#I need to get a name change contract for him but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 1 month ago

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me and the devil

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I can be your manager. It’s something I have experience in. But we’d need to form a contract, and it’s not the type of contract most singers agree to.” Johnny takes a breath. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m the Devil, honey, and if it’s fame that you want, you’re going to have to make a deal with the Devil.”

tw/cw. Unprotected consensual sex, slight monsterfucking themes (Johnny has a big forked tongue), monster/big cock Johnny, pussy eating, breast worship, multiple reader orgasms, small vs large kink, soft dom devil John, dirty talk, praise, etc… I pet names: (hers). Honey, songbird.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.9k

🍭 aus. devil!Johnny, singer!reader, supernatural au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. This fic is inspired by the songs Me And The Devil by Soap&Skin and The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie by Colter Wall, it also loosely draws inspiration from the TV shows Yellowstone, Landman and Supernatural.

Prologue:

You love the warmth of midnight in small desert towns. The bar doors are open, and a breeze that’s beginning to cool is flowing through the space. For a Friday night, this isn’t the best turnout, but you don’t let that affect you as you sit on a stool on stage, a guitar in your hand and a microphone near your lips.

Wanderers always seem to tumble in from the street, seduced by the sound of your voice, and motion by the front door of the bar draws your gaze.

This stranger doesn’t look like the others.

While the patrons here are all cowboys, Hands, and small-town folk, the man in the doorway of the bar looks entirely big city.

He’s adorned in a dark suit, his hair slicked back meticulously. Even from a distance, you can see the striking angles of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips.

The stranger approaches the bar, his eyes fixed on you even as he orders a drink.

It’s hard to focus, your heart racing at the sight of this beautiful newcomer, but you carry on.

You’ve not made a name for yourself yet, and these small gigs matter. You drive in your van from town to town, making the money you need to survive by doing what you love most: singing.

The songs are all originals, and they come from your heart; you think it’s one of the reasons people seem bewitched by your music, although you know these lonely cowboys are enthralled for other reasons, too.

When your set finishes, you get off the stage. A number of the more drunken and boisterous patrons of the establishment stop you to chat as you walk by, and by the time you make it to the bartop, the mysterious stranger is gone.

“Good set,” the bartender tells you, sliding a drink your way. “The man in the suit left this for you.”

“Thanks.” As you look down to grab the glass, you realize there’s a hundred-dollar bill under the cup.

“Left that for you, too,” the bartender explains. “Told me if I pocketed it, he’d know.”

He says it in a joking tone, but there’s something laced under his words, an understanding that the suited stranger who had been watching you is not someone to trifle with.

A feeling of dejection bubbles through you that the gorgeous man had left before you’d had a chance to talk to him. Something inside of you - call it intuition, or your dreamer’s heart - tells you that it’s important you introduce yourself to the stranger, and now, you might never get that chance.

One:

This is now the fourth time the big city stranger has come to one of your sets in two months, and it’s the third town, too. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning at the notion that he’s following you, following your career perhaps?

Every time he comes to a show, he leaves you money with the bartender, then slips out before you can catch him, but tonight, you’re about to change that.

The moment your set is over, you practically bolt off the stage, a flurry of apologies leaving your lips as you brush past people who want to talk to you.

By the time you make it to the bartop, the man is gone, so you turn your sights on the door leading to the street.

It might be a bad idea to chase this potential stalker out into the night, but you’re not thinking about that as you dart after him.

The stranger isn’t hard to find, however. He’s standing next to a mint-condition old muscle car, it’s fully black, and although you’d half expected him to own a Lamborghini or a Mercedes, there’s something timeless about the old Ford Mustang that suits him.

He’s lighting up a cigarette, and he turns to you as if he expected you to be standing there.

“Hi,” you say, approaching him.

“Hi.”

You watch the way he exhales, smoke billowing out around him- it must be a trick of the light because for a moment, his obscured shadow on the pavement looks larger and more menacing.

“You’ve been to a lot of my shows,” you blurt out, not quite sure how else to start the conversation.

“I like your voice,” the man nods.

“I’m Y/N,” you tell him.

“Johnny.”

You take a breath, trying to figure out where to go from here.

Luckily, you don’t have to speak next, because Johnny does. “Why do you sing at these dive bars in shit small towns when you have the voice for stadiums?”

“Uh-” His question takes you back. “I mean, I don’t really have a manager, and booking things is rough these days without an online following-” You can feel yourself floundering with your answer, and his fixed gaze on you only makes matters worse. “I guess I’m just not great at this.”

“You’re a singer. It’s not your job to be a manager too.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

He takes another long drag of his cigarette. “Do you want to be famous?”

You think about the question for a moment. “Doesn’t every singer want to be heard by millions across the globe?”

Johnny shrugs. “People have… longings for grandeur, but not many have the talent to achieve it.”

“Do you think I have the talent to be famous?” you ask, suddenly feeling quite small and childlike as you look up at this beautiful man.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

A smile works its way onto your lips, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Guess I have to find a manager.”

“That’s one route.”

“Is there another?”

Johnny stares at you for a moment, and you get the sense that when he looks at you, he really looks at you. It’s as if this stranger can stare into your soul, but then again, as a singer, you always strive to bare your innermost self, so it’s a sensation you can appreciate.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks.

“Of course.”

Another drag from his cigarette, which is now at its end. You watch him flick the butt, discarding it carelessly onto the worn small town pavement. “I can be your manager. It’s something I have experience in. But we’d need to form a contract, and it’s not the type of contract most singers agree to.” Johnny takes a breath. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m the Devil, honey, and if it’s fame that you want, you’re going to have to make a deal with the Devil.”

You look up at him, trying to process his words. “You’re the Devil?”

“Come, I’ll show you.” Johnny holds out a hand, and against your better judgment, you take it. With one quick adjustment, he has your back to his chest. The two of you are angled so the streetlight casts a shadow in front of you.

Your outline is dwarfed by Johnny’s, and right there on the street, emphasized by the contrast of dark and light, you see two horns sprouting out of his head. His hands are still on your shoulders, so there’s no logical way for him to be doing this by some trickery of the light and shadow-

You practically jump, whipping around to look at the stranger, the Devil- who looks just as ordinary as he had a moment ago.

“Believe me now?” he grins.

“I-” You swallow thickly. “I’m not sure.”

“You don’t have to be sure. You just have to think about it.”

“But… If I say yes, what do I give you in return?” you ask.

“Your soul, but don’t be scared, when I collect and you join me in Hell, you’ll be my personal songbird, probably the best position out there for a human in my realm, if I’m being honest with you.”

“And… If you’re the Devil, don’t you have work to do? Aren’t you busy? Why are you wasting your time trying to make a contract with me when there are bigger fish to go after?”

“I’ve got minions, honey,” Johnny grins. “These days, I never get my hands dirty. I live a charmed life, for a Devil.”

You gawk at him, mind void of anything else to say.

“I’ll give you my card, and you can think about it,” Johnny tells you simply.

With a snap of his fingers and a tiny, spontaneous flame, a black card appears between his thumb and pointer. He hands it to you, flashes you a wink, then walks around his car to get in the driver’s seat.

The engine roars to life, and you stand in shock - and maybe something a little like awe - as the Devil races away.

It’s not until Johnny’s gone that you look down at the card he left you and realize it’s not a phone number at all, it’s a location.

Johnny’s instructions are clear: if you want to make a deal with him, you’ll have to meet at the crossroads by Route 127.

Two:

Your skin is prickling as you get out of your car. The side of the road is all gravel, and the crunching of your footsteps seems exceptionally loud in the eerie quiet of the night.

There’s no one around, but with a deep breath for courage, you approach the junction, standing in the middle of the crossroads.

“So you’re here to make a deal.”

The voice comes from behind you, and you whip around to find the Devil standing there. It’s as if he’s appeared out of thin air, and your heart jumps at the sight of him.

He’s just so handsome, and the suit he always wears only exacerbates the allure.

You take a breath to steady yourself. “Why here? Why a crossroads?” you ask.

Johnny shrugs. “There’s something reminiscent of the old days when it comes to crossroads. You know, the roaring twenties, singers showing up at a crossroad to make all of their dreams come true.” Johnny steps closer as he speaks, and you can feel his breath along your collar as he leans closer, inspecting you.

“Did you make a lot of contracts with singers back in the day?” you enquire.

“All the greats were my doing,” Johnny muses, stepping back again. “Some were better at contracts than others. I suppose I was more lenient back in the day. If someone was truly great, I’d sometimes let them continue longer.”

“And is that what you’re going to do for me?” you ask. “Be lenient?”

“You’d wish for that, wouldn’t you, my little songbird?” Johnny smirks. “No, for you, I give twenty years, and that’s final.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Twenty years of stardom, then The Devil himself would come to collect your soul.

“So how would this work?” you ask, not wanting to rush into anything.

“I’d be with you every step of the way,” Johnny assures you. “Guiding you, opening doors. Anything you want, if it’s in my power to give it to you, would be yours.”

“You personally? Not a minion?”

Johnny shrugs. “Usually, I’d send a jockey, but there’s something about you. I heard your voice from Hell itself, and that’s not a metaphor. You have something special, and I want to be the one who watches it grow.”

You consider his words, and you can’t help the way they boost your ego.

“I would have been happy just watching you forever, you know,” Johnny muses. “But you approached me, and fuck it, an opportunity for a deal is an opportunity.”

“So let me get this straight. I make this deal with you, you make me famous, you make all of my dreams come true, but in twenty years, you take my soul down to Hell, and I spend eternity with you?”

“It’s a pretty good deal, if you ask me.” The Devil grins, and you hate how handsome this powerful being is, how charming.

Your heart is racing now, and you’re aware that you’re about to practically jump off a cliff with this whole thing- is twenty years of fame on Earth really worth an eternity in Hell?

“Fuck it,” you breathe. “Let’s do it.”

With the snap of his fingers, Johnny has a contract in his hand, and he holds it out to you.

“Do you have a pen?” you ask.

“It won’t need a pen, just a drop of blood,” he explains. He gently grabs your wrist, tugging you closer. A needle appears in his hand, and with the tiniest prick on your pointer finger, a drop of blood appears. “If you would be so kind as to do the honours, my little songbird.”

Without another thought, you press your digit to the paper, your blood marking the contract.

There’s no turning back now, and yet, something like relief floods over you.

“One last thing,” Johnny said, snapping the paper out of existence again. “For a deal like this, it’s best sealed with a kiss.”

“What?” The word comes out as a squeak, and you blink at the gorgeous Devil.

“A kiss,” Johnny grins.

“Is that necessary?”

“Let’s just say it is.”

You sigh. “You’re pushing your luck here, mister Devil.”

“That’s just the kind of man I am.”

Johnny reaches for your hand, and you let him pull you to his chest. You look up at this beautiful, demonic entity, and you know you’re in deep.

Twenty years with this man, guiding you, taking care of you-

Fuck it.

You move forward, cupping his face as you press your lips to his own.

Johnny’s grip on you tightens, pulling you flush to his chest as his mouth eagerly works against your own.

Your whole body is on fire from the sensation, and when he finally pulls back, it’s the most you can do to blink up at him in a daze.

That had been, without a doubt, the best kiss of your life, and now, you simply want more.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Johnny grins. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, the Devil vanishes, leaving you at the crossroads, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

Three:

You can’t believe you’re here.

It’s only been two weeks, and Johnny has somehow already gotten you an audition as one of three openers for a pretty well-known band.

“How did you even swing this?” you ask, heart practically in your throat as you and Johnny wait for your turn to audition.

“I’m the Devil, remember?” He winks at you, reaching out to place a protective palm on your shoulder. “If I’m being honest, I could have gotten you an even bigger audition, for an even bigger group, but I figured baby steps would work best for you.”

“If this is a baby step-” you let out a whistle. “So is this a guaranteed thing? What are you going to do, smite my competition or something?”

Johnny lets out a loud laugh.

“Honey, if your voice could bewitch the Devil himself into making the trek up to Earth to personally take you on as a contract, this whole thing will be a piece of cake. It’s a formality, honestly,” he assures you. “You land this audition, you go with them on tour, you make a name for yourself, we pop out a number one hit for the summer, a great music video, and by next year, you could be on your own tour.”

“You’ve got this all planned out, huh?”

“I’m contractually obligated to,” Johnny teases. “What would be the point of a twenty-year deal if you spent a quarter of it just trying to get on top? I’m going to launch your career, honey, and it all starts here.”

Four:

You’re practically glowing, and it makes something stir in Johnny’s cold, dead heart.

Tonight was the first night of the tour, and your opening set had blown the whole audience away.

In Johnny’s not-so-humble opinion, it had been clear to a lot of people that you have more talent in your little finger than the headliners do in their whole bodies, but alas, schematics, schematics.

Johnny will have you on your own tour in a year, of that, he’s certain.

God, so many plans, swirling around in his ancient brain.

He wants to give you the world, and he could have done it already- but he knows you’re a fragile human, and he wants to give you time to adjust, too. He doesn’t want to break you, not so soon into your career.

He’s done it before, helped a struggling artist, shoved them into the limelight- then addiction had descended, and all hopes of glory had dwindled, drained from the artist the way they drained bottles every night.

No, Johnny wants to keep your purity intact; he wants to grow your strength, your confidence, until you’re able to take on the world, the way he knows you can.

To celebrate your great victory, Johnny takes you to a bar, and he can see the energy still surging through you as you have your first cocktail.

“That was insane!” you tell him, practically buzzing.

“You were amazing, honey, I knew you could do it,” he smiles, loving the feeling of your light as it glows around him. He hasn’t been around someone with an aura like yours in many, many years, and having been in the dark for so long makes him crave your light in a way he’s never craved anything.

“I want to dance!” you exclaim suddenly. “Come dance with me!”

He can’t refuse you as you grab his hand and lead him to the floor. Johnny’s generally not one to partake in human things like dancing; he often feels it’s beneath him, but tonight, for you, he’ll give in.

You’re already moving, swaying your hips and grinning as the music seems to consume you.

It’s one of the things he loves most about you, the way you clearly feel music- to get lost in sound, it’s a gift, one he’s only ever felt when he listens to you.

Johnny could do without the loud pop music blasting through the club right now, but again, for you, he’ll acquiesce.

Then, you shift closer, throwing your arms over his shoulders to tug him closer, and it makes Johnny’s skin tingle.

He can’t help the attraction he has toward you, which is saying a lot, since he generally hates humans.

Johnny’s hands find your hips, and the way you’re swaying now is practically bewitching him.

Your smile lights up your whole face, and it brings a sense of pride to Johnny, pride in knowing he’s the mastermind behind your newfound happiness. This isn’t just a contract to him, he knows that now, and part of him doesn’t mind that he has a personal investment in this.

It’s only two and a half months into your contract, but Johnny would be lying if he said he didn’t spend most of that time thinking about kissing you.

And right now, your lips are looking like perfection.

He must have gazed too long, because you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, leaning closer-

Johnny shouldn’t be doing this. He of all demons should know that getting involved with a contract is not a good idea- but as the King of Hell, who else can break the rules if not him?

Johnny gives in, he closes the gap, and you release a sigh as you mold against him, your body flush to his own.

His arms wrap around you, holding you tight as the kiss deepens, his tongue swiping against your lip before you open your mouth for him.

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to release a groan, his hand slipping down to grab your ass before he can even help himself.

Johnny prides himself on being a man of composure, but you’re making him come unraveled, unlike anyone has in hundreds of years.

It takes all of Johnny’s power to pull away from you, and he gazes down at your starstruck eyes. “We should get you back to the hotel,” he warns. “We’ve got an early flight.”

He sees the dejected expression that makes its way across your face, but you sigh, nodding.

You’re a good little songbird, and you already listen to everything Johnny says.

He loves how submissive you are, and he takes your hand, leading you out of the bar.

Five:

To your surprise, when Johnny had taken you back to the hotel, he’d dropped you off at your room and then gone his separate way.

Part of you had really thought tonight would lead to more for you, but Johnny is ever the controlled man you know him to be.

If only you had self-control like he does.

It’s two am, and you can’t sleep. You can’t get the thought of him out of your head.

It’s become something like an obsession, and your attraction to the Devil has only grown as you’ve spent more and more time with him.

You would have thought the Devil would be meaner, but he’s not. Johnny’s the best mentor you could have hoped for, opening every door that needs opening and supporting you in the most genuine way you’ve ever experienced.

With a groan, you stand up, slipping on your little slippers.

His room is next to yours, and your heart is racing as you step out into the hotel hallway.

Two quiet knocks and a moment later, Johnny appears at his door.

He’s still in a suit, like he always is, and part of you had hoped to catch him in perhaps a more vulnerable moment- but you should have known, this is the Devil, and he must always be on guard.

“No rest for the wicked, huh?” you say, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood.

“No rest for songbirds either, it would seem.” He flashes you a smile, and you relax instantly.

“Can I come in?”

Johnny pushes the door wider, and you step into his room.

It’s larger than your room, and the decor is completely different, all dark and marbled-

“In case you’re wondering, the door is a portal,” Johnny muses. “I prefer my own room to anything a hotel would have; the bed is much nicer, too.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re the literal Devil and have weird supernatural powers,” you laugh, still taking in the space. “So… is this like, your bedroom in your Hell palace?”

“I guess you could say that.” Johnny closes the door behind you, leaning back against it.

“It’s nice, actually.”

“Then don’t go close to the windows, and keep it that way.”

Your eyes shift to the glass wall in question. You can tell this room is high above the wasteland landscape, and even from this distance, you can see flickering lights that can only really be Hell fires.

A shiver runs through you, and you turn your back to the windows.

“So what do you need, songbird?” Johnny asks.

“I think you know what I need.”

The Devil grins. “I’d like to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath, wrapping your arms around your pajama-clad body. “I need you.”

“You have me, it’s in our contract.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean, Johnny.”

He stares at you for a moment. “If we slept together, wouldn’t this be an unfair power dynamic? I know how ‘woke’ you humans are nowadays. Think of it, you, a new singer, sleeping with her manager who also happens to be the Devil… what would the tabloids say?”

He’s making a joke out of it, but you appreciate that he’s even broached the subject of there being a power imbalance between the two of you. Because he’s right, the contract - and the fact that he’s the Devil - are major obstacles, not to mention, you don’t have a clue how much Johnny actually feels for you.

“If there had been a clause in our contract that by accepting, it would mean we could never be more than manager and client, I maybe wouldn’t have signed it,” you state.

Johnny lets out a loud laugh. “There was no such clause, I’m only preparing you for ramifications. I’m the Devil, honey, and regardless of what happens to us, I’ve agreed to be in your life for the next twenty years. For me, that’s just a blip, but for you, that’s a quarter of a lifetime, and I know how attached you humans can get.”

“Twenty years might be a blip, but I also agreed to an eternity as your songbird, so let’s face it, you’re stuck with me now,” you point out.

“I suppose I am.”

“And something tells me you’re getting attached, too. Something tells me I’m not the only one starting to feel something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way you treat me, with such care and compassion,” you point out. “You said it yourself, you could have given me to a minion to handle, but you didn’t. You offered up your time, which is valuable, so there must have been a deeper reason for that.”

Johnny looks you up and down. “Maybe my poker face isn’t as good as it used to be.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“If we do this, I might not be able to control myself around you,” Johnny warns.

“I’d like to see that actually, you know… you, losing control.”

“Do you think you could handle it?”

“You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

“Sometimes I think you forget that I’m the Devil,” Johnny muses, stepping closer to you.

“You might be the Devil, but you’re my Devil, it’s in the contract.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything else; he simply grabs your hips, tugging you to his chest.

You stare up at him, adoring the soft brown shade of his eyes and the way his lips look so full and kissable.

You can’t help yourself anymore; you close the distance, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to draw his mouth to yours.

There’s no need for waiting now, no need to hold back, so you throw yourself into the kiss. You part your lips, giving the Devil entry as he deepens things. His hand presses tighter to the small of your back, and between the pressure and the sensation of his lips, you find yourself at a loss for breath very quickly.

A moan slips out of you, and Johnny grins, then in one easy motion, he lifts you off the ground.

Your legs wrap around his hips, and he guides you toward the massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room. He sets you down on it, his mouth never leaving yours, and you welcome this change of position.

Johnny now has the opportunity to grind down against you, and he takes it, applying pressure to your core that has you whimpering even louder.

His lips move to your throat, teasing and licking, as if he’s claiming you.

Regardless of anything else in your life, your body, and Hell, your soul- they belong to Johnny, and something tells you that the Devil belongs to you too, for more than just the twenty-year contract.

