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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year ago

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Talent [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@lavendair) Center (@hotchs-big-hands) Right (@muresetivoire)

Prompt: An inebriated Aaron finds out that the readers has a hidden talent and they offer to show him it later. When they get back to his apartment, more sober, Aaron apologizes, feeling awkward for getting them into this situation. They (the reader) honestly asks Hotch if he would let them do it anyway?

Pairing: Hotch x gender neutral reader. The reader uses they/them/their pronouns

Catagory: Hurt/comfort/smut

Word Count: 6.8K

A/N: Content warnings below the cut. This is a NSFW story. Minors DNI. 18+ only readers for this one. Please respect this boundary. A few things here so please bare with me. This was inspired by a little conversation between @softhairedhotch and @hotchs-big-hands That conversation can be found here (link)

I loved the idea and I got this wrote this. As usual, my writing got a bit more somber than I expected. Maybe that’s just my style idk? One last thing before you can actually read this thing, I insinuate that Hailey cheated on Hotch later in their marriage. I think this is an assumption the show makes, but never explicitly states. I don’t mean to slander Hailey in any way. I think she’s lovely and loved Aaron to the best of her ability. I did this mostly to make Hotch have self-doubt. I stan Hailey in my house. Lastly, this is only my third time posting smut, so forgive me it it’s not perfect. If you enjoy this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! I hope y’all have a good evening - Levi.

Content Warnings: Sex (slight hand job and blowjob [Hotch receiving]), slight size kink, sex and body doubt (Hotch), Foyet and the stabbing incident mentioned (mentioned that the attack was possibly psycho-sexual), blood, reference to a gag reflex, drinking (the team gets pretty intoxicated), sex life mentioned (reader and Hotch), Aaron is touch starved, cheating mentioned (Hailey). If I missed any, please let me know.

List will all stories

y/n = your name

y/c/h = your color hair

y/f/a = your favorite actor/actress

h/l = hair length

h/c = hair color - aka brown hair, black hair, blue hair ect.

d/h = dominant hand

Hotch nearly choked on his sip of beer. He tried to hide his coughs by putting his arm over his mouth. He had certainly not expected to hear Penelope, who was seated on Rossi’s rug with many other members of the team to say, “But you know I might have thrown up because the milk was expired, but y/n wouldn’t because they don’t have a gag reflex.” Aaron watched as y/n’s face turned crimson. y/n moved over to Garcia and jokingly shook their friend saying, “Pen, why would you talk about my sex life like that? You see, this is why you can never, ever meet my parents even though you keep asking. We’ll have, like, two drinks and then you’ll start talking about what position I like best.”

Upon hearing this, Aaron couldn’t take it anymore. He moved from the living room to the kitchen. He was trying very hard not to think about y/n in an array of sexual positions and acts, but he was failing. He was also trying to remember why the team had moved from the couches to the floor. A comment of Spencer's about the rug being comfortable and warm next to the fireplace that was roaring in the center of Dave’s living room might have been the reason. It was all a blur really. They were all drunk at this point. The team didn’t normally do this when they were together, but it was Friendsgiving and the last few cases had been relatively easy by their standards.

The team had a few days off, and shockingly they were all going to be in town, so Rossi had invited them all over to celebrate Thanksgiving as a unit. Everyone had brought something and it was nice to just relax and be together. His intoxicated brain circled back to the rug and to the topic of sex and he thought, ‘Oh god, no, no, no,’ but against his conscious brain he began to picture himself having sex with y/n on that soft shagged carpet. In his mind their back was arched, and they were panting as he thrust deeply into them. Aaron was startlingly pulled from his fantasy when his name was called. He looked up and flushed further. It was y/n leaning against the marble countertop. To his credit, y/n also had a flush to their face, and they asked, “What’s got you so flustered over there Mr. Hotchner.” Aaron tried to come up with an excuse, and he opened his mouth, but his brain couldn’t supply a reply, so he just closed his mouth. More mortified now than he may have ever been in front of a member of his team.

y/n walked closer to him, and they placed their hands on the edge of the counter. y/n leaned back on their strong arms which could be perceived in a sensual way. Hotch swallowed, and y/n looked him over. They noticed the bulge in Aaron’s well-fitted black trousers, but they averted their eyes quickly for his dignity, so that they didn’t start getting wild ideas. y/n was grateful that Hotch was a little too disheveled to have noticed them checking out his groin. Finally, after an awkward silence, y/n asked openly, drunkenly, “It’s not what Garcia said earlier that has you so riled up, is it?” There was that small undercurrent of desire in y/n’s voice that had Aaron feel a flash of heat rush through him again.

Hotch wouldn’t have to answer. His blown-out pupils, arousal, and micro-expressions were enough to tell y/n what they wanted to know. Even drunk this was obvious to them. Aaron gave a small nod, yes, anyway. y/n let out a small laugh before saying, “We see such horrible things in the field and my sexual abilities are what's causing your brain to reboot?” They were teasing him, and Hotch couldn’t help but say, “Well this isn’t the field.” He moved toward y/n and placed his hand on their hip. y/n’s exhalation of breath and flush of their skin told Aaron that the touch wasn’t unwanted. He’d never initiated anything romantic or sexual with y/n.

The small part of his brain that was still functioning normally was screaming at him to stop. That he might regret this when he was sober. But his id was stronger than that voice. As his other hand moved to y/n’s other hip, he looked down at them. y/n’s eyes were wide and shining with a type of desire he’d never seen on their face before. _y/n_ breathily said his name; “Aaron.” Without much more to think about he asked, “Is what Garcia said true? Or is she just making stuff up again?” y/n flushed and acted askance and replied, “Why Hotch, that’s not a nice thing to ask someone.” Aaron bit back a sigh and applied gentle pressure to _y/n_’s hips. Their body moved with his touch and y/n truthful answered, “It is true though. It’s my hidden talent that’s rarely used.” y/n looked up at Hotch and the desire, the hunger they saw on his face left them reeling for a second. They knew this was crossing a hundred lines, but in that moment the very feeling of his hands on their body was such a rush that they didn’t fight it. The idea of Aaron’s large hands elsewhere had them boldly state, “I can show you later on if you let me come to your apartment?”

That image actually made Hotch groan. It was quiet, and Aaron was eternally grateful that no one on the team had come in yet to refresh their drinks. Maybe they had all assumed what y/n and he were discussing and were intentionally not entering the room. Aaron asked, surprised at y/n’s offer and their willingness to accept, “You’d do that for me?” There was that soft throaty laugh again, and y/n said, “Of course I would Hotch.” Aaron swallowed again and replied, “Okay. But only if you really want to. You don’t have to do anything for me like that if you don’t want to.” y/n moved their hand, patted his shoulder, and said, “I promise that you will get enthusiastic consent from me before it happens. And if either of us changes our minds, we can pretend this little conversation never happened.

After this, they headed back to the living room. If the team had been intentionally avoiding them, they hid it well. The members of the BAU seemed to be engrossed watching Spencer speed-read Rossi’s well-worn copy of Critique of Pure Reason by Kant. As y/n sat back down next to Emily, they whispered, “Why are we watching Spence read?” Emily listed slightly toward y/n and said, “We’re going to have Rossi test him on the concepts of the book. Or see if the genius can remember some especially long passages. We want to see how much he can remember when he’s this drunk.” y/n chuckled at the concept. They were now also invested.

An hour and a half later the team slowly started saying their goodbyes. At this stage, y/n and Aaron were more in control of their faculties. They were the third party to leave, and they both shared an Uber back to Hotch’s apartment. Because neither of them knew how much they would be drinking that night, they had shared a ride over to Rossi’s together. y/n only lived two blocks over and Aaron promised to walk them the rest of the way home. On the short ride back, y/n and Hotch both gained more clarity, and Aaron was starting to feel uncomfortable with what he had said two hours earlier. His desire for y/n was still there, but he knew he shouldn’t have said what he did. Suggested what he had. As it turned out, Aaron’s desire for his younger agent rarely, if ever waned.

When y/n had joined the team a few years ago, he had quickly found himself drawn to them physically. Hotch didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he couldn’t deny that he had experienced lust at first sight with y/n. It was like y/n had been made for him. When Hotch first thought this fully -- not just with the small voice he used to stifle unwanted thoughts with -- he realized how much of a narcissist it made him sound like. It was with that thought that he buried all feelings about y/n. He couldn’t risk going there, even in his mind. But with there still being a slight buzz in his head, his mind wandered to how the slope of y/n’s shoulders was gentle yet angular. How their y/h/c looked during golden hour, the way their eyes had held his gaze earlier that evening when they had offered to show him their talent. Aaron shifted slightly in his seat to try and readjust himself. His body was having ideas of its own again, and he didn’t appreciate it. Aaron looked over to y/n who seemed to be in their own type of reverie. It hadn’t helped that he found them attractive and that they were such a good person.

On the team, y/n was smart. They could come up with ideas as fast as Spencer and the duo could be often found at precincts and their hotel rooms bouncing ideas off each other at a mile-a-minute pace. They were also fiercely protective of the team. If someone questioned the team, or specifically a member of the team, they were there to professionally correct and support either the team or the member being targeted. He had seen them do it for JJ, Garcia, and Morgan which was funny because Derek could generally take care of himself. But that hadn’t mattered to y/n. They had stood up for and comforted Derek in their way.

y/n had comforted him too. It was more polite than with the other agents, but they had done it all the same. Aaron knew that y/n felt similarly about him as he felt about them. It was clear in their actions and demeanor around him. y/n hid it well most of the time, but every now and then, he would get a hint that those desires resided in y/n too, and he had to fight his feelings all over again. It was all a mess, and now they would have to talk about tonight. The conversations had been mutually intimate and yes, having his subordinate offer to perform fellatio on him broke about a dozen rules and regulations, but he had continued the conversation. He could have walked away, lied, or done ten thousand other things than being honest and accepting the offer. Aaron stifled another groan of annoyance and embarrassment. He knew he was fucked, or perhaps not fucked, in loads of ways. At least their conversation had been consensual. There was a small mercy in that.

As the car moved down the quiet streets, y/n could feel Aaron near them. They chose to look out the car window instead of at their companion. y/n needed a few minutes to settle their thoughts. To say y/n was mortified about their behavior during the evening was an understatement. Their attraction to Hotch was undeniable, and they saw the tells on their boss as well. That didn’t make what they had done that evening right. y/n had been shocked by how quickly and hard they had been attracted to Aaron.

y/n didn’t know they could feel so intensely until they met him. Of course, there had been teen idols. And they had rewatched a few movies with y/f/a a few hundred times. But that was an actor, and Hotch was a real man in flesh and blood. To mention the fact that he was their boss didn’t help the matter either. In all honesty, everyone on the team had said something more personal than they would have sober during the night, but y/n was certain what they and Aaron had revealed was the most intimate. The street lights continued to pass by in a blur as they approached Aaron’s apartment. y/n knew that things would come to a head when they got there, and y/n couldn’t help but think for one second, ‘Is my desire for him so wrong? God we both feel it. Why couldn’t life be easier? Why couldn’t they just give in for once?” These were the thoughts that swilled within them, between them, as they sped toward their destination.

When they arrived outside of Aaron’s, the two stood outside of his stoop in an awkward silence. Aaron broke it first by saying, “I never should have said anything in the kitchen. I never should have put my hands on you. I sincerely apologize for my actions, y/n. I never meant to make this uncomfortable between us. I value your contributions to the team and I’d never view you as a sexual object. I was drunk and it was a mistake.”

Hotch realized that he was rambling, and he looked to y/n for their response. They looked back and him and replied, “I started it. Well, Garcia started it. It was out of line for me to approach you like that. I respect you, Hotch. I apologize.” They both stood in the frosty air, under the light of a lone streetlamp. The wind picked up and both parties seemed unwilling to leave the conversation where it was. y/n shuddered against the cold and used a voice they rarely did with Aaron. y/n asked, “Can we go into your apartment for a minute before you walk me home? I think I need to warm up for a minute before you walk me back.”

The voice they used was one-third needy, one-third empathetic, and one-third pleading. Though Aaron could be reading into the pleading part of it. Perhaps he just wanted that to be the case. y/n had only spoken to him once before like that and it was when he had gotten injured on a case. y/n had asked him to slow down in the same tone and just like back then, he couldn’t refuse them. Hotch pulled out his keys and unlocked his front door. As they moved inside, he turned on the light above his sink and then he took a few large strides to turn on some lamps in the living space. Aaron gestured to the couch and offered y/n a seat, which y/n took.

Aaron moved toward the sink and asked over his shoulder, “Would you like a glass of water?” y/n closed their eyes at the thoughts bombarding them and said, “Yes, please.” Aaron grabbed two glasses from his cabinets and added some ice from the freezer before filling them with water. When he turned back to y/n, they had their d/h pinching the skin between their eyebrows; their face in a half grimace. Aaron moved quickly toward them and asked, “y/n, are you alright? Do you have a headache?” y/n let out a nervous laugh before removing their hand and saying, “Not yet. But it’s sure to come in a few hours. I’m not a college kid at a pre-game party anymore. I can’t do that kind of drinking without the consequences.” Aaron chuckled at _y/n_’s response. Given that he was a good deal older than y/n him, he could only imagine how bad it might be for himself in the morning. He added taking some Advil before bed to his mental notes. He would do that as soon as y/n was safely home. Even though things had been odd between them for the last half of the night, he would still ensure that they got home safe before he returned to his space to re-wrangle the thoughts that had fought their way back to the surface again. He let out a soft sigh, as he watched y/n take a sip of water.

y/n set their glass down and looked up at Aaron. They asked a question that had undercut the whole night for them. They asked because at this moment having to fake disinterest felt like too great a burden to bear, and because they knew they were already in trouble, so why not face the full consequence? y/n said what was really on their mind with, “What if I wanted to show you anyway? Apart from Pen’s comments? Apart from the fact that I was drunk when I said what I did.” There was a silence and Hotch’s eyes blinked at what they said, trying to register the words; what was being offered. He felt the hitch in his breath as he said, “y/n I…”

They cut Hotch off saying, “Aaron. I see how you look at me. And I know that you see how I look at you. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep pretending to not care about you. To not want to give you more.” Hotch blinked a few times rapidly, trying to clear this head of images. Even now that he was in full control of his mind, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering. Aaron closed his eyes and said y/n’s name in desperation. In shame. They looked up at him and said, “Tell me that I’m wrong. Tell me that I’m wrong and I’ll stop immediately.” As hard as Aaron tried to say no, he couldn’t bring himself to.

y/n stood and half maneuvered Aaron to sit on his couch. They knelt and pushed his knees open. Hotch groaned and said, “You can’t possibly want this?” y/n ran their hands over his inner thighs and said, “I’m in full control of my faculties, Aaron. If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t be here. y/n looked over his seated body. He looked so prone like this; exposed. They often wondered about Aaron. How he felt about himself, and his strong body. y/n had noticed that he wore more layers after what had happened with Foyet. The textures and materials of his suits had changed as well. Half of the time y/n was sure he was sweating under all that fabric. _y/n_ gently dropped to their knees and asked Hotch, who was looking at them with trepidation, guilt even, “Aaron, are you alright? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

For the last year or so, after Foyet, Hotch had been physically cutting himself off from close contact of any kind. It brought up too many painful memories of Hailey before she and Jack had to flee to witness protection before she divorced him. When he was younger he had been so passionately in love with her. It was the most he had ever felt in his life, and with his childhood the way it was, there was a great comfort in that. When he and Hailey had met again as adults, those feelings were still there and they persisted throughout his time in law school and his short stint as a prosecutor.

But when he had joined the BAU things had changed. At first, there had been a thrill for both of them. But with time, Hailey seemed to grow tired of his constant comings and goings. His late nights in the office under Gideon. Their sex life had changed and what used to be passionate and loving sex turned into less passionate more need-based sex from either himself or his wife. Then Jack happened, and Gideon’s incident in Boston which left even less time for him to spend with his wife and newborn son. Again sex changed for them because Hailey needed time to heal and Jack took up most of their time when Aaron was home. When they had been intimate at that stage it felt different. It happened rarely and he could feel Hailey withdraw from his touch sometimes.

A few months later, when he started to assume that she might be acting unfaithfully to him he started to understand why his wife was so hesitant to be around him. Aaron didn’t want to believe it was true. He wanted to think that it had something to do with him. Some shortcomings of his character or body. When it came out that she had been seeing someone else, Aaron forgave her. He still loved her deeply and he knew that he had his own issues; being around was the chief one for his wife. Some part of him understood why she had sought comfort in someone else while he was away even though he would never do that to her. A part of Aaron still thought that there was something wrong with him, his body, and his performance in bed. And the last time he and Hailey had really, intentionally tried to be intimate, his own doubts and the thought of her with another man had not allowed him to finish. Aaron didn’t assume that was the death knell of their marriage, but part of him factored it in.

Then Foyet had physically assaulted him, his body. Hotch never told anyone, and the team didn’t say anything, but he had wondered if Foyet was seeking some sort of sick sexual release with the knife as a subsite penis. Aaron had passed out from blood loss before he could know the answer to that question. Aaron was grateful for that to this day. So the idea that y/n, the kind and caring person they were was interested in him sexually was rather unbelievable to him. It had been so long since he had been sexual. He even stopped allowing himself to touch himself if he woke up aroused. He felt like he deserved it. He didn’t know how he would act, or perform if he accepted y/n’s offer. Thinking about it made him nervous. And yet, his desire for y/n persisted.

Hotch swallowed and he suddenly felt like he needed ten glasses of water instead of the one he had just consumed. He looked down at y/n and replied, “I shouldn’t even be sitting here. These thoughts… they.” Aaron felt embarrassed at himself and looked away, not really knowing what to say. It had been so long that he had felt a desire this strong. It had been even longer that someone had been this intimate with him. Even to have his legs spread and y/n looking up at him with such care. They hadn’t even fucking done anything yet. Aaron closed his legs and y/n let him.

They wanted Hotch to know that he had full control of his body. Of what happened, if anything did end up happening. y/n stood and leaned close to him. With tender care, y/n took his chin in their hand and directed his face to look at them. y/n said, “Desire isn’t a sin Hotch. There isn’t some cosmic scale weighing whether you looked at some girl crossing the road five years ago. It’s a natural feeling; it’s not wrong to feel it. If anything you’ve been restraining yourself. So have I.

