.”

Marc pulled you into him, rubbing his hands up and down the light, lacy fabric until he grabbed your ass again with his large hands. With his right hand, he grabbed the supple muscle of your thigh and lifted it to his waist. Keeping your hands on his face you kissed him fervently, sucking on his bottom lip until you were pulling it gently with your teeth.

“Quiero hablar con Jake,” you stated with conviction as you ran your fingers through Marc’s dark curls.

Suddenly, he stopped and backed away from you, his brow knitted together in disbelief, “You have no idea what you’re asking me.”

“Yes, baby, I do,” you assured, pulling him to you again as walked backwards to your bedroom.

Marc stood before you, his eyes dark with disappointment and anger. You let your kimono drop to the floor and moved to him, bringing your face close to his. He took a strong, commanding grip on your wrists when you tried to push his open button-up shirt away from his shoulders.

“What do you think this is some kind of joke?” Marc snarled through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea what he’s capable of?”

“Marc, you and Steven said you trusted me,” you said as you planted kisses on his neck and jaw. “It’s been hard, but you’ve told me that I should trust you and be open with both of you, all of you---why should Jake be any different?

“No, not up for discussion,” Marc shook his head.

You pressed your forehead to his and moved your right hand up his chest and then to his face. You eased him into a gentle kiss, slipping your tongue until he was weak in the knees.

“Let me talk to Jake,” you requested again, gripping his face tighter with your hands.

Marc looked at you resolutely to protect you from what he perceived as dangerous.

“You owe me this, Marc,” you affirmed through gritted teeth.

“Then you’d have to make me,” Marc growled, bringing his face as close to yours without touching it.

His breath was hot and touched your painted lips with angry disappointment. Anger and frustration took over you and you lifted your hand, slapping him in the face. An immediate feeling of guilt took over you and you apologetically began caressing the curls that touched Marc’s forehead.

“Oh god, Marc,” you gasped, “I’m so sorry.”

Slowly, he lifted his face and focused his dark eyes on you. His eyebrows were angled downward. He lifted his hand, wrapping it around your wrist in a nearly painful grip. The light and shadows that traced the map of his face revealed eyes darker than you’d ever seen on Marc or Steven. The corners of his lips were turned slightly downward and the vein at the side of his neck was prominent from the tightness of his jaw.

“Not Marc, hermosa,” he growled as he grabbed a hold of your other hand, tossing you on the bed.

“Jake?” You gasped, looking at him as he grazed lustful eyes over your body.

“Sí, claro,” he replied, his voice low and wanton as he stared up at the round mirror above your dresser.

You weren’t sure who he was looking at, Marc or Steven, maybe it was both. Your mind and body completely focused on the man crawling over you on the bed. His hands explored the peaks and valleys of your body. His touch had its own quality that you had never experienced or imagined. With Steven, he made you feel like a queen always willing to serve you and remind you how beautiful you were through gentle, loving touches, and aftercare. Marc was decidedly more confident in himself, though your physical pleasure was always a priority, and he reveled in making you come especially on his tongue. No, this touch had no resemblance to theirs and you trembled beneath it.

Jake’s lips curled up into a devilish smile as he tightened his grip on your wrists. He brought his lips to your neck and pushed your legs apart with his strong thighs. Your breaths came out in quick gasps as he rolled his hips against you, allowing you to feel his cock growing in his jeans.

“Are you scared of me, muñeca?” His breath was hot against your skin.

“I—I don’t---,” you couldn’t find the words to confess how you were feeling, but every inch of your body quivered.

Trapping you beneath his legs, Jake reached into his back pocket to pull out a switchblade. You wiggled beneath him, but stilled yourself as he opened the knife and began tracing it lightly on chest. You closed your eyes, knowing you should feel nothing but paralyzing fear, but your body betrayed you as you rolled your pelvis upward in desperation for him. With a quick swipe of his blade, he cut a slit down the middle of your chemise, ripping the rest of it from your body with his bare hands. A moan escaped you as he tossed the remnants to the floor.

“Oh, you like this, hermosa,” he groaned as returned the blade to his back pocket, getting harder the more you writhed beneath him, “this is why you wanted us to come with you.”

His hands worked at your tits, massaging them, squeezing them with heavy hands, and pinching your nipples until you were crying for him. He painted a hot wet trail up your body with his tongue until he wrapped his mouth around your right nipple, swirling it in mouth, drawing out continuous moans from your lips. A quick nip of his teeth at each nipple sent a wave of ecstasy through your body and you could do nothing but yelp out his name.

“You want me to fuck you,” Jake growled as he pulled his shirt off over his head and as he unzipped and pushed his jeans off to the floor, “You’ve been wanting me to fuck you.”

He pulled your hips towards the edge of the bed, where you were met with his mouth planting hot, wet kisses on your mound through your lacy purple underwear. He took two long fingers caressing the center of the lacy fabric, your desire growing with each stripe he traced there.

“Dímelo,” he said as he curled the tips of his fingers at the edge of your underwear.

They were so close to your center, so close to touching exactly where you wanted him. But not close enough.

“Say it,” he demanded while he continued to taunt you with his fingers.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathed out, “---need you to fuck me, Jake.”

He paused with a low, deviant laugh that came from the back of his throat. You pressed yourself up on your elbows, needing to see his face after your reply. His eyelids were low with the most wanton desire as his gaze shifted to the large mirror that rested against the wall between two, long arched-shaped windows. The moon beams were bright through the window, and you saw them glimmer in his eyes before he said anything again.