His mouth continues to move down, and his hand grabs at the front of your button-up silk sleeping shirt. With one rough tug, he tears the fabric open, revealing your bare breasts to him. Your nipples are pebbled from the stimulus of his kiss, and from the way he groans at the sight of you, you know he’s enjoying himself as well.

Johnny immediately draws his mouth to your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth while he fondles the other with his hand.

It feels delightful to be worshiped this way, and you toss your head back against the bed, closing your eyes to bask in the sensation.

You smooth your fingers through his hair, not tugging, just encouraging. All the while, you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your core practically throbbing already.

Then… Johnny begins to descend again, and your breath catches as he hooks his fingers in your sleeping shorts, slowly tugging them down your legs.

Johnny is still fully clothed in his suit and tie, yet you’re practically naked. There’s something so interesting about this dynamic, about the fact that the Devil seems to be more of a selfless lover.

You wonder if it’s something to do with him claiming you. Maybe he gets off on the knowledge that he’s still completely put together while you’re aching and desperate, naked and vulnerable for him.

The whole thing turns you on, and when Johnny sinks to his knees next to the bed, tugging you closer, you swear you must be in Heaven right now, not Hell.

Being with Johnny could never be Hell, and when his mouth makes contact with your pussy, everything else drifts away from your mind.

He’s gentle at first, licking your slit before circling your clit with his tongue. You can feel his eyes on you, and you whimper a sound of affirmation, shifting on the bed in an effort to get closer to him.

A chuckle escapes Johnny’s lips, and then he dives in fully.

He no longer holds anything back, and you cry out from the sensation of him eating you like a last meal.

Then you feel something interesting, he’s licking your clit, but the feeling is diferent-

You open your eyes and sit up a little, looking down at him. Johnny reacts to your motion by pulling back a little, and he sticks out his tongue for you, which is when you see it’s forked.

No fucking way.

The Devil has a forked fucking tongue, and it feels so fucking good as he goes back to licking your clit, stimulating you in every possible way-

You’ve heard about alien fucking kinks, about dildos that are all ridged or tentacled- but you’ve never been a ‘monster fucker’ kind of girl yourself-

Maybe that’s changed.

Because the Devil is - in practically every sense - a monster, and now, you’re reaping the rewards of supernatural body parts that are bringing you pleasure you’ve never experienced, never even dreamed of experiencing.

You can feel your orgasm rising quickly, and a tingle begins vibrating throughout your body.

“I’m close,” you warn him, clenching your eyes shut as your muscles start to tense.

Johnny simply growls, and the vibration does wonders for your clit.

Your thighs are beginning to shake, the cord in your abdomen clenching tighter and tighter-

Then Johnny does something you don’t expect, he pushes his tongue into your pussy, lapping at your walls- and fuck, it’s the biggest tongue you’ve ever experienced.

At the same time, he rubs his nose against your clit, providing just the right amount of stimulation in all the right spots.

You cum instantly, your core pulsing around his massive tongue as it continues to lick at you, lapping up everything your body wants to give him.

Your heart is racing, your body going practically numb from the force of your orgasm, and all you can do is scream in pleasure as Johnny works you through your high.

Your whole body is practically shaking when he finally lets up, and you open your eyes to watch the Devil lick his lips with his long, forked tongue.

“You taste like sin,” Johnny muses. “It’s my favourite flavour.”

Something about his words are so cheesy, and you find yourself giggling in your post-orgasmic state.

“You going to fuck me now, mister Devil?” you ask.

“I think I’m contractually obligated to,” Johnny grins.

You laugh. “I agree. So… take off that suit and let me see you.”

Johnny shakes his head at you, standing. At his full height, he towers over you as you lie in his bed.

He begins with his black suit jacket, which he lays on the foot of the bed. Then he moves to his waistcoat. It’s a deep burgundy colour, and it’s very fitting for him, but each button takes what feels like an entire age.

Once the waistcoat is undone, he gently sets it with his suit jacket.

Then, he goes to his cuff links-

“Can’t you just snap your fingers and be naked?” you groan.

“What would be the fun in that?” Johnny chuckles. “I like making you wait.”

“I don’t like it.”

“But you’ll be a patient girl for me, right, honey? A good, patient, little songbird?”

Your skin tingles at his words, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a glutton for praise.

With a sigh, you nod. “I’ll be good and patient for you, sir.”

“Sir?” His eyebrow raises. “I like the sound of that.”

You knew he would. He’s the Devil after all, although you hadn’t expected him to take the soft dom approach, he’s clearly a dom nonetheless, and all dominants like some sort of title.

Johnny doesn’t seem like the ‘Daddy’ sort, at least, not this early into your budding relationship.

Master had felt too overpowering for you, so Sir had fit best.

He begins to unbutton his black dress shirt, and your eyes take in each piece of exposed skin.

You realize he’s tattooed beneath the suits, hidden markings that become more and more visible with each passing moment.

“What do the symbols mean?” you ask, curiosity bubbling within you.

“All sorts of things,” Johnny shrugs, placing his shirt with the rest of his clothes. “Their an ancient demonic language, nothing you’d understand. Protection runes, anti-summoning crests, that sort of thing.”

“So, they’re strategic?”

“Everything about me is strategic, honey.” Johnny’s hands have now moved to his belt, and you swallow thickly as he undoes it.

He’s so well muscled and beefy; the tattoos were unexpected, but they only accentuate the power that radiates off of him.

You’re practically drooling now, heart thundering in your chest.

“I guess you’ve waited long enough,” Johnny grins, and with the snap of his fingers, he’s completely naked.

Your breath catches as you stare at his massive cock.

“How's that going to fit inside of me?” you squeak.

“It will fit,” he assures you.

“I’m glad you’re confident,” you tell him, an anxious laugh escaping you.

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head as he joins you on the bed. You’ve adjusted slightly so your head is on the pillows, giving Johnny the full length of the mattress to maneuver as he slots between your legs.

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone before moving to your throat again, where he suckles on your sweet spot. “And you have to give me permission. Demons can’t enter humans without it.”

“You can’t fuck me without consent?” you ask in shock. “How progressive of you.”

Johnny only laughs, rubbing down against your, his massive cock prodding your wet hole and teasing your clit.

“I give you permission to enter me, Devil,” you tease, making him chuckle again.

“And I thank you for the permission.”

Johnny adjusts, reaching between your bodies to grab the base of his cock. He guides the tip to your entrance, rubbing it through your slick to gain some lubricant.

Then, he pushes into you, just an inch, but the stretch is huge. You cry out, latching onto his shoulders as your core tries to adjust.

He’s thrusting slowly, still restricting himself to an inch of penetration as you get used to his size. As always, Johnny’s able to read you, and he seems to know the exact moment you’re ready to take more of him.

This continues for a short time, slow, gentle thrusts, inch after inch, until he’s almost fully buried inside your wet, throbbing core.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” you whimper, digging your nails into his broad shoulders.

“Taking me so well,” he coos, suckling your earlobe into his mouth.

“You can move,” you tell him. “I want to feel you.”

“Whatever you say, honey.”

Johnny brings his lips to yours as he begins to properly fuck you.

He’s slow moving, with each thrust splitting open your pussy, but each thrust helping your body aclimatize to him.

You’re also super turned on, and you can feel yourself practically juicing all over him. The extra lubricant does wonder to the sensation, and soon, nothing but pleasure fills you as Johnny starts to fuck you even harder.

“That’s it,” he groans. “I knew you’d be able to take me.”

“Johnny,” you whimper, kissing him desperately as ecstasy begins to overtake you.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” Johnny growls, railing into you with even more power.

God, he’s hitting every spot imaginable, and it feels perfect, like your bodies were always meant to be connected in this way.

“My perfect little songbird,” he coos, lips moving to your ear. “What pretty sounds you make.”

You’re not someone who can always cum from penetration alone, but fuck, nothing in your life has ever felt as good as this does.

Johnny adjusts your thigh, hiking it on your hip, and suddenly he’s going even deeper. It’s like you can feel him in your stomach, and for some reason, it’s not an unpleasant sensation. In fact, it makes your eyes roll back into your head, your lips parting as a desperate whine escapes you.

“My little cock drunk honey,” Johnny grins, fucking you even harder. “I always knew you’d be the best girl for me.”

His words go straight to your core, which is starting to throb around him with your impending orgasm.

“Going to come undone for me already?” he asks.

“Please, I’m so close-”

“You can cum, but I’m not done with you yet.”

“That’s okay, fuck, please just let me cum,” you whimper desperately.

“I’m not stopping you, let go, cum on my cock.”

A few more thrusts send you over the edge, and this time, when your core clamps down on his cock, it excentuates how massive he is. Your body hardly has any room to convulse around him, and the sensation of being this full has your body going into overdrive.

It’s one of the best orgasms of your life, being stuffed to the absolute brim with this Devil’s monster sized cock-

Pure ecstasy is practically vibrating through you, your skin tingling in the most delightful way as waves of euphoria surge through every inch of your body.

“Such pretty sounds,” Johnny groans, fucking you through your high until you’re gasping and clawing at his back. “My turn.”

He pulls out of you and you gasp, only to be manhandled onto your hands and knees.

Johnny presses his tip back into your core, grabbing your hips so he can push fully inside of you in doggy style.

Your thighs shake from the intrusion, heart racing in your chest.

Something about this makes sense- that Johnny would be careful for you, but now that it’s his turn, he wants you in this position. There’s something about doggy that screams ‘I claim you,’ and the wetness dribbling down your inner thighs only solidifies that fact.

He’s not holding anything back now, but you love the roughness of it. You love that he’s using you to find his own release, and you feel blessed in a way that you can be the one who provides it for him.

The sounds escaping him are like magic, and you wonder if this is how he feels every time he hears you.

It’s as if your souls have always sung to each other, but now, you’re singing together, and nothing has ever sounded this pretty, this perfect.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, and you love how you’re making him come undone like this.

“Please cum in me?” you whimper, arms starting to shake as you try to hold yourself in the position he wants. “I want to feel you so bad.”

Johnny’s grip on your hips tightens, and he pulls you back to meet each hard thrust.

You feel powerless, like a ragdoll, but there’s something so freeing about it.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you continue to cry, core still like a vice around him.

“Okay, songbird, you want to impress me?” Johnny groans. “Take it, take all of it.”

He pushes all the way into you, and you can feel him explode. You feel him coating your inner walls as he fills you to an impossible level.

Your toes curl from the sensation, your eyes closing, mind focused on the feeling of his throbbing cock burried deep inside of your wet pussy.

“That’s it,” Johnny growls. “So fucking good for me.”

It’s like he cums, and cums, and cums-

Some people have a kink for that sort of thing, and like the monster fucking situation, you never thought you were one of those girls- but fuck, Johnny’s making you realize all sorts of things about yourself tonight.

Finally, he lets out a groan, his grip loosening on your hips. He’s still for a moment, and you both struggle to catch your breath.

“I’m going to draw us a bath,” Johnny tells you with a sigh. “I’ll wash you up, then you need to sleep. We have a flight in the morning.”

“Whatever you say, Sir,” you tease.

A chuckle escapes him. “Twenty years of this. Contract of the millennium.”

You think you’re pretty lucky, too.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I really enjoyed drawing inspo from Hotel California for Seungcheol from svt, so I wanted to do a similar lyric-inspired fic for nct! hope you enjoyed devil!Johnny!

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🔮 preview. You’re the Devil’s songbird, and you were always meant to fulfill this role.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, supernatural powers for sex, rope bondage, pussy slapping, use of a tailed whip, edging type foreplay, use of toys/vibrator, overstimulation, big/monster cock Johnny, strip tease, dirty talk, praise, multiple reader orgasms, nipple clamps, slight pain kink, breast worship, etc… I petnames. (hers) honey, songbird. (his) Sir.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

There’s no sadness as your time runs out. You’ve lived a good Earth life. You’d had a very successful career, and you’d spent all of it with the best man you’ve ever known at your side as your guide and protector.

Now, your life contract is up, and Johnny collects.

It’s odd to be standing over your lifeless body, and Johnny had explained it would look like a heart attack- some mundane death, perhaps a little early for someone of your age, but nothing out of sorts either.

Your lover takes your hand, and the two of you approach the doorway that leads back to his Hell palace.

You’ve come to know this place well over the years, as it’s been a sanctuary for you both for some time now.

Johnny had mentioned something about aging together on Earth, but now that you’re back in his realm, you’re both reduced to how you looked when you’d met.

You turn to Johnny, who is as stunning as he always was in his prime. Sure, aging had brought a silver fox kind of aesthetic to the man, but there’s something sense of completion as you stare at him now.

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ikeuverse · 8 months ago

Text

dual life | sjy

pairing: mafiaboss!jake x fem!reader genres: smut, angst, slight fluff wc: 10.8k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : swearing, mention of drugs and illicit things, mafia stuff, jake implicitly jealous, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected sex (do it safely, please). lmk if i missed anything else.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : being a serious and respected businessman was the only side of him that jaeyun wanted you to know, afraid that he would let you into his life and, over time, you would get to know not only sim jaeyun, but also sim jake, the mafia boss.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : idk how, but i thought about it for a day and just wrote it down. i let my mind run wild and wanted something completely different for jake, so here it is. i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 part 2 | masterlist ꒱

The corporate environment could be challenging and misogynistic when a woman holds a position of great power. At first, the fear hit you hard when your name was molded onto a plaque and, below it, the title of the boss was stamped. But alongside all this, you found yourself supported by your colleague and partner Sim Jaeyun. The first man who saw you with respect, who treated you like a boss and a partner, who handed you demands with the same intensity as he handed demands to other men in the company.

He was incredible when he signed the contract to share that company with you. And it was a good deal because once your name was linked to Jaeyun's, everything inside that building seemed to be moving perfectly toward success. Numbers and shares grew faster and faster, and meetings were shared late into the night where you and Jaeyun reviewed what you had done so far, whether you needed to change any strategies in your approaches, and how you two could take the next step.

You were surprised every time because even though he was there for everything, his word was always final. Jaeyun seemed to want your approval even if his vision was the opposite of yours. It was as if your permission was worth more than his, even though you saw him think for a while before making any decisions. Carefully and cautiously when he asked you about shares and employees, about investments, and what he should do, he was careful and very intelligent, but in his view, you were so much more. So having your approval before his was more important.

This meant that the two of you shared more time than necessary, apart from being in the office. Jaeyun constantly calls you to have dinner and go over some papers when, in reality, the two of you did everything but go over papers. Or when he called you for coffee in the middle of the day to de-stress from an annoying client in question, you gladly accepted because the combination of his company and a hot coffee was all you needed after a moment like that.

What started as routine things became a little different when Jaeyun became warmer towards you at work. It was hard to tell at first since he was always very professional and the looks you got from him were either approving ones or small smiles after a good idea in the corporate environment. You never noticed anything more than that. Until that moment. Where he made a point of touching your hand when he sat next to you, reaching for your pen while he was resting on the other side. Or when Jaeyun would gently rest his hand on your lower back so that you would enter the rooms before him as if he would lose sight of you at any moment even though the room was quite large and there was no way he could lose sight of you.

Dinners no longer had the excuse of work stuff, Jaeyun just wanted to go out and talk to you about everything other than shares, money, and boring investors. He wanted to know more about you, he wanted to hear you tell stories and he wanted to share his too. However, in this respect, you could feel him wavering a little as if he was afraid to talk about something he shouldn't have.

In your mind, Jaeyun had something difficult he was dealing with, so he tended to be more reserved about it, but you learned enough about him as the dinners became weekly. Every detail about his life – which he managed to share with you – and every quirk you picked up on as the two of you spent more time together. Jaeyun was a little box of surprises that you were trying to unravel little by little.

But as things naturally grew closer between you and him, something about the boy's behavior caught your attention. From time to time Jaeyun seemed more scattered at meetings, as if his mind was anywhere but on the words of an old, gray-haired man talking about work. Or how dinners between the two of you became the company cafeteria, him refusing – politely – to go out with you with the excuse that he was too tired. But at the same time, he didn't want to break his silent promise that you and he would share a meal at least once a week.

That didn't bother you, after all, you still had his company even if the dishes varied from pasta with fancy sauce to ramen that he asked an employee to pick up at the corner convenience store. That wasn't so important, at least Jaeyun was sitting in front of you with a faint smile and talking about how hard his day had been and how he wanted to go home and be with his dog.

Everything changed that night. You did everything in your routine, working tirelessly in your office while receiving a few emails from Jaeyun to line up a thing here and there. Answering a few calls and dealing with the staff as best you could. After you finished work, you just wanted to be in the cafeteria and try another flavor of ramen that Jaeyun had bought, claiming that you would love it. Your mouth was already starting to salivate because you knew he could find the most unusual flavors, always impressing you with the smallest things.

But your heart sank when the door to your living room opened, revealing Jaeyun and a grocery bag. Everything happened slowly before your eyes, even though the scene itself was so fast.

“I can't stay today” Jaeyun's voice snapped you out of your reverie, the bag placed on your desk while his hands were now hidden inside the tailored pants he was wearing.

“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, trying not to sound disappointed enough for him to see that he had messed with you.

But what you didn't know was that Jaeyun knew you as well as you knew yourself. Your every expression, tone of voice, everything. He knew exactly how you felt, perhaps because he was the same way, but also because he watched you too much.

“Some personal problems” he sighed softly, looking away from the bag to you “I brought you the ramen, so you can try it and tell me what you think.”

Jaeyun tried to smile to lighten the mood, taking his hands out of his pockets to fiddle with the bag and take out the bowl, showing you the new flavor he'd found. You bit your lower lip to keep from letting out a sigh or saying something you shouldn't have. Your heart was strangely bothered by it.

“It's no fun without you, Jaeyun” was the most you could say without sounding desperate or showing too much.

He felt the weight of everything fall on him as his eyes fell to the pot of ramen, seeing a spark of sadness shine in your eyes as your hands touched his and took the pot from his hand. Putting it back in the bag, you closed it and pushed it towards him.

“I—” Jaeyun turned away from your table, not wanting the ramen packets back “I'm sorry, Y/n. I really have to go.”

“Jaeyun—”

He was afraid that if he heard you say anything, he'd stay for dinner with you. That's what he wanted most. But he couldn't. Jaeyun had to leave as soon as possible before everything went to shit. So, just as quickly as he entered your office, he left and closed the door before he heard anything else come out of your mouth.

You stood there at your desk, staring at the bag that had been left there. It was the first night since you two started eating together that he didn't stay. The first night that Jaeyun barely looked at you before saying goodbye. He didn't even touch your hand as he did when he picked you up for dinner or coffee. He was so distant that it seemed like you didn't recognize him.

Meanwhile, Jaeyun was racing against time to try to balance the double life he was leading. Getting involved with you wasn't in his plans, not least because corporate life was just a façade for him, so the moment he found himself nurturing any feelings for you, he knew he was screwed. Jaeyun couldn't fall in love, but he also couldn't help feeling it when everything seemed natural when he was with you. Your presence made him forget all the bad things he experienced outside that office. That is there he was Sim Jaeyun, your partner and someone who was slowly taking over your heart.

But unfortunately, that couldn't be forever and he knew it. Leaving the elevator and walking hurriedly to his car, he took off his jacket and threw it on the passenger seat, the place where you had sat countless times in your work clothes as beautiful as any woman he had ever seen in his life. That symbolic place belonged to you, even if he didn't want to admit it. Jaeyun let his head fall back against the steering wheel of the car, uttering swear words that he remembered and that made his body explode with rage.

He wanted to be Sim Jaeyun forever. Your partner, the man who was slowly making you fall in love.

But leaving there he was Jake, one of the mob bosses who was now rushing to help his friends with new charges and problems coming up.

The sound of his fingers drumming on the marble of the table was a little louder than usual. Jaeyun tried hard not to show how annoyed – and angry – he was to be there that night. He knew it would be impossible to hide from his friends how much he disliked being there, but at the same time, he couldn't forget what an authority figure he was there too.

“Are you in a bad mood?” he heard Sunghoon's voice cut through the air, entering the room with all the grace he had compared to the other boys. Jaeyun sighed, stopping his drumming to slide his hand to the glass in front of him and drink all the liquid it contained. He wasn't sure what it was, but he would thank Heeseung later for putting in the highest alcohol content he could find.

“Don't tease me, Park” he replied after feeling the burning go down his throat.

Sunghoon laughed a little and sat down next to Heeseung, facing Jaeyun.