I care about you too much to just keep dreaming about you at night. It feels like I’m using you. So now you know how I feel. Now would you please let me do this for you?” Aaron had to blink back a few tears at y/n’s statement. It was so honest that he could hardly see past it. It was blinding in its sincerity. To know that y/n felt like him in that way made him feel warm in a different way than his body responding to theirs. As a last half-assed defense, he said quietly, “I’m your boss.” The chuckle y/n let out had his eyes on them in an instant. Laughter hadn’t been the response he had expected. y/n was wearing their ‘color me surprised’ face. And Aaron laughed at the expression too. It was no surprise to both of them. But this wasn’t about power dynamics, it was about tenderness and longing, and when y/n asked, “Would you let me take care of you?” He nodded his head yes and then verbalized that he wanted it too.

With his consent given. y/n pressed into him. Their hands found traction on his biceps, and they moved their mouth over his neck. y/n could feel his steady pulse under their mouth. At the contact, Aaron let out a sigh. His body reacted almost immediately. He shifted slightly, closed his eyes, and moved his head to the side a bit to give y/n better access to his flesh. When Aaron had gotten in the apartment, he had discarded his suit jacket and tie to be more comfortable. His shirt however was still buttoned tightly.

y/n’s hands worked at the top two buttons, but they were struggling as they tried to keep their mouth on Hotch’s skin while doing the buttons at the same time. y/n was both kissing and sucking at the sanative area. Aaron moved his arms to slide between their bodies, as he undid the troublesome buttons. y/n hummed their thanks, and as they moved to treat his clavicles and breast bone, they breathed hot and heavy over his neck. The semi-excited state of his cock grew quickly. y/n moved over the area with reverence. While their mouth worked over his partially exposed torso, their hands also moved. Their right hand was tracing the lines of his muscle on his stomach and the other was slowly trailing up and down his left thigh. When y/n placed their hand over his hardness, shielded by his pants and briefs, he groaned -- loudly. He felt embarrassed, and y/n looked up at him and said, “It’s okay to feel. I want you to enjoy this.” With how large he felt under their hand, y/n was excited to see his manhood.

They moved back to their knees, and this time, as they pushed his thighs open, Aaron let it happen. y/n set one hand on his hip and the other moved under his linen shirt, wrinkling it. y/n started kissing at his knee and slowly moved up his thigh. As they got close to his arousal, which was throbbing hard against his underwear and the zipper of his pants, they moved to the other leg and began the process again. Hotch let out a shaky breath. Whatever hesitations he had been having at the start were as far away as Neptune now. The slow buildup was driving him insane. Finally, y/n made it to his groin and kissed over his erection. From what they could feel, he was large. Long and wide. As y/n made their tactile observations with their mouth, they thought back to the dreams they had had of Aaron.

He was always well endowed in them, but now that they were here, he might even be bigger than they had imagined. y/n thought, ‘Of course he’s big. This is Hotch we’re talking about.’ They refrained from laughing but did let out a small breath. Their thought might be funny to them, but it might come off very differently to Aaron. They didn’t want to think they were laughing at him. They never wanted that.

Once they had kissed up the tip which was being held down by his belt, y/n moved their face away and started to undo the buckle of his belt. The metal was cool under y/n’s fingers. Once the belt was slipped through the front two belt loops and the two at his hips, y/n shifted forward and grabbed the hem of his shirt. They moved the stranded weave fabric up, exposing his stomach. y/n leaned in and kissed over his belly button. Their tongue licked over the well in his form, and Aaron moaned again. y/n then moved to kiss one of the exposed scars on his body. He looked down at y/n like this, and he wondered what it would be like with him in her mouth?

He stopped himself from bucking up at the thought. While y/n had been working over his body, his breathing had picked up. At this new sensation, he whispered their name. y/n made quick work of the buttons and zipper of his pants. They were careful that there were no unintended snags as they tugged the small pull down. y/n looked over his cloaked member. They kissed the shaft and then moved their hand to press against it before slowly stroking it through his gray briefs. y/n used their pointer and little finger to stimulate the sides, while their ring and middle finger applied pressure to the front of his penis. y/n didn’t tease him with their hand too long. This wasn’t the pleasure Olympics. They didn’t know how much stimulation Aaron was used to, and y/n didn’t want to overdo it for him. Before y/n removed the final layer of clothing, they looked up to Aaron again to ensure he was still on board with this last exposure. Hotch looked into their eyes, the question evident to him. In a deep voice, one full of need, he said, “Yes. If you’re willing.” y/n replied in the affirmative, saying, “I want to.”

With consent given, y/n tugged at the elastic band of his briefs. Aaron put his weight on his feet and lifted his hips for them. y/n pulled down the fabric and revealed his member for the first time, as it rested on his body. He was large and as Hotch settled back down on the couch, they looked over him with pleasure. y/n’s hand circled the base, and they started pumping up and down with a steady pace and pressure. They praised him saying, “You’re very impressive Aaron.” Their praise and the feeling of their hands moving over him had him squirming and breathing heavily.

He was starting to sweat now, and he had never imagined it would be like this. Because if he had, he would never be able to let go. But now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t care about the complications. He felt so good with y/n rubbing their hand against his cock, and he muttered, “Fuck, y/n. You’re so good.” They smiled, and he cursed again as y/n used their other hand to stroke and circle the base of his member. y/n didn’t spend a very long time with their digits, after all, they had promised to show Aaron their talent, and having him cum in their hands was not on the agenda.

So y/n removed their d/h from the shaft and Aaron’s eyes grew wide with the sudden loss of contact. He felt like he might explode if didn’t have that stimulation moving over him. He was about to say something, but the breath was forced from his body as y/n took the tip in their mouth. y/n shifted on their knees a bit to be able to best take Hotch in. The carpet under their legs was decently comfortable, but the wood floor underneath was solid.

y/n paid attention to the tip first, suckling it and running their tongue over the slit on the top. Aaron tried to take a steadying breath, but he was falling apart at the sensation of pleasure rushing through him. When y/n was comfortable with the feel of him and had built some confidence at being able to take him in, they pushed their tongue down and hollowed their cheeks. Carefully covering their teeth, y/n moved their mouth further down his length. At this, Hotch tipped his head back and moaned again. y/n wasn’t even halfway down him before some precum leaked from the tip. y/n pulled up and sucked the briny ejaculate off his cock. y/n swallowed it quickly and moved back to working him over. They would think more deeply about the taste of Hotch’s cum later, but for now, they wanted to keep hearing Aaron mutter their name or try to keep his breathing even. They could feel from his reactions and the throbbing of his cock that he wasn’t in control at all, even if he was trying to be. y/n momentarily wondered how long it had been since anyone had done this for him.

Aaron's width not only filled their mouth, but his length, even though they didn’t have a natural gag reflex, was still a bit too much for y/n to fully cover with their mouth. About an inch was left exposed to the cool air. Before y/n moved their free hand to make up the difference, they looked over Hotch. The sight of him, head tipped back, mouth open sent a wave of pleasure through them. y/n noticed Hotch’s hands gripping the side of the couch with white knuckles. As y/n continued to move over him, they used their free hand to grab Hotch’s left hand from the couch cushion and to set it on the crown of their head.

Aaron looked down at y/n as they moved his hand to the back of their head. He hesitated. He was desperate to take what was being offered on top of what was already happening. On top of the bliss and heat, he was feeling in his cock. y/n patted his hand on their head giving him a non-verbal “It’s okay.” Aaron couldn’t help himself and threaded his long fingers in y/n’s h/l h/c. y/n continued to move up and down his shaft, and then covered the base of his cock that couldn’t be inside their mouth. With Aaron fully enveloped, he bucked his hips up and as y/n had said, the extra pressure didn’t cause any gag reaction. In fact, _y/n_ hummed their satisfaction at his action.

He trembled under y/n and thought about what they had said earlier in the night about feelings not being wrong. And moving his hips had felt so, so, blindingly good that he did it again. And then again, and again, and again until he was sure he could feel himself ready to cum. y/n was intently focused on his pleasure. Aaron’s member was lined with a few thick veins running down the side and back. As Hotch started to take control of his own pleasure with gentle pressure to their head, y/n lifted their tongue up and down those ridges on his cock. This new sensation and the slight sucking that y/n was doing sent him over the edge. Aaron’s hand tightened in y/n’s hair, and he came with a shudder. He let out a loud moan and pulled y/n’s head off of his cock. They had only taken a bit of his semen in their mouth. y/n wondered why he hadn’t let them swallow his ejaculation, but didn’t ask now. There were still so many things to know about him. Things they hoped they could learn together with time. y/n stroked his thigh softly as he rode out his orgasm. Seeing him so out of control only wanted to make them care for him more.

When the waves of pleasure subsided, Aaron relaxed back into the couch cushion. He closed his eyes because he was afraid of what he would see in y/n’s eyes if he opened them. He wasn’t fully sure how to cope with what they had given him. A soft touch of his thigh did eventually made him see y/n, and they were looking at him with a care he had rarely seen in his life. He swallowed back some tears, and he patted the couch next to him. As y/n got up from their knees, and sat next to him. He pulled his underwear over his nakedness. His cum was staining his shirt and pants and he would need to launder and shower after he talked to y/n.

y/n sat and gave him space, but he needed to feel them close to him. To have this living, breathing care in his arms. He turned to face y/n and asked, “May I hold you?” y/n nodded, and Aaron moved his arm to rest behind their lower back. He pulled y/n close to his side, and they turned toward him softly. y/n placed their head on his broad, muscular shoulder. There were a few moments of comfortable silence before y/n said, “You don’t ever owe me anything, Aaron. You know that right?” The question lingered until Aaron’s hand moved to the back of y/n’s head, gently running his digits through the smooth hair.

A different kind of touch than what he had been doing a few minutes before. Now that he had been sated, he feared that a gulf would form between them. But y/n’s comment gave him something to think about, to still his nervous mind. Finally, he replied, “But I do owe you things y/n. I owe you safety on the field, professionalism in the office, and privacy. I feel like I owe you more than those things as well.” y/n’s hand was back on his thigh again and they replied, “Okay, valid point. At the job, you do play a different role, but we’re both adults Hotch. We’re not teenagers trying to shag in the high school gymnasium. Given how long we’ve waited for something to happen between us, I think we can keep it together at work.” At this statement, Aaron chuckled lightly. y/n was certainly true about that. After a beat, y/n continued saying, “But is it so impossible to believe that we couldn’t do both? That we couldn’t care for each other outside of work?” Aaron pondered the question. He thought about what they had said. About the profound pleasure, y/n had brought him; and not just physical pleasure, but an emotional cover as well made him consider his words wisely, carefully. When y/n was with him like this, it felt like his many flaws disappeared. That he had a clean slate. Hotch closed his eyes and rested his head on top of y/n’s, as he said, “I willing to try.”

When it was appropriate, Aaron quickly cleaned himself, changed, and then walked y/n back to their apartment. Before y/n went inside, Hotch placed a hand on their lower back and leaned down to kiss y/n’s forehead. They had both agreed to take a day and see if any other feelings, questions, or concerns that might arise once they were apart. They scheduled a meeting of sorts for Sunday to talk more deeply and thoroughly about what this relationship might look like. When they parted for real, Aaron walked down the quiet street. It was late in the night, but he didn’t feel tired. As he walked, he considered how physically closed off he had been the last few months. Close off to the team and himself. But y/n had helped him see the sky again and no matter what happened after this, he would always be grateful for that.

On Monday, y/n went to see Garcia. To honestly say, “What the hell Pen?” However, the technical analyst had been watching y/n and Aaron pine for each other for two years and even though her comment at Rossi’s had been a Freudian slip, she still noticed how the pair spent a long time in the kitchen. How they had both come back flushed, eyes wide. Once y/n stepped into Garcia’s space, Penelope could see that something happened and did a little happy dance in her chair before getting up and dragging y/n into her office, closing the door. Once they were alone, Pen said, “y/n tell me everything.” y/n flushed, a bit exasperated, and said, “The answer is, I may never tell you anything about my sex life again. But thanks, Penelope.” y/n winked at their friend and left the office with a smile on their face. Garcia gave a little excited scream of happiness as she moved back to her desk. Sometimes when things didn’t go to plan, it still worked out.

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microscotch · 10 months ago

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Girllll I've been spending my holidays with rereading Nobody's Home and I just wanted to ask, are Circe and Loki divorced? If so, what made you divorce them?

YUP the story is set post psp, and part of my backstory for the beakers is them getting a divorce!

so when looking at their relationship i tried to take everything into consideration that the pc and psp game gave to us. let me put a below the cut though so not everyone has to be witness to me inflicting the makings of chronic joint pain on myself:

we know poor nervous died at one point. the implications from both games about how he came to be their test subject are quite conflicting, but i went with emily and annies claims that he signed up to be their test subject for money, as it, from my perspective, tied better into explaining their current situation and provided more detail in general as opposed to maxis' sloppy memory distribution.

with their first subject, the beakers could to some extent rest on the risk a job like this entails and neatly detail it in the contract they had nervous sign to avoid charges as much as possible. in addition to that, they were able to throw a lot of money at preventing the sensationalization of it, but it did come at a cost: 1) selling the castle to make up for it and 2) circe losing her license and the hospital ceasing any affiliation with her. cut to the sad little paradise place house and circe only being hinted at doing 'business' by that time:

left with a less extensive financial repertoire, loki is eager to do whatever it may take to get his precious castle back, and, once he invented something he believed to be a future gold mine, secured some secret patents that will net him millions (quote: circe). with loki, by her assumption, not being willing to share the profits with her, it makes sense for circe to be uneasy and distrustful about this, as the two are already on less safe ground, both in regards to finances and the law, and now he wants to keep all the money he'll be making to himself? her secret about harbouring some underlying resentment for loki's independence and distinction is also pretty convenient here and can be used as an implication that she wasn't as lucky as her husband, particularly regarding him not facing repercussions the same way she did. circe, on the other hand, is having an affair. while that was a product of mind control and not her fault, neither she or loki know that. all that is being revealed to loki is his wife cheating on him. this is where they're left at. depending on the string of dialogue, loki will say that if anyone moves out, it will be his wife, cause it's his house.

after thinking about it, circe would most likely move out immediately. after all of that happening inc. circes slap interaction loop, i can't see either of them comfortable spending even one more night at the same house together. while it is revealed at the end of the game that newlow was mindcontrolling the citizens, we don't know when and how fast these news will actively be passed along, what investigations are being led, etc. - point being, the trifecta of the beakers still being in each others presence, these news reaching them by that time and drawing the correct conclusions from it is the best case scenario but, after the considerations given above, not the most likely one. especially because there's an urgent issue that would capture their attention almost immediately after the game storyline is over: gimi branko. unlike nervous where they could rely on a contract, they literally kidnapped this guy and kept him locked up against his will, and someone had to save him aka he can press charges and tell everything in great detail, with a witness to top it off. they don't have the financial resources to buy themselves out of that anymore (loki's patents aside, but as of now he hasn't seen a cent of that and sure wouldn't consider his wife given recent events), the charges are more dire AND they're at odds with each other.

so i totally had them rat each other out, both hoping to get the lower charge by placing as much blame on the other person as possible. even if gimi being gone were the very first thing they noticed after being at each other's throat, judging by the way they already talked about each other before both their suspicions turned out to be true, there's way too much mutual distrust that built up over a long period of time for them to suck it up for the occasion and not prioritizing their own asses. and thats the end of the evil couple.

#wtfaq #strangetown #loki beaker #circe beaker #nervous subject #gimi branko #nh

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whotf-atemywaffles · 1 year ago

Text

Betty

idk what my obbsession is w bucky rn (its august) (I write my fics in advance bc i forget otherwise lol im planned up till october)

(High School!Au)

Pairings: (Highschool!Au)Bucky Barnes xreader (Highschool!Au)Steve Rodgersxreader

Summary: A Teenage girl reflects on her past mistakes and decides to apologize to her ex-boyfriend, Bucky, for hurting him. She faces her fears and goes to his party where she apologizes and they eventually start dating again, taking things slowly. They spend the summer together and fall in love all over again, but know they have to face the reality of going back to school.

“Bucky, I won't make assumptions about why you changed your homeroom during the school year, but i think it's because of me” you sighed after speaking to yourself in the mirror, it was summer now..

How could you fix what happened? What do you say? what would he say when he sees your face again? would he tell you to go and fuck yourself? you stayed silent, looking in the mirror, trying to find the words for an apology, “Bucky, one time i was riding on my skateboard when i passed your house, and it felt like i couldn't breathe'' No that's stuipid. he had heard the rumors from Tony, usually you can't believe a word he says, but this time, this time it was true. as you stared at yourself you couldn't help but try not to look yourself in the eye, you had hurt Bucky, deeply. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves. You knew you had to face Bucky and apologize for what happened, even if it meant getting rejected. You couldn't keep avoiding him forever. It was time to face the music and hope for the best. What was the worst possible outcome? What if you told him it was just a summer Fling? You're only 17, none of you know anything, except you, you knew that you missed him.

Where did it all go wrong? Was it when his favorite song was playing from the farside of the gym, during the school semi-formal? and you were nowhere to be found because you saw him start to dance with a blonde girl from your calculus class? Or was it when you saw him at the party, and he was making out with someone else? It didn't matter now. What mattered was that you needed to talk to him and apologize. You couldn't let your pride get in the way of that. You took a deep breath, grabbed your skateboard, and headed to his house. It was time to face the music and hope for the best.

it was Late, and a friday night…when you got there bucky had been throwing a party, would he let you in? Or tell you to go fuck yourself? would he even want to see your face again? as you walked closer to his house steve drove passed you, he said “Hey, Y/N Need a ride?” smiling “Sure” you had replied not thinking about it even though Steve had been part of the reason you were in this position. Steve unlocked his car door and told you to get in. we drove, into the summer sunset, days turned to nights as you slept next to him, but dreaming of bucky. Eventually after you got back from your little getaway with Steve you started to walk to Bucky's house again once again. It was a Friday night…there was a party.