“Don’t worry, hermanos,” he said, his voice rumbling against your center, “I’ll take good care of her.”

The sound of ripped lace reached your ears and just as quickly, Jake’s mouth was on you in a slow open-mouthed kiss. All you could do was gasp as he slipped his tongue through your folds licking with slow, broad strokes of his tongue from the bottom to the top. He worshipped at your clit with slow, torturous circles until he licked down to your center, repeating the movements all over again. You bucked against him with a moan and moved your hands to lace your fingers in his curls.

“Estas tan desesperada por mi,” he uttered, tightening your grip against his hair so that your hands couldn’t move.

He pushed face further into your mound, the tip of his nose touching your clit as he his tongue dipped deeper through your folds, trading endlessly between broad, delectable strokes and swift, tight swipes that tortured you with each exchange. The beat of your heart pounded to your ears and all your nerve endings felt like they had gathered around your swollen pussy as he hummed against it. He wrapped his soft lips against your clit, rolling his tongue against you at first and then sucking every bit of your slick in his expert mouth.

“Fuck---Jake---feel so good!” you cried out, trying to push your hips towards him for more.

A deep throaty hum left his mouth as he began to slip one, then two fingers into your slick. His tongue never let go of its ownership on your clit as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, stoking the fire inside of you. Like some kind of poetic synchronicity your toes curled just as he curled his fingers in you, feeding your fire and sucking at your clit like it's the only thing he’s ever needed. In a matter of seconds, you came with a line of breathy cries of his name while he clamped his arms around your writhing hips.

“Move up, cariño,” he said, slapping at your pussy and helping you with a slight roll of your hips sideways.

His eyes kept their intense and libidinous gaze on you as you trembled and rolled in the sheets as he pulled off his black boxer-briefs. You licked your lips as he crawled towards you, cradling you in his arms as his right hand gripped your face as he kissed you. You knew your lipstick would be a mess by the way he devoured your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Need you---need your cock, Jake!” you cried, your fingers reaching out to him through the waves of your bed sheets.

More than ready to oblige, he crawled over you and growled in your ear, “All fours, muñeca.”

His hands massaged your ass before, caressing up and down your waist before he gifted you with one, two, three strong slaps of his firm hand. Shuddering with ecstasy, you looked up and saw the mess he was making of you in your large mirror, your lipstick smeared and your face moaning with desperation for his depravity. It was like being hypnotized as you watched yourself and him in the mirror. A long thread of saliva left his mouth and dripped down to your ass, and you were suddenly wiggling back for him. He teased you with a few quick slaps of your pussy with his hard, bobbing cock and he coated his cock with a few pumps of his own saliva he’d pressed to his fingers with his tongue. And with decadent groans, he began to push into you.

You’d felt this cock many times before, you reminded yourself with closed eyes, as Jake slapped into you with a few shallow thrusts. But you’ve never felt it quite this way, as he pulls back almost completely before he is bottoming out into you with an unrestrained grinding of his hips, making sure you can hear the slap of your hips and your soaking pussy against him.

“Oh god, fuck, so good, Jake” you cried as you pressed your face against your sheets and pushed back against him.

“Face up, cariño,” he ordered as you felt him swiftly wipe his thumb against your asshole, “want you to see your face when I make you cum all over my cock.”

A moan escapes you at the novel feeling, one that Steven or Marc had never done for you. Jake made a few more quick slaps on your ass as you scrambled to lift yourself back onto your hands. His loud groans continued to fill your bedroom as he thrusted in and out of you with a varied pace you couldn’t anticipate, driving you mad.

“Jake, please---please fuck me like I’m your whore,” you begged through filthy cries for him.

The second those words slipped from your lip, Jake’s hand slid from the attention he was giving your asshole until he was caressing your back and pulling at the waves of your hair. His thrusts felt unimaginably deeper as he kept a strong grip there, thrusting and throbbing against the walls of your tight cunt.

“Fuck, look at you!” He groaned as his thrusts became faster and faster as they continued to hammer deep inside of you. “Look at her, a fucking mess, acting like a whore for me.”

You couldn’t help but look, feeling almost bad that you knew Jake was speaking, no taunting Marc and Steven. The way your tits bounced, the way you clutched at the sheets, and the way your mouth hung open in an unending moan for him. The sounds that echoed from your cunt were wet and obscene.

“I---Jake---Jake I’m gonna cum!” you cried, trying to reach back to him as the walls of your pussy quivered and clenched against his long, thick shaft.

With vigorously deep thrusts, he emptied inside you with a luscious and raspy moan, “That’s it, mi amor, take it all.”

With one final groan he pulled himself from you, swiping one thumb to your asshole before sliding one quiver-inducing stroke to the folds of your sensitive pussy. Together you collapsed in a mess of sweaty, love-soaked limbs. Resting right leg open against his thigh gave him a chance to caress your legs with an unexpectedly soft hand. You used this moment of silence to catch your breath and regain your composure, not sure what to expect afterwards from Jake.

“That was...unexpected,” you sighed looking over at a smirking Jake, whose eyes were closed in post-coital bliss, “are they---,”

“They’ll get over it,” he responded quickly to your unfinished question about Marc and Steven, “besides you said, ‘all in’, right? I’ve just shown them it’s ok to push you to your limits.”

You turned to Jake, propped yourself on one elbow, and turned his face towards you with a gentle, but teasing hand, “Tsk, oh darling, you’ve only just scratched the surface.”

#oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight system #juice bar collective #juice collective

181 notes · View notes