“I asked you a question, bro” he said, “Why are you in such a bad mood? Jay and San have already managed to corner those idiots and take what they tried to steal from us.”

Looking at it that way, Jaeyun could be relieved. Smuggling drugs wasn't something he was proud of doing, but he knew how respected he was for carrying on his father's work as well as he would have liked. At the time, Sim wished he hadn't been so good and just stuck to executive work, without getting involved with the family mafia. But he knew how much confidence his late father had and how much he wanted Jaeyun to take over.

“I know, it's just—”

“He's mad because we ruined his date with his girlfriend” Heeseung winked at Sunghoon, who quickly understood everything.

“Shit, tonight was the night of your romantic dinner.”

“It's not a romantic dinner” Jaeyun tried to make amends.

“I told us not to call him, damn it, Heeseung” Sunghoon pretended to be angry, knowing that there was no way not to call Jaeyun. This was of a gigantic magnitude and even though the two of them were his right-hand man, they couldn't make decisions without consulting him first. A form of respect for their best friend, who had taken them in even after taking on a dangerous and important position.

“What did you want me to do?” Heeseung tried to defend himself, sliding down the back of the chair and running one hand through his hair “They tried to rob us” he continued “My only thought was to run to the shed and stop it, but I couldn't do that without Jake's approval.”

Jaeyun listened intently as the conversation unfolded in front of him. Heeseung and Sunghoon knew that they had complete freedom when it came to any decision, especially if Jaeyun was playing the role of partner in a big company. Wearing a suit and tie, expensive tailoring, and with you by his side. It was a persona he wanted to maintain, even though reality hit him every time he received a call from his best friends informing him of something concerning his second job.

He ran a hand through his hair, the sting of the drink gradually fading from his throat as he looked at the two boys still talking.

An absurd urge to disappear and leave the business to the two of them, to run to the office because Jaeyun knew you'd still be there working, eating the ramen he'd left for you. A strange tightness in his chest made him sigh. He had left you alone for the first time after everything had happened. It wasn't because he wanted to, but Jaeyun was afraid of involving you in the second life he was leading. He didn't want to put you in danger, make you go out to dinner with glances lingering between the two of you.

That life brought Jaeyun and his friends a lot of good things, but just as many bad things. He walked around with plainclothes security guards all the time, but it wasn't as if he could do that for you without your permission. It would be handed to him on a plate to tell you about his life in the mafia because on what pretext would Jaeyun say he wanted to offer you private security? It wasn't as if it was necessary for the life of a company boss. No one would want to hurt you for that. So with his lack of creativity in coming up with an excuse, he found himself doing the one thing he didn't want to do: hide you.

Dinner in the company cafeteria was safer than parading around with you by his side, even though it was the only thing he wanted at that moment more than anything. Holding your hand again with the excuse that the restaurant was full and he didn't want to let you out of his sight. That may have been true, but a large part of it was because he was worried that someone in disguise might harm you.

Jaeyun had declared enemies and he knew what some were capable of. Anything could be done against him, but no one should lay a finger on you.

“Jake!” Heeseung's shout brought him out of his thoughts quickly, blinking hard to regain awareness that he'd been immersed in his thoughts for too long “Dude, do you have her on your mind again?”

“At least disguise it” Sunghoon muttered.

“I think I'm going to shoot your ass, you idiot” Jaeyun pointed at his friend, getting up from his chair.

“Calm down man, I'm kidding” he said “Messing with her really puts you in a bad mood.”

Jaeyun ignored it because he had no way of refuting it. He realized that everything that involved him made his nerves frayed and his feelings more acute. It wasn't as if he could control what he felt. If he could, Jaeyun would have chosen not to involve any feelings because he wanted to protect you. But the next thing he knew, any little detail about you made him lose his mind. He wanted to keep you close, he wanted to feel you, he wanted to have you even if it meant risking everything.

A remnant of conscience made him keep his touches a little simpler, although he felt the absurd urge to grab your waist and feel your lips pressed to his.

“I'm going to check what Jay's got so far” Heeseung got up too, passing the seats and going around the table to leave the room “Any news I'll let you two know, so keep an eye on the phones” and left.

Now with Sunghoon being the only presence in the room besides him, Jaeyun felt the weight of everything almost crush him. His friend's gaze almost pierced his insides because he knew how Sim felt. Sunghoon had a better view of Jaeyun's feelings than the other two.

“Sit down” he said when he saw his best friend lost in thought, barely able to utter a word apart from opening and closing his mouth a few times. Obeying, Jaeyun sat back in his chair “What's going on?”

What about? He wanted to ask but knew it was a waste of time. There was nothing Park Sunghoon couldn't figure out. So the other just sighed, leaning back even further in his chair and closing his eyes.

“I shouldn't have liked her in the first place” it was almost natural to let it out, as if he wanted Sunghoon to hear those words “Things should be professional, I should just focus on the actions and nothing else. Then go back home, deal with the mafia problems my father left behind, and later think about marrying the daughter of some other mafia boss.”

“Better than marrying Y/n?” Sunghoon asked.

It was strange that his best friends spoke your name. This was proof that the two worlds Jaeyun lived in were colliding. Then he opened his eyes, wanting to scream out everything that had been squeezing his chest for the last few hours.

“That's what happened to my father, I just—”

“It doesn't have to happen to you” Sunghoon interrupted him with a certain kindness, although there was none in his tone. He still looked at his best friend as he said each word with deep sincerity “You fell in love with her and you have to go with that. Make Y/n part of your life like Sim Jaeyun and—”

“Don't even finish it” it was his turn to interrupt him “I would never bring her to meet Jake Sim.”

“But if you two got engaged, sooner or later she'd find out about the double life you lead, man” Jaeyun hated how certain Sunghoon seemed about anything. He was the most rational when it came to work and personal life and always had the best advice. He was responsible for not letting any of his three best friends commit any kind of madness.

“This can't happen” his hands ran frantically through his hair, messing up every strand that Jaeyun managed to get his fingers through. He wanted to pull them out of his head in a moment of small sanity but came back to reality when he heard Sunghoon's voice next.

“Maybe you don't need to tell her at first, but it might make Jaeyun's life a little more enjoyable” he said calmly, “You really are falling for her, we can see that.”

We. Jaeyun had always been good at hiding his feelings, from the prettiest to the worst, from his friends. Or so he thought since he had to swallow so much just to make his father proud and be where he was at that moment. Bringing Sunghoon, Jongseong, and Heeseung with him was a baggage of confidence and a remnant of the normal life he had before getting involved in the family business. The only three people in his circle who knew everything, who never judged him, and were always there for Jaeyun. The best childhood friends who stuck together, and that in itself made them get to know more about each other every day.

That's why the three of you could see Jaeyun slowly falling in love with you. Although the words never left his mouth, the way he talked about you could already be deduced from afar. The sparkle in his eyes when he opened a message from you on the meeting table in the room as Jake Sim. The spark of a feeling emerged as he replied sweetly. When the boys attended a company dinner as fake investors, talking to you about the profit they could generate for your and Jaeyun's company. The reality was that they were there at Sim's request to check if anyone was a possible suspected smuggler or rival since his name had been talked about so much in the city at the famous dinner. He was afraid of someone showing up and ruining the double life he had fought so hard to hide.

It was the first and only time the three of them had met and talked to you, but it was enough to see the way Jaeyun looked at you. How he behaved next to you and the tired sighs he released throughout the night as each man approached you. Before, your name was a legend to them, Sim Jaeyun's lousy partner in the company, but when they saw you in person, it all seemed to make sense.

Now we know why Jake fell in love so easily, Heeseung almost lost his teeth when he made that comment inside the shed, after counting out three hundred and eight suitcases of cash. Payment for the container of drugs they had distributed. Jongseong was in charge of separating his best friend so that he wouldn't beat Heeseung to a pulp, while Sunghoon calmly intervened.

Everything went so slowly until he realized that he had fallen too hard for you. In the feelings he was having for you.

“What can I do about it now?” Jaeyun finally looked at Sunghoon, really looked at him. Looking for an answer and no longer wanting to run away from what mattered at that moment.

“How about making amends and asking her to dinner?” he asked.

“I don't want to go out with her and be seen— You know, I don't know who might be following me…”

“Come on Jake, how many men do you have doing security for your dead father's mafia?” he glared at his friend, always teased by the way Jaeyun didn't like to say that it was all his now. It would be easier to say that it still belonged to his late father, that all those men followed the command of Mr. Sim, to whom Jaeyun gave his voice. He didn't like to be called boss, although it happened at the teasing of his friends.

“Many” Jaeyun answered him.

“Then put them in charge of her security once a week” Sunghoon swiveled in his chair, his eyes never leaving Jaeyun's for a second “We have enough men to put in one a week without her noticing, and you'll still be able to go out with her in peace.”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment. He didn't want to be awkward about mentioning to you that men were escorting you for your safety, after all, he was afraid that something would happen to you even if the two of you had no involvement whatsoever.

“That's a very good idea, Hoon, but—”

“There's no such thing, you know it's the only way if you want to have something with her.”

For a while longer he seemed to think about the possibility. It wasn't as if Jaeyun was hiding something terrible from you, not least because he would be looking out for your safety. He'd also be freer to go out with you again for the dinners you two shared during the weeks.

“Not to mention that if you and she start dating, the security will be doubled, don't you think?” Sunghoon stood up from his chair “Everyone will know about her if something gets serious.”

That was Jaeyun's fear, that everyone would know about you besides him and his best friends. In that world where he was Jake Sim, there was no way anything could be hidden. It wasn't like the world where Jaeyun could get away with it under an expensive suit and a lot of stock. He sighed heavily, throwing his head back without the strength to continue the conversation. Knowing how right his best friend was.

“Right, thanks for the advice, anyway” Jaeyun asked.

“At your service” Sunghoon smiled “Are you going to stay there now? I'll check on Heeseung if Jay needs any help too…”

“I'll stay a while longer, I'll be going soon” he said, still sitting down because his body seemed to be weighed down by the barrage of information and advice thrown at him in such a short space of time.

Sunghoon walked to the door of the room, opened it, and turned to Jaeyun with a playful, silly smile on his face.

“Yes sir, boss” giving a mock salute, he ran off before Jaeyun could gather up a load of papers to throw in his direction, but Sunghoon was quick to close the door. Not before hearing the other swear at him for his provocations.

Jaeyun got to know you little by little, his first impression being of you as a strong and fearless woman. Someone he could easily work with among the men who underestimated you and who made him feel angry. Little by little, he noticed how easy it was to live with you and how you could read between the lines when things were happening. He was surprised when he started to notice the moment you felt uncomfortable in a meeting or in the presence of a man who tried to put you down, or how he could understand how bothered and angry you were with some stupid comment or action that had gone wrong.

Over time, he realized that he knew a lot about you just by interacting with you professionally. But when he decided to take a step and invite you to dinner, under the pretext of reviewing something from work, Jaeyun knew he was ruined. He knew that the first sincere smile you gave him had ruined and torn down any barrier he had built over the years in an attempt to not bring anyone into the dark and double world of his life. Jaeyun didn't want you to be a part of that.

So trying to push you away and keep you safe was the first and only thought he had, swallowing the physical and carnal desire that consumed him for wanting to have you in his arms. He couldn't afford to make the mistake of going around glimpsing you and your beauty, enjoying life as a couple that he knew was dangerous.

Sim Jaeyun was a good man, but Sim Jake was the opposite of that. And between the two personas he found himself divided on what to do because he knew that in both his lives, he was in love with you. It was the only thing he couldn't separate.

He knew it was too late to try to make Sunghoon's advice count for anything. Arriving at the office the next day, Jaeyun knew he had screwed up when he saw the bag of ramen on his desk, the two untouched pots very well placed next to the papers he needed to fill out during the day. What surprised him was the way you treated him throughout the week.

Professionalism took over again and you were the Y/n he had met when he joined that company and took on the role of being his partner. He saw the old woman with whom he had shared the management of that building and whom he had always admired – later he had fallen in love – and now he was back to the beginning. At least you, because he felt that he was falling more and more into your charms and letting his feelings take over.

It wasn't easy that you were monosyllabic in meetings, your gaze never meeting his, and every time you both needed to talk about any decision, you said you were busy and asked Jaeyun to talk to your secretary. You were running away, he knew that. So it could only mean that, besides being upset about him leaving you that night, something told you that you also had feelings for him.

Because no one would be upset about canceling a dinner. Even with the shitty excuse he gave you, if neither of you had feelings for each other, Jaeyun wouldn't have been frustrated to get Heeseung's call that night and you wouldn't have been upset to see him leave without even eating with you and then leaving.

It was a silent competition of who was handling it the worst way possible.

But he didn't know that jealousy was being added to the mix when he saw a new investor smile at you. How bold he was to approach you after the meeting, in the coffee room, and ask if you wanted to go out for something to eat.

I've seen this happen before, idiot. Don't even try. That's what he hoped the look would convey, but Jaeyun forgot that you hadn't looked in his direction for a few days, trying to ignore him as best you could. That's why you accepted the invitation. A little hesitantly because it had never happened before, other than Jaeyun, it was the first time that any man inside that building had invited you for something other than your partner. At that moment, after so many days, you looked in his direction, afraid of what you might feel when your eyes met. But seeing the discomfort on Sim's face seemed to give you some satisfaction.

“I still have a few more things to take care of, so—” the man extended a hand to you, gently holding yours. His touch was gentle and you tried to smile a little wider, looking away from Jaeyun to the boy in front of you “Do you mind meeting at the restaurant on the corner in half an hour?”

“No. It’s okay” you replied, feeling him squeeze your hand and lean in to kiss your torso, pulling away and letting go of your hand. He smiled at you once more, returning to the circle of men that was in the other corner of the room to say goodbye and do what he had to do.

You thought you should chat with your employees after a meeting, have some coffee like you always did, and then go to your office. But Jaeyun’s gaze was starting to make you feel strange. He didn’t miss a single movement of yours, from the moment you moved to get a cup of coffee to when you approached your secretary to whisper to him.

“I’m going to my office” you said quietly, not wanting to make a fuss with anyone. “I’ll be leaving for dinner soon, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am” he smiled at you, looking away to Jaeyun and swallowing hard. Your secretary had always been a bit wary of the man who was staring at you, but since there had never been any disagreements, that was passed on as he showed himself to be completely professional.

Jaeyun had never felt jealous until this moment, watching you gracefully leave the room and close the door.

It was all his fault and the idiotic way he tried to push you away even though he wanted to keep you close. Now, not knowing how to act, Jaeyun had to witness that scoundrel of someone asking you out and, worst of all, you accept it.

Something settled inside him and, without measuring any effort, he walked out the door quickly to your office. His mind had never worked well under pressure, whether from anger or jealousy like it was now. Jaeyun had never been jealous, after all, he had never met anyone who aroused that kind of feeling in him. It was like an urban legend or only hearing about the romantic stories that Jongseong and Sunghoon had here and there. But he had never felt that in his life.

When he stopped in front of your office door, his heartbeat almost rose to his ears as adrenaline and anxiety ran through him. Jaeyun didn't know how he would act after finding you in your office and confronting you. He knew something would happen, you could feel the tension in the air every time the two of you were in the same room, he just didn't know how intense it was. He had a slight impression, but he couldn't decipher you from that yet.

He decided not to knock, gripping the door handle and turning around without beating around the bush, entering right away before you could say anything else.

“What—” you quickly turned around from the table, where you had been facing away until then, packing your things and ready to leave. Your heart almost jumped out of your mouth at the sight of Jaeyun standing in the middle of your living room. The thud of the door as it closed went unnoticed by your ears and the only sound was your own racing heart. “Jaeyun?”

He approached slowly, one step at a time as he thought about what to say or how to act. You could tell how fast his chest was rising and falling due to the rapid breathing from the fright he had gotten seconds ago.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to stay calm as he continued to approach. The steps stopped just a few inches away when he cornered you between his body and your table, making your body almost bend over if it weren’t for your hands being quick enough to hold on to the edge of the table.

“You’re not going to this dinner” the authority in his tone of voice made your legs tremble, but you were grateful to hold yourself firmly against the table and your hands tightened their grip on the edge. Jaeyun still had the ability and knowledge to read you so perfectly that when he saw your mouth open – probably with the intention of asking why – he was faster and leaned in to press his lips to yours.

He expected anything: a slap, a sudden pull away, a loud curse that could echo throughout the building. But the surprise came when you let go of the edge of the table to spread your hands against his chest, slowly moving up until you grabbed the collar of the shirt he was wearing, pulling him closer to you.

You were an amazing woman and he knew it, every single thing you did drove him crazy. And feeling you pulling him between your legs, giving way by opening your lips and welcoming his tongue and tangling it with yours.

Everything seemed magical to Jaeyun and you. Each touch took its time, something that had been repressed until now. He brought his hands to your hips, keeping you in place as he made a small effort to lift you up and sit you on the table.

Your pride in trying to ignore him was going down the drain more and more, as Jaeyun intensified that kiss and moaned against your lips. You should have pushed him away and gotten out of there when it was time, but now it was too late. He was tangled between your legs and his hands were doing a great job squeezing you and sliding down to your lower back to slide down to your ass. It was your turn to moan against his lips, your nails going inside the collar of his shirt and scratching his shoulder to mark something against the skin you wanted so much to know.

“Jaeyun” you whispered breathlessly and he swore that was the best sound he had ever heard in his life. Pulling his lips away from yours to get some air for his lungs, he let you ramble on as he lowered his mouth down your jaw. Feeling the taste of your skin and the texture of it between his lips, marking a path of saliva until it reached your neck.

“Yes, babe?” Jaeyun had no idea how much he moved you, because if he did, he would never call you by that nickname in the form of a whisper, while still kissing your skin and sucking a good amount of it between his lips. The pop noise he left after a long suck, certainly leaving the spot marked a few minutes later.

“I need—” you wanted to say that you needed to go, that this would be a provocation on his part. But your mind wasn’t working right and it didn’t help that he started pressing his hips against yours. “Holy shit” you moaned softly, the hardness of Jaeyun’s cock slowly making the right pressure against your still-clothed clit. You couldn’t say how he had the exact notion of where to press and how to press.

“I already told you that you won’t, Y/n” Jaeyun gasped against your neck, moving his kisses up and trailing the tip of his tongue across your skin until his face was level with yours again.

That sight was hell on earth for you. Jaeyun with his lips red and shiny from the kiss they had just shared, adding to the kisses and hickeys on your skin. His eyes drooping and dark with desire staring at you with a possessiveness you never thought you would know. You wanted to be able to say something, but it was impossible while you had his hands on your shoulders now.

“Tell me if this is too much, okay?” What did he mean by that? What was Jaeyun thinking when he asked you that kind of thing? It was already too much to have felt his kiss in a situation like that, but you were sure that it was too much to have his fingers unbuttoning the buttons of your shirt.

Every particle of your skin is exposed for his eyes to admire even more. You were never one to wear low-cut tops at work and his sanity was grateful for that, so he didn't know what to do as each button was undone until he reached below your breasts.

“Shit” he cursed softly, praying that you wouldn't hear the hint of vulnerability in his voice as he noticed the light lace adorning your breasts. They were beautiful and he didn't want to think about anything else but touching them. But Jaeyun didn't want to rush, he needed to feel you because he had been depriving himself of it for so long and almost lost.

When the last button was undone, he bit his lower lip to keep from moaning at the sight of you naked in front of him, sitting on the table with his body between your legs. Jaeyun would be lying if he said he had never thought about being in that position with you, or any other, where only his cock inside you and your voice moaning his name would be enough for any scenario to be propitious. He felt like a pervert for it, but there was no denying the desire that radiated inside him every time you showed up.

Leaning down, Jaeyun left a kiss in the space between your neck and your collarbone, enjoying the sounds you made and smiling against your skin when he didn't hear any objections from you. This meant he could continue with the kisses until he reached the curve of your breast, tracing the outline with the tip of his tongue. He looked up, seeking eye contact with you and when he did, he knew he was where he belonged. The way you looked at him, the tense and longing expression you maintained as you held his gaze was all he needed.

“Can I continue?” he asked.

“Please, yes” you answered, nibbling on your lower lip at the same moment that Jaeyun's teeth slid over the lace of your bra, lowering the fabric enough to expose your chest. He was on the verge of madness to taste every part of you, but desire consumed him with every reaction you had to his touch.