As you approached the party at Bucky's house, you could hear the music pumping and laughter coming from inside. Your heart raced as you knocked on the door, not knowing what to expect. When Bucky opened the door and saw you standing there, would he tell you to go fuck yourself? Lead you to the garden? Kiss you in front of all his stupid friends?

You took a deep breath and tried to steady your nerves as Bucky opened the door. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you, but before he could say anything, you spoke up. "Bucky, I know I hurt you and I'm so sorry. Can we talk?" He hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded and led you to a quieter area of the party.

Yeah, I showed up at your party. Would he have you? Will he love you? Will he kiss you on the porch In front of all his stupid friends? If he kissed you, will it be just like you dreamed of? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only 17, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

You explained everything to him, how you were a stupid teenager who didn't know what she had until it was gone. Bucky listened to you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finished, there was a long silence between you two, standing in your cardigan. You feared the worst, that he wasn't going to forgive you. But then he spoke up, "Y/N, I forgive you. I've missed you so much." You felt tears prick your eyes as you hugged him tightly, relieved that he was willing to give you a second chance.

a week later you decided to start dating again yet taking things slowly You spent every moment that you could with Bucky, trying to make up for lost time. You went on long walks, visited museums, and saw movies together. It felt like you were falling in love all over again. As the summer drew to a close, you both knew that you had to face the reality of going back to school.

A/N Buckys POV coming next week!!!

#bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #steve rogers #x reader #marvel #avengers #mcu

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seoness · 1 year ago

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Seoness, you have such lovely characterization and insight on the hound! 😋

I read your childhood sweetheart hc and I wanted to ask how the dynamic would change if she were betrothed to Sandor (for whatever reason) instead of already being married?

Thank you!

So, first, let us find the reason for a betrothal to the Hound. Why would anyone be promised to Sandor Clegane? We'll need to make a couple of assumptions about his parents based from what we know.

The Non-Father

Sandor's father inherited the keep from his father, who became knighted after saving his lord from a lioness. He set on training his sons into becoming fierce warriors and he was successful. Training someone is no small task and this man trained, not one, but two of the most fearsome swordsmen in all of Westeros. It wouldn't surprise me if the first landed knight of Clegane Keep trained his heir the very same Sandor and Gregor would one day be trained. He would have seen the distinct reward of serving a lordling well from his own father (Sandor and Gregor's grandfather). We know very little of Sandor's mother. The only thing we can gleam is, if the sons inherited their parents intellect, one of them was thickheaded as an auroch and the other considerably more sharp.

A tad victim blaming & who's his mother?

I tend to believe that was this mysterious mother. Mainly because we know Sandor's father lied to protect his eldest son and that he died on a hunting trip with the very son he lied protect.

Who could have seen that outcome... a boy that tried to kill his younger brother would be rather partial for a patricide... -_-

So I always assume that Sandor's brainpower came from his mother rather than his father. If a possibility had presented itself to separate the two, then I don't see why she'd not leap at the opportunity. Now let us put on the thinking hat of Sandor's mother. First problem, any contender would first be considered for Gregor not Sandor. Gregor is the firstborn son and the heir to Clegane Keep. Sandor has no claim, is of low birth, is scarred, and is currently high on hatred for his older brother and from a rather poor house. Not exactly a catch in the Westerosi courting game.

Contendor

His match, however, needs to be somewhat of a catch but not enough to warrant her to be betrothed to Gregor. This is the largest crux. Why isn't she promised to Gregor? What keeps her from avoiding that horrid fate? So guys, gals and non-binary pals I say to you, the age old wisdom of real estate agents:

Location.

Location!

If this childhood sweetheart came from somewhere else and needed to return (but could still offer the Clegane status and gold), then there's a possibility for a betrothal.

I give to you, the Iron Bank of Bravos. No, Sandor isn't about to be betrothed to an institution. The bank's lore is that sixteen men and seven women founded it and their descendants are known as key-holders. One of them is to be promised to the Hound. Her birth could be stronger than the Clegane brothers and the insistence on returning to Braavos would deter Sandor's father from picking his heir and instead picking his youngest son to be taken away across the Narrow Sea.

Conclusion

So why build all this up? Ramble about this? It's because if Sandor was betrothed at such an early age, he'd not be the man we find in the pages of A Song of Ice and Fire and he would certainly not be the man on screen in Game of Thrones.

This life would look so different that the possibilities are endless. He'd still be a sworn sword, not to Joffrey, but to his wife. I don't see him becoming some great orator, but his hatred for his brother wouldn't burn as fierce and he'd speak on other matters more. The hatred would still be there, but tempered. Not because being wed magically whisked it all away, but it keeps him from having his attention too focused on the past since he's forging a future with someone.

Now was this the answer to your question?

I dunno.

I be rambling and ya'll keep reading.

#sandor clegane

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taivansupremacy · 2 years ago

Text

if we lived on the moon

Summary: After Robin gets picked on at school, you imagine a world where you can be together without judgment.

Word count: 685

A/N: this is based on the song if we lived on the moon by vivi rincon! its linked below if you want to listen while you read. i've been thinking of writing this forever! its a lot shorter than i usually write but i hope you like it anyway !! thanks to @justlydiasworld for beta reading !!

CW: period typical homophobia

Robin walked beside you, kicking the gravel in the Hawkins High parking lot as you both made your way to your parked car. She was remarkably quiet; possibly the quietest she’s ever been. You look over at her and offer her your hand to hold. No one was around to see and holding your hand often brought her comfort. She shied away from you, putting more distance between the two of you. You looked at her, willing her to meet your eyes, but she didn’t even spare you a glance. You decide then to give her the car ride to calm down, putting her favorite Bowie cassette in your car’s stereo and staying silent for the entire ride back to your house. When you pulled into your driveway, Robin wordlessly pushed the door open and threw her backpack over her shoulder, still refusing to look at you.

When you finally made it up to your bedroom, you threw your backpack down at the end of the bed and took a seat on top of it with a gentle sigh, “Robin, talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?”

She dropped her bag beside yours and sat next to you on your bed, looking down at her lap. She mumbled something that you couldn’t understand and you had to ask her to repeat herself.

“Jason,” Was all she said, her voice breaking, “He and his stupid meathead friends ganged up on me again during my free period.” She paused, collecting herself, “They were talking about us again…”

You and Robin were careful to keep your relationship a secret from everyone except Steve. You only kissed, cuddled, and held hands in the safety of your bedrooms, locked away from the rest of the world. On public dates, you had to pretend that you were just friends and keep a safe distance between you. You couldn’t kiss your girlfriend in the halls at school or ask her to prom. To the rest of the world, you were just best friends, but that didn’t keep creeps like Jason from making assumptions and calling them names. He targeted Robin the most, only picking on you when you were with her.

You felt anger bubble up on your stomach but stayed silent long enough for it to subside. Robin needed calm right now.

She spoke back up before you could answer, “When will we be able to just… be us?” She asked just above a whisper.

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into your side, “Just a few more months, love,” You press a tender kiss to her temple, “As soon as we graduate, we are out of here. We’ll find somewhere that we can be ourselves and in love for everyone to see.”

She let out a soft sigh as her head dropped to rest on your shoulder, “Where would we even go?” She asked dejectedly.

You had no idea. You thought about it for a minute. Robin so desperately wanted to go to Europe, but you didn’t exactly have the money for that just yet, so for now, staying in the U.S. was your only option. Even then, you had no idea if there even were any safe states for you and Robin, but you didn’t want to tell her that.

“The moon,” You giggled, hoping cracking a joke would lift her spirits at least a little.

“I’m serious!” She tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn’t hold back her smile.

Your own smile brightens at the sight of her’s and you press another quick kiss to the top of her head.

“And so am I.” You laughed, “Think about it, just me and my best girl, in our own little world. We could hold hands on dates and kiss wherever we wanted. We’d never have to say that we were best friends again.”

“We could get married,” Robin mused, “Do you think we could ever do those things here on Earth one day?”

You pulled her closer and rubbed your hand gently over her arm, “I hope so, my love. I really do.”

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female!reader #robin buckley fanfic #robin stranger things #robin buckley imagine #stranger things robin #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert fanfiction #female reader #reader insert #Spotify

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gayerthanevertbh · 3 years ago

Text

Right Where You Left Me - Chapter Three

Masterlist

A/N: New chapter! This is quite short and I apologize for that, I'll do my best to update a new one later. Thank you so so much for reading my story, it truly means a lot to me since I'm doing my best to make this story interesting as possible. Anyways, hoping you enjoy chapter three!

Summary: A devastating broken marriage was formed between two lovers. She promised you forever, loyalty, and beautiful memories. You believed in everything she said until a file of divorce papers was on her table. Like as they always say; a cheater is always a cheater. If it happens once, it'll happen again.

Pairing: Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader; Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Warnings: Smut!

Words: 2523

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“How long, Scarlett?” You whispered in such a small voice that you barely heard yourself and looked up at your wife who sat across you, her legs pressed together and her head down shamefully.

“My love–”

“Please,” You begged to just hear her answer and closed your eyes, tears running down on your cheek. “Please just…answer me. How long?”

Scarlett finally looks at you with her dark green eyes and gave you a broken smile between her lips, letting you know quietly that she loves you. That’s how she spoke with love if she has nothing else to say – her eyes speak but not her mouth.

“8 months.”

You hitched under your breath as she let out the confession that you needed to hear and it did not get you anywhere because now, you were fully having a mental breakdown right in front of her. She looks at you with so much regret on her face and knelt to you, touching your knees softly and kissing them. Chanting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again until you got sick of it.

How can something be so beautiful meant to be broken and unfixable? How did you let yourself go through this situation without seeing the flags that she’s been hinting out? Maybe she was good at keeping secrets or it’s just you being clueless with everything.

Maybe you were aloof because of how much you were devoted to her – that you never brought yourself into that assumption of her cheating on you. Sure, you had thoughts about it but your complete trust was with her and now she broke it down; wondering if it was even worth mending again.

“My little dove, my sweet angel,” Scarlett whispered her pet names for you which makes you fall back down to her. “I am stupid. I am so fucking stupid for doing this and I’m sorry, I am so fucking sorry because there’s no excuse for it. My actions–it’s no excuse.”

It drove you mad of how she fully admits to herself that she was being an asshole because you wanted her to fight you – mainly because you needed a reason to divorce her.

“Scarlett, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She replied – still kissing your kneecaps. “I love you so much, darling. I’m such a dickhead for doing this to you and I will spend my entire life making it up, mending your heart again.”

You shake your head in disagreement and let out a loud sob, her arms immediately wrapping around your body, and kissed your head with so much affection that you haven’t received from her in months. You tried pushing her body away but you let your guard down and hugged her back, crying onto her chest.

“I hate you, Scarlett.”

“I know, baby.”

You lifted your head and watch streams of tears on her cheeks. “I really fucking hate you, I despise you.” She nodded and pressed her forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose. You hated this effect that she gives you because right now it gives you comfort and validation that you want to push her away because of it.

But you let her give you what you need, you let Scarlett be intimate with you this way. You burst into tears once again and pressed your temple heard against her cleavage, seeking more comfort than she can offer you.

“I will make it up to you for the rest of my life, Y/N. Mark my word that I will.”

How much you want to fall for that but you can’t.

—

After that night, you decided to go to Elizabeth’s house and she gladly let you in, offering you to come inside. You sat quietly on her curved couch as she brings you a glass of water, smiling at you sweetly.

“I’m happy that you came to me, Y/N. Did she hurt you? What happened?”

You sighed and your mind hurt the thought of Scarlett sleeping with another woman that crossed you. It was awful.

“Apparently she’s been sleeping with that woman for 8 months?”

“What?” She lets out a loud gasp and widens her eyes in disbelief. “Oh my god, Y/N that must’ve been so–”

“I don’t know what to do,” You broke down and looked at her with a puffed-up face. “It hurts so much, Lizzie. I can’t breathe–I can’t think, I don’t–oh god.”

“Take deep breaths, love,” She soothes your back with her light hand as she inhales and exhales with you. “There you go, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Something about her doing this seems comforting to you and you’re glad that you ended up at her house because you’re on the verge of jumping off a cliff to forget everything that has happened uneventfully in your life.

“You’re safe with me here, angel. Take your time to speak, okay? No one is rushing you. I’m here to listen.”

You nodded and let out a sarcastic laugh, sniffling loudly. “I just never thought this would happen, her cheating on me. Me and Scarlett used to be so inseparable and now we’re two birds broken. How did we get from here?”

“You did absolutely nothing wrong, sweetheart. I know you wouldn’t hurt Scarlett that way.”

“But what made her go to that position then? What did I do?” You sobbed and covered your mouth with your hand, trying to take deep breaths to not have an anxiety attack at your friend’s house. She leaned against you and hugs you tight in her arms, calming you down with both of her hands running up and down onto your back. Tears starts to flow more out of your eyes as she whispered the sweetest things to you to help you calm yourself down. You have never thought in your life that something like this makes you want…Elizabeth. But you quickly turn that thought away and felt her lips pressed onto your head smoothly.

“I would treat you right, Y/N. I know I can. She doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

For the first time in months, you felt a spark in your heart – not knowing yet what it means but it felt such a relief to feel that way again.

—

“Who wants to go first?”

You lift your head and looked at your wife, who has her head down. Scarlett decided to proceed with the appointment because she thinks that’s what you both need. But honestly, you just want that fucking divorce.

You had a piece of paper that explained how or why you fell in love with your wife and it breaks your heart of how much you poured onto it. You sighed, almost audibly, and replied: “I don’t want to read mine.”

“I can read mine–”

“I think both of you need to read it,” The therapist says as she clasped her hands together tightly. “Y/N, how come you don’t want to read it?”

“Because it’s not even worth it.”

Scarlett’s face was filled with unhappiness and nodded, looking out of the window to distract herself from what you stated.

“How about you, Scarlett? What does your paper say?”

You immediately state, “I don’t want to hear what she’s going to say–I don’t know, I’d rather not hear it.”

“I have to leave–I can’t–I have to go,” Scarlett abruptly stood up and walked out of the room, hearing a sob that came out from her mouth once the door was closed. You sighed to yourself and looked down at your paper, noticing how beautifully it was written.

“My apologies, Mrs. Johansson–”

“Just Ms. L/N, if that’s alright.” The therapist smiles meekly at you and continued to talk about marriages that you technically didn’t pay attention to. Your thoughts ran into the moments that Scarlett was genuinely in love with you; because you’re sure that she isn’t anymore. She used to give you the best kisses in the world and speak with so much affirmation, you loved the way her hands were on your waist as you both danced in the living room quietly, soft jazz tuning in. Those were the moments you want to hold and simply not forget because it was still a good memory that both of you had.

You went back home alone without the paparazzi’s coming at your face – thank god and prepared yourself a glass of wine and sat at the patio with the sun glazing at your skin. You drank the wine seemingly, looking at the other houses that were in front of you. Where was Scarlett, anyways?

You shake your head away from the thought and called your friend Celia who seemed to pick up the phone quicker.

“Hey! Are you okay? What happened? How’s the counseling?”

“It was a complete disaster, Scarlett walked out.” You rolled your eyes at the memory and took more sips of your wine.

“She walked out? What gives her the rights, anyways? She was the one who cheated on you.”

“I understand, I guess. I mean, maybe she felt ashamed of what she has done.”

“Exactly! She should feel that way, that fucking bitch.”

“It’s okay Celia,” You tell her as you tried defending your wife – even though you shouldn’t, it was kind of a habit. “It’s not hard to find a lawyer since I and Scarlett have no kids, can I contact that lawyer of yours?”

“Yeah, sure! Let me give you her number. Her name is Lorraine Sawyer, she’s one of the best lawyers in LA.”

“Thanks, babe. I’ll call you later, okay? I just wanted to call you because of the whole lawyer thing.” You hung up on her and decide to fall asleep under the sunlight, not caring about the world if it burns you.

You’d rather feel that way anyway.

—

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

She chuckles down at you and kisses your lips tenderly, pulling away with a smacking sound between your lips. “Do you want to go to New york? You know, for a little vacation? I’ve had a long shoot at the set today and I was wondering to take you to New York.”

“That sounds lovely,” You murmured and yawned, smiling at her that she find it so cute of you. “Would Florence mind?”

“Of course, she wouldn't, why?”

“Because she’s stealing you away from me lately…”

“My baby,” She pouted and pulled you into her body closer, kissing you on the forehead. You giggled at the way she maneuver her lips all over your face, it was your favorite little thing from her. “No one is stealing me, I promise. I’m yours as you are mine.”

“Mhm, you are mine indeed.”

She sang a little lullaby of a Disney song as you fell asleep, your head resting on her chest. She held you comfortably, kissing you once in a while until you were snoring on top of her which she finds so adorable from you. It was these little things that you loved remembering, the moments of just you and her – alone in the world.

—

“I decide to move out in two days,” You mentioned to your wife who was on the table, drinking the last bottle of wine that was on the cupboard. She looked at you in disbelief and shook her head.

“Y/N…”

“It’s best that I do because I can assure you that I no longer want to be in this marriage.”

She stands up from her chair and walked towards you, towering you with her height, and shakes her head again, whispering pleadingly, “No, don’t do this…”

“Scarlett–you have no other choice. I’m still divorcing you.”

“I know baby but can we just try to fix this marriage. I still love you so deeply,” She tells you and embraces you warmly, kissing the cheek that lingered on your skin. “You’re the love of my life, you’ll always be the love of my life. Don’t give up on me, please my dove?”

Your stomach churned as she calls you that pet name she always uses and it somehow made you think that what if you do fix this marriage with her? Is it even worth trying for? You sighed, looking at her and seeing how desperate she was.

“Tell me right now that you don’t love me and convince me otherwise so then I can agree to end this marriage because I know for the fact that you love me deeply as much as I do.” She slowly cups your right cheek and pressed her forehead against yours, smelling the reek of wine in her breath. “Tell me you love me, tell me, baby. Tell me you love me.”

Tell her you love her, scream it. Say it. Whisper it to her.

“I…” You stuttered and felt her lips pressed against yours, earning a moan coming from her mouth. You felt her tongue licking at the bottom of your lips for access and you completely gave in, not caring about the circumstances on hand. She had her hands on the back of your waist to hold you steadily as she dips her tongue into your mouth sweetly.