The tip of Jaeyun's tongue circled your exposed nipple, making a moan run through the room as it slipped out of your throat. He felt his cock tighten even more in his pants with each sound you made. His hands – which had previously remained calm when touching you – now impatiently ran over your shoulders to remove your shirt with a quick tug, going to the middle of your back to unbutton your bra and rip it off your body as well. Turning his attention back to your breasts, he sucked your nipple with such desire while his large hand covered the other and squeezed to feel its softness.

You were on cloud nine, his every touch coated with possessiveness and desire, making your head spin as you felt Jaeyun's warm tongue against your nipple. The silent sucking compared to the sound of your moans, while your hands quickly went to his hair to pull the strands as a sign that he would never stop what he was doing.

But he also didn't intend to take his mouth off your body. If Jaeyun could talk at that moment, he would tell you how good it was feeling every part of your skin, hearing every one of your moans, and he still hadn't done half of the things he wanted to do with you.

Missing your mouth, he went up to your lips again to share another kiss, this time a little more sloppy and slobbery. Your tongues ran against each other for dominance while your mouths fit perfectly, the synchrony of the movements making you both gasp into each other's mouths.

Jaeyun's hands went to your hips again, but this time his speed and strength came to the advantage as he took off your skirt along with your panties. At another time you could notice how skilled he was and wonder – or not – why he was in such a hurry or knew how to do it so quickly. But now you just wanted to focus on the cold air of the room hitting your pussy and how Jaeyun released your lips with a lewd and wet noise.

It never crossed your mind that Sim Jaeyun, your partner, the man you had seen many times seriously across the room – regardless of the number of times you had dinner together – and for whom you were harboring feelings, would now be kneeling in front of you. He was perdition personified in that submissive and vulnerable position. His eyes were bright, like a puppy begging for a reward. And you knew that what he wanted, besides making up for lost time, was to be between your legs like that.

A mutual and wordless agreement between you and Jaeyun was drawn at that moment, with him slowly approaching your pussy and you opening your legs enough to accommodate him even more. As a test, he stretched out his tongue and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clitoris, collecting your essence and feeling your taste linger on the tip of the wet muscle that he passed through your entire intimacy.

“Fuck, Jaeyun” you tilted your head back, the deliciously warm sensation of his tongue licking your pussy was too much to handle. His hands wrapped around your thighs and held them wide open as he licked a little more, seeming to be hungry as he collected a little more of your essence.

You rested your hands in his hair, your legs feeling like jelly as Jaeyun moved a little further. He focused on sucking on your clit, circling his tongue over the sensitive bud as he looked up to try to catch some reaction from you. Your head was thrown back, but he wanted you to look at him, just once. Just once to see him eat you like a good meal.

“Look at me, Y/n” Jaeyun asked hoarsely, pulling his lips away from your pussy to get your attention. You wanted to pull his hair and bury his face in your pussy again, the lack of contact with your clit made you whimper softly, it was a great torture. But you had to obey if you wanted to feel him again, so your head lifted, your eyes searching his to find the sinful sight.

There was no way Jaeyun could be that desirous more than anything else, it was impossible that that man could look so good in any position or situation. You almost cursed him if it weren't for how quickly he maintained eye contact as he approached your pussy again. This time he sucked you more slowly, drawing circles on your clit and maintaining eye contact, not losing a single second of his eyes on yours. He moved one of his hands away from your leg to slide between your folds, introducing his index finger into your hole.

“I— Fuck, don't do this” you pressed yourself against his finger, the introduction being too much for you. He wanted to fuck you so badly now, with your moaning and your eyes nearly closing, it was torturous to keep them open as he inserted the second finger and continued to suck on your clit.

The movements were now combined quickly, making him alternate between scissoring movements and rotating his fingers inside you, at the same second he sucked your clitoris and ran the tip of his tongue over your pussy, opening your lips so he could spread his saliva along with your essence. The wet sound of his fingers going back and forth inside you, Jaeyun's prominent knuckles almost making you come undone right there. Your walls sucked him so deliciously that he wanted to feel his cock being buried inside you and how hot it would be to be inside there.

The thought alone made Jaeyun feel his underwear get wet, he knew that his pre-cum was almost overcoming the tailoring of the pants he was wearing. It was already too much to have to endure all of that without being able to feel the slightest relief in his cock. But when he decided to introduce the third finger inside your pussy, it was as if he had seen the vision of heaven. Your head fell back again, you couldn't keep your eyes on him.

“Y/n, look—”

“Come up here, please,” you begged. He gave your clit one last kiss as if to taste you one last time before moving up his body to be close to you again. His fingers continued to work your pussy harder and harder as it clenched around his sliding, wet digits.

When Jaeyun brought his face closer to yours, you didn’t wait for any response other than to place your lips on his, sharing the taste of you that lingered on his lips. It was all so intense as your body shuddered and the knot in your stomach broke. You hugged Jaeyun’s body between your arms and held him by the hips between your legs, your pussy convulsing on his fingers as his mouth muffled the most obscene and loud moans you could make calling his name. Cumming on his fingers so hard that all of your liquid easily ran down the palm of his hand.

He wanted you to take the time you needed to catch your breath, the intensity of your orgasm taking over every cell in your body as he was careful enough to pull his fingers out of your pussy. You moaned and whimpered, the lack of contact making you feel empty and weak, but something sparked in you when Jaeyun pulled away enough to bring his fingers to his lips, licking the length of his cock until he reached the palm of his hand.

“I knew you tasted amazing” he whispered, completely cleaning up what had been your orgasm liquid until there was nothing left.

You pulled him back to you, running your thumb over his chin that held more of your liquid. Jaeyun smiled slowly as he felt your soft touch, your fingers sliding down it until they reached the waistband of his pants.

“Y/n, don’t—”

“Shhh, it’s okay” you kissed his jaw, your lips slowly sliding down Jaeyun’s neck to part of his exposed collarbone “It must hurt, huh?”

“No” he lied, moaning the second your hands undid his belt and opened his zipper so his cock would be less tight. He wasn’t good at that kind of lie per se, but he wasn’t stupid enough to want to demand too much from you either, considering the intensity of your orgasm, Jaeyun was already happy to see you satisfied like that.

“We can make this less painful for you” your voice whispered so sensually that he almost came undone right there, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down before he felt your mouth kiss him, right in the middle of his throat. “Put that down for me” your request was an order that had no objection, so Jaeyun quickly pushed his pants along with his underwear, his cock jumping out and hitting against his pelvis and stomach. Your eyes quickly scanned down, seeing the size of it and sighing at the thought of it being inside you in a few seconds.

“Y/n” Jaeyun moaned, an absurd need to have any kind of touch from you against him. Then your fingers quickly went to the head of his cock, red and shiny with pre-cum, spreading all the liquid with the sole purpose of stimulating him and teasing him a little. “What the fuck, shit” he cursed.

It was too much to suffer, considering that Jaeyun had been untouched for a long time, even more so after hearing your moans and seeing what your body was capable of with just a few touches from him. Impatience took over and he pulled his shirt by the collar, not bothering to undo any buttons, he just wanted to get rid of any piece that held him and feel the heat of your body against his.

“I want—” he moaned again, pushing his hips against the palm of your hand when you held the base and went down the entire length, masturbating his veiny and thick cock between your fingers. Jaeyun wanted nothing more than to feel your touch and what you were making him feel.

“What do you want?” you asked, your lips still against the skin of his throat, slowly sliding down to one of his ears to whisper the words. He spread his hands on your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and pulling your body over the table so that he was at the edge of it. Your hips and your pussy are a little more exposed to him.

“I want to be inside you, Y/n. I— fuck” Jaeyun knew he was being a mess just moaning and fucking your fist as your hand tightened more and more on his cock. Spreading the pre-cum all over the length until it reached the base.

He went crazy when you leaned in enough for a ball of saliva to escape between your lips and slide down to the head of his cock, spreading some of it along the length with your – almost–perfect aim. That helped spread it even more across Jaeyun’s cock and he couldn’t take it anymore, it was too much for him and the boy was afraid he would explode in his hand and cum right there. It would be shameful to do this without him being inside you, even for a few seconds.

“Y/n, please…” it was his turn to beg now. The feared Sim Jake would never do this, would never be in this role, much less Sim Jaeyun. Both respected and feared, but now he just wanted to be yours and beg for whatever you had to offer.

Without further provocation, you knew how painful it was for him. And your pussy got wet again just from the sounds he made and the unfolding of the scene in front of you. Positioning his cock at your entrance, it was a silent invitation for him to insert himself into your hole. Your hands left there to hold him, one on each side of his neck, letting Jaeyun lead the movements.

Slowly he thrust his cock into you, the warmth of your pussy and the wetness of your juices being enough to shelter him so well and facilitate the entrance of his cock that you swore it would not be possible to fit. Soon he was all the way inside you, his breathing uneven as he finally had his cock shoved into your pussy.

“How do you feel?” Jaeyun uttered with some difficulty, his chest rising and falling quickly as he leaned his body towards you.

“Amazing” you tried not to moan, pulling his face close to yours so that his forehead rested on yours. “You can move now” your request, again, became an order when Jaeyun finally moved his hips to remove his cock and leave only the head inside you, returning with a slow but strong movement. His pelvis touching your clit with the movement.

He could no longer hold back his good manners and the desire to go slowly, wanting to make you feel every time his cock entered and left your pussy. Jaeyun pressed his fingers into your thighs, leaving marks that could be seen later as his nails dug into your skin, gaining momentum to start the movements. The sounds of skin slapping and the wetness of both your arousals are the perfect symphony accompanied by the moans that you and he left in your living room. It was visible the way you tried to keep your body each time Jaeyun thrust his cock even deeper into you, the burning slightly appearing in your groin with each more force that he thrust inside you. Your walls fluttered around his cock and sheltered him each time he entered with even more force.

“Shit, you feel so good.” Jaeyun gave a small smile when you tried to say something, only managing to moan and nod in agreement. Knowing how hard it would be for you to say anything at that moment he went faster and faster, pressing his fingers harder and harder against your body, now moving up to your hips. He felt you move your body against his, rubbing your clit against the length of his cock each time he pulled out completely before burying him deep inside you again. Jaeyun’s pelvis stimulated your sensitive bud each time he went so deep that there was no space left between your bodies, his balls slapping against your thighs and adding even more to the obscene noises in the sex between the two of you.

Jaeyun’s cock twitched as your pussy tightened, indicating that your orgasm was just around the corner. He was also about to cum, practically holding it in for so long that he feared how much would come next.

“I need—” Jaeyun whispered.

“Inside” you cut him off, knowing he could cum just by the way his hips bucked between thrusts. Your hands slid down his neck and up to his cheeks, cupping his face and pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongues tangled, your lips quick and desperate for some pressure as he picked up the pace to drive his cock even deeper into you.

A combination of his hip thrusts and the pulls he gave your hips to meet him, he felt your pussy clench around him so hard that it was enough for Jaeyun to spill. He came, painting your walls milky white as he moaned your name relentlessly. You weren’t far away and it only took a few more thrusts for you to cum on his cock. The white ring formed around his length as he continued to thrust in and out of you, not indicate that he was stopping just because cum was still gushing from the head of his sensitive cock.

With one last movement, your pussy milking every last drop, Jaeyun stopped moving. The strength draining from his body and giving way to calm, the high serotonin running through you and him after you both came together.

Jaeyun left a slow kiss on your lips, waiting a long minute until he finally pulled out of you. The sensitivity hits you both and makes you moan into each other's mouths.

“Sorry” he said as he knew you might be hypersensitive, even though he wanted to stay inside your pussy all night if he could.

“Okay” you replied, smiling tiredly before looking to the side and searching for your clothes. He went faster before lifting his underwear and pants, leaving a hint of sadness in your body for depriving you of the sight of him practically naked in front of you. But what caught your attention was that Jaeyun picked up his shirt from the floor, stretching it towards you.

“I don’t know where there are tissues, but—” he smiled a little, using the sleeve of his shirt to clean you between your legs.

“Jaeyun” you tried to stop him, but it was too late. Jaeyun cleaned you so carefully that it was practically impossible to believe, especially after what the two of you had done and the marks he had left on your body.

He helped you change, putting each piece of clothing in its proper place and still waiting for you to fix your hair, turning to him after a long time. The stain on the sleeve of his shirt, after it was put on, made your cheeks burn more than looking into his eyes and thinking about what the two of you had done.

“So…” you began, looking at him with a shy smile. Jaeyun smiled too, biting the inside of his cheek to keep it from growing even bigger as he got closer and wrapped one of his arms around your waist.

“Then I’ll take you home, and we’ll have dinner properly again from now on” as a couple, he wanted to add. But that was too much for just one night, Jaeyun wanted to tell you that as the two of you went out more often.

Explaining the fear he felt about his feelings for you was the most that could come out of Jaeyun's mouth. That made him feel good enough to not think he was lying – completely – to you. He was really afraid of what he felt, but at the same time, he was afraid of bringing you into his double world. The last part was still a secret, but at least hearing that you forgave him and that you accepted having a relationship with him was all that needed to be said.

Two months in which Jaeyun stopped being afraid to tell you what he felt for you. That the two of you, besides being business partners, had become a couple. You started to frequent his apartment and met his friends too, those who had to lie about their professions and never let it slip that they worked for Sim Jake, who you didn't even know.

Two months in which you had private security, unknown to you because Sunghoon's idea was better. At least one man every week took care of you from afar and kept Jaeyun informed in case anyone suspicious approached. No consequences were made as the relationship progressed. He was a little more relieved. Keeping it just in Jaeyun's life was what he wanted for a while, if things really progressed and became even more serious, he had to tell you about his other life. But there was no need yet.

“Love” your voice made him abandon the thoughts that constantly intrigued him, afraid that you would leave him at any moment for the lie he so wanted to get rid of, but couldn't. Looking in your direction, the smile came automatically when you approached him, going around the office desk to sit on his lap “Is everything okay?”

“Why do you ask?” in the last few months Jaeyun let the thought pass that you could also read him the same way he did with you. That you knew him as well as he knew you.

“Because I’ve been feeling quiet for a few days now” you wrapped one of your arms around his shoulders, at the same second he wrapped his arm around your waist “And because you’re twenty minutes late for dinner.”

Shit, the dinner. He had completely forgotten, staying inside the office to finish answering Jongseong and Sunghoon’s messages, trying to keep things out of danger with the new robbery that had been successfully carried out. He wanted to know if everything had gone according to the orders he had given that same morning, completely forgetting that he was supposed to meet you twenty minutes ago in the company parking lot.

“Shit, love, I’m sorry” Jaeyun leaned in, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His heavy breathing hit your skin and made you shiver. “I just—”

“How about we go home, then?” you asked, one of your hands going up to his hair and trying to stroke it slowly. “Your day must have been kind of rough, those men are annoying when they want to go back on their proposals.”

Every time you deduced that Jaeyun's tiredness and fear had something to do with the office, his heart sank a little more. His breathing hitched and he wanted to scream. But he held himself back and just nodded slowly, kissing your skin and lifting his head to look at you.

“Wait for me in the car? I'll fix everything here,” he asked.

“Sure,” you smiled once more, that being enough to calm all the nerves that persisted in his body. You leaned in to leave a quick and simple kiss on Jaeyun's full lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, Y/n,” he whispered back, kissing you once more before letting you get off his lap to leave the room.

Saying that he loved you out loud was like freeing himself from the bonds that suffocated him, held him back, and hurt him. He had never said that out loud to anyone other than his parents and his best friends. At first, it was as scary as wanting a relationship, but as you said and showed your love, Jaeyun knew it was the right thing to do. He felt that all that love was overwhelming, that as intensely as it scared him, it was the only thing that gave him the courage to continue.

Turning off all the appliances in the room and turning off the lights, he headed to the hallways of the building, greeting the security guards and some employees who were still there. Going to meet you in the parking lot. He just wanted to go home, enjoy your company, and take a hot shower. Many notes Jaeyun could think about having sex with you and using it as a form of calming, but that night he just wanted to feel your embrace, and your smell alone being the only thing capable of making his mind unfocused from everything that worried him.

A natural calming that was always right in front of him, the person who was the perfect balance between chaos and what he needed to stay alive.

“Jaeyun!” That was your voice, he could hear it from far away, but it wasn't like your call was as soft and calm as it always was. You were screaming. In desperation.

He looked around the open parking lot, trying to find you and why you seemed so desperate, but suddenly his world fell apart. Jaeyun's stomach was churning seeing your figure through the window of that van, screaming desperately and being pulled by someone hooded who wanted you to be quiet.

The car accelerated, making a complete turn in the parking lot before stopping next to Jaeyun and the passenger rolled down the window.

“We have something that belongs to you, Jake” the man smiled with rotten teeth, Jaeyun ran a few steps to grab him, but the driver took off “We want our drugs back!” he shouted before disappearing.

Your screams were the last thing he heard before the dead of night and the noise of the tires tearing through that parking lot. Jaeyun fell to his knees on the ground, the strength draining from his body. His scream echoed throughout the parking lot as he felt despair flood his body, along with the burning in his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks.

What he feared most had happened. And he would stop at nothing to get you back.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #jake smut #jaeyun smut #enhypen jake #enha smut #jake angst #jaeyun angst #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #jake hard hours #enhypen hard hours #jaeyun hard hours #enha fics #enha angst #enhypen masterlist #enhypen imagines #bay writes.

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rafedarling · 8 months ago

Note

We need drew when rustyns born, like labor/delivery, I think he’s the most supportive partner 😭😭

here are more rustyn for ya.

𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲

request: OPEN

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: your due day has finally come for you and drew to meet your little one. as labor unfolds, drew proves to be the most supportive partner, balancing his nerves with humor, tenderness, and unwavering love.

warning(s): english is not my native language. mentions of childbirth, medical procedures, mild pain, fluff, humour, use of y/n.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @rubixgsworld @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxoblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @percysley @littlelamy

“Drew,” you whispered, reaching over to nudge your husband’s shoulder.

He remained motionless, his breathing slow and even. Another contraction gripped you, and you couldn’t stifle a soft groan. With more urgency this time, you called his name again.

“Drew… babe”

This time, he stirred. His brow furrowed before his blue eyes slowly blinked open.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

“I think my water just broke,” you said softly, offering a small, nervous smile.

The words took a moment to register, but when they did, Drew bolted upright.

“What?!” His voice was shock and excitement.

“Oh my god, it’s happening! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Is it bad? What do I do?” He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the duvet in his rush.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his frantic reaction, though it was cut short by another contraction.

“I’m okay, but we should probably get to the hospital soon. Can you calm down, though? I don’t need two emergencies tonight.”

“Right, right,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair.

He grabbed the hospital bag you’d packed weeks ago, holding it like it was the most precious cargo.

“Let’s go!”

“Wait,” you said, stopping him. “I need to change my pants first.”

“Oh. Right.” He was back at your side in an instant, helping you up with his hands steady on your arms.

His gaze was full of concern as he scanned your face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

“The contractions are getting closer, but they’re manageable,” you replied, leaning into him as he helped you change.

“But yeah, we really need to go now.”

At the hospital, Drew took charge, answering questions from the nurse about how far you are, are you on any special medication and filling out the paperwork as you were wheeled into your room.

Once you were settled, Drew pulled a chair next to your bed, gripping your hand tightly.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice soft yet anxious.

“I’m okay for now,” you said, though the contractions were growing stronger and more frequent.

“I didn’t realize how many needles they’d stick in me during all this.”

Drew gave a small laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re handling it like a champ. I don’t think I’d survive five minutes of this.”

Another contraction hit, and you gripped his hand tightly, your breathing uneven. Drew immediately shifted closer, his voice calm and steady.

“Breathe, Y/N. In and out, baby. You’ve got this.”

Hours and hours has passed, and Drew never left your side. He held your hand through every contraction, rubbed your back when the pain became overwhelming, and even tried to make you laugh to keep your spirits up. When you hit the ten-hour mark, Drew suddenly pulled out the camcorder from his sister Brooke, who had brought it to document the big day.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow despite your exhaustion.

“Making a video for Rustyn,” he said, grinning. “Something for him to watch when he’s older.”

He turned the camera to himself first, his smile lighting up the room.

“Hey, Rustyn. It’s your dad. It’s 6 a.m., and you’re really taking your time, buddy. But that’s okay, we’re waiting patiently. Well, your mom’s doing all the work.”

Turning the camera toward you, he continued,

“And here’s your mom. Look at her, look how incredible she is. The strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You better treat her like a queen when you grow up, okay?”

Despite the pain, you laughed softly. “Drew, stop making me laugh, it hurts!”

He chuckled, then turned the camera toward Brooke, who was pacing in the corner.

“And here’s your Aunt Brooke, who’s been on the edge of her seat all night.”