“Tell me you love me,” She whispered and slightly pushes you on the edge of her big table, opening your legs wide. “Tell me, baby. God, I love you so much.”

You let her unbutton down your shirt as she gives open-mouth kisses on your chest, making you moan in desperation. This was such a bad idea but yet felt so good because it was your wife handling you. She slowly kneads both of your breasts, whispering: “Tell me you love me and be a good girl for me.”

“I love you,” You whispered out and moaned audibly, making Scarlett pant against your skin. “I love you, Scar. I love you so much!”

“You mean that, sweet girl? Yeah?” Her hips grind onto yours and you hear her let out a brutal moan from her mouth. “God, you’re so fucking pretty. All submissive and takable. You want this, don’t you? Tell me you want it.”

You let your body possess you over as you nodded frantically – you couldn’t form the words between your lips when she was grinding herself onto you hotly. She smirked and presses you down on the table gently, taking off the underwear that you were wearing a few seconds ago.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me, bunny?” She whispers and takes off her flannel pants, revealing the black lace between her legs. You moaned at the sight and threw your head back in pleasure as she digs her fingers on your skin tightly.

“I’m going to be a good girl, Scarlett.”

“That’s it, bunny. Be a good girl for me, okay? Let mommy fuck you.”

And you did let her. All of your clothes were discarded and she fucked you like there was no tomorrow. You didn’t complain, your mind was in complete bliss when her hands are all over your skin, her other hand on your neck as she pumps 4 fingers inside of your tight core. You were a moaning mess, you kept chanting her name out as she says the dirtiest words to you – knowing it would make you orgasm.

Scarlett knows how to fuck you right and when for you to shut up, and you let her dominate you. Even though you hate her, you loved the way you connected with her like that and it sounds pretty toxic. No complaints though.

You’ll worry about the divorce tomorrow once your mind is no longer filled with her.

Taglist: @lainjupi @maia-lightwoood

#scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson angst #scarlett johansson #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #scarlett johansson x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #dark natasha #natasha romanoff #natasha angst #wlw blog #smut #divorce #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 years ago

Note

Ok but can we get a post on how muzan acts with exotica. We can kinda see snippet throughout but I would really like to see a post foe him.

Of course, Cookiekitty!! Though this is especially drastic (and Graphic) But he's pretty ambiguous anyways

Exotica | The Deal With the Demon King

⚠️[Warning: Graphic Imagery, Violence, PTSD]⚠️

The funny thing is you’re not all that sure either

There was that one time where he comforted you

The times where he just kind of stares at you

But You really don’t know with him

And your pretty sure he kind of likes it that way

But there are a few things you can definitively know

1) Never will he enter a room right in front of your eyes

Always showing up when your turned away or distracted

It typically scares you, whether you voice it or not

Gyutarou does similar stuff and you’ve learned to just kind of roll with it

Alarming but you could get used to it

2) When he asks a question you have to answer

If just being in his presence alone doesn’t make you pee your pants this man glaring at you would definitively do the trick

You typically answer right away because your more afraid of his assumption that you’re ignoring him

3) and final note keep your mask on

Don’t for the love of everything beautiful DO NOT LET YOUR MASK SLIP

The moment you reveal what you’re feeling you suffer the possibility of being punished

For Exotica–you to be punished was not something you ever thought would be uttered within the same sentence:

“You deserve to be punished for this!!!”

You were still sitting in front of the now-cold tea, trying to hold your temper as the oiran wailed at you. Daki had come to visit you to not only rant about whatever she did, she also came to demand that you leave a certain client behind. They were beautiful, yes, and wealthy, and generous with the whole house, even so he was respectful of your inability to leave the district. According to the demon, he had paid for her services and revealed how he was a demon slayer while bragging. Disregarding her persona she slammed her growing nails on your tea-table and told you to stop encouraging business with him because she was unsuccessful in getting him alone.

You tried to keep your calm even as she became unraveled, her whole argument was hollow. This man even in all his popularity was doing wonders for the Yukaku economy; really helping the district make more of a mark than with their ‘entertainment ventures’. You voiced this to her confident and concise, you didn’t expect her to understand but you were hoping she realized you had a reason for doing this.

“He believes he’s one of those lowlife pests–a demonslayer. As if, he hardly dresses the part, not to mention he told me of all people!”

She was angrily mocking him and you couldn’t deny if this was true. then it truly meant this man was a fool but at least he was a fool with influence. You tried to speak but she interrupted you.

“He told me he suspects you! NOT ONLY IS HE THREATENING MASTER BUT HE'S TRYING TO HURT YOU! GET RID OF HIM, NOW!”

“WARABIHIME, you're such a brat. I'm not-” “Uhm excuse me Oiran-sama, you have an appointment soon.”

Once again you were interrupted, this time stopping the way you were about to blast this girl, by one of her little maidens. You return to your typical demeanor avoiding eye-contact with the astonished, distraught look on her face. She would quietly gather herself to leave before turning her head and tilting it up.

“I’m telling him of your ignorance.”

You keep still as the shivers run over your body. You dreaded the fact that the two of them had a direct link to the big man himself. It was like which sibling could be the first to tell a parent who punched first. And unfortunately you didn’t have that bio-tattle-tail-phone in your blood. So all you could do was wait ‘till nightfall when you knew you’d get it.

While waiting for Muzan looking at the moon you heard the shuffle of your door closing.

“It’s awfully improper for you to be visiting me so late.”

“I bet you were waiting for me. It’s been awhile since I’ve encountered one of your kind.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

You kept your eyes trained on the nightsky, even as you felt the presence of a blade to your back. You kept your mask up while looking at your favorite view to maintain it, it’d be easier to speak calmly without looking at the weapon.

“Did you not hear from your friend earlier? I claim you, are a demon.”

“A baseless assumption, to fool everyone I presume?”

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t really a demon slayer, you’ll just use that as an excuse to do what you want, right?”

Silence on his end. You continued.

“But I think you’re missing an opportunity, good sir.”

“I’m listening.”

In a short time you divulge your plan of his involvement in this district into another. By the end of it his sword was sheathed once again and he was sitting next to you looking at the moon.

“Exotica you–”

“BELONG TO ME.”

The angry voice of Muzan Kibutsuji had the client paling in fear and you in a cold sweats. In less than a second a splotch of blood bloomed on the garbs of the man next to you leaving him gasping. You on the otherhand were busy being pulled back by your comfortable kimono,your veil being torn from your face. Held by your jaw you struggled against the pressure those cold hands were inflicting as they pointed you to the gasping man struggling across from you.

“He could survive, you know, I’ve only taken out his vocal chords. Since you like to hear him talk so much.”

You struggled as he unrelentingly tightened on your jaw and airway. You tried to defend your actions and maybe save this guy's life.

“I-I on-ly wanted w-what was best for the econ-omy.”

He pulled you back to look at his angered face veins popping so far out of his head. Incredulous at the suggestion he threw you to the ground coming down on top of you, holding you down, pulling your face up with a grip on the entirety of your head.

“ECONOMY!? ECONOMY?! This will be your economy if you ever do this again.”

Forcing you to keep looking ahead, you had to watch in horror as something beyond your vision pierced the man’s eye. A spewing of blood from the socket had the man clutching it wheezing in the place of screams.

“Please just stop! I’m sorr-”

The hand holding your head switched to hold your mouth closed and your eyes trained on the man who was slowly being bloated with what had to be Muzan’s blood. The explosion of guts and blood coated your entire room; you were by some miracle untouched, same as Muzan.

You went limp on the ground as he stood tall, licking a drip of blood that he saved on his finger. Casually walking up to the spot the man had laid beforehand; he grimaced at the bloody tatters of his yukata.

“This is a warning (Y/n). Don’t betray me, you’ll know who’s going to suffer in your stead.”

He looked at you now curled in on yourself and silently crying. He stepped over the evidence of the man before to grab you by your waist. He carried your exhausted self to the roof of the house lying you there. He let your dead-looking eyes look to the moon as he called upon Daki and Gyutarou who were kneeling on a nearby rooftop.

“Clean it up.”

“Of course Master.” They spoke simultaneously and went to complete their task.

Muzan turned to look at you still crying even as you looked to the moon. He stared at you as you continued to go through bouts of crying.

When you awoke your room was clean your veil was folded neatly beside you making you question if what happened was even real. You would struggle to get ready, making everyone who would typically help you in the morning quite worried. It would only hit you once more when the head-wife speaks of an oddly placed letter telling that the client that was so helpful has gone on to do other things. You silently begin to cry and everyone wonders why you're so distraught but because your reaction is so out of character they call this an emergency. Cancelling your schedules and appointments to have a little break; they send you home to your found family. Without makeup, the business tea parties, or the clients you relished in the quiet barren room they had reserved for you. You take a week to recuperate, readjust your mask, and move on with your life. Everyone is relying on you. For their sake you would go on. So you’ll bury your hate, your sadness, all of it in hopes that something will change for the better when that day comes.

#yandere harem #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yanderexrea #yanderes #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere muzan kibitsuji #yandere muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #kibitsuji #yandere daki and gyutarou #yanderes x exotica #yanderes x reader #yandere demon slayer x reader

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Champagne Problems

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: you play Tom a new song you wrote, and he overthinks the lyrics

Masterlist

On a morning where he was supposed to be memorizing his latest script, Tom got distracted by the sound of you playing your piano somewhere in the house. He followed the soft melody into your studio, where he found you singly softly as you sat with your keyboard.

“You won’t remember all my champagne problems.” You hummed along to the notes you were playing.

“That sounds beautiful, darling.” Tom smiled as he came behind you to rub your shoulders. “Is that new?”

“Yeah.” You nodded as you put your hand over his. “I’m not sure about it though. The lyrics are still a little iffy.”

“Play it for me.” Tom kissed your neck before taking a seat. “I’ll tell you my thoughts.”

“You won’t be any help.” You chuckled. “You’ll just tell me it’s the greatest song ever written like you always do.”

“I can’t help it.” He pouted. “You’re just so talented.”

“It helps to have the loveliest muse in the world.” You cooed, bringing a smile out of Tom.

“Play me the song.” Tom asked. “I’ll be totally honest. I promise.”

“Okay.” You agreed and pulled the keyboard onto your lap. As soon as you started to play the intro, Tom was enchanted.

“You booked the night train for a reason, so you could sit there in this hurt. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers, you’re not sure which is worse.” You began. You looked up at Tom for approval and he gave you a cheerful thumbs up.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing. Left you out there standing crestfallen on the landing. Champagne problems.” You sang softly. “Your mom's ring in your pocket. My picture in your wallet. Your heart was glass, I dropped it. Champagne problems.”

You stopped playing and looked at Tom to see what he thought. He happily applauded you, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“It’s amazing.” Tom grinned. “It’s the best song ever written.”

You gave him a skeptically look over your piano and he laughed.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “Is there more?”

“Yeah. I have more.” You nodded and positioned your fingers on the keys. “Here’s the second verse.”

“You told your family for a reason, you couldn't keep it in. Your sister splashed out on the bottle, now no one's celebrating.” You continued. “Dom Pérignon, you brought it. No crowd of friends applauded. Your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason. Champagne problems.”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows as he slowly connected the lyrics together. Between the mention of the ring and the lack of celebration, Tom realized the song was about turning down a proposal. He knew you had never been proposed to before, so he wasn’t sure where the inspiration for the song came from. In the back of his mind, he began to panic. Especially since up in his room, carefully hidden in his sock drawer, was a ring. A diamond ring that he had bought specifically for the reason of asking you to marry him.

“What do you think?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Um, it’s really good.” He said slowly. “Interesting topic.”

“Yeah. I wanted to do something I’d never done before.” You smiled proudly and your fingered the keys.

“Interesting, interesting.” Tom nodded in fear. “Is there more?”

“Yeah. I’m really proud of this next part.” You grinned. “Listen closely.”

Tom gulped as you began to sing the bridge, something he knew you were skilled at writing.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door. November flush and your flannel cure. "This dorm was once a madhouse". I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me". How evergreen, our group of friends. Don't think we'll say that word again.” You shook your head as you sang. “And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through.”

Tom really began to panic at this point. He knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that you decided to write a song about turning down a proposal a few weeks after he bought a ring. He had one more week to go until he was going to propose, and he assumed you figured that out. Since you were as kindhearted and non confrontational as you were, there was no way you’d turn down Tom if he got down on one knee. You must have written the song as a way to tell him you didn’t want to marry him before he embarrassed himself by proposing.

“One for the money, two for the show. I never was ready, so I watch you go.” You looked into his eyes as you sang. “Sometimes you just don't know the answer ‘til someone's on their knees and asks you.”

“Oh God.” Tom gulped.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in her head, " they said. But you'll find the real thing instead.” You sang to him as he stared at you with wide eyes. “She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred. And hold your hand while dancing. Never leave you standing crestfallen on the landing with champagne problems.”

“Hm.” He squeaked.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket. Her picture in your wallet. You won't remember all my Champagne problems. You won't remember all my Champagne problems.” You played the last few notes before looking at him.

“So.” You smiled. “What do you think?”

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but found his mind blank. You were testing him, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Um, it’s interesting.” He said softly.

“Interesting? Do you not like it?” Your face fell.

“Um, it’s not that.” His expression was just as sad. He appreciated that you wanted to let him down easy, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Tom.” You noticed his solemn expression. “What’s the matter? Is it bad?”

“Do you...did you...”

“Did I what?” You asked when he trailed off.

“Did you find the ring?” He asked suddenly, making your head jut back.

“The...the what?” You laughed in confusion.

“You found the ring and wrote that song, didn’t you?” He asked sadly. “You wrote it and sang it to me because you didn’t know how to tell me you didn’t want to marry me.”

“Tom, what are you talking about?” You wondered as you stood up and walked over to him. “What ring?”

“The ring you found in my sock drawer.” He said like it was obvious. You stared at him for a long time, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“I didn’t find a ring in your sock drawer.” You told him. Tom’s face pulled back in shock as he realized he had jumped to an incorrect conclusion.

“Hm.” He nodded. “It appears I made an inaccurate assumption based on the information that I was given.”

“You weren’t given any information.” You said as you looked at him skeptically. “What’s going on?”

“I...I thought the song was your way of telling me no.” He sheepishly admitted.

“What?” You laughed, still thinking he was joking. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were sending me a subliminal message!” He exclaimed.

“I wasn’t! It’s just a song!” You shouted back. “And wait a minute, you have a ring in your sock drawer?”

“Yes, and?” He stood his ground.

“Yes, and?” You repeated in shock. “Did you seriously just say yes, and? Like we’re in the middle of an improv game?”

“It’s just a ring.” Tom shrugged it off to save himself from embarrassment. “What about it?”

“What about it?” You laughed in shock. “What kind of ring is it?”

Tom quieted down suddenly, at a loss for words in the middle of your screaming match. He realized he didn’t know how to answer your question, but he couldn’t leave you hanging, so he told you the best thing he could come up with.

“The finger kind.” He said quietly, making you let out a loud groan.

“I know it’s the finger kind.” You shouted. “But what’s it for?”

“Your finger?” Tom shrugged, making you hunch over to keep your composure. He knew he was dropping the ball so he quickly tried to redeem himself.

“I don’t understand the quest-“

“Were you going to propose to me?” You cut him off as you popped back up. All the other thoughts in Toms head went out the window as he remembered the original point of the conversation.

“Yes.” He said after a minute. “I was.”

“Tom.” You whispered through a smile. He smiled back, relishing in the happiness him proposing brought you.

“Hang on a minute.” He said before running out of the room. He returned soon with a velvet black box in his hand. You covered your mouth with your hands at the sight of the box, knowing exactly what it contained.

“I was gonna wait until our anniversary next week, but I guess the secrets kinda out.” He chuckled shyly as he walked up to you. You wiped a few tears away as you put your hands over his, rubbing his hand softly with your thumb.

“This wasn’t how I planned to ask you. I had a whole speech planned.” He said apologetically. “But I was never very good at keeping secrets. Seriously, there are like hours of content online just of me spoiling-“

“Yes.” You cut him off between sniffles.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Yes.” You repeated through a smile. “I will marry you.”

“You will?” His face lit up as his shaking hands struggled to open the box.

“I will.” You nodded repeatedly. Tom let out a shocked laugh as tears of joy streamed down his face. He finally got the box open and put the ring on your finger with trembling hands. You looked at it in admiration before pulling him into a long kiss. He instantly kissed you back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to keep you as close as possible. When you finally pulled away, you were both a mess of snot and tears.

“I got boogers on your face.” He grimaced as he wiped your face with the bottom of his shirt.

“It’s okay.” You chuckled. “I’ll be mad about it tomorrow, but I’m too happy right now. I’m so, so happy.”

“I am too.” He sniffled. “How should we celebrate?”

“I have an idea.” You smirked. “Champagne?”

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x yn #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction

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yourwattpadmom · 2 years ago

Text

This is part 2 of King Of The Damned.

Read Part 1 if you haven’t yet..

Part 2 - The Proposition

Word count: 8K

Song: Desire - Meg Myers (I highly recommend listening to this song after they're done 'talking' ;P )

Of all the places Harry expected a "creature of the night" to lead him to, a Holiday Inn was not one of them.

He wondered if he was being punked.

If not for his own intuition and the effects of her he could physically feel on his body, he would assume that one of his friends was playing a joke on him.

Because seriously? A Vampire Queen just took him to a fucking Holiday Inn.

Her amusement was obvious at his confusion. "What? You expected me to take you to my secret lair? Maybe you wanted to see a coffin?"

He felt a rush of blood rise to his cheeks because, well, yeah. He kinda did.

He lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling a little embarrassed at his stereotypical assumptions. But really, what else did he have to go off besides stereotypes from stories and movies?

"Sorry, I just.... Well... I don't know what I expected exactly. But I definitely didn't expect.. a Holiday Inn." He defended.

"Yes... well... let me ask you this: do you feel safe here?"

Harry thought about the bright lobby, how many people were close by, and how familiar it all was. And he thought about how he would feel if he had been taken to an unknown location, not knowing who else was around, and no one to hear him if he called for help. She had told him she wouldn't hurt him (without his consent), and he understood this was her making sure he really knew that. She did this to make HIM comfortable.

Realization dawned on his features and he felt a new sense of appreciation for this woman. This....Being.

He looked back into her eyes, "Yes.... I do.... Thank you."

She smiled at him and gestured for him to sit wherever he wanted. Again, a choice. He could choose bed or chair.

He chose the bed. It was softer.. and if there was even a chance of her joining him, he was already going to be there, ready and willing. He removed his shoes because it felt fundamentally wrong to wear shoes on top of any bed, and sat against the headboard, waiting to see what she would do next.

She seemed to float to the chair across the bed and lowered herself down as if it were a throne. He realized it didn't matter what the setting was. Party or cheap hotel room, she still exuded an air of royalty about her.

"I will answer your questions now. And then I will tell you why I brought you here."

She was letting him start? He supposed to keep him feeling somewhat safe and in control. It was working. He felt much more relaxed than he did while they were at the party. Well, as relaxed as he could be with a semi pushing against the seam of his tight leather pants. Just being in her proximity had that minimal effect on him.

But questions....Where to begin? He tried to organize his thoughts to make the most of this rare opportunity.

He cleared his throat, "Well, I suppose the first question is the most obvious one, just to make sure I really understand what you said back at the house.... You are a....a..Vampire...correct?" He somewhat stumbled over the word 'Vampire', still not fully believing he was having this conversation. In a Holiday Inn hotel room.

Her full lips curved up into a breathtaking smile, showing off two pointy fangs in the front row of teeth. She allowed the predator to flash briefly as her eyes glowed bright gold, ringed with red.

"Yes...." She purred, sending out her compulsion energy in one strong wave that hit Harry like a tsunami. It washed over him, coating him in a desire that overran any possible fear. A desire to do whatever this woman wanted him to do. Pupils dilated, he shifted to his hands and knees and started to move to crawl over to her, when just as suddenly as it hit him, it disappeared. Like his head breaking the surface of a wave that he didn't realize he'd been dragged under. Leaving him shaken .... and painfully hard in his pants.

He realized just how much power she was holding back from him. Making him both uneasy and aroused.

Taking uneven breaths and shaking his head to try to clear it, he moved back once again to rest against the headboard. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and swallowed harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down against his exposed throat as he struggled to regain control of his body. Exposing your throat to someone who just admitted - and demonstrated - they were a vampire probably wasn't the smartest idea. But he figured that if she wanted to bite him, there was little he could do to stop her. Chances are, he would be begging her to do it if she used her powers again. He might end up begging even if she didn't use them.

"You made your point. I believe you," he croaked out once he managed to calm down enough.

"Do you have other questions?" She calmly asked, pleased with his response to her. He wasn't as immune to her draw as she thought he was. Good.

"Are there many others like you? Vampires?" It seemed like a silly question, but he wanted to know how many there were.

"Of course.... I can't tell you exactly how many, not until we have an agreement. But yes. Enough that we have our own society. Our own rules...." She calmly answered with a slight shrug of one shoulder.

Harry thought about his next question, even though he felt like he already knew the answer. "If vampires are real, are there other beings besides vampires that we humans don't know about?"

"Yes." She answered simply. "But their secrets are their own. And as long as you are human, I cannot share those secrets with you."

What did she mean 'as long as he was human'? He was starting to understand that she might have brought him here as more than just a snack.

He put that aside for the moment, knowing she would tell him when it was her turn. "Ok, fair enough... I do have questions about your kind. Like, how long have you existed? How do humans not know about you? Can you go out in the sun? Do all vampires have powers? How accurate do the movies have it?" He started firing questions off rapid fire. Now that the floodgates had opened, all the things he was curious about came pouring out at once.

She simply smiled, as if expecting these questions. As though she had been asked them and answered them countless times. "A few thousand years; Because we don't want them to; Yes, but it is painful; Not all, but many do; And some have it close, while others are absolutely ridiculous." She answered his questions in order with a simple lift of her eyebrow.

"Do you have anymore questions for me, human?"

Harry collected his thoughts. He did. So many. But he knew that a lot of them would be answered when she told him why he was there. So he would wait to see what information she offered up, since the answers he was getting were incredibly vague, frustrating him.

"Just one more for now...." Harry took in her ethereal beauty and focused his attention on her eyes, "What is your name?"

Estrilda was surprised that was his last question. She expected the usual 'Why am I here? What are you going to do with me? Why me?'. Very few had actually asked her name. It was as though once they knew what she was, she just existed as that to them, not as someone with a name. They would just call her Queen. Or Master. Or Vampire. She liked that he seemed to want to know something about HER. Not just her kind. Even if it was something as simple as a name.

"Unless, of course, names hold some kind of power and you're not allowed to share that information, either..." Harry rushed out.

She smiled. "No, my name holds no power over me. I am Estrilda."

Harry couldn't quite pinpoint her accent. It sounded European, but such a blend he couldn't tell where it originated from. It had been driving him crazy all evening, trying to pinpoint where it came from. But the way her name rolled off her tongue reminded him a bit more of accents he had heard from somewhere around Southern Spain or Sicily even... No matter where her accent was from, her voice was melodic and he felt as though he could listen to her talk forever.

He loved her name. It was unique and beautiful and fit her perfectly. He felt that he owed her the basic manners in return. He gifted her a dimpled smile, "Hi Estrilda. I'm Harry...... Only fair that you know mine if I know yours..."

Estrilda was charmed by this human. She really hoped he would agree to her proposition. And if not... well.... he did seem to be effected by her powers at least a little bit...She would be tempted to use just a little to sway him... or at least keep him around for a while.....She really wasn't ready to part with him anytime soon. Plus, he smelled delicious. She was glad she had fed well at the party, because she hadn't been tempted this badly by a human in a very long time, and it was truly testing her self control. It was one of the reasons she had chosen to sit a little farther away from him to begin with. The closer she was to him, the stronger the urge came to have a taste.

A smirk curled her lips up to one side, "Harry, hm?....Such good manners.... Are you done with your questions? Are you ready to know why you are here talking with me instead of in my bed feeding me?"

Harry's mouth went dry at the the visual of him in her bed with her mouth on him, in whatever capacity she wanted to use it. He roughly swallowed and licked his lips, trying to bring moisture back to the Sahara Desert that had set up camp in his mouth.

"Yes..... Why?" He managed to croak out.

Estrilda slowly rose from her chair and started gliding towards him slowly, trailing her finger along the edge of the mattress as she moved.

"Well...Harry... You see every 200 years I must choose a new human to join us. It is my duty. I look for someone who is strong.... in both body.." She trailed her eyes up his legs and torso, down his arms. Goosebumps rose to the surface in the wake of her gaze. "...and mind." She brought that gaze up to meet his eyes again. She was getting closer to the side of the bed as she continued, "And your mind is very strong, Harry... At first I wasn't even sure YOU were human.... You could feel me....you were able to turn away from me.." At this, she pouted as she remembered how he escaped her snare. She moved her finger that was trailing along the mattress to his ankle and began to slowly drag it up his leg as she continued moving.

His skin was on fire where her touch was lightly grazing him. In a good way. He felt the heat spread immediately up his legs and his hard-on that he had managed to get down to a semi returned at full force, causing his breathing to hitch in his throat. His leg muscles contracted under the leather, and he tried subtly moving in hopes it would help him adjust what was now a very obvious erection pressing against the left side of his leg.

She smiled knowingly at his reaction, continuing her gentle exploration up his body. "But you are human, aren't you?" She looked at him through her eyelashes, her eyes still cast downward watching his body react to the smallest of her touches. His scent of his arousal was so thick in the air, it was overpowering the aroma of his blood calling to her.

"Yes.." He managed to breathe out, gripping the bedsheets to the side of him to keep his hands from reaching out to her.

She suddenly stopped her hand at the top of his thigh and gripped his leg suddenly and forcefully, her nails digging into his skin. If not for the leather, he was sure he would already be bleeding. But it didn't hurt. It only added to his aroused state. He hissed and threw his head back as his body jolted at the sudden movement.

"Then HOW did you feel me?! How did you turn away from me?!" She growled out, her soft soothing tone gone, replaced by a hard edge that could cut him into ribbons.

"I... I don't know!" He stammered out, heart racing. He could see her fully as the predator she was in that moment. He knew she could end him faster than he could blink if she wanted to. He forced his voice through the sawdust in his vocal chords to try to explain in hopes of soothing her ire. "I just.... I've always been able to feel energy from people around me..... I just chalked it down to having really good intuition.... or being empathic.....I can't even really be around large groups of people at a time without feeling totally drained, like their thoughts are always trying to beat their way into my mind..."

Estrilda gentled her touch on his leg, releasing her strong grip. The leather had indented, but not broken, so he might have some bruises, but no cuts. She would smell if she had broken skin. She of course was familiar with humans who were more sensitive in nature to the fates and energies around them. In her experience, they either learned to harness and control them, or they ended up as recluses or in insane asylums. Turning such a human was frowned upon, but not against the rules, necessarily. She knew that if he survived the change, his natural abilities would only increase, and he would not only be able to read minds, but if he was trained properly, he would have powers that mimicked her own. He would be able to use his gifts to influence others just as strongly. She debated whether or not bringing such a human into her flock would be wise... But the opportunity to also have such a weapon at her side was too great to pass up.

She flattened her hand against the top of his thigh, grazing his sizable erection as she moved her touch up to his torso.

Harry's hips involuntarily thrusted upwards at her soft touch on his cock and closed his eyes as a whimper escaped his parted lips. He had never come so close to cumming from just one touch before. It felt as if the entire lower part of his body was on fire, burning for her attention. He was surprised his cock hadn't simply burst through the leather, it was straining so hard against the fabric pulled tight around it.

Estrilda smiled at his responsiveness to her touch, and found her own body responding in not just hunger for his blood, but for his body as well. She hadn't felt desire this intense in a very very long time. She continued her exploration up to his bare stomach, using featherlight touch, placing one knee on the bed now beside him, leaning towards his body.

As soon as her fingers touched his bare skin, Harry's mind went fuzzy, all of his blood rushing to meet her touch. Lightning lit him on fire from within, he was shocked that he couldn't see actual sparks where their skin met for all that it felt like electricity was crackling.

"What would you say," her melodic voice echoed into the room, seeping under his skin and into his soul, "if I offered you immortality? And pleasure unlike anything you could ever imagine? Power beyond what your human body is capable of..." She continued as she grazed the skin of his torso, allowing her fingers to softly outline the butterfly tattoo on his stomach, and the swallow tattoos on his muscular chest. She paused at the cross symbol he wore that was settled between his pectoral muscles and smirked. Another thing that Hollywood had gotten wrong. Human's thought their faith would protect them against actual monsters. Silly mortals. Vampires thought it was so entertaining, many used it in their housing decor as a symbol of irony. She lifted it with the tip of her fingernail and let it fall back against his skin with a small smile playing at her lips.

She could feel his heart pounding, smell the blood pumping under his skin rapidly. Her mouth was watering at the sight and smell of the man laid out before her. But she said she would give him a choice. Something she wasn't allowed when she was turned. She wasn't using her compulsion powers on him, she wasn't using her powers to influence him at all. But she knew the power of her touch nonetheless. And if she was using that to influence him just a little bit, well, who could blame her? He really was so mouthwatering....

Harry attempted to think. To bring some circulation back into his brain so he could form some sort of rational thought. She was offering him immortality. Power. Pleasure. There had to be a catch. He knew that she was offering to turn him into one of her kind. A vampire. But he couldn't think clearly when she was this close. When she was touching him.

"Wait..." He panted out. He couldn't bring himself to move her hand, to make her stop touching him. But he needed a moment. "Please.... let me....I can't think when you're touching me.... Please.... wait...." He pleaded, eyes screwed shut, he waited for her to get angry for rejecting her touch, for asking her to stop. He just needed his brain to work for a few minutes.

Estrilda was surprised yet again at his resolve. At his control. She was secretly pleased. This would bode well for him learning to control his thirst - and his powers - as a fledgling. As long as he was willing to let go of control enough to let The Change take him. That was a risk with a soul as strong as his. Which is why his agreement was so important. If he didn't WANT to survive The Change, with his resolve, she was fairly sure he wouldn't. He had to want this. So she respected his request and removed her hand with no small amount of difficulty. The urge to touch him was just as strong as his desire to receive it.

"Thank you...." Harry was still trying to catch his breath and focus his mind on what she was offering him. After a few minutes, he was able to breathe deeply again and look at her. She was now sitting on the side of the bed, looking at him with what he could only describe as sexual hunger. He wasn't sure how much of that was sexual and how much of that was actual hunger.

"I'm sorry..... I just... I have a couple of questions..... if that's ok?" He asked sheepishly, feeling like a mouse trying to engage in conversation with a lion that was trying to eat him.

"Ask them," she replied shortly. Her patience was wearing thin, and her hunger was growing.

"You're asking me to become like you... become a Vampire?" He asked, just for clarity.

"Yes." Her answer was clipped.

"What's the catch? I mean..... Immortality, power..... pleasure..." he gulped after the last word, already knowing that she wasn't exaggerating in that promise at all.

At this, she looked a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Well, as much as a queen could look guilty at all.

"Well, the process of The Change isn't very.... pleasant. It might possibly be the most painful thing you've ever endured. And you will be weak. For quite some time, as your body adjusts to working without your heart sustaining it. You won't be able to be around your family or friends, not until you've gotten your thirst and your powers under control. That could take a few years.....or a few hundred years. Depends on the strength of your will. With what I've seen of that, I think you will gain control faster than most. Of course, as they get older and you don't, you will have to cut ties with them completely so they remain ignorant of your immortality. You will not be able to sire children or maintain long relationships with any human, in order to keep our secrets safe."

She let that sink in. She had gotten carried away in her lust and thirst for this human. She always had laid out all the information for her would-be fledglings so they could make the choice knowing what they were getting into. He had made her want to skip over the unpleasant parts in her desire to have him.

"And of course, you must feed.....on humans. You will no longer be part of the human world. You will be part of The Other...." She continued. "However, you will not be alone. Unless you choose to be. During your Change, I will be taking care of you. You will feed off my body to gain your strength. We will sustain each other to create a bond that you will not be able to break. I will not control you, but you will owe me fealty. After 200 years, should you choose to leave The Seethe, our family, and go alone into the world, you may. But you must always answer my call should I need you... Or you may choose to stay by my side, with the others in my home."

Harry's mind was suddenly very clear, the haze of arousal washed away at all of this information. He may never see his friends and family again? He would be completely dependent on this woman for 200 years? And beholden to her for an eternity? It was a lot to process, and too much to decide in a moment. He needed time. He wondered if that was an option.

"I see...." He muttered. "Is it..... is it at all possible for me to have some time to think it over? It's a lot to decide in a moment, especially since the majority of my blood isn't in my right brain." He joked, glancing down at his hard cock straining against the fabric in his pants.

She followed his gaze and licked her lips. Technically, she didn't have to start the change with him until tomorrow night. But she was so very hungry, and more aroused than she had been in quite a few centuries.

She moved closer to him on the bed, and brought her hand up to his head, running her fingers through his thick curly locks. He closed his eyes at her gentle touch, and wondered if she was simply soothing him in order to kill him for not accepting her proposal outright. He couldn't bring himself to care in that moment, her touch calming his whole body. The opposite effect of what it had been doing earlier. He sighed.

"Yes, Harry..." She replied softly. "For you, I will let you have 24 hours. I do not give this allowance to many, but you are special..... so I will give you time. But tomorrow night is the last night we can begin the change, when the veils between worlds are thin. It will make the process easier for you...." She continued to stroke his silky strands, twirling her fingers around the ringlets that fell past his shoulders. "There is the condition, of course, that you are not allowed to talk to anyone about this. You must not expose who we are. In order to ensure this, I must create a bond, so that I may find you immediately. And it will not allow you to lie to me, either.... Not to worry, if you decide your answer is no, then I will remove the bond.." That last part was a little bit of a white lie. The bond would be very difficult and painful to break, and she had no intention of removing it right away. If he didn't want to join her, she wanted to be able to find him again regardless, if even just for the occasional snack.... or fuck. She would remove it....eventually. Probably.

Harry continued to be soothed by her hand in his hair, listening to her terms and conditions. It sounded more than fair to him. He was a little nervous about the idea of the bond, but if she would remove it, then he wasn't too worried about it.

"That is more than fair, and very generous of you. I have no intention of talking to anyone else about this. I just need some time to think about it for myself...... Um.... How do you create the bond?" He asked, nerves apparent in his voice.

Estrilda smiled like the predator she was. It would look terrifying if she wasn't so stunning. "Oh, Harry.... That's the fun part...." She moved quickly, placing her knees on either side of his hips, straddling his lap, moving her hand from his hair to his neck, spreading her fingers out on either side of his jaw, tilting his head up at an angle, feeling his breath and pulse pass through his throat as both became rapid. She licked her lips and leaned forward, body hovering over his, to inhale deeply against his skin, indulging herself by allowing his scent to seep into her blood.

"Tonight," she purred, "I will show you but a small sample of what pleasure you might experience at my side..." She moved her hand down the front of his throat, dragging it down his chest and stomach, until it landed on his throbbing erection pushing against the leather between her thighs.

"You will allow me to feed from you, and we will satiate both of our hungers until our bodies are satisfied and well fed," she purred into his ear. "You will not feel any pain, my bite will not turn you, only bring you pleasure beyond your wildest fantasies..." She gave his cock a small squeeze and smiled against his his skin when her touch elicited a low moan from his chest and his hips thrust up to meet her hand, his thighs contracting under hers.

Harry was past rational thought. His body was now in complete control, reacting solely to her touch, her voice, her power. He couldn't say no even if he wanted to. And he definitely didn't want to. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life. His whole being was focused on the pleasure already zinging through body in response to her movements, her breath, the words coming out of her perfect mouth.

His hands flew to her hips in order to grip something to keep himself grounded, as his hips moved restlessly under her body and her touch.

His fingers digging into her hips was like a switch in both of them, snapping the thread of control that had already been stretched beyond its limit.

"Fuck..." Harry ground out, pulling her hips harshly against his aching cock, thrusting up against her center. "Yes, yes, please.... make the bond... Just please.... I need...." he trailed off, out of his mind with lust at the feeling of her warmth against his hardness. He was starting to whimper in frustration at the thickness of his leather pants, having a difficult time feeling much but pressure pressing against him. He needed more. It's a good thing she didn't ask him to agree to The Change when she was on top of him like this. He would have agreed to be her blood slave forever if it meant being able to feel her body pressed against him.