“Rustyn, ignore your dad,” Brooke said, rolling her eyes. “I’m much cooler than he is, and I can’t wait to spoil you.”

When the doctor finally announced it was time to push, Drew’s nerves hit an all-time high. He squeezed your hand tightly, his other hand brushing the sweat-dampened hair from your face.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking slightly but full of love. “I’m so proud of you.”

The first push was overwhelming, and you let out a cry of frustration.

“I can’t do this,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “Drew, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his eyes locking with yours.

“You’re the strongest person I know. Just one push at a time, baby. I’m right here.”

With each push, he offered constant encouragement.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re doing amazing. Our boy’s almost here. I love you so much.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a loud cry filled the room. Tears immediately welled up in Drew’s eyes as the doctor placed your baby boy on your chest.

Drew was trembling as he leaned over, his eyes fixed on the tiny baby in your arms.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, he’s perfect.”

You stared down at Rustyn, overwhelmed by love and relief. His tiny fingers curled against your chest, his cries subsiding as he felt your warmth.

“We did it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks, happy tears.

“No,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You did it. You’re amazing.”

The nurses congratulated you both, while Brooke captured every moment on the camcorder. Drew leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Thank you for giving me him.”

“What should we name him?” you asked softly, your voice shaky with emotion.

Drew didn’t hesitate. “Rustyn. Rustyn Starkey.”

You nodded, smiling down at your son. “Rustyn. It’s perfect.”

Drew reached out, brushing a finger over Rustyn’s tiny hand.

“Hey, buddy. Welcome to the world. We’ve been waiting for you.”

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pitlanepeach · 18 days ago

Text

The Long Way Home I Interlude

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — Tell a friend to tell a friend… she’s backkkkkk. P.S. We’ll pick up Oscar, Harper and baby Clem in the next chapter which will begin our F2 era (forgive me for skipping F3, but we will revisit that era in the future!)

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

They started to call it home before they even had the keys.

It was the kind of flat you only ever saw in a glossy magazine or on a Netflix teen drama — all clean lines and warm wood, soft lighting that dimmed with a voice command, floor-to-ceiling windows that turned the city skyline into wallpaper. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a concierge who knew them by name, underground parking, and a leafy park nearby with a duck pond.

It was somewhere in Zone 2 — close enough to the centre for Harper to feel like part of something, far enough out for Oscar to breathe. Within easy driving distance of Silverstone, and surrounded by three coffee shops that all knew Harper's name and her usual: an oat flat white, extra hot, one sugar. Coffee had become a staple since becoming a mum. It was either that or total collapse.

They signed the lease two weeks before Clem's second birthday. Moved in one week after. Harper carried the baby through the door on her hip, while Oscar fumbled with the keys and kept asking, "Are we really doing this?" as though the furniture wouldn't show up in four hours and make it permanent.

Oscar had taken a year out of racing after Clementine was born.

It wasn't a planned decision, and it wasn't one many people understood — least of all the people who'd watched him dominate junior karting and expected him to rise like smoke through the open-wheel ranks. But he'd missed too much school. Missed too many nights, too many hours of Harper crying or trying to make Clementine latch, or just needing someone to keep her upright. And when he was asked — really asked — Are you sure you're not throwing it all away? his answer was always simple.

"She's my baby. Of course I'm sure."

So while others trained and raced and pushed for attention, Oscar Piastri vanished. No interviews, no paddock appearances. Just him, and Harper, and a squishy pink newborn who made the ceiling light look like a disco every time she waved her hands.

They stayed at Haileybury, still just fifteen, turning sixteen. They re-sat their missed GCSEs and passed on the second try. Clementine learned to crawl in the boys' dorm common room. She took her first steps in the school library.

Their friends — Jane and Sam and Matt and Alfie and the rest of that oddball, fiercely loyal circle — became her first family. Clementine had more teenaged godparents than anyone could count. She learned to walk holding onto Oscar's physics notes. She learned to talk sitting in Harper's lap as she typed HTML.

Then came the offer — again. F3. A team ready to take him as soon as he was ready to return. It had been a quiet year in the eyes of the motorsport world — but Oscar came back different. Sharper. More grounded. And far more terrifying behind the wheel.

So they moved into the London flat. Nicole helped decorate — soft colours, baby gates, a kitchen with pale blue cabinets and an American fridge.

Mark handled the other side of Oscar's life. The logistics. Contract offers that just kept getting longer.

Clementine's nursery was a vision board of calm: birchwood cot, pastel cloud decals, a plush rug like walking on cake.

Harper coded the baby monitor app herself — it had the ability to learn and distinguish between Clemmy's cries.

Oscar installed blackout blinds and built a mini bookshelf filled with picture books in three different languages.

They weren't struggling — not the way people expected seventeen-year-old parents to be. Not financially, anyway.

But money never softened the sharp edges of responsibility.

There were still nights where Clementine cried for hours and Harper paced in circles, whispering, 'You're okay, you're okay,' like a mantra she needed to believe herself. There were still moments where Oscar stared at the calendar on the fridge — race dates, interview days, booster shot appointments — and felt panic coil in his chest.

Still, they chose it. Every day. And every day it got a little easier.

In the two years after Clementine was born, the world became a blur of trackside hotel rooms and baby bottles tucked into designer handbags. Harper and Clem travelled with Oscar more often than not — Japan, Italy, Austria, France.

Harper made a rule: in every new country, within three days, she had to learn to order a coffee in the local language.

Oscar made a rule: Clementine got to press the elevator button in every hotel.

They were young. Strange. Wildly out of place sometimes — but a family all the same.

Harper built Oscar's official website from scratch — sleek, scalable, clean UX, dark mode toggle because he was picky. Max Verstappen emailed her after seeing it. (Hey — could you build me something similar?) She said she'd think about it.

She sat her A-levels online. She was already starting to specialise in full-stack development. Her dyscalculia made things hell sometimes — numbers swam on the screen — but she learned how to code by pattern and logic, by rhythm and recursion. She learned how to work with her brain, not against it.

Oscar kept racing. And winning. F4 became F3. Then whispers of F2 began. He got sharper in interviews, more polished for sponsors, more careful around cameras. But at night — when it was just them, limbs tangled on a hotel bed, or Clem snoring softly between them in the cot — he was still that awkward, soft-eyed boy.

They celebrated Clementine's second birthday in a hotel suite in Barcelona with balloons Oscar had blown up and a lopsided cake. They FaceTimed the Haileybury crew. Jane cried. Sam tried to teach Clementine to say fuck.

Later that month, they hung a print in the entryway of their flat. Just one word, in soft gold foil.

Our Home.

Because for all the flights and chaos and podiums and late-night feeds — that's what they were building. Slowly. Quietly. Against every odd and every doubt.

They were seventeen and a half. Young. Exhausted. Occasionally terrified.

But they were a family.

And it was messy, and real, and theirs.

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petew21-blog · 3 months ago

Text

No Pay, No Gain

Hey, my name is Justin and I'll be your new personal trainer.

I work for the company - Getripped. Our company promises you to get in shape without even working out. How? Easy. Body swap with the personal trainer of your choice.

And that's what I do exactly. Whenever someone chooses me to be their trainer, we first set up and contract. The swap isn't cheap, so mostly celebrities choose our service. The contract states that both sides have to respect their bodies, to return them unharmed and well. Our bodies have a tracker to prevent body thefts, which happened quite often in the past.

On top of that, the person in our body has to respond everytime a notification rings on their phone. Its basically like BeReal. And if they don't send you their location and photo, they are charged extra.

Seems fine for both sides, right?

I gave myself a little show in the mirror for the last time before the swap. I really like my body and the way that I keep myslef fit. If everything was right, I would never leave this body.

But I really need this job, it pays extremely well.

I flexed, smiled and proceeded to head out for the swap.

I wasn't sure who I was gonna swap with, but the people who pick me are mostly men in their 40s with a lovely young girlfriend. Yep, you guessed it. They do use my body for sex as well.

The contract doesn't prohibit them to do so, but we can't do anything in their bodies.

I entered my pod and waited. The lights blinked and in the next moment I was on the other side of the room.

I stepped outside and saw my own body get out of the pod. He was shocked, seeing himself from my body. We always let the customers calm down and wait for their initial reaction to pass.

I found out that I was (indeed as I predicted) another actor in his forties wanting to get fit. We had a chat in the waiting room about our new lives.

What followed was a trip to the gym. I would show the client what I would work on in their body and they could get a feel of what it feels like to work out in my body.

Strangely, this seems to he the most efficient to not let them relapse after returning to their own bodies. It somehow changes their mind a bit and after the swap, they tend to follow their new routine more easily.

The actor, let's call him Bill, stood in front off me, watching me lift the weights. I got i to it and didn't even notice that he stepped in front of the mirror and started posing.

Yep. Another one of these. I bet my body is gonna have a lot of sex in the following months.

He lifted my shorts and flexed.

"HOLY SHIT. Am I gonna get this big too?"

Me:"The goal is to get you in shape, sir. So hopefully of all goes well, I should be able to get your muscle mass on my level or a bit close to it."

"GOD DAMN. You really sure about leaving me this body all to myself? I used to be quite the party animal when I was your age. I'm feeling a bit nostalgic."

Me:"How you'll spend your time in my body is up to you. All you need and can't do is in the contract. So my body is for you to enjoy."

"You learned your instructions nicely. I bet that you wouldn't even get your body close to me if it weren't for the money, right? But we all do what we gotta do to survive in this world. Anyway. Don't worry, son. I'll be respectful to your body."

Me:"Glad to hear that, sir."

"Would you mind if I would gl rub one our in the showers? Im gonna do it later anyway, but I really do feel like doing it now after all this posing."

I clenched my teeth, but didn't let him see my frustration. "Of course. I'll continue the workout."

He laughed and with a swaggy walk left the room.

It may seem crazy to let my body be controled by people like he is, but I gotta say that they usually treat it nicely.

We parted our ways. I arrived to my hosts massive house and explored. He was really one of the bigger ones. I checked his schedule of events. For the durarion of the swap it said - shooting the BIG movie. Yeah, right. But besides that my schedule was free. So it was entirely up to me how I would spend my time in this body.

I received his first random update the next day. My body was standing in a lake, flexing. Seems like he is enjoying his time in my body. He replied with a message. He left for 2 months long holiday in Europe.

Maybe he could take some good photos there for me to post on instagram. Or to my page at the company to get even higher paying customers.

It seems like this guy is really decent. He sent another photo in swimshorts. My body really looks amazing. I especially love to watch my pecs.

Maybe after all this swapping I developped some kjnd of fetish. But whenever the customers send photos of my body like knew of these, I get hard af.

I looked down and this time was not different. I exhaled deeply and thrusted my new hairy hand over my belly into my jeans. "Let's get on with it..."

A story from Inbox submitted by @objectifiedhimbo:

Could you do a bodyswap story about a personal trainer who gets paid to deliberately swap? Like maybe he swaps, works out in their body and eats healthy till they have the perfect body and swaps back for huge amounts of money.

The beautiful human being is alexgffitness (insta)

#body swap #body switch #male body swap #body swapping #body switching #gym body swap #pay to swap #straight to straight #gym bro body swap #old to young #young to old

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cityhxh · 4 months ago

Text

Stall • B.B

— ♆ c.w • mdni, slight exhibitionism, fem!reader, small space, smut 19+, fingering, cunnilingus, pet names, softdom!bucky, unprotected sex, cream pie, hookup, etc.

— word count: 1.2K

She felt her heart racing as Bucky's tongue flicked against her sensitive clit. They were in the middle of a busy club, the music pumping and lights flashing, and yet here they were, engaged in a deliciously dirty act. Her legs were spread wide, her short dress riding up her thighs as she presented her glistening pussy to Bucky.

Bucky had been feasting on her for what felt like an eternity, his mouth and tongue working miracles on her aching hole. He had already made her cum multiple times, his expert tongue knowing exactly how to tease and please her. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she moaned loudly, her hands gripping the back of Bucky's head, encouraging him to continue his heavenly assault.

As her moans grew louder and more frantic, Bucky knew she was getting close again. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, and he could taste her sweet juices flowing freely. Wanting to push her over the edge, he inserted two fingers into her tight hole, curling them to hit that magical spot.

"Oh fuck! Bucky, I'm gonna cum again!" She cried out, her voice hoarse from her previous orgasms. And cum she did. Her body shook uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Bucky lapped at her juices, loving the taste of her sweet nectar. He gently sucked on her swollen clit, prolonging her orgasm and making her squirm with pleasure.

But as she came down from her high, she realized something. She had been far too loud, her moans and cries of pleasure filling the stall they had claimed as their own. Embarrassment flooded her as she realized the stall next to them was occupied and clearly heard her vocal display.

Bucky noticed her sudden change in demeanor and realized what had happened. But instead of stopping, he decided to take advantage of the situation, enjoying the exhibitionist turn of events. "Shhh," he whispered, his hot breath fanning her swollen pussy. "Don't worry about them, they're not the ones making you feel this good."

Before she could respond, Bucky pushed two fingers back inside her, making her gasp. With his other hand, he covered her mouth, muffling her moans as he began to fuck her with his hand. His fingers pumped in and out, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit. Her eyes widened as she felt a rush of sensations overtaking her body. It was too much, and yet not enough.

Bucky used his free hand to grab her thigh, pulling her closer, so she was impaled on his fingers. He added a third, stretching her, and she whimpered, the feeling of being so full almost unbearable. Bucky's thumb continued to work her clit, and he could feel her pussy contracting around his fingers as she teetered on the edge once more.

"Cum for me, baby," he growled, his mouth close to her ear, his hand still covering her mouth to muffle the sounds that threatened to escape. "Let them see how good I make you feel."

She couldn't hold back anymore. Her body exploded in a mind-blowing orgasm, her juices flowing freely as she shook uncontrollably. Bucky rode out her waves of pleasure, his fingers never stopping their relentless assault.

As her orgasm began to subside, he slowly withdrew his fingers, making her whine at the loss.

Bucky brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving hers. "Tasty," he murmured, a devious smile playing on his lips. She felt a rush of heat between her legs as she watched him taste her off his fingers. She was completely spent, but the sight of him doing that made her pussy clench and her nipples harden.

"You like that, don't you, good girl?" Bucky asked, seeing the desire still burning in her eyes. "You're so wet for me.”

She bit her lip, feeling a mix of shyness and naughtiness washing over her. "Please, Bucky," she whispered. "I need you."

Bucky's smile grew wider, and he stood up, pulling her up with him. He backed her against the stall door, his body pressing against hers as he kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth, her hands roaming his strong body as she felt his hard cock pressing against her stomach.

Without breaking the kiss, Bucky lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist. With one hand, he guided his throbbing cock to her entrance, teasing her wetness with the tip. She whimpered, needing him inside her now.

"Tell me you want it," Bucky growled, his voice thick with desire.

"I want it," She cried out, her breath coming in short gasps. "Please, Bucky, fuck me. I need your dick inside me."

With a swift thrust, Bucky buried himself inside her, making them both moan at the intense feeling of connection. Her walls stretched to accommodate his thickness, and he began to move, his hands gripping her ass as he set a relentless pace.

The force of his thrusts pushed her higher against the stall, and she clawed at his back, leaving marks in his passion. Bucky's cock felt like it was made for her pussy, hitting all the right spots and driving her wild.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Bucky grunted, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to hold off his impending orgasm. "I'm not gonna last long, you feel too damn good."

She tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her. "Cum for me, Bucky," she begged."I want to feel you come inside me.

Those words sent Bucky over the edge, and he thrust into her one last time as he unleashed his hot cum deep inside her waiting womb. She felt his cock twitch with each pulse, her own orgasm crashing over her as she milked him dry.

They stayed connected for a moment, catching their breath, before Bucky gently lowered her to the ground. She felt his cum leaking from her well-fucked pussy.

———

They both walked out of the club bathroom, the pulsating music quickly filling the silence between them. Bucky gave her a polite smile, his usual warmth present but now distant. She on the other hand, still reeling from their shared moment, found herself lingering on the edge of something she couldn’t quite name.

"Thanks for tonight," she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady. Her gaze searched his face for a sign that he might feel the same way, but Bucky's expression remained unreadable.

He nodded, his smile still in place but his eyes already scanning the room for his friends. "Yeah, it was fun. Take care, okay?"

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as he turned and walked away, effortlessly slipping back into the crowd. She watched him go, feeling a pang of disappointment as she realized she was just another fleeting encounter in his night, while he had become something more to her.

•

a/n: I have another part to this but I’ll post that once I feel like it hehe. Make sure to follow for more Bucky/Seb stories and post <3

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year ago

Text

Not So Grumpy (Part 2)

Part 1 Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!pregnant!wife!reader

Summary: Months after being introduced to the rookies, you get a chance to see them again. After your baby is born and Tim's grumpiness continues, you finally have a chance to properly meet them.

Warnings: grumpy!Tim is a softie for his wife and baby, there's a baby but no details about labor or anything, lots and lots of fluff, Wopez spoilers (s1-2)

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: This was better in my head. Oh well.

It’s been almost three months since Tim “introduced” you to the rookies. While you’ve been prepping the nursery, attending doctor’s appointments, and trying different stretches to prepare your body for labor, you haven’t seen Tim any more or less than usual. Halfway through your pregnancy, he got clingy with you and grumpy with everyone else. Though you haven’t been around the station recently, you assume that hasn’t changed. While thinking about Tim, you gasp and hold your stomach as you breathe through a contraction. You’re ready to meet your baby but still have a while to go. Plus, you have to make sure Tim is there. He’s grumpy enough without missing the birth of his first child.

You found the perfect onesie during your trip to the store and can’t wait to show Tim. You and Tim decided not to learn the gender of your baby, and the neutral-colored onesie with a police car and “My Dad’s a Superhero” made you smile, so you had to buy it. Plus, you’re experiencing contractions and miss Tim, so you drop by the station unannounced.

As you walk in, someone calls your name. You look up and smile when you see Angela Lopez waving.

“Hi, Officer Lopez,” you greet.

“Please, it’s Angela. Are you here to see Tim?”

“I am.”

“I don’t know where he is but come with me. We’ll find him.”

“Thank you.”

“How is everything? With Tim and the pregnancy?”

“Good. Baby’s healthy, Tim is amazing.”

Angela snorts before she tries to cover it with a cough. You don’t have time to ask her what is so funny before someone else says your name. At least you recognize the voice this time.

“Hi, Tim,” you reply with a smile.

He nods once before he takes your hand and leads you away from Angela. You wave over your shoulder, and she smiles knowingly. Alone in an empty hallway, you extend the bag toward Tim. He takes it but sets it down to hug you before opening it.

“You okay?” you ask as he pulls you close.

“Better now,” he answers softly.

“I can’t imagine you being grumpy,” you answer, rubbing your hand along his spine.

“I miss you.”

“Just a few more weeks and then you’ll spend every minute with me and a baby. You’ll be begging to come back.”

Tim pulls back and rolls his eyes at you. You know he will be a great father because he’s already an amazing husband. Not that you’d admit it, but you’ve been counting the minutes until he gets to stay home with you and help you recover and care for your baby.

“Officer Bradford,” someone says at the end of the hallway.

You step back and take the onesie from Tim as he turns.

“What?” he replies shortly.

“Grey needs to see us in ten minutes,” Angela adds, pushing her rookie Jackson away from Tim.

“Then I’ll be there in ten minutes. For now, leave me alone.”

“Angela,” you say, stepping to Tim’s side. “Thanks for the gift. I really appreciate it.”

Tim takes a deep breath before thanking her. She sent a gift home with him months ago, even though she didn’t really know you.

“Of course. I’m glad you like it,” Angela replies.

“And I’d- we’d- love to have you over for dinner after everything settles down. And Jackson, Lucy, and Nolan can come too, if they’d like.”

“We can?” Lucy asks excitedly. She steps around the corner and looks at you rather than Tim’s glare.

“About time we get to meet properly, right?” you reply.

“I’m going to go tell them,” Lucy cheers before disappearing again.

“Don’t you dare,” Tim snaps. “You got an invite. Learn to keep personal matters personal, Chen.”

You wrap your hand around Tim’s forearm, and his shoulders drop as he exhales. There’s no apology, but he stops yelling at Lucy.

“Here,” you say.

Tim races to hold you as you bend down to retrieve the bag. He scolds you lovingly for moving too much before he takes it from your hand. You smile and nod toward the bag. Tim shakes his head in loving annoyance before pulling the onesie out. He holds it up to read it, and his face softens as every semblance of grumpiness disappears.