"Ssshhh.... I know. I will make it all feel better...I promise." Her own voice a little breathy as he handled her body with more strength and force she had experience from a human before. His fingers biting into the flesh at her hips spurred her on, and she rolled her center against him, pressing her chest against his in a languid movement. Her incisors elongated and sharpened in her mouth, anticipating the feed. She was having a difficult time separating her hunger for his touch from the hunger for his blood. She was near vibrating with need for both.

So she would satisfy both.

She continued the sensual rolling of her hips and body against him, her chest sliding up and down on his as she leaned her face into his neck and licked a long stripe from his collarbone up to where his ear met his jaw. Where his pulse was the strongest. The effect of her saliva on his skin was immediate.

Harry let out a long, low groan as the euphoric chemicals in her saliva began to seep into his skin. Where her tongue had tasted his neck felt like the entire surface was tingling with a sensation he could only describe as a local orgasm. He thrusted his hips more roughly into her cunt, chasing some sort of relief. Then he felt a tiny pinch on his skin under her mouth, and that sense of euphoria spread so quickly under his skin, it felt as though that orgasmic feeling he had felt before was a raindrop compared to the flood of pleasure coursing through his body. He moaned loudly, his hips jolting up and his back arching as an actual orgasm hit him, his cum spilling into his pants.

He expected the usual post-orgasm let down of energy, a moment to collect himself and deal with the embarrassment of cumming in his pants from dry humping like some inexperienced teenager. But his cock remained hard, his pulse and breathing heavy, as though it had never happened. He only felt a little more sensitive, but was still unbelievably hard and panting underneath her.

As soon as Harry's blood hit her tongue, Estrilda was in heaven. Well, as close as The Damned can get to heaven. His blood was spicy and felt like it was sprinkled with tiny flecks of light that tickled her tastebuds and created sparkles in her belly. She had never tasted anyone like this in her 1500 years. She was immediately addicted. The sparkles spread into a fire in her lower belly, increasing her arousal and pleasure at the sensation of his hard cock pressing against the seam of the leather. Her skin gliding slickly on the front of his pants, unencumbered by underwear that she hadn't felt was necessary to wear tonight. She felt Harry stiffen underneath her and at the sound of his moan and the feel of him pulsing under her pussy, she released a moan of her own. Letting his flavor and the sensations of her sensitive skin against the hard leather trigger her own orgasm. She broke the seal of her lips at his neck, lapping at the wound to immediately heal the skin and catch any spare blood that tried to escape. She decided she would be the only one ever to feed from Harry. The effect his blood had on her body was far too addictive to allow anyone else to taste him. They would never want to stop. And it was her duty to protect him, just as much as it was his to protect her. When she was done, Harry had a pretty mean looking hickey, but that's all it would look like to anyone else.

Their mutual orgasms did nothing to satisfy their hunger for each other. Both hands started ripping off clothing, tearing fabric, not caring about ever being able to put it on again. Harry's pants became shreds of leather tossed around the room. Estrilda's skirt was ripped in half, as was her bralette as it was torn from her body. Soon they were naked and panting, Estrilda back in her position astride Harry's hips, hands frantic as they tried to feed their hunger with touch. It wasn't enough.

Harry looked at the Goddess on top of him, eyes glowing bright gold, ringed with red, lips swollen and parted, fangs behind them elongated and sharp with blood dripping off the tips of them and trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her skin seemed to glow as well, though it was cool to the touch, it was softer than he expected. His hands followed his eyes as they moved down her chest, taking in the dark skin around her erect nipples. They cupped and kneaded her breasts, fingers gently pinching and pulling at her nipples, causing her head to fall back and she thrust them further into his hands. He couldn't resist from diving forward and tasting her skin himself, wrapping his lips around one her nipples and sucking it into his mouth harshly. Her hands flew to his head, gripping his hair to hold him in place as she rocked against him, feeling his hardness rub against her clit with each roll of her hips.

Harry finished suckling one and moved his attention to her other breast, his other hand massaging and tweaking the one he just left behind. The taste of her skin was driving him crazy. He could only imagine how delectable her essence would be.

"I wanna taste you...... please..... can I taste you...?" He mumbled between licks and sucks on her breast. "It's only fair...You tasted me.... Please, Estrilda...."

Estrilda moaned loudly at his ministrations at her breasts, his voice gravely and pleading, the sound of her name rolling off his tongue her new favorite sound. With only a little difficulty, she lifted her body off of his lap, rising to her knees. They both whined at the loss in contact. He looked up at her, pouting for moving away. Her hands woven tightly into his hair, faces close together, she watched his eyes dart around her face and land on her mouth again. She watched his pupils dilate and saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips. She tightened her grip in his long hair to hold him in place as he attempted to move his head forward to kiss her. He pouted and furrowed his brows, looking back up into her eyes for some sort of explanation of why she would deny him a kiss.

"Tomorrow, my sweet. Tonight, I can feed on you, but I cannot let you have any of my blood, I cannot let you taste my mouth.... I cannot let you drink from my folds.... as much as I would love that. If you do not wish to begin The Change tonight, then we must be careful..."

Harry frowned, but nodded and returned his attention back to lapping at her skin. He placed open mouth kisses along her neck and where he was used to feeling a pulse at the junction of her jaw and neck the movement under her skin was still aside from her panting and muscles contracting in her movements. He paused briefly and then suctioned his mouth against her throat, in the same spot she had marked him. He couldn't break her skin and feed from her, but he was surprised at how intensely he felt the desire to do so.

Pulse or not, she reacted the same way to the feel of his mouth suctioning at her neck's most sensitive spot. She lowered her hips again, this time with the goal of joining them completely. She gripped one hand tightly in his hair on the back of his head, pulling it away from her neck, and at the same time placing her other hand at the base of his cock to position it for her to join them.

She looked into his eyes for confirmation, and at his small nod, she lowered herself down onto his engorged cock. At the first feel of his bulbous head pushing past her entrance, they both gasped, mouths dropping open and maintaining eye contact as she allowed his thickness to slowly fill her up. Their moans filled the air as they took in the sensations wracking their bodies. He was bigger and thicker than most mortals. Hell, he was bigger and thicker than most non-mortals. She felt the delicious stretch of her muscles, his ridges hitting all the right spots, his length hitting a depth in her that had been neglected for far too long. Yes, she had made an excellent choice. She was positive she could live happily on his cock for at least 200 years, if not eternity. She felt something else shift inside of her, like a lock sliding into place that she didn't know was missing. An alignment of.... something.... deep inside of where her soul would be if she had one. It distracted her for a moment. And then he started moving, and the only thing she could focus on was the feel of his long cock gliding in and out of her sheath.

Harry had nothing to compare this feeling to. As soon as her warmth had wrapped around him, he felt as though part of his soul had left his body and joined with her. He felt her wrapped not only around his length, but wrapped around every cell in his body. He felt like he was drowning in her, and he never wanted to come up for air. He had to move to keep from going insane, so he began slow languid thrusts up from the bed, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, moving her up and and down on him, the other arm propped behind him to give him leverage.

But it wasn't enough. He needed more. He kept his arm wrapped around her waist and pushed his weight into his supporting arm to twist his body and lie her on her back underneath him. From this position, he could fully gorge himself on her body. Moving his hands so they gripped her hips, he knelt back to stand on his knees and lifted her body up and down on his length. He watched himself pull out and then disappear inside of her. Her pussy was just as breathtaking as the rest of her. He cursed that he couldn't taste her tonight. His mouth watered at the sight of her juices dripping off of his cock, and it took all his willpower not to swipe his fingers through their mixed arousal to bring it to his mouth for a taste.

At this angle, he could see her whole body splayed out for him, her breasts bouncing with his thrusts, her hair fanned out around her head like a crown. He watched her hands move to play with her breasts as her tongue ran along her sharp fangs as she watched his muscles move her body. Looking down at her lower belly, he could see the skin bulge where he was moving inside of her. The visual made him feral. He brought one had up to rub at her clit, thrusting harder, making her body jolt with each movement.

Estrilda was lost in the vision of the man above her. Never did she let a mortal move her body around like this, take control before The Change. But watching the muscles of his arms bulge as they held her weight, the sweat glistening on his chest and abdominals with each thrust, was only increasing her pleasure. His long hair hung in curtains around his face, his mouth hung low as he watched their joining. She could see his temptation to taste her, which pleased her greatly. She wasn't sure she could live 200 years without enjoying his mouth on her, regardless of how impressive his cock was. When he started rubbing at her clit and hitting deeper inside her with each forceful thrust, she started to come undone. Pleasure that had already been building up started increase as a fire built in her lower belly. All of her muscles were gripping him, feeling each ridge and vein, increasing her sensitivity. Finally, fireworks erupted under her skin, causing explosions throughout her body. Her natural desire to feed to enhance the experience overtook her actions and she quickly pulled him down to her with inhuman speed and strength and sunk her teeth into his neck as she wrapped her legs around his hips, keeping the movement going for them both. As his blood flooded her system, those explosions rocked her core and caused vibrations throughout her entire system until she felt like all the blood in her body was pure light, pulsing and glowing. Her orgasm was never ending, flooding her body with intense pleasure she had never felt with a human before.

At the feel of her fangs piercing his skin, Harry moaned loudly and his hip movements became uneven and sloppy as he reached his cock as deeply in her as he could go. His spine was on fire and his balls tight against his body, wetly smacking against her, covered in their arousal. He shuddered and jolted as his orgasm hit him like a nuclear bomb. Blinding light erupted in his body and he shouted her name as he pumped his cum deep into her, coating her walls. The longer she drank from him, the more he continued to pump into her, this orgasm outlasting any he had ever experienced.

Estrilda became aware that she was draining him, and she needed to stop if he was going to be strong enough for tomorrow night. Reluctantly, she pulled her mouth way from him and licked away the blood that had smeared, her saliva instantly healing his skin. She felt his body become heavy as he collapsed on top of her in exhaustion. His weight didn't bother her. She could carry him with one arm, easily. It felt.....strangely comforting. Almost like a hug. Which she hadn't felt in quite some time...

She could feel his cum in her non-functioning womb, painting her walls, and leaking out of her. He wasn't the only one desperate for a taste. She was sure his seed was just as delicious as his blood. But if she started that, then she would wear them both out. And they both needed their strength for what was to come.

She was certain he would accept her proposal. And if he didn't, well then, she just found a new favorite play toy.

Harry was exhausted. All of his limbs felt like iron weights and his eyes were heavy. He was aware all of his weight was on top of Estrilda, but he couldn't manage to move. He felt as though he couldn't quite catch his breath, and his heart rate felt weak.

"I can't move..." he mumbled against her neck, pressing his lips gently to the skin there.

She was surprised at his gentle kiss. Yet, she liked this affectionate man and the feel of his lips on her skin. She didn't realize she was smiling until she spoke, "I may have taken more than I intended...Your blood is quite.... addictive.."

She easily moved their bodies so he was laying on his back with her next to him. They both breathed in a sharp breath at his length leaving her warmth. His milky white fluid leaked out of her onto the bed, but neither paid any mind. Sex was messy, and they loved it. Her hand gently moved to caress his skin, gliding from his shoulder down his torso to his hip and leg and back up again. She repeated the pathway, moving across from one side to another. This is something she could do for him, to make up for taking so much from him tonight. This power to renew and rejuvenate was hers to give to her fledglings to help them survive. She would gift it to him tonight, even though he had not yet agreed to be hers.

Harry felt his energy returning with each pass of her hand. His skin becoming warm and tingling underneath her touch. He knew she was using some sort of power, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It felt so good, and it was helping his strength. Already he felt his arms and legs feel lighter, his heart rate stronger. Breathing was easier, and his body relaxed. Soon that heavy, weak feeling was but a memory, replaced by this euphoric feeling of her touch.

He sighed in relief and gratitude for whatever it was that she had done. "Thank you," he breathed out, turning his head to look at her face. His eyes memorized her features, though he was certain every curve and ridge was forever permanently imprinted on his brain.

"This was but just a small taste of what life could be like with me, Harry. But imagine it with no limits, with heightened sensations. We would never grow weak, or hungry. We would sustain each other. There would be no need for food or sleep. Your body would always be strong.... powerful....You could taste me in every way you want.... Whenever you want.... This - this is nothing compared to the pleasure you will feel from drinking me in..... " She wanted him, and she was willing to use everything she could to entice him, convince him, and still have it be his choice.

Harry wanted it. He wanted her. He wanted everything she was offering him. Truth be told, he didn't care that much for the power or immortality. He never felt like he quite belonged to the human race anyways, he wondered if he would feel more at home with The Other world. He was far too curious about it to turn it away. But more than his curiosity, more than any desire for power or immortality, he wanted HER. He would leave all that other stuff if it meant he could have HER. She fit into a place in his soul that he didn't realize was missing. With her her felt...complete.

But he had asked for time, because he did need to know he was making the decision apart from her direct influence. He knew she was powerful, and he needed to make sure that the choice really was HIS, not her power convincing him it was.

Looking into her eyes, he brought a hand up to cradle her face and rub his thumb along her cheek. "Tomorrow..... I will give you my decision tomorrow.....My queen..." He gently spoke, smiling softly.

Her lips curved upward as she stroked her hand through his silky strands. "Yes..... tomorrow."

..........................................................................................................................................................

Author's Note

I published this without proofreading or editing. I just really wanted to get it out because it wasn't letting me focus on anything else. I retain full rights to come back and fix anything I didn't catch and edit a bit later on. Because I can. ;P

I hope you are enjoying their story! The way I have it planned out, I have only 2 more parts left. This was meant to be a one shot, but apparently I really can't do that. I'll see if I can satisfactorily get it all out in 4 chapters though....

Oh, I made a Spotify playlist for this book. Vampire vibes, babes!

Part 3

#harry styles #fanfic #vampire #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles au #short story #short fiction #wattpad

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff. and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother. if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff. Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt. Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it. Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll. “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence. “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned. Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you. “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well. The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that. Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed. “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard. It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this. She could do better than him anyways! But she didn’t care about that, only money and status. You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh. You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life. You were just numb.

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer. It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his. You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table. He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know. Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway. You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly. Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink. Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe. There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled. “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’. This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity. Almost.

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned. “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!”

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face. It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over. You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room. That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death. So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions. You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either. And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more. You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it. Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot. You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else. You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible. You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything. Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently. The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen. She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though. You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one. At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along. Friday night was different, though. This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning. That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it. It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside. You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow. It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms. He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face. You didn’t let it get this far just to give up. You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey. You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak. “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could. You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me. I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once. All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you! You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled. It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed. It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before. He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked. You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits. It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was. You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet. You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly. You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain. But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward. Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused. You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him. He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed. “You are in dire need of a punishment. You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal. “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh? Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers. “This fuckin’ mouth. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? Come on baby, open up. I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip. You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see? You’re so wet for it,” he purred. You tried to speak but words abandoned you.

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed. His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth. He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting. You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy. “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock. Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe. His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough. You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait? I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled. “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring. Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra. Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands.

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside. “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor. A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you. You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly. “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason. You gonna be good for me now?”

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs. “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind. You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more. Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority. “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart? Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?” He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands. A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers. They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off. You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor. “I can smell how much you want it.” He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue. “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised. You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs. You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come. And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily. It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now. Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment. Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you.

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth. “Beg me. To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed. It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true. And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother. He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not. At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you. Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it? Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher. Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer. He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright. He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned. “Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face. “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed. You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl? Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed. “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop. Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day). He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out. He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked. It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip. He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt. “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?”

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath. You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer. “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

#lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #dark fic

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s-brant · 3 years ago

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Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

Summary: Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B has other plans for them.

Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.

Word Count: 24k

A/N: Here we goooo! To celebrate the trailer dropping today, here’s part two to Devils Roll The Dice. If you haven’t read the first part, I suggest you read it and come back so this makes sense. This one has all the drama and spice, so buckle up! Thank you for the love and support on the first part. Let me know if you enjoyed this and have fun, cause I had a blast writing it.

Hurricane Agatha.

It was the first thing she heard about as soon as she woke up yesterday to the sound of her phone blaring with an obnoxious tone that reminds her of waking up too early in the morning for work or school.

Her sleepy eyes couldn't make out who was calling, so she pressed the button to answer and lifted the phone to hear her mom's voice squawking through the speaker at her about the hurricane projected to hit the island in the middle of the night tonight.

The problem is, her parents are out of town this week, leaving her all alone to prep the house and endure the storm alone. And for someone who flinches whenever she thinks she hears the sound of thunder in the sky, that is the worst it can get.

It's a fear her friends are conscious of. One time when they were out on the HMS Pogue, a quick summer storm started to drift overhead and it took all of her self control to not fall into a blind panic when thunder began to rumble above. John B was already steering them back in the direction of the Chateau but she knew it would do nothing to calm her nerves until she was back inside of the house.

The anxiety was starting to become too overwhelming when JJ sat down beside her and threw his arm over her shoulder. It was their first month of knowing one another, so the casual friendly gesture made her jump at first and turn her head to look at him, but he acted like everything was normal.

The next person to notice was John B. With JJ currently out of commission, the only person she thought to call to help her prep the house for the incoming storm was him. Since they never got hurricanes up where she used to live her whole life, she needed someone who's been through a couple to help her while her parents weren't home.

That's how she ended up here. Sweating bullets in the front yard of her house as she unloads the contents of the van with John B was not how she envisioned her Saturday night to go, but she's glad she has someone who's willing to help.

In the past five months of being with the Pogues, she's learned that it's lovely to have friends. She never used to have any before she moved, so in situations like this or when she got so drunk at the party, she never would've had anyone to be there for her. It's quiet moments of kindness and companionship like this that make her realize how much better life has been on the other side of uprooting everything to move here—self-inflicted boy drama and all.

The sandbag on her shoulder sends a growing ache through her back muscles with every step she takes to follow him up the length of unpaved dirt path up to her front door. As usual, he makes it look way easier than it is, and it almost makes her want to laugh at how different they are.