Throughout the progression of your pregnancy, as his paternity leave gets closer, Tim has grown less grumpy. Part of him hates that he has missed so much of your pregnancy, though, and that anger and disappointment comes out at work. As he folds the onesie and places it back in the bag, he pulls you against his side and kisses your temple.

“Superhero, huh?” he asks.

“We think so,” you answer.

Tim looks down at where your hand rests on your bump and covers your hand with his.

“I promise not to miss so much next time,” he whispers.

“You haven’t missed anything,” you assure him. “Make sure you’re at the hospital to catch the baby, that’s all I need.”

“I will be. I’ll be there the moment your water breaks.”

You smile and tilt your head to kiss Tim’s jaw. “Wait, next time?”

5 Months Later

“Hi, Angela!” you say as you open the door. You pull her into a hug before leading her toward the kitchen. “How’s everything with Wesley?”

“Good. I found out he’s, like, disgustingly rich, so that was something,” Angela answers.

“Interesting,” you agree. “And the mom situation?”

“Remedied. I can understand his side of it now, too.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Tim asks from the kitchen. “He’s a lawyer, that’s all I know, and I have to see Angela every day.”

“Have to see,” Angela scoffs. “We’re BFFs, just admit it.”

“No.”

Someone else knocks, and you remind Tim to be kind as you leave to invite everyone in. Lucy, Nolan, and Jackson are waiting excitedly at your door. Lucy hands you a small gift bag as she enters.

“Thank you,” you say. “Come on in. Kitchen’s this way.”

The baby monitor on the island blinks before your baby’s cries fill the kitchen.

“I got it,” Tim murmurs. He picks up the monitor and drags a hand across your back as he walks toward the nursery.

“Did you find a solution to the closet problem?” Lucy asks as she sits beside you. “Oh, and you look amazing by the way.”

“Thank you. And I did.” You chuckle before pointing out, “You text with questions about where to go for a second date and I’m asking about storage solution for newborn clothes.”

“Because you’re happily married and not destroying your apartment in an attempt to look good for a guy who calls you the wrong name,” Jackson adds.

“Jackson!” Lucy exclaims.

“Sorry, but it’s true.”

“You text them?” Tim asks as he returns with your baby in his arms.

“Oh my gosh,” Lucy coos at the sight.

Tim narrows his eyes at her before looking back at you.

“Yes, I do. You wouldn’t introduce us, so I took it into my own hands,” you answer. “You need anything?”

“Hey, how long have you guys been together?” Nolan asks.

“I don’t like this,” Tim complains as he returns to the kitchen.

“He’ll drop the act soon,” you whisper conspiratorially.

“It’s not an act,” Tim calls. “So, it will go away when they do!”

After your dinner company leaves, you take care of the dishes while Tim spends quality time with your baby. As you walk into the room, he extends an arm toward you. You make yourself comfortable against his side as Tim holds the baby against his chest. He may be grumpy with everyone but the two of you, but you wouldn’t change a thing, and Tim wouldn’t either.

“I love you,” you whisper in the comfort of your shared home and life.

“I love you,” Tim replies. “Enough that I can stop being grumpy.”

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #fem!reader

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weebsinstash · 5 months ago

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I wanted to share another piece of American history and also queer history with you guys that I've been thinking about since, what I consider to be the vandalism of "Portrait of Ross in L.A", and also because it is relevant to our current polticial climate, where even the company I currently work for has publicly declared that they will no longer have diversity and inclusion programs

John S. Boskovich was an American homosexual man living in America during the AIDS epidemic of the 80s and 90s. He had a partner, Stephen Earabino. During the epidemic, Earabino contracted AIDS and eventually passed away in 1995.

This was during a time period where the AIDS crisis was being intentionally mismanaged as a direct attempt to "purge" queer people and make them socially unacceptable, and many families often hid the deaths of their queer family members for being AIDS-related out of shame, fear of public ridicule, and/or homophobia. The shifting of the blame of AIDS onto exclusively gay and bisexual men was so intentionally heavily prevalent that it lead to many deaths of heterosexuals, lesbians, and even the creation of a now famous poster by that read "Women Don't Get AIDS: They Just Die From It", which was also created as a plea to the CDC to address the crisis and EVERYONE who faced it

So, in that social and political context, after Stephen passed away, his family came to the flat where their son was living with his lover and completely cleaned out all the belongings in the apartment, erasing any evidence of Earabino and Boskovich's relationship, but also, leaving Boskovich with absolutely no possessions and nothing to remember his lover by except for a single box fan

Boskovich, in his grief, made this single electric box fan an art installation by encasing it in plexiglass with holes cut into it, protecting the fan, lionizing it, with the breeze coming through the gaps meant to symbolize his lover's breath and how this art installation, in a sense, keeps Stephen Earabino's memory alive. The name of the piece is "Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers)" and it has been theorized that the "feel" refers to not only the breeze of the fan symbolizing his lover and memorializing him, in a sense giving him eternal life, but also for the viewer to "feel" the grief and anger of Boskovich losing his lover and the cruel aftermath that followed

Boskovich made this piece of artwork in 1997, and eventually passed away 9 years later in 2006 in his home at 49 years old of causes that were never fully disclosed, some theorizing that he committed suicide. His artwork now sits in the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles.

This is another influential and emotional piece of history that goes to show just how extremely important it is to hang onto the truth that queer people and by extension any marginalized people have a right to exist. It shows the lengths to which lives are destroyed by the hatred and policies of those who revel in intentional cruelty and exerting their own authority for no other reason than hating those that do not share the same views as them. When we do not fight to hold onto our history, those who decide we do not need to be a part of it will fight hard to erase it completely and pretend that we were never even here in the first place, much like Stephen Earabino's family would have completely erased his existence without the voice of John Boskovich, or how Ross Laycroft and his struggle wouldn't have been known without him becoming memorialized by Felix Gonzales-Torres' sculpture intended as an act of love

We are here. We are alive. We will continue to make our voices heard and refuse to die in darkness. I will not be driven from my home country because of what is QUICKLY becoming an American fascist dictatorship.

We are all eternal in the memories of those who lives we touch and change. We are made stronger by the bonds we build with each other and our communities. We must never stop fighting for our right to exist.

We must never make it easier for them to erase us, not just from being alive, but from being recorded in history altogether

#as you can see ive been extremelt upset and passionate over these last few weeks #i actually intend to visit my state capital to speak to my locak representatives #especially after the outright terrorism trump just pulled by dumping 1.6 billion gallons of water in cali JUST bc he got mad at them

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sirenasmodeus · 3 months ago

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national anthem

Harry Castillo x fem!reader

synopsis: You were a very busy woman, working as a full-time assistant for your best friend, Lucy, and as a part-time CEO for your father's security agency. Both your jobs brought you a wedding contract, coming highly recommended from the couple's close friend and their matchmaker. The night ends up going well for the bride and groom. And especially well for you.

a/n: This was actually an OC (whose name was Layla Ansari, for anyone curious. Layla because I got the idea for this on Laylatul Qadr) fic before I changed my mind after getting like 600 words in lol, and as such, the reader does have a last name and is Indian and coming from an Islamic upbringing even though the reader does not particularly care about religion anymore (can you tell I've become disillusioned with religion?). This is also my first ever published fic!!! I am so excited and so goddamn nervous, I really hope you enjoy it

thanks to: @myownwholewildworld for the Spanish translation, you really came in clutch and I'm forever grateful and @mushgloomz for checking over the smut to make sure it wasn't atrocious and made some modicum of sense, your encouragement really eased my nerves about it 🩵🩵

word count: 9.6k

content warnings: 18+ mdni, brief mentions of death and cheating, brief angst, smut, fluff, domesticity, oral (f!receiving), fingering, begging ??, reader is 28 years old, Harry is 50, reader is part-time assistant and ceo and the head of wedding security, reader is short (in relation to Harry's height but not by much really)

Lucy was at the peak of her career as a matchmaker and you, well, you had been discharged from the military after serving four years in active duty; you had been on the cusp of becoming a Lieutenant when your mother had died. Her sudden death had left your father sick with grief, barely capable of functioning, and so you had elected to serve the next four years in the Reserves to make it easier to take care of him.

It was in those years that you had rekindled your friendship with Lucy, your deployments made keeping the friendship alive a bit difficult, who was making headway in her own career. Lucy had begun to become more busy and as such had needed an assistant to handle the more menial tasks. Lucy and you had been having dinner one night when she had brought it up after complaining about her boyfriend, John. You had always liked being helpful, so you offered to be her assistant until she had a chance to find someone more permanent.

You did the work without payment, not needing the abysmal pay, mostly because your father's private security company had been getting high-end clients from the year before the passing of your mother. You took over most of the operations, mostly replacing your father as CEO. You were glad that most of the duties you had taken over were capable of being run remotely.

Lucy, however, had grown lax in trying to find a permanent primary assistant having become comfortable with your help, who better to assist than a life-long friend.

Now, it's been four years since you became her assistant, and everything was on the up and up for the both of you. "Did you get confirmation from Wesley and Hannah for their meeting?" Lucy asked as she typed away at her phone.

You placed a to-go cup of Lucy's coffee order on her desk. "Yep," She replied. "Hannah was a bit nervous about it though. She said she wasn't sure if she wanted a guy named Wesley."

Lucy had reached over to grab the cup, her eyes never leaving her phone screen. "She'll still show, though, right?" She questioned absentmindedly.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I talked her through her nerves," you assure her. "Apparently, she went shopping for a new outfit to really impress him."

"That's nice," Lucy replied.

You pressed my lips together in a thin line, shaking your head. You plopped down onto the sofa she had in her office with a tired sigh. "I've been thinking," you start tentatively. "Since I'm turning 28, I might cut back on the hours I work with you."

Lucy's head snapped up, eyes wide in shock. "But why?" She pressed. "We work so well together. I'd probably lose my mind if it weren't for you."

"My dad's thinking of 6 he wants me to take over his position," you explain. "I'll still help you out, obviously. I'm not gonna disappear off the face of the earth." You add with a chuckle.

Lucy remained silent for a moment as she took a sip of her coffee before setting it back down and rising from her chair. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she made her way over to the sofa to sit beside you. "Okay," she said with an accepting nod.

"Okay?" You question slowly.

"Yeah, you can do so much more than just be an assistant," She said, taking my hand into hers. "This will be great for you. And maybe now since you'll be less busy enough for me to set you up with someone."

You shake your head as you smile at her persistence to try to work her matchmaking magic on you. "Sure," you said. "If you can find me someone obscenely rich and handsome."

"Pretty smile, kind eyes and romantic?" She continued with a smile and a raised brow.

"Exactly," you confirm. "You find a man like that, and I might consider going on a date."

In all honesty, you had already met the man of your dreams— unattainable, yes, but a girl can dream. He was sweet, at least that's the overall vibe you got from him on the few occasions that interacting was necessary. You swore his smile could light up a whole room. His warm brown eyes were light and welcoming, pulling you into his spell. Just thinking about him had your face heating up.

But he was strictly off limits. No if's, and's or but's about it. He was a client and almost old enough to be your father. The latter wasn't really all that much of an issue. You've had flings during deployments, with men pushing sixty. The former, however, would certainly be an issue. He was a big client for your father's company; he was always reaching out for security for galas and company parties, he was satisfied with the work and so you really did not want to fuck it all up because you couldn't let a fantasy stay a fantasy.

"I'm going to find you the most perfect man ever in all of New York," Lucy vowed, that determined look in her eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh at her eagerness. It was sweet, certainly, but you couldn't help but feel off. It just didn't feel right. Lucy has tried several times throughout the years to set you up. None were successful, as indicated by your lack of a wedding ring.

As cliché as it sounded, you loved love. Growing up, you would play house with the dolls your parents bought you whenever you all went shopping. All you had to do was point and ask, and they would get it. You never wanted for anything, at least not really. You had the love of both your parents, their unwavering support, a good education, a good home, great vacations, and birthday parties.

The only thing you didn't have was the someone to love you like your parents loved each other.

Maybe it was about time you really took dating seriously. Maybe it was about time you found someone you could settle down with if only to ease your father's worry for you.

"Thank you for considering Ansari Security," I said to the beaming couple sitting opposite my father's mahogany desk. "We're so glad you considered us for your big day."

"Well, you do come highly recommended," the bride says cheerfully, holding onto her fiancé's hand. "Our matchmaker, she pointed us in your direction. His friend as well."

You give them an appreciative smile and mentally make a note to thank Lucy. It is then that you begin detailing the measures you will take to protect their wedding from anything and everything. It takes all of forty-five minutes to go over everything, a record amount of time.

You escorted them out of the building after they signed the necessary paperwork, smiling and once again thanking them for the trust they have put in us. Soon after, you texted Lucy to thank her for pointing the couple to your father's company and inviting her out for dinner this Friday to the new restaurant that opened last week.

It was a really fancy sort of place, open concept with postmodern lighting fixtures and a dark colour palette with exotic foods from all over the world made by artisanal chefs with an excellent wine list, which you couldn’t drink. Normally you wouldn't have bothered with such a thing, making a reservation at some over-priced pseudo-classy place, having always preferred homemade food when you were growing up and then practical and quick nutritional meals when you were in service, and you still did.

The only time you didn't eat a quick meal was when you found yourself missing your mother. She had left you pretty much everything of hers; most of her clothes, her wedding dress, all of her jewellery and books— her recipe book that was passed down to her by her own mother.

It was a great regret of yours for not being there when she passed, unable to perform her ghusl mayyit. Unable to be there for anything, all because you wanted to rebel and join the military, to be just like your parents, to continue that ultimately meaningless legacy.

You drove home that night, mind and heart heavy from remembering your mother, your guilt, your envy. In moments like these, you felt as if you couldn't do anything right, as if no matter the choices you make, you're doomed to make a mess of things.

You drop your apartment and car keys into the crystal bowl as you enter your apartment, toeing off your kitten heels. A heavy sigh leaves you as you drop your handbag on your coffee table, grabbing the TV remote and putting on the news as you head to the kitchen to prepare some yellow potato curry.

"Fortune 500 CEO, Harry Castillo, have released a statement in regards to the rumors circulating the business world about his acquisition plans for Reed and Vine, a publishing house that has seen—," the news anchors voice droning on as you chop your potatoes, onions, green chillies— only because you were in the mood for a bit of spice.

After chopping everything you needed, you toss the cumin seeds with the onions, green chillies, and turmeric into the sunflower oil and let it until the onions are translucent. While you wait, you open a can of your favourite soft drink as you lean on your kitchen counter, lazily listening to the news— more horrible things happening in the States and abroad.

With a shake of your head, you add in your potatoes and water, letting it simmer until the potatoes are cooked, stirring it every so often. You check in your fridge for dhania and retrieve your jar of carrot pickle for when your curry is done.

"Be sure to wear plenty of sunscreen and stay hydrated as the week starts to heat up," the weatherman says cheerfully. You grab the remote to switch the channel now that the news and weather have concluded. You didn't know why you watched the news and weather forecast on your TV when you could easily do so on your phone, but you supposed your parent's habits rubbed off on you.

With the food done you pile a good portion of it onto your favourite white and blue floral plate, pouring yourself a glass of water before you make your way to your living room to sit on your plush pink sofa while you watch an episode of 'House M.D' as you eat.

You did some tidying up before you hopped into the shower. You turned on the hot water, letting it scald your skin before you soaped up your body and loofah before you scrubbed away the day. The vanilla and honey scent wafted through your shower and bathroom. You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly as your eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

After a good twenty-five minutes, you stepped out, towelled yourself off dressing in your favourite champagne coloured silk nightdress with branches blooming from your waist and across your torso. Normally, on such a blistering hot night, you would've just thrown on one of your many linen pyjamas, but you felt tonight deserved something more... sexy, despite your previously dour mood.

Before hopping into your queen sized bed, you made sure to turn on your ceiling fan to mitigate the midnight heat that was sure to descend upon the city. You sighed as you lay on your back for a moment, contemplating if you should read a chapter or two from 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Dantés had just just been arrested at his on engagement party for heaven's sake, you should continue reading but you weren't certain that your eyes wouldn't droop and you wouldn't fall asleep on your book— you always hated damaging any books, purposefully or not.

You were relieved when the hotel manager allowed you to gallivant up and down its halls to get a feel for the layout, all the possible entry and exit points, the in house security. Everything was fine, up to code. With the clientele that the hotel saw their security was top-notch, designed to put the minds of societies elite at ease.

But you liked going the extra mile, so you had brought it a few more of your own personnel than you had initially intended to. Your guys with pair up with the hotel's guards, much stricter protocols put in place as well. When you did a job, you made sure to do it right— half-assing things wasn't in your nature.

The day of the wedding had arrived sooner than you had liked, just three weeks after your meeting with the happy couple. It was sweet, how eager they were— their faces constantly pulled taut from the smiling.

"Did all the guests arrive?" You question Anton, whom you had placed in charge of checking the arrivals.

"A few missing, likely just stragglers," he replies, his voice gruff from decades of smoking. "No wedding crashers yet."

You nod, patting his back. "Let me know if you need to get off your feet," you remind him before walking away to check with the rest of your staff.

Guests milled about, chattering about anything and everything, taking pictures of the decor and themselves as they sipped their alcohol of choice. Your eyes scanned over the crowd as you moved from one guard to the next. Lucy catching your eye in her blue dress, giving you a thumbs up and a smile. You return the smile with a wave before she's pulled into a conversation with one of the guests just as you bump into someone.

"I'm so sorry," you hurriedly say, instinctively grabbing onto them to steady yourself. "I should've watched where I was going."

Large hands grip you forearm and waist, firm and yet somehow gentle. You glance up at him, your eyes widening in just a fraction. "Mister Castillo," you breathe out, surprised. You knew he was good friend of the groom, that he was on the guest list and yet somehow it felt crazy to see him here in his suit with a calla lily pinned to his lapel.

"Miss Ansari," he drawls in a teasing tone, his lips pulled up in a smile as his eyes shined down at you.

"Sorry," you apologise once more, not really sure you were capable of saying anything more with him close looking so… striking.

"Nothing to apologise for," he dismisses. "How are you?" He asked, his voice dipping into that dizzying baritone register.

Your voice gets trapped in your throat, as you inhaled sharply your lips parted trying your best to get any words out. A second then two passed, feeling more like an infinity, before you pressed your lips closed as you blinked up at him before you nodded.

He raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging a corner of his lips. It's just then that you come back into your mind, regaining some sense as you feel his thumb idly brushing back and forth on the curve of your waist. "I'm fine," you say breathlessly.

"Yeah?" He questioned softly.

You nod, your head tilting as you stare up at him. It was stupid— you were stupid. You shouldn’t be falling quiet every other moment when speaking to him. You shouldn’t be all doe-eyed and breathless as if you were still a teenager with their first full-fledged crush. But here you were. Doing exactly that. Like a fool.

It wasn't your fault that he was attractive with his deep brown soulful eyes, his soft salt and pepper curls, his broad stature, his voice— his everything. It was impossible not to dissolve into a pining, lovesick idiot.

You take a step back, his hands leaving your waist and forearm. Your skin smoldering, aching. Even beneath the fabric of your dress shirt, you skin felt as if it was on fire, setting your nerve-ending on edge.

"And you?" You whisper, despite yourself. "Are you…okay?"

Harry— Mister Castillo, you force yourself to remember. You could not be on a first name basis with him, knowing you would rationalise it by considering him a friend and then read too much into everything— tilts his head just a fraction, his brows furrowing. A soft, thoughtful hum left him before he righted himself. "I'm doing wonderful," he answers, using your given name sending your heart racing.

You had never felt one way or the other about your name. It was just your name, a simple gift given to you by your parents showing their adoration to you. You've heard your name countless times, seen it written just as many. But there was something in the way he said it, a whisper of devotion. Of hunger.

"That's great," you say, the epitome of awkward.

"How's your father?" He inquires, one hand slipping into his trousers pockets as the other fiddles with the button on his jacket.

"He's doing good," you reply. "He's more active nowadays."

The conversation goes on for a few minutes; though it's mostly idle chatter, Harry listens intently as he guides you over to the open bar ordering a whiskey for himself and cranberry juice for you, which you take with soft thanks.

It blew your mind how easy it was to talk to him, it was one of the easiest conversations you've had with another person in a long time. You didn't have to think, didn't have to pretend to be easy-going and fun. You didn't have to pick and choose your words or soften your voice and past.