Most of her new friends are effortless, naturally picking up anything they decide to try at while she is inept by comparison. It's part of what attracted her to JJ in the first place. He may have his insecurities the same way every other individual does, but in her eyes, he has nothing to be insecure of. Even when he wipes out on a wave and appears out of the water with sand clumped in his salt-kissed strands of blonde hair, he manages to make it look cool.

"What are you smiling about?"

John B's laughter makes her look up from where she concentrated on the dirt path to see him looking back at her. He stands at the entrance to her house with the rest of the sandbags they carried up placed meticulously in front of the door to prevent water from entering the house. They did the same thing with the back door an hour ago.

Is she smiling? She hadn't even realized her expression changed from one of exhaustion and fear at the dark clouds closing in above to a grin, so her face instantly drops in guilt. After running out on JJ for the second time two days ago to go to work, any mention of him from their friends has left her drowning in shame.

She can't recall the bulk of her memories from the night of the Fourth of July party, but she fills in the gaps between those flashes of memory with what their friends told her about it.

Thanks to her overindulgence, there are holes poked in the fabric of her memory.

It jumps from her last fully sober moment of seeing JJ across the room with the kook girl to dancing clumsily with Kie to the floral scent of her makeup wipes that she can't attach a specific visual image to.

Then, she can remember waking up with a start in the middle of the night to throw up in a pot beside the bed while he held back her hair. Before John B explained it, she was quite confused after waking up about how she somehow got from being jealous over JJ flirting with another girl to waking up in the same bed as him.

She grunts as she plops the last sandbag down into place and decides to take a seat on the steps leading up to the door.

"It wasn't anything special," Y/N says and watches him come down to sit next to her, "I was just thinking about taking something so I can pass out and avoid having a panic attack over this stupid storm."

Unlike JJ, she isn't that skilled of a liar. It's obvious to anyone who knows her well when she does it based on the way her eye contact begins to drift away and her voice raises in pitch when she speaks. She's too honest with her friends to handle keeping secrets from them, which is why it's been so difficult for her with everything that has happened recently. Not only does she lie to the Pogues, she also avoids them by association in the process of trying to avoid JJ.

Regardless of how obvious her bluffing is, John B doesn't call her out on it. Instead, he focuses on a different part of what she said.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay alone? I know your parents are out of town till next week..." he trails off into concerned silence.

The tip of her sneaker hangs off of the edge of the bottom step and absentmindedly digs a line into the dirt as she takes in his question.

Being alone when she's prone to panicking is a recipe for disaster. Anxiety and loneliness have a relationship similar to that of a weapon and ammunition. It takes very little for her to fall down the rabbit hole of obsessive thinking and break down into a hyperventilating, fearful mess, especially when no one else is there to tug her out of those dark thoughts.

Most of the time, the people who help her with that are her parents. If they're home during one of these episodes, she'll come stumbling downstairs to them from her room for help, and they'll do everything they can to bring her down from hysterics. Her friends, on the other hand, have yet to witness her have one of those moments.

"Having people with me helps, you know? But it is what it is, I'll just try to cope the best I can and hope for the best."

He nods, and though he's a portrait of understanding, she wonders if he finds it as juvenile and stupid as she does.

Logically, she knows that this anxiety is something many people experience. She understands that it's something that is mostly out of her control but can't help but tear herself apart over it.

She thinks to herself, What kind of weirdo can't sit inside during a thunderstorm or hurricane without losing their shit? Why am I not the one in control of my own mind when this happens?

Do her friends think similar things? Do they think it's as pathetic as she does, or is she just paranoid that they pick her flaws apart as much as she does? And, of course, she wonders what JJ would think if he saw her panic like that. He may have seen her start to become anxious on the HMS Pogue, but he hasn't seen her panic panic before, not in the way that her parents have, and she wonders if he'd think less of her for it.

Right when she's about to change the topic and steer him away from a chance to think of how ridiculous she's being about the approaching hurricane, he says something that makes her look back over at him.

"Then come spend the night at the Chateau. I can distract you. We can play board games and shit."

"Really?" she asks.

The idea of anyone wanting to waste an entire night playing board games and possibly signing themselves up for having to talk her down from a panic attack makes her heart melt.

"Yeah, why not? You need a friend tonight. You know any of us would do anything for you. You're like my little sister, dude, we'd all probably hack off a limb if we thought it'd help you. Especially JJ."

John B's last second name-drop is designed specifically for where he wants this conversation to go. Underneath the need to get his friends back to normal, he does feel a little guilty for having to do this. She thinks he's only offering to let her stay with him to help her—and he is, even if there weren't a rift between her and JJ, he'd still offer—but he has a different reason.

"Right," she says softly. "Speaking of which...is he gonna be there tonight?"

With how often he escapes his house to spend a night or two in temporary safety at the Chateau, it's not an unfounded assumption. He and John B spend more time together than any of them because of this, and when she goes over to hang out, she knows that he and JJ often come as a package deal.

He tries to play it cool and not give up anything that could make her suspicious of him, looking off at the van parked in the driveway as he takes a second to collect his thoughts. It's never easy for him to deceive people he cares about, even if it's for their own good. It wasn't easy when he invited JJ to spend the night a few hours ago with the knowledge that he'd soon invite Y/N too either, but he managed.

As always, Pope is the brains behind this operation. He was the one to suggest inviting them both over to wait out Agatha together when the three of them put their heads together to come up with a solution to their oblivious friends' drama. After JJ stormed out of the house the morning after the party, they knew they had to do something about it. This was what it came to.

"Nah. I offered but he said he's staying at home until this whole thing blows over."

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

She knows JJ well enough to know that he would literally rather eat glass than be trapped in a confined space with his dad for an entire day. Perhaps it's only because it's what she wants to believe. She wants to believe that she won't have to see him again tonight after everything that happened. How can she handle having to tell him why got so drunk that night and made an ass of herself? She can't bear to tell him all of that unnecessary drama started because she was jealous.

What right does she have to feel that way? He isn't hers. They aren't together, and she thinks it's quite obvious that he doesn't want a relationship out of whatever it is they have together. It was one night. She has no right to be mad at him for flirting with other girls because of it.

"Then I'll definitely be taking you up on that offer. Thank you," she says.

The old wooden stairs make a squealing sound when she stands to make her way inside to gather her things for the night, but the feeling of a warm hand gripping her forearm stops her mid-step. Her eyes follow down the length of her arm back to where he sits, glancing at her with this knowing look in his eyes that makes her want to turn and hide.

"When are you gonna talk things out with him, Y/N?" he asks. "He misses you."

Since the party, no one has had the courage to burst her bubble of pretending not to care until now, but now that someone has, all of her bottled up emotions stir inside of her at a simple concept she hadn't considered yet.

JJ misses her.

For the first time since they began this stupid game of cat and mouse, she is confronted with how desperately she misses him back. So consumed with the task of concealing everything that happened and trying to avoid him, she hadn't acknowledged that all she ever really wants is to be with him lately.

She misses his jokes and the way he looks at her when she giggles at them. She misses his smile when they play fight on the HMS Pogue. She even misses when he dangles her over the edge of the boat as a means to end the wrestling match, making her squirm in his strong hold as he threatens to toss her overboard.

But what she misses most of all is how he never lets her fall in. It's something about the way he looks at her as he pulls her back onboard, how time itself seems to stop in the moment between when he's still holding her and when she feels her feet touch the deck again.

Then, they'll suddenly want nothing to do with each other for the next half hour.

JJ will make himself busy forgetting the way her hands felt holding onto his shoulders for dear life, burning the memory of her palm prints into his skin for the next few hours. And she'll try her hardest to forget that charming smile and the feeling of his arms around her. But it won't work, not really, and when they're both laying down to sleep at night, they'll have one thing keeping them awake.

She takes a second to internalize what he said and avoid exposing the effect it has on her to hear it before asking, "Did he tell you that?"

The sky overhead grows darker and darker by the second, but she has yet to notice it due to the topic of their conversation. With JJ involved, her attention shrinks to a tunnel leading only to him. There's no room for anything else but the audacious idea planted in the back of her mind that he might miss her as much as she misses him.

"No, he didn't," John B admits, and right when she's about to say more in response, he cuts her off, "but hear me out. I've known him since we were kids, so I can tell when things aren't right with him, and ever since your relationship with him got complicated, I picked up on some weird vibes."

Y/N doesn't give anything away with how she reacts. He can't tell if she's about to bolt like JJ did or stay to talk and open up to him. All she does is cross her arms over her chest and lean back against the railing.

"Weird in what way?"

"Weird in a way that makes me think you two have to talk it out before you ruin your friendship. I've never seen him act this way over a girl."

That doesn't surprise her. He has a reputation for chasing after any girl available to him, something the Pogues have gently teased him about, and it factors into why she doesn't want to have this dreaded conversation with him. She doesn't want to sit there and listen to him tell her that she was just another one of those girls to him.

Going for broke and being honest about what he thinks of their situation is a better strategy for trying to get her to talk to JJ than the other way around. John B can look back on what happened the morning after the party and see where they went wrong in their approach of trying to get him to talk, but she's less unpredictable and turbulent than he is. The fact that she's hearing him out is enough proof of their differences.

She sighs.

"I know we need to talk sooner or later, but it's hard, you know? I'm so embarrassed of how everything went down at the party, even though I was too fucked up to remember most of it, and I just—" There's a brief second that lapses between when she stops and when she starts again where he can almost see her working through it in her head. "I don't wanna get hurt."

John B's face falls at the mention of the party and her feelings surrounding it.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed of. You drank too much but who cares? The only person who should be embarrassed about that night is the guy that tried to take advantage of you."

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

She can remember what led up to it and the moment she saw JJ pull him away from her, but she can't remember anything about the interaction itself. It wasn't as if he did anything to her—not yet—but the thought of it alone makes her skin crawl because she's seen that before. She's been the JJ in that situation, pulling a wasted Touron away from someone who thought nobody would be looking out for other people at the party, and she knows how quickly those situations can escalate past "harmless" flirting.

The sound of JJ shouting at Tyler echoes in her mind as she reaches for any remaining memories left from the party. He said it right after he punched him, when he was starting to rush forward to follow him onto the ground and pin him there.

"If I see you near my girl again, you're fucking dead! You got that?"

She doesn't remember realizing that he called her that at the moment. She was confused and upset and all she wanted to do was stop him from getting himself in trouble, so she pulled him away from hitting Tyler again without realizing what he said. And even now, she tries to avoid acknowledging it. She reasons with herself, telling herself that he was pissed off and didn't mean it, because if he did, why hasn't he told her how he feels yet?

Y/N looks up and sees how dark the converging clouds have gotten in the time since they began working on prepping the house for the hurricane, so her next words are shakier than usual.

"I guess you're right." She pushes off of her spot against the railing. "But can we not talk about JJ tonight? I kind of wanna hang out and forget about the rest of the stuff I've got going on right now."

This makes him feel a pang of guilt inside of him for the ulterior motive he's kept hidden from her for the duration of the conversation, but he knows it's for the best. Even if her and JJ's inevitable conversation goes in the wrong direction and they don't end up mending fences, it's better that they let it out sooner than later. If they wait any longer, it'll make it worse, and he knows that they're stubborn enough to keep this childish game going for another week or so.

So, he keeps her in the dark for now and offers a kind, "Sure, that's cool with me," despite knowing how messy the night will soon become.

A smile pokes at the edges of her mouth, making the sides of her eyes crinkle, and she extends a hand to help him up from where he sits.

"Now," she says as they make their way inside the house for her to pack a bag, "are you ready to get absolutely crushed in Monopoly?"

It started to rain before they left her house, and by the time they pull into the driveway of the Chateau, it's pouring down on them with violent winds whipping droplets at their faces hard enough to hurt.

The rapid pace of her pulse beats with such an intensity, she can feel it in her head. They shouldn't have taken so much time at her place before heading over here. While she was packing, they talked and dilly-dallied the whole time, and now they pay the price for it.

If she knew that it would start this soon into the night, she probably would've hurried things along sooner, but it's too late. She's already starting to feel that tightness in her chest and each breath of air feels less satisfying with every inhale. It's not so bad that she loses complete control of herself, but it's getting there, and she can't express how badly she doesn't want to lose her shit in front of John B.

The passenger side door is slammed shut by the force of the wind behind her, the noise becoming swallowed up in the rest of the budding storm, and she stifles a sound of surprise that escapes her in reaction to it. They're lucky they made it here in the first place. Any later in the night and they probably would've had to take refuge at her place until it blew over.

She decides to focus on how the edges of her white sneakers are swallowed up by the muddy earth on her way through the front yard to distract herself. It stains them a deep brown color and simultaneously washes them clean from the rain coming down from above, which she'd probably be annoyed about if she weren't such a nervous wreck. But, because she's too busy keeping her backpack raised over her head to shield herself from the rain on her way up to the front door, it's not high up on her list of priorities.

Since both the screen door and the door behind it are unlocked, she doesn't hesitate to come bursting into the house as she usually does.

Y/N lets out a deep breath, feeling that telltale tension in her chest and shoulders, and laughs at the sight of John B running in as she kicks off her shoes. His t-shirt is speckled with rainwater, and his hair is saturated enough with it to stick to the sides of his face after he crosses the threshold into the Chateau.

The sound of her laughter makes JJ's heart stop from where he stands in the kitchen.

"There was an umbrella right on the dashboard, why didn't you take—"

Her heart might as well have stopped just as abruptly as the sentence she was in the middle of saying when she turned and saw him standing there.

Maybe they're both a tad too dramatic, but it takes a full few seconds for them to stop staring at each other in surprise. He looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide with surprise like he was caught doing something he shouldn't even though all he was doing was grabbing a beer from the fridge.

It's been two days since they last saw each other. For him, the last glimpse he got of her was when he peeked through the blinds to see her pedaling away on her bike to go to work, but hers was somewhat different.

The last time she saw him, he was asleep. Their legs were tangled together underneath the sheets and his face was smushed against her chest, allowing her to feel the soft puffs of his exhales on her skin every few seconds. It's a wonder that she managed to slip away unnoticed once she remembered she had work that morning. He was holding her closely, so closely that she found it hard to discern where she ended and he began in the dazed, hungover headspace she woke up in.

It's when the conversation she had with John B on the front steps of her house comes back to the forefront of her mind that she puts together what's happening right now. Now that they're here, it's far too late to leave. With how aggressively the wind and rain batter the area surrounding the house, it's obvious that they're not going anywhere.

It seems to click with them at the same time, because JJ turns to look at him only a half second after she does.

Y/N says, completely serious, "If you did what I think you did, I'm gonna kill you."

Before either of them can think of doing anything, John B shoots out from the doorway and runs past her in the direction of the hallway where his bedroom is.

"Gotta catch me first!"

They both chase him, JJ hopping over the back of the couch to run after him, but they end up coming to a screeching halt at the shut door right when they hear the lock turn and click.

Neither of them knows what they were planning to do when they caught him, cause it isn't like they'd hurt him, but they bang on the door nonetheless. The sound is drowned out by the sound of the wind and rain pounding the outside walls of the house, picking up speed, and for a second she wants to kick the door open.

She shouts, "John B! Open this door!"

The last thing she wanted tonight was to be trapped in a house with the one person she didn't want to see. Doesn't John B realize how embarrassing it is for her to be around him when she knows that he's gonna reject her? He may have said something about JJ never acting so weird over a girl before, but he's wrong. There's no way JJ actually wants her...right?

"I can't hear you, this storm's kinda loud!" he yells back at them through the locked door. "Maybe try again later!"

Neither of them wants to acknowledge the other. In fact, they don't even want to look at each other right now, so all they can do to stop themselves from acknowledging the elephant in the room is continue trying to get answers out of John B. What does he think that locking them together in the Chateau for the night will accomplish other than make them ignore their own drama and team up to plot their revenge on him?

Though he's significantly less angry than she is, JJ pulls the doorknob enough to make the door whine on its hinges and pleads with their friend, "This isn't funny, John B. Open the door."

"Not until you guys stop being immature and talk to each other."

She furrows her brows at him even though he can't see her, saying, "It's none of your business. You can't just trap us here cause you think you know what's best for us."

The sound of thunder rumbling above the house makes her flinch, hand shooting out to latch onto JJ's arm on an instinct she couldn't consciously resist. Feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm and the fingers clutched around his wrist sends shocks of familiar electricity up her body. Touching him always makes her feel hyperaware of herself, leaving her to wonder if he can sense her pulse picking up or notice how her breathing pattern turns uneven.

With that being said, it's safe to say that the night they spent together took that sensation of electricity and hyperawareness to a height it hadn't reached before.

That time, it wasn't a brush of their hands or an arm over her shoulder, it was the epitome of physical closeness. She couldn't handle it. He was so sickeningly sweet with her, yet, at the same time, he knew all of the right times to be commanding and in control too. There were awkward moments at first, sure, but once they became comfortable with each other, it was game over.

And whenever they've touched since, she hasn't been able to get those memories off of her mind. It's less prevalent now, since she's only holding onto him out of fear, but it's still there underneath it all—the unfiltered desperation of the lust in his eyes, the low noises that escaped his parted lips, and the strong pair of hands that pinned her hips down on the mattress to give him the leverage to really give it to her at the intensity she begged for.

It's pathetically easy for her to be sucked right back into the vortex of emotions, memories, and fears that haunt her whenever they touch, but he brings her back out of it just as easily when he speaks.

"You okay?"

John B was as good as forgotten by him as soon as he felt her jolt next to him and grab onto his wrist like she was hanging from a ravine and he was the only thing preventing her from falling. It makes him feel like a fool, but even when they're ignoring each other, the urge to comfort and protect her from anything that displeases her never disappears. He'd literally fistfight Zeus if it meant there'd be less thunder to scare her.

If he weren't hiding behind a locked door to avoid their wrath, JB would probably be calling him a simp right about now.

The concern on his face is so pure and unaffected by any of the chaos that surrounds them, both physical and emotional, that it makes her stomach turn with a sick feeling. God, he really does care about her. Why does that scare her? Why doesn't she want to believe that he cares? Why is she so set on believing that he wanted nothing more than a quick fuck from her?

Her eyes turn down to see their connected hands, realizing all in one moment what she did and pulling her hand away as if she were burned.