Despite being in a room full of people, you were at ease. Your mind wasn't racing to solve what-if's, over-analyzing every single blink and twitch. Your mind was at ease and you wondered why. Why with him? What was so special or different about that put you at ease? Why was it that the one person you shouldn’t want made you feel so tranquil?

Why, why why?

One thing you didn't expect was for him to be such a melancholic drunk. Well, tipsy, but the point still stood. After you had been pulled away from him to do your job, you had spotted him sitting on his own in the farthest corner of the room sipping listlessly on his whiskey as music blared and people laughed and danced.

You were being brainless as you hurried through your check-ins, desperate to speak to him again knowing after tonight you wouldn't see much of him for a long time. So, in your infatuated state you had excused yourself and beelined to him. You were nearly to him when—

"John's here," Lucy whisper yelled, gripping your upper arm. Your laser focused eyes left his form and settled on her with a sigh.

"I know," you say plainly, there wasn't anything else you could say and you weren't about to act surprised.

"You know?" She questioned, her lips pulled down in a frown.

"Yeah, I had to vet everyone," you shrug.

Lucy linked her arm with yours, all but dragging you to the open bar, settling onto on one of the stools while you remained standing. You're farther away from him now and throughly annoyed. "A rum and coke for me and a," she said to the bartender before turning to me. "What sort of cocktail do you want?"

You grimaced at her question, which served only to aggravate you further. "Just a cranberry juice," you tell the bartender with a forced smile.

"Right," she shakes her head, seeming to remember you don't drink. "Anyways, why didn't you tell me he would be here?"

"Because, I didn't think it would matter," you say with a sigh as you take your juice, give the bartender a nod of thanks. "I figured he would have enough sense to not bother you. Seems like I was wrong."

You take a deep sip, unbuttoning your suit jacket as you lean on the bar counter. You tuck the few strands of her that escaped you plait behind your ear, glancing across the room for a glimpse of Harry who was now in a conversation with one of the groomsmen who was gesticulating wildly as he spoke.

"A heads up would have been nice," Lucy reasoned.

"You're right, I should have told you," you acquiesced, not wanting this to become an issue and then an argument.

"He looked good though," she said as she sipped her rum and coke, a thoughtful looked in her eyes.

"No," you say immediately.

"What?" She chuckled. "I was just making an observation."

"You weren't," you say sternly. "You said you were done with him. You can't entertain this musing. You're gonna get hurt. Again."

"I'm not," she insists. " I just… it was just nice seeming him again. He looked like he got it together. Mostly, at least."

You level her with a knowing look. This happened just about every year like clockwork since university. They get together, have a wonderful few months before they both start seeing cracks and every tiny issue begin to pile up and then they're arguing day in and day out before they call it quits. That is, until they cross paths again.

It was a cosmic pain in your ass.

And you did not want to be consoling her, yet again, after the fallout. After you've told her it was a monumentally bad idea. You loved her, of course you did, she was your friend. But you've had enough with Lucy and John's childish on-again off-again whatever-the-hell-ship.

"Lucy," you begin, hoping your voice carried the same seriousness you felt. "If you pursue things again with John, I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces again."

You hated having to say that, having to draw the line, but it needed to be done. There needed to be some consequence, no matter how farcical it seemed.

"I know," she said, heaving a sigh. "I'm not going to pursue things with him again. I learnt my lesson last time."

You didn't believe her, not one bit, but you nodded in acceptance anyway because there wasn’t much else you could do. Lucy downed the rest of her rum and coke before taking her leave, claiming to want to get in early.

After you watched her leave you turned back to the bartender ordering a whiskey neat and water. Nervousness bubbled up in you as you gripped both glasses making your way to the table he sat at, alone once again.

"Hi," you say softly, placing the whiskey it front of him. "You looked like you could use another drink."

He looked up at you, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He takes the glass, tilting it in a toast before taking a sip. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk," he quips.

"I can't take credit for that," you say as you pull out the chair opposite him and sitting down, crossing one leg over the other and resting an arm on the table, your finger tracing idle patterns onto the table cloth. "You were doing so good on your own."

He laughed at that, you were certain it was most likely because his whiskey-addled mind found just about anything amusing. It was a pretty sound, nevertheless. Low and rumbling, sending a shiver down your spine and setting your cheeks ablaze.

Harry's perfectly slicked back hair was now a mess, soft curls falling over his forehead. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back but the graying curls have a mind of their own. You down the rest of your water, your mouth feeling too dry, too empty.

You let out an unsteady breath as you glance down at his hand gripping his glass, his finger tapping absentmindedly against it, and you couldn't help your straying thoughts; curious what his hands would feel like holding your wrists together, pressing down between your shoulders, or what his fingers would feel like digging into your hips, maybe even around your throat. You wonder if he would be rough, taking whatever he pleased with little regard for you.

"Why are you here?" He asks, his voice pulling you back to reality.

You clear your throat, sitting just a little straighter. "What do you mean?" Your brows furrowing in confusion.

"I mean, why are you here talking to me?" He elaborates. "The wedding's over. Most of the guests have left, so has your friend. And yet you're here with me. Why?"

A second, then two, passes before you answer him in the only way you know you can. "I don't know," you lie with a nonchalant shrug.

His eyes narrows as he stares at you intently, much longer than what would be considered polite. His gaze flickers across your face, examing every little detail— committing it to memory. He sighs muttering something in Spanish that you don't understand but you do your best to remember the few words you catch.

Ubícate, es demasiado joven para ti.

Harry downs the last bit of his whiskey, reaching to take your glass from you as well before rising from his seat. He inclines his head to the bar, silently asking you to follow him. He places the glasses in the counter, a bill under it, thanking the bartender before turning back to you.

"Come on, I'll walk out with you," he says, his hand carding through his hair once again.

"You don't need to do that," you protest.

"It's dark out," he shrugs. "At least let me do this one thing."

You bit your lip in a moment of hesitation before your nod, letting him lead you out of the hotel. You dig out your ticket for the valet who takes it from you, retrieving your keys to bring out your car.

Harry waits with you, his hands tucked away in his pockets. He looks up at the night sky, the new moon peeking out from behind the clouds. He remained quiet, almost reticent, as he looked on, eyeing everything in your vicinity except you.

Just as you turn to question him your car pulls up, the valet getting out and handing you the keys as you give a twenty dollar bill. You walk to your car, pausing before you get in. You turn around, your breath getting tucked out of you as you find him staring at you.

His heated gaze dragging across your face, from your eyes down your nose before getting stuck on your lips. His eyes fixates on your lips, it's cupid bow and it's plumpness. You compulsively lick your lips, your tongue darting out no more than a second and an almost pained looked flashed through his eyes before he drags them back up to your eyes.

"Do you-" you start, taking in a sharp breath as a shiver racks through your body. "Do you need a ride home?"

Say yes. Please, say yes. Your mind begged silently and stupidly. But despite your rationalisation you hoped he would say yes. You wanted to see what would happen if he did, to satisfy your endless curiosity and need to know all possible outcomes if nothing else.

Your fingers curled over the top of the driver's side door, willing your desired response from him into existence.

His lips parted to something before he pressed them together again and nodded. "Yeah," he replied after a moment. "Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks."

You smile at his answer, relief and a sense of victory flooding you. You jerk your head to car, telling him to get in.

The drive to his apartment was a silent one except for the radio you turned on half way through, your radio connecting to your Bluetooth and you played your most recent playlist. You left the volume low as Harry gave you the directions to his apartment.

It wasn't all that out of the way, ten minutes from the hotel and fifteen minutes from yours you realised as you pulled up to his apartment complex. A tired steel and glass skyscraper marring the navy sky. Harry lingered in the passenger seat as you awkwardly tapped on the steering wheel.

"Do you want to come up?" He asked, his voice soft.

"Sure," you reply impulsively, wanting to do something stupid. You drive into the building's underground parking, turning off your car and joining him as you both walk to the elevator.

The elevator ride up was much like the drive there, silent and tense. It was clear to you that he didn't know what he was doing, but you couldn't truly claim to know either. The elevator dinged, opeening up into a hallway made up of dark wood and protuding light fixtures.

He dug into the inner pocket of his jacket, retrieving his keys, swiftly unlocking the door allowing you through first. As he entered behind you he flicked the light switch on, revealing the expanse of his place. You looked around, taking it all in.

The minimalist appearance of it all wasn't something you would have expected from him, though you didn't really know what to expect. It felt too clinical in a way, too cold for someone so warm. It didn't feel right for someone as old as him to have such a bare residence.

"Nice place," you comment lightly, standing in the middle of his living room.

"Thanks," he says, gesturing to you to follow him. "Can I get anything? Water, coffee, tea?"

"No, I'm good," you reply, leaning against the kitchen counter watching him put on the kettle before grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge.

"Can I make you something to eat?" He asks next, retrieving a mug and all the things he would need for tea. "You're probably starving."

You raise an eyebrow at that, almost amused. "Why would I be starving?" You ask with a smile.

"You didn't eat anything at the wedding," he explained, his eyes not meeting yours. "Figured you would be hungry."

"I had some canapés," you shrug.

He paused at that, a spoonful of sugar frozen hovering over his mug as he looked at you. He dropped the spoon into the mug before he spoke, "That hardly seems enough."

"I ate before work," you wave it off, unbothered.

"Right," he said slowly before turning back to his fridge and rummaging through it. "I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich."

"You don't have to," you say quickly, not wanting to be a bother but you found his offer sweet nonetheless.

As he was grabbing the cheeses and biutter from the fridge, the kettle began to whistle on the stove. You moved around the counter to it, grabbing a dish towel to remove the kettle, pouring the boiling water into his mug. You placed the kettle on the cold stove plate before mixing his tea for him. Harry placed the carton of milk next to you as he moved about to prepare the grilled cheese.

"How much milk do you take?" You asked, unscrewing the cap.

"Just don't let it spill over," he replied. "Is sliced cheese okay for you?"

You scrunched your nose at that but elected to not comment on how much milk he took with his tea. "No sliced cheese," you say, mixing the milk in before putting it away. "Tea's ready."

You watched as he placed the first sandwich on the frying pan. He had removed his jacket and bowtie while your back was turned, throwing it on one of the chairs in his kitchen. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, his lips pouting just a bit as he arranged the cheese on the second sandwich. You couldn't help the little giggle that escaped you.

You had never seen someone look so serious over a grilled cheese before. It was just as cute as it was amusing. You grabbed his tea and walked over to where he stood, half hunched over, and presented the mug to him. "Drink your tea before it gets cold," you said firmly.

"Right," he blinked as he corrected his posture before taking the mug from you, taking a healthy sip. "Sorry."

You smiled up at him. "I'll finish this up," you say as you take over finishing up the second sandwich before flipping the first one to toast the other side. Harry's hand had reached out to tuck your hair that had come loose, yet again, behind your ear.

You freeze at the gesture, not having expected it. The action was so tender that you brain misfired, short circuiting itself for a bit longer than a singular moment. It was a soft, fleeting thing that felt all to familiar, a wave of nostalgia hitting you rather unexpectedly.

Your parents were just like this, seemlessly moving about the kitchen as you sat at the counter, your feet swinging from the chair that was too high for you as a kid. Your father would do all the prep work for all the meals when he was at home, never letting your mother touch a single utensil that he deemed too dangerous. Your mother promptly hitting him upside the head before taking over some of the work.

Harry gently moved you aside and took over. He removed the first sandwich cutting it in half and handing the plate to you before toasting the second one. You sat at the end of the counter, eating in silence mostly because you didn't know what to say to fill the silence.

You were half way through your first slice when he reached into one of the upper cabinets to retrieve a glass. "Do you want water or some strawberry juice?" He asked.

"Water's fine," you reply, your voice softer than you intended. In fact, you had not intended it to sound soft at all. You mentally cursed yourself for sounding almost airy. You needed to act normal but that seemed to be such a far away concept to you then, nothing about this situation was normal; you sitting in his kitchen eating a grilled cheese sandwich at past eleven in the night no less was not normal, you fantasing about him before driving him home was not normal, this almost wistful domesticity was not normal.

He got you the glass of water before removing his own sandwich and joing you at the counter. "This is crazy," you mumbled to yourself.

"Why?" He asked, biting into his grilled cheese.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, chewing languidly as you thought up a response. "You're a client," you say, your voice rising in uncertainty as if you didn't believe the words you said. "It's not standard practice to be eating at your place so late in the night."

"You could consider it a business dinner," he shrugged, entirely unbothered by the situation.

"Speaking of business," you started, swiftly changing the topic. "I heard you acquired a publishing house."

"I did," he said plainly, rolling his shoulder back in discomfort.

"Why?" You take a sip of water, waiting for his answer patiently.

"They weren't doing so well so I bought them out," he say quietly, finishing off his sandwich.

You hummed in acknowledgement, accepting his answer. You both promptly fell back into silence, though this time around it wasn't nearly as awkward bordering on stifling.

Harry had taken your plate and glass along with his and deposited it in the sink, turning on the tap and began washing the dishes even though he had a dish washer. You joined him by the sink, a dish towel in hand ready to wipe down the dishes. He handed them to you without protest.

Once you both were done, you and Harry stood there, the silence stretched on. Now though, you couldn't stand it. It was too quiet, too still, reminding you of the times you had to lie in wait for your targets.

Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips, in contemplation. Weighing the risks of a rash decision, would whatever choice you make right then irreparably damage your working relationship with 'Mister Castillo' should you pursue a hare-brained moment of lust with 'Harry'? And that was if he was not only okay with this but wanted it just as much as you did.

You took in a fortifying breath before you spoke, hoping that you didn't monstrously fuck this up. "I really want to kiss you," you say, boldly, instantly wanting to run away from this if only to escape the embarrassment of what you had said.

His eye's widened a fraction, lips parting in shock as he took an unconscious step fback. He didn't reach for you, didn't say anything either for the longest time. And you weren't a fool, you knew when you were being rejected. You nod once in acceptance, taking a step then two back. "Right, well, I'm going to go," you say quietly, your voice small. "Thanks for the grilled cheese."

You turn away, making your way out of the kitchen. You were disappointed but not surprised, most everything you saw tonight was unexpected but his silent rejection made sense. Everything you knew about him from the fleeting moments you ran into him at your father's office over the past four years told you that he wasn't the sort to seek out women significantly younger than him.

When your father returned home from the few times he had joined Harry on an actual business dinner he told you about how the pretty young waitresses had blushed and paid extra attention to him. You didn't entirely believe your father, he was prone to exaggeration, but there had to be some truth to it and so when your father told you how he always politely turned those women down. A small part of you was glad at the time that he was an upstanding man who seemingly didn't use his wealth and prominence to be a creep, it settled a part of you that desperate to believe that there were still good people— good men— in higher up positions. Though now you were a bit saddened by it.

You were half out of the living room when a hand grabbed your's, bringing you to a stop. You turn, confusion creasing the space between your brows as you stare up at him. He stepped in closer, your hand encapsulated in the warmth of his. His face contorted into something between pain and lust.

"You know we shouldn't," he whispered with a shake of his head.

"I know," you whispered back, not having the strength to speak any louder.

"We can't," he replied, insistent while desperation undercut his words. You weren't entirely sure who he was trying to convince, you or himself because regardless, his body drifted closer to you.

You stood toe to toe, your neck craning back ever so slightly to meet his eyes. You were trapped in this moment with him until he made a decision. His eyes flickered between yours before settling on your lips, his own parted, his head inching closer before stopping. You willed him to make a decision, there were limits to your patience and it was beginning to wear thin. If he didn't decide then you would.

Your lifted your free hand to cup his face, the scruff from his patchy beard tickling your palm, you were about to lean in when he let out breath than sat the fence between a sigh and a moan as his eyes fluttered closed. The only sign of any inner turmoil was the deep furrow of his brows.

"I'm going to kiss you," you say, giving him a moment to pull away if he truly did not want this. You leaned in, your breath brushing his lips, another opportunity for him to pull away. You glanced at his closed eyes, admiring his face, committing this moment to memory before you captured his lips in yours.

A pleased hum escaping you as you slowly kiss him, your thumb stroking his cheek before your hand trailed down his jaw and neck. Your nails dragging gently across his sensitive skin eliciting a suplicating hum from him. You smile against his lips as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in impossibly close.

You pulled your hand from his to guide his hand to join his other around your waist. Now with your other hand free, you card your fingers through his soft salt and pepper hair, tugging gently as you nipped at his bottom lip.

His grip tightened around you as he groan. Pressed so close to him you couldn't help but feel him hardening in trousers.

Just a kiss.

A slow a gentle kiss was all it took to get him hard. You weren't expecting him to sprout an erection, you were content with just a kiss but now you could hardly walk away. It would plague your mind for days, if not weeks, as you toss and turned in bed wanting nothing more than to have his cock.

When you pulled back, desperate for air, Harry whined following after your lips. He was the needy sort, you realised. "We shouldn't," you repeat his words with a smirk, your hand running down his arm.

"Fuck," he cursed, closing his eyes tightly. He loosened his grip on you, shaking his head as took a step back. "I shouldn't have done that."

You tilt your head, observing him and the guilt that was marring his beautiful face. "I kissed you," you remind him firmly, taking a step towards him. "Because I wanted to."

He shook his head, guilt-ridden and in denial. His hands making a mess of his hair. "I should've stopped you," he reasoned. "You're half my age. You're technically my employee. I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry."

You roll your eyes, letting out a deep sigh. "I'm not your employee, I'm a contractor," he point out. "Whatever working relationship we have ends the moment a contract is fulfilled. And just because I'm half your age doesn't mean I'm somehow too stupid to realise how fucked this is. If you don't want to kiss me or fuck me, you're going to have to say that."

It was a miracle that you hadn't yelled, knowing that would've likely made you seem petulant. He said nothing in return, just stared down at his hands looking throughly berated. You couldn't help your crooked smile, enjoying how he looked repentant. You step closer to him, getting in his line of sight, covering his hands with yours. "If you really don't want this, then I'll go," you say softly. "And we can forget this ever happened."

His hands left yours, settling on your hips as he whispered, "Don't go."

You were relieved, to say the least. You didn't want to go, didn't want to forget the kiss or the collage of moments leading up to it. "You won't regret this?" You question him softly.

A shake of his head was all you needed before you leaned in once more, kissing him soundly and fiercely. He was going to regret it come morning, it was a simple fact, he was too tender-hearted not to. And so, you resolved to make this good for him, hoping the memory of pleasure would override his guilty conscious.

"Bedroom," you instruct him between kisses. He pulled away from the kiss, taken your hand in his, leading you to his bedroom that was just as minimalistic as the rest of his apartment. His lack of knick-knacks had your brows furrowing, his place seeming more like a showroom than an actual home.

You guide him to down on the edge of the bed, moving to stand between his legs. Your kisses turn gentle once more as his hands tentatively curve around your thighs. You let out a pleased hum, pushing his hair back, peppering his face with kisses.

"I'm going to take my shirt off, don't panic," you whisper with a chuckle. You undo your tie, pulling it out from under your collar and tossing it aside. His eyes flickered from yours to your hands as you unbutton you lazily unbutton your shirt.

"Now you," you say, as you push your dress shirt off your shoulders, standing in front of him in just your bra and trousers. He does as told, eyes fixated on your tit's and the lace edge of your bra.

He hurriedly took off his shirt, chucking it away from him. His hands where back on you in an instant, caressing your waist as he pulled back in for a kiss. It was desperate, forsaking his need for air as begged for entrance.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you parted your lips granting him the entrance he wanted, a grateful moan leaving him as his tongue tangled with yours. He was gentle in his exploration of your mouth. You played with the ends of his hair at his nape.

He pulled away suddenly, taking in deep breaths as he stared at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you down and turning you over so that you were lying on your back in his bed. A surprised yelp escaping you.

Without a word, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses there. You held his head there as he nipped at the spot just below your ear, earning him a gasping moan as your eyes fluttered shut. He did it again, a bit harder this time. A shudder wracked through you as you dragged his tongue over it to soothe the pain.

Your breath grew unsteady as he lavished your neck with kisses and little nips, trailing down to your collarbone giving it the same attention. He slid his arm beneath your body, tracing the edge of bra, silently asking permission to take it off. You lifted your body up a few inches, making it easier for him to unhook the black fabric.

His hands pulling the straps from your shoulder as he sought out your lips. As soon as he divested you if your bra his hands covered them, fondling them for a moment before his thumb and index finger pinched your nipples.

"Fuck," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut, tossing your head back.

He kissed his way down your throat, squeezing your tit's before lips met the swell of them. He wasted no time in taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. It didn't do much for you, having never had sensitive nipples but his wet tongue laving at it felt pleasant enough that you didn't stop him.

As he lost himself in your tit's, you felt his erection pressing into your hip, twitching in the confines of his trousers. You drag your fingers through his hair, gripping it and pulling him off. He resisted, a low growl escaping him.

"Your pants, take it off," you say, your voice breathy, pushing him off you as you unbutton and push yours off as well, only your panty still on.

In that moment, you regret not having worn your fancier undergarments but the feeling quickly leaves as Harry crawled back to you, with every inch of skin bared for you, settling between your legs. Your eyes travel down the length of his body, your cheeks heating up as it catches the trail of hair leading to his rather sizable cock. At least in comparison to the ones you've had before.

You but your lip in anticipation. Harry runs his hands up your calf, stopping at the bend of your knees to pull you a bit closer. You gasp in pleasant surprise, glad to see his inhibitions about this leaving him as confidence filled him. You sigh as he presses a kiss to the side of your knee, his eyes never one leaving yours.

You reach above you, searching blindly for a pillow to support you lower back as ravished your thigh with reverent kisses as his other hand ran up and on your other leg leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

As he neared your apex of your thigh, he paused, glancing up at you with hooded eyes, resting his head at your hip. His fingers toyed with the edge of your panty, his touch was light, a whisper in the dimness of his bedroom.

You caressed his cheek, a content sigh leaving you as you see how serene he looked. You bit your lip as a familiar heat ignited between your thighs, the feeling of a bead of wetness dripping out of you. "Harry," you began, voice soft— idyllic— as you moved your hand to cup his jaw. "Do you plan on fucking me tonight or not?" You asked with a raised brow, unbothered if you you sounded a bit too forward or harsh, you just wanted to get fucked.

It had been too long since you had gotten your pussy ate out, almost a year now if you remembered right. And it had been months since you last had sex with anyone, too tired to hook up with some guy off a dating app.

With renewed vigour, Harry hooked his arms under your thighs, burying his face in your core. His tongue darting out, dragging over your clothed heat. You exhaled in relief, glad for the stimulation; if he had denied you this you would have fingered yourself right then just for the sake of being petulant.

You gave him an approving hum, your hand in his hair keeping him there. "I'm not made of glass," you comment. "No need to be so gentle."

He pulled his head away, much to your frustration, a questioning look in his dark brown eyes. "You sure?" He voiced.

"Yes, goddammit," you say. "I don't want gentle."

He nodded once in acceptance, promptly burying his head back between your thighs, pulling your panties to the side wasting no time in licking a long strip up your slit stopping at your clit, sucking at it gently.

You shudder at the feeling, closing your eyes to let everything that wasn't him fade out of existence. You distantly heard the hum of the fridge, the ticking of a clock, the late night wind howling outside. You heard him hum against your pussy as he reached over your thigh, his thumb rubbing your clit slow circles as his tongue dipped between your lips.

He pace quickly grew relentless, unforgiving, as you tugged at his hair as the vibrations from his moans had you squirming. You whimper at the sudden intrusion of his fingers, you hadn't even noticed him removing his other from your thigh.

Your pussy had to stretch to accommodate just two of his fingers, the thought of what his cock would feel like left you feeling dizzy. Your hips rolled to meet the thrusts of his fingers, one hand keeping a firm grip in his hair— if you weren't so desperate to come you would feel bad for the headache you were giving him.

A chorus of moans and whimpers left you as his fingers hit the spongy little spot in your pussy with a steady rhythm, his mouth never once leaving your clit. "Harry," you moan, breathless as you tensed up feeling the familiar coil of your impending orgasm. "Don't stop." You command.

He hummed in acknowledgement, keeping the same pace as you tossed a leg over his shoulder, your calf holding his head in place leaving no chance for him to pull back.

His thrusts became shorter, more insistent. Just as your moans became more whiny, desperate for a release. "Please," you beg. "Please, baby, I'm so close."

The wet squelch of your pussy was deafening as you begged for your orgasm, wanting— needing— it more than anything else in that moment. You could feel the slow drip of sweat down your spine, the mix of his spit and your juice on your skin.

You shut eyes, mindlessly rolling your hips in tone with his thrusts. You were so close you wanted to cry, the coil pulled so taut that it was bound it snap any minute.

A groan escape you as your body shook with a mind melting orgasm. Every muscle in your body feeling too tight and loose at the same time. You whimpered as you felt Harry slowly pull his fingers out, dragging his tongue over your quivering slit as his thumb stroked your clit slowly, working you through the after shocks of your orgasm as you whined, too sensitive for even the barest of touches.

You removed your leg from over his shoulder, tiredly tugging him up by his hair. He stopped intermittently to pepper kisses up your body, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. When he was face to face with you, you cradle his face in both hands as you fought to catch your breath. You look at him, eyes half lidded, taking in his almost pussy drunk expression.

You pulled him down, pressing you lips to his that were still glistening with your slick. You licked at his lips, seeking entrance which he gladly granted, wrapping an arm around you as he turned you over so that you laid on top of him.

You braced yourself with your forearm, your lips never leaving his. You enjoyed the taste of yourself on him too much to pull away. The twitch of his cock against your ass slowly brought you out of your post-orgasm delirium. You let out a soft hum, lifting your hips to let his cock settle between the both of you.

His arms, wrapped around your waist, held you still against him as he pulled his lips away from yours. "You don't have to do that," he said, his voice husky.

You smile down at him, as you dragged your drenched pussy against his length, the movement was too little to really do much for him. A disapproving groan left him as his hands moved to grip your hips, effectively stopping you. "Don't, querida," he drawled without elaboration.

"Why not?" You question, resting both hands over his chest and placing your chin on the back of you hand.

"Because, I would like to not embarrass myself," he sighs, loosening his grip on your hips.

You let out an amused huff as you kiss his cheek. "It's completely normal to come too fast at your age," you tease, kissing and sucking at his neck.

"Very funny," he said flatly, letting his hand trace your spine unconsciously. "But you're not entirely off." He concedes.

Your curiosity was piqued, wanting to know more, swiftly forgetting about getting him to properly fuck you. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh, indicative about the possible sensitivity of his explanation. "You don't have to tell me," you give him an out, not wanting to sour the moment.

"I haven't been with anyone for a long time," his hand stopping it's journey up and down your spine. "Not since my divorce."

Divorce? You were speechless, stunned beyond belief. How had you not known that? He was practically everywhere, on the covers of business magazines and tabloids that recounted every moment from his life, speculating about everything even if it were unfounded.

"You were married?" You asked dumbly.

The look on your face must've been ridiculous if his chuckle was anything to go by. "Yeah, for fifteen years," he divulged. "Married my high school sweetheart when we were twenty. She was eveything to me."

His eye's grew distant, no doubt recalling every moment they spent together. You wondered what could possibly have caused the divorce. Did one of them want kids but the other didn't? Did he work too much? Or did the love just disappear? You didn't know the answers to those question and you were sure as hell not going to ask, but you did know that sombreness did not suit him.

"You want to know why, don't you?" He guessed. Your face heating up in embarrassment, you used to not be so transparent with your thoughts, never letting anything show unless it served a purpose.

"Am I that obvious?" you shake your head, resting your forehead against his chest.

He let out a laugh, his hand coming up to stroke your head, smoothing down your hair in the process. "I'm just good at guessing," he comforted you. "And everyone's curious."

"If you loved her why get divorced?" You wondered.

He took in a fortifying breath before he spoke. "I," he started, his voice faltering for a second. "I came home early from a business trip, wanted to surprise her for out anniversary. She… she was in bed with my cousin."

"Oh,"

"Yeah," he chuckled sardonically. "She said he was the love of her life."

That was a pain you were glad you did not know, but your heart broke nonetheless for him. You never understood why people cheated, if you had fallen in love with someone else just break up. If it was about sex just say that, speak to them about your desires. It was a cruelty that you saw no logical reason for.

Harry turned on his side, taking you with him. His arms never left you, keeping you enveloped in his warmth, his head rested above yours. Your neck was cradle by his arm as you buried your face in his chest. You snuggled closer to him, enjoying the softness of his body. "At least I get to be here with you now," you whisper, your eyes beginning to feel heavy and your breaths grow shallow as the quiet and his warmth lulls you to sleep.

#harry castillo x reader #harry castillo #harry castillo smut #materialists fic #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfiction

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lonely-ey3s · 4 months ago

Text

To Go, Please | the materialists pt 1/2

pairing: Harry Castillo x reader (the materialists)

word count: 2.7k

summary: You have been seeing Harry for a couple of weeks now after meeting him at your friend's wedding. After your last date was cut short due to a work emergency, the two of you want nothing more than each other's company tonight.

a/n: ok so are we all insufferable today between the apple airpod trailer and the materialists? because i am. my god. also, we are calling him Harry for now, as the name card he picks up in the trailer I assumed was his, and the name on it is Harry Castillo?? but either way, i'll change it if need be. also, i've already thought of a new series containing this man-- so much is coming.. ahhh !!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Part One

The sushi place that you were currently sitting at was something of a hidden gem you liked to go to when you needed a break from everything. Being a matchmaker had its joys and perks, being surrounded by people falling in love- and finding their happiness. However, it also had its days when you wanted nothing more than to curl up and vow that love doesn’t exist. Today was one of those days after a client you’d lined up with someone turned out to be nothing but a fraud, leaving the bride at the alter– one of your biggest nightmares.

However, Ming’s Sushi was one of the small slivers of joy you could get access to on a day like today. That and well as of late, another sliver of joy and peace was Harry.

Harry as well had a busy day, not bad, just busy. It was filled with meetings, contract signings, budget reviews, and at the end having to be submitted to a board meeting to discuss the quarterly numbers.

He called you when he was leaving the office, wanting to see you after a long day as well as after hearing about your day, wanting to offer some comfort. He asked where you wanted to go for dinner, and when you said Ming’s, he asked you to be ready within the hour.

Harry was a man like no other. Yes, he was filthy rich, which set him aside– but he was also one of the most generous individuals you’d ever met, not only as a person but as a partner as well.

He was consistently making you feel seen, heard, and appreciated in every aspect. This was shown by the way you’d offer to help carry something inside last you were together. He thanked you with those big brown eyes and warm smile but insisted on doing it for you– his reasoning was always he wanted to take care of you.

It was also shown when he would appreciate how beautiful you looked. He’d find small things that you didn’t think you’d notice like the color of your nails, the earrings or eye shadow you wore– small details to you, but he made them feel so much more valuable– made you feel more valuable.

He worshipped you.

When he introduced himself at your best friend’s wedding, and from the start, he had a way of somehow making you feel like the most desired person in any room.

After a night of drinks, getting to know each other more, a few slow dances and a very polite and respectful goodnight kiss from him, he called you the next day to ask you to dinner.

Since– the last 2 weeks have been nothing short of a complete dream. You’d gone out with him a few times to dinner and once out for a lunch date, but every time he took you home, he kissed you goodbye, kissed the top of your hand and would tell you he’d call you tomorrow— which he always did.

After the 3rd dinner date you were going to invite him in, but the moment disappeared when an emergency work call of his interrupted the doorstop make out session on your front step— you two were enthusiastic attendees to.

He reluctantly had to wish you goodnight and promised he’d make it up to you.

Since then the sexual tension between the two of you has been at an all time high.

When he picked you up today, it was the first time you'd seen each other since. He wasted no time after helping you into the back of his car before his lips were on yours, whispering how much he missed you, how he’d hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

To both of your disappointment, the car ride from your place to the restaurant was less than a few minutes, again cutting your make out reunion short.

While eating you made small talk about what you’d done since you last saw each other a few days ago.

You’d momentarily dazed off for a moment as there was a moment where he ordered a dessert from the waiter and your mind wandered. You kept your gaze on the soy sauce bottle in the middle of the table, your mind being pulled back to the events of earlier today.

He turned to look at you after ordering, noticing where you were. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb shyly and cleared his throat softly, “You look beautiful if I haven’t told you already. Those earrings bring out your eyes…” he said from across the table, taking you away from your thoughts— his brown eyes sparkling from the warm lighting the dining area brought in.

You immediately snap out of it, looking at him across the table, softly smiling, “Oh, um, thank you, you’re very sweet.” you blush, reaching up to touch one of the earrings, suddenly feeling shy. You purse your lips together and lean forward to give him more of your attention.

He slowly reached his hand over the table for you to take, “So tell me, what’s the story with Ming’s? I wanna know the history…” he smiled warmly, speaking softly.

You looked down at his hand and took it. His hand acts as an anchor for you and the anxieties of today. He immediately started softly running his thumb over your knuckles in an attempt to soothe you, to keep you with him. He leaned himself in closer to give you his fullest attention.

You kept your gaze on your hand in his, “My grandmother's apartment was about 2 blocks from here growing up. She was friends with the owner. They both had husband’s that worked at the docks back in the day.” you smiled remembering the memories held within these four walls, then you looked up at him, “This place brings a sense of stillness to my chaos. Brings me back to her in a way.”

He nodded, then brought your hand to his lips and gently kissed it, keeping his big brown eyes of maple syrup on you, “I have a place like that, I’ll take you there next time…” he tilted his head as he gazed at you.

You couldn’t help but smile a little brighter, “What’s your ‘Ming’s’ then? Give me a sneak peak…”

He let out a small light chuckle and set your hands down, keeping yours in his, going back to running his thumb along your knuckles, “Esmeralda’s…” he bit the inside of his cheek, “My abuelito’s good friend owns it, has since the 60’s.” he looked down at your hands, “When my tia used to watch me and my siblings, she’d take us there with my grandparents, it was our little thing.” he chuckled reminiscing, “All of the New York fine dining I’ve had over the years… nothing can compete with her tamales…” he tsked and looked up at you as you let out a small chuckle.

“Tamales from Esmeralda’s… Egg Rolls from Ming’s…” you softly hummed, “Anywhere else that brings you that level of comfort?” you asked, looking down at your hand in his.

“Anywhere in the world when I’m with you…” he confessed, not missing a beat.

You looked up and blushed but let out a small snorted chuckle, “That was horribly cheesy… even for you.” you teased.

His smile lit up the whole room, and he slowly shook his head, “No no, you’re right, that was horribly cheesy— but completely and utterly true.” he stopped and bit his bottom lip for a moment, “Why don’t we get the dessert to go? We can go back to my place— rent a movie or something…” he raised his eyebrows, hopeful, his thumb continuing to rub softly still against your knuckles.

You were a sucker for those damned brown eyes, the ones that looked like a puppy dog whenever he’d look at you in any shape or fashion like this.

You tsked, smiling, and looked at the waiter passing by and raised your hand, “Excuse me? Could we get the dessert we ordered, to go please?”

He nodded and smiled, telling you he’d have it ready for you in just a moment.

You looked back at Harry, his eyes hadn’t left you. He was puckering his lips a little like he was thinking, he had a small smirk on his upper lip.

You chuckled knowing what he might be thinking and bit your bottom lip, attempting to play hard to get, “Just a heads up, I can only come over for a little while, I’ve got an early morning meeting.” you tucked your hair behind your ear and stood as the waiter brought the dessert in a to-go bag.

He stood and came around to help you put on your jacket, leaning in and kissing your temple and then cheek. “Of course…” he said, putting his hand on the small of your back as he came to stand beside you and offer his arm. You took it and held onto it while you two walked out.

“Just a little while…” he said as opened the door for you with a wink, and that smirk grew a little bigger.

He had his driver pick the two of you up within moments of you leaving the restaurant.

As soon as the car door shut and the privacy screen was up after he told the driver to go to his house, you turned to him and had your bottom lip between your teeth, trying not to smile but your eyes said otherwise.

He chuckled lowly and cupped your cheek before leaning in slowly and nudging your nose with his, “Just for a little while, don’t worry— I’ll make it worth your while…” he whispered before his lips fell onto yours, kissing you deeply and passionately.

The air damn near was struck out of you by how he kissed you. You hummed as his lips glided against yours, smiling ever so slightly at the understanding of what was about to happen.

His hand slid slowly down your body onto your waist and pulled you closer. He was greedy in the fact that he always wanted closer than you already were, especially in situations like these when each other's lips and tongues were cascading over each other.

Your hands were everywhere, slowly going up and down his chest to pull him closer with this torso, pulling the collar of his sweater towards you, at one point your hand fell to his belt and gave a gentle tug— being bold for once.

He groaned, panting softly as he pulled his lips away from yours momentarily, "Stay... stay the night..." he pulled you in by your chin, kissing you a few more times before pulling away again, foreheads against each other, out of breath, "I'll buy you clothes, have them delivered tonight..." he cupped your cheek and before his lips fell onto yours he asked once more, "Stay..." he pleaded.

You two hadn't slept together yet and part of it was you were trying to avoid it deep down. To avoid getting too involved so quickly, knowing he could do so much better than you.

A part of you was flattered and happy he had given you this much time, but then the other part screamed it was only temporary, you were only meant to be temporary. You knew it wouldn't be forever. Someone like him couldn't make someone like you his forever, right?

However, in the time you had known him, he had been very clear about his intentions and feelings towards you. He wanted it all with you. He was sure of it. He was stubborn about it. He never faltered, never doubted— in fact, he solidified it all by words of devotion and acts of sincerity.

He was something of a rarity. He was a fantasy. The unicorn. The diamond in the rough. He was the perfect fit for most of your clients, however, he wanted you and only you.

Whether you wanted to believe it or not, he checked off every single box that you buried deep down and even provided more. You hated to admit it to yourself but he was everything you had ever dreamed of for a partner. He brought light to your life, warmth to your days.

He was what you needed.

He was what you wanted.

You nodded slightly, not realizing you didn’t verbally agree to stay and continued to kiss him.

After a moment the car came to a stop and the locks all shot up, signaling you had arrived where you needed to be.

He pulled back slowly, hand on your cheek every so softly, "Will you? Stay?" he looked at you with those big brown eyes and you couldn't help but smile and blush.

"I'll stay..." you nudged your nose with his, softly.

He softly stroked your cheek with his thumb then lightly pecked your lips before reluctantly moving away to open the car door and offer his hand to help you out of the car.

You thanked the driver and scooted out, reaching out and taking his hand while you got out of the vehicle, turning your head ever so slightly to smile at him.

He wrapped your hand around his bicep and closed the door, walking up with you to the front of his building.

His doorman opened the door and welcomed you inside, "Mr. Castillo..." then nodded to you and smiled, "Miss..." greeting you as well.

He smiled warmly and gently touched the man's arm in the most genuine and friendliest way, like the two had known each other for years, "Good evening, Henry, how’s Ruth doing?"

“Feeling much better, she came home from the hospital today, my daughter is taking care of her. Thank you for asking sir…” he smiled.

Harry smiled and nodded, “You’ll let me know if you guys need anything, yes?”

Henry nodded and smiled, “Of course sir. Have a lovely night.”

Once inside, an elevator opened up and the both of you stepped inside, he pushed the top floor.

The tension was palpable, you could shatter it with one small breath. You watched as each floor passed by, trying to calm yourself down, taking small but deep breaths. Mentally telling yourself level out-- but as soon as the top floor 'ding' hit and those doors opened to his penthouse, you were both on each other.

His hands had a firm but gentle hold on your waist as he backed you up against the wall of his living room, lips crashing over yours in a heated but passionate fit of kisses.

Your hands were on his cheeks then in his hair. They eventually laid on his chest as you pressed yourself against him.

He moved his head down and kissed your jaw and then neck, sucking a soft mark into your skin.

You moaned his name, gasping softly as his hands moved up your body to pull you off the wall by wrapping his arms around your waist and up your back, continuing to kiss and softly mark your skin.

He went to move down the hall a few steps, moving off your neck and leaning back in for your lips.

You momentarily opened your eyes to look at him and smiled at you before his lips fell onto yours. Your eyes registered your surroundings and you pulled back to pull your gaze to the nearby surroundings. You chuckled, "Holy... sh-..." your jaw slacked a little, "This is where you live?" you looked around.

He let you do this for a few moments, your eyes looking around you, smiling, looking somewhat baffled before pulling you back to him, making you giggle as he pulled you close, putting one of his arms around your waist.

He whispered hoarsely, "I'll give you a tour later... but I think we've got more pressing matters to get to, yes?" he teased his lips against yours, hand cupping to your cheek.

You nodded and breathlessly whispered back, "Yes..." your eyes fluttered back shut, and leaned to kiss him.

He grinned and leaned in as well, "Good... now where were we?" he then reconnected his lips with yours in a slow deep kiss.

Next Chapter

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