"I—Yeah," she stops, looking up at him, then back to the closed bedroom door, "I'm fine. You know how it is, it's just the storm."

They're both left with no choice but to face the music after days of avoidance that had no good reason behind it other than the respective doubts and fears they have. Yet even now that they're standing here, unsure of what comes next, they're hesitant to say or do anything that might disrupt the illusion they've created in the week and a half since they first ruined their friendship for good.

It feels as though the tension that has been boiling between them is coming close to turning explosive and all it will take is one tremor of their self-control for it to spill over.

Every feeling they have feels so contradictory. They want to but they also don't. They almost do it, then hesitate and decide to ignore each other for days. At the party, this tug of war game was at its peak for JJ when she was telling him about her jealousy and cuddling up to him, but he couldn't do it then, not when she was drunk. And by the time he had a whole night to think it over and see her biking away, he didn't want to risk it.

She looks away from him, hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" may ring true for once, and says to John B through the door, "Whatever, have fun. I won't hold JJ back when you finally come out of there though."

He won't actually do anything to him, maybe just a non-serious fight that'll end with her walking in on them rolling around on the floor trying to wrestle each other, but she likes to fuck with him anyway. For the dick move he just pulled, she thinks he can withstand a little teasing.

Without anything else to say, Y/N turns and walks off to make herself useful elsewhere—anything to distract from the buzzing, anxious energy that surrounds her from both the hurricane and being forced to confront JJ. She tries to play it cool though she is anything but at the moment, allowing herself to grimace once her back is turned to the blonde boy still standing against the wall in the hallway.

Maybe if she keeps pushing this false sense of normalcy, it'll work. It worked when they both started pretending things never happened between them initially after they had sex, so who's to say it can't work now?

All they have to do is get through the next 12-24 hours without talking and all will be well. Right?

They tried.

They truly tried to get through the night without inciting chaos within the Chateau, but, for these two idiots, not inciting chaos is a task easier said than done. Not only was John B much more stubborn with staying in his room than either of them bargained for, he didn't even attempt to speak to them for the first five hours and they were left with nothing to do but find new ways to avoid talking to each other.

It was simple in the beginning.

She went off on her own and sat with her headphones in to drown out the sounds of the storm.

With her eyes fluttered shut to block out anything but the sound of The Cure blasting into her ears, there was no reason for her to have to worry about anything once her nerves began to settle. Since the songs drowned out any sound and all she could see was darkness behind her closed eyelids, she was able to drift away with the distraction of the music.

The thing is, after a while, she started to see pieces of him in every song she skipped to. She made it a full minute into Just Like Heaven before a supercut of her most treasured memories of him began appearing in her head. Fade Into You? Skipped as soon as the first dreamy lyric flooded in through the tangled cords of the headphones. Cloud 9? Forty seconds in. By the time Dirty Little Secret came on, she decided that her playlist was mocking her.

The headphones were out of her ears, hastily wrapped up, and stowed away in the small pocket of her overnight bag before the chorus of the song could hit. Thankfully for her, JJ wasn't looking when she ripped the headphones out and put them away in a huff, so by the time he turned to see her again, she was laying down on the couch to "nap"—meaning she laid awake for another hour and cursed John B for making her endure this.

While she was daydreaming of a John B voodoo doll, JJ was worried about her.

Yes, the topic of their relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever-the-fuck-it-is was bombarding him against his will every five seconds, but not without him coming back to his concern for her. A small sound of thunder on an otherwise perfect day was enough to make her zone out and start getting antsy that day on the boat, so he didn't want to know how bad it could get during a time like this.

He tried to play it cool, and, in all honesty, his remaining scraps of sanity lasted a lot longer than hers. Four and a half hours passed, then, as the storm began to do its worst on their town, the power flickered out and left them in complete darkness. At that point, John B was passed out in his bedroom, so he didn't care nor notice when they had to find a few candles and stumble through the dark.

Somewhere along the way, having to search through the dark house for candles to light and place around the living room led them here...he isn't quite sure how.

JJ can hardly open his eyes enough to see through the rain that pounds against him the second he runs after her through the back door. The wind is so aggressive and unrelenting, it almost sends him stumbling a few steps when he follows her blurry figure a few paces behind where she tries to flee the house in a panic.

"Get back inside!" he shouts as he picks up his speed to catch up, "Y/N!"

The part of him that isn't focused on the pure physicality of trying to see and move through the stormy weather is utterly overwhelmed with fear. Not for himself but for her. She's deathly afraid of mild storms, let alone hurricanes, and yet she ran through the back door when he tried comforting her through an anxiety attack. One would think that she wouldn't want to go directly into the thing she fears the most, but what sent her running for the hills wasn't the panic itself, it was him.

It's hard for her to think rationally in this state, but all she knows is that he was there, he was saying all the right things and holding her, and she couldn't do it. The fear began to blend to one centered around both him and the storm. The hours of useless distractions and ruminating in her thoughts built up to this point of contention, then it snapped.

Between the thunder, his voice, and the voice in the back of her head that was urging her to confess her feelings and do as John B advised them to, it became too much. Maybe it was the most idiotic split-second decision she made without any regard for logic or reason or her safety, but she bailed. For the third time, she couldn't handle the pressure and ran from him.

The only difference is that he couldn't let her leave this time.

He gasps for air against the streams of water flowing down his face, soaking his hair and making it hang in his eyes to obstruct his view more than the weather already has. It happened so fast, neither of them are wearing shoes. His feet sink into the muddy yard with every stride he takes in his frantic pursuit of her and it frustrates him no end because of how it slows him down.

There's endless dangerous possibilities with her being out here. She could be knocked over into the marsh by the wind, or stuck and hurt by a piece of debris—merely thinking about it makes him call out her name louder in the hopes that it'll wake her from her panicked trance.

After trudging through the mud all the way to the edge of the yard, he finally manages to get to her.

"What are you doing?" JJ shouts, turning her around and grabbing onto both of her arms as if one gust of wind would sweep her away if he didn't, "You're gonna get hurt!"

Stumbling backwards in the direction of the screened-in porch that surrounds the back door, he uses their difference in strength to tug her away in the direction she came out in. The rain makes it difficult to keep a firm grasp on her, and she almost slips away a couple of times when the wind picks up enough to make him too unsteady to hold on.

His arms slip around her waist for a better grasp on her the closer they come to reaching the house. The last thing he wants is to almost get her back inside and lose her at the last second. She isn't thinking rationally right now with the panic she feels taking full control of her responses. He knows firsthand how it feels to be thrown headfirst into a panic attack, he's been in her shoes before and knows better than anyone the lengths your irrational mind will go to if it means survival. And for whatever reason, her response is flight, not fight.

The door to the screen porch takes all of his effort to open against the power of the wind blowing it back against the house.

He grits his teeth as he forces it open, one arm secured around her midsection, and helps her in before he slips inside too. The second he lets go of the door, it's sent slamming back into place and rattling in the frame behind them, but he doesn't spend anymore time on it other than the few seconds it takes to lock it. As soon as it clicks with him that they're safe—most importantly, that she's safe—he whips around to face her with a cold rage flowing through his veins.

"What the fuck?"

She stands in front of him with water pouring off of her in rapid drops onto the rug, and there are no thoughts in her head outside of the ones telling her to leave. Her tears blend in with the droplets of rain so seamlessly that he wouldn't know she's crying if not for the sound of it.

In between her rapid breaths and sobs, she yells back at him, "I was scared, okay?"

"Why'd you run out into the storm if you—"

"I wasn't afraid of the storm, I was afraid of you!"

The silence that follows is louder than anything they've experienced. Nothing can rival it, not the thunder, the rain, or anything can drown it out while he stares at her in shock. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted as he reaches for something, anything, he can say in response to that, but there's nothing. For once, he is absolutely speechless.

Things got awkward between them in the initial aftermath of last week, but not like this. There was never an instance where he felt like there was nothing left for him to say to her to fill the uncomfortable silence that always brought forth memories of them together until now. Until she said the last thing he wanted or expected to hear.

His anger subsides as he picks over what he did in his head for anything that could've made her feel unsafe.

Before it evolved into him chasing after her through the hurricane, he noticed how terrible it had gotten for her when he lit the first candle. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chest began to rise and fall faster with each second that passed. He could see it on her face that things were getting worse, but, now that he thinks of it, it got worse once he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.

It felt like a dream sequence in his head, so hazy and faraway now that it's over, and he was so stunned by what she was doing, he didn't run after her until a few seconds later. There was a delay in which he stood there in surprise and tried to process what the hell just happened to no avail. Though it wasn't very long, he remembers it feeling like eternity tucked into the cramped space of four seconds.

JJ's voice is softer than she's ever heard it, asking into the void of the near-darkness that encloses them, "What'd I do?" And it breaks her heart in half to hear him sound so concerned, so terrified of the idea that he did something to hurt her when all he did was try to help. "I never meant to scare you, I swear. I know how bad it can get sometimes, and I know we haven't been talking but I'd never try to hurt you if that's what you thought..."

His thoughts run rampant with the possibilities of what she was thinking at the time, and he realizes that he can't stand the idea of her thinking anything badly of him. He never cares about what people think, but, fuck, he loathes the idea of her having any ill feelings toward him.

Y/N immediately starts shaking her head, her face scrunching with the emotion and incessant tears.

"I know you'd never hurt me. I was scared because..." she stops herself mid sentence, catching it right when she was about to admit the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't.

But the need to say it doesn't go away this time. Usually, once she catches herself she comes to her senses and realizes how foolish it would've been to confess, but this time is different. This time, the urge to speak her mind and tell him everything sticks around. The words left unsaid creep up her throat, thrashing and begging to let out after months of being pushed aside.

The look in her eyes is strangely reminiscent of the way she looked at him the night they hooked up, almost yearning in its nature, and he couldn't be more confused. She's scared of him, but she's looking at him like she did when she was two seconds away from jumping his bones. And if he didn't do anything wrong, why was she afraid enough to face her worst fear in order to avoid him?

"Because what?" he asks.

That frustration from when they first stepped into the porch hasn't vanished, it only took a backseat once she said she was afraid of him, not the storm, and he can feel it stirring up again. He's tired of not having answers. He's tired of mixed signals and loneliness and unrequited love. Most of all, he's tired of her running away all the time. At this point, he questions whether or not it's worth it to expose his feelings to her and suffer the consequences.

John B was right. This isn't healthy for them, nor is it healthy for them to put their friends through this along with them, and it might be better to not be friends than to stay this way forever. At least that way they wouldn't be wishing for answers that would never come for the rest of their time together.

She decides at this moment that this has to be said before it gets worse, before she runs away again like a scared, immature child and ruins everything.

"Because," she has to shout over the lightning that cracks down on the earth down the street, something she would be trembling in fear over if she weren't so focused on him, "I've been in love with you for a couple months and it scares me more than anything, even this stupid fucking storm! And I've tried so hard to ignore it because I know you don't feel the same way, but you touched me and I just"—a soft cry escapes her—"I couldn't do it anymore."

There it is.

After months of ruminating over it and hiding everything, he knows, and her immediate feeling after she says it isn't what she thought it would be. She expected trepidation and regret, but what she finds on the other side isn't either of those, it's relief. Her dad often tells her when she's nervous about something that the anticipation is worse than the thing itself, and that has never been as true her as it is now.

However, some of the nerves return with the time that passes after she spoke in complete silence. Much like the delayed reaction he had to her running out of the house, it isn't as long as it feels to her. It's a short span of time that it takes for her words to process with him, but it feels like an eternity that he stands there with his head facing the floor in quiet contemplation.

Her heart sinks.

This means he doesn't feel the same way, doesn't it? If he were the one telling her he loved her, she likely would've leaped into his arms and said it back, but he stays where he is.

Then, after what feels like forever, she thinks she sees him start to smile and feels like she's losing her mind. It's quite dark out here, so there's only a limited amount of light to allow her to see his features, but there's no doubting it when a flash of lightning floods the porch with a split-second of harsh light.

Oh God, why is he smiling? What does it mean?

Much to her frustration, the first thing he says after her confession isn't much help in making her understand his feelings either.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Why? The voice in the back of her mind asks incredulously. Is he seriously asking why? He ignored me too. He didn't want to talk about it either, so what else was I supposed to do?

Maybe she was undeniably worse when it came to the avoidance and lack of communication, but he could've reached out to her too. They both could've. Instead, they spent day after day waiting for the other to make the move and pushed the tension further and further until it finally broke. Now she's waiting for him to hurry up and reject her so she can move on with her life.

She shivers from the wind blowing at her wet skin through the screens separating them from the outside world, crossing her arms over her body to hug herself. His eyes follow her movements down to the breaths that are slowly evening out without her realizing it. It turns out that confessing your love for the guy you've been crushing on since the day you met him is a hell of a distraction.

"I thought you wouldn't wanna hear me being all emotional and shit over a one time thing. You've literally never had an actual relationship before. And that's fine," she rambles, "I'll be okay eventually, but that's not who you are and there isn't a problem with that. I just caught feelings when I shouldn't have."

In her defense, she isn't making baseless assumptions about him, he hasn't had a relationship before. His love life hasn't ever really revolved around love itself, it was mostly comprised of random chicks he'd meet at parties or at the beach during the summertime when tourists come to visit the island. Out of all of them, he's the last one the Pogues would expect to fall in love with someone and commit to a relationship, but then...

He looks over at her with a swell of emotion within him that he's never felt before. It wasn't like he hadn't known before now. He did. He even said it out loud to himself that morning after the party, but this is when it feels the most real. Now that she's said it to him, he doesn't feel so stupid for toying with the four letter word in the back of his mind for the entirety of the past week.

In all honesty, he was the last person he would've expected to fall in love with someone this quickly too. He thought he knew himself better than this. He thought he could keep himself hidden away and not let anyone close enough to see him—the real him, faults and feelings and vulnerability included—but she proved him wrong. In walked Y/N with her pretty smile, teeny bikini bottoms, and oddly strong opinions on Ratatouille, and he stood no chance.

This sudden crescendo of emotion only continues to grow when he watches her shiver, soaked to the skin, across from him and decides that he never wants to deny himself of her again. Those feelings of inadequacy that forced him to question his relationship with her may not have gone away, not by a long shot, but they can't stop him anymore. Nothing can.

Like a light flickering to life in this swirling, stormy darkness, she hears JJ's voice asking her, "What if it is who I am?"

It was said so softly, she nearly lost it beneath the rain and wind. But it was not said with a lack of certainty, which is why she questions if she heard him correctly. He sounded so sure of himself that it feels too good to be true. After his reaction, or lack thereof, to her telling him she loved him, she accepted what was coming and this was not it.

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"You heard me." There's a pause. "Maybe I needed to meet the right girl."

There is no way he's saying what she thinks he's saying because if he is...if he is then that means the tears and frustration have all been for nothing because he loves her back. But if he loves her, then what was with the kook girl? Was it to make her jealous, or is she misinterpreting him right now and he was flirting with that girl because he doesn't have real feelings for her?

"JJ..." she trails off, looking down and thinking to herself how thankful she is that it's too dark for him to fully see how nervous he made her, "don't do that."

Partly, he should feel offended that she'd think he'd toy with her feelings like that, but he isn't. He's too busy wondering what on earth made this poor girl so insecure to think that someone has to be joking to confess their love to her. It makes him wonder if anyone wronged her before she moved here, and he feels that switch of impulsive anger inside of him flip at the thought.

But that anger has nowhere to go, so it shifts into something different—a need to spend every waking moment of the rest of their time together proving to her that she doesn't have to be so afraid. Does it make him a hypocrite? Probably. It wasn't too long ago that he was telling the Pogues how much he didn't deserve to be with her, but he doesn't see himself the same way he sees her. In his head, he has reasons to believe he doesn't deserve her love, but how could she ever think that herself?

He steps closer to her, the movement something so natural and unconscious to him that he doesn't recognize he does it until he hears her breath hitch in the back of her throat. They were already close enough to reach out and touch each other if they wanted to, yet now it's the kind of closeness that wipes the slate of her mind clean with nothing else but the thought of him there to stay.

He starts to say, "I'm not fucking with you, dude, I'm being serious—"

"Then prove it."

Oh.

The sound of his unfinished sentence lingers on the tip of his tongue as he blinks away his surprise at what she said, though it was less of a statement and more of a challenge. What the challenge is, he isn't too sure, but he thinks there could be a couple of meanings there.

The fire in her eyes when she looked up at him is one he recognizes very well, it stars in one too many of his daydreams that center around their secret night together. She rose to the occasion without fail and matched his chaos every time, and that steely-eyed stare is reminiscent of it.

Yet, the sexual undertone isn't the only part of it to be discovered. There's a clear meaning there for him to actually prove it, to put his money where his mouth is, grow a pair, and tell her how he feels with no room for confusion. No more miscommunication, running away, or insecurity getting between them, just a clear cut confession like hers.

His hand runs through his hair to sweep it out of his eyes and keep the wet strands from dripping down his face. It helps him see her a little better too, grounding him to the moment and calming him at the dimmed sight of her expectant, wide eyed gaze.

There were a million versions of this whenever he let himself imagine admitting it. He only let himself picture it on the worst days, days like the one two days ago when he went home to his dad, ending the night by cleaning his own cuts and inspecting his own bruises in his locked bedroom. He did it to distract himself from wanting to storm out of the room and finally kill the son of a bitch after years of suffering in silence.

JJ closed his eyes, shaking with anger, and dreamed of how he'd tell her. There were versions with long speeches that were far too sappy to exist outside of the realm of his imagination. There were versions with him burying the words between friendly jokes to play down the extent of his feelings too, but he thought it worked best in its simplest form.

So he puts it as simply as it gets, lips fighting a soft smile as he crosses the space between them and rushes in to kiss her. It's charged with an accumulation of the pent up love, anger, and sexual desire that has been repressed until now, resulting in something utterly explosive.

He stops for a second to whisper, "I love you too," into her parted lips, and she finally lets herself go at the sound of those words.

Forget that they've only known each other for five months, when you know you know. This is the real deal. This is the kind of feeling that possesses every accessible inch of her heart and she'd never be open enough to admit that to anyone but him at the moment, but neither of them minds that. It's such a new, rapidly developing feeling that they want to protect it and keep it close to them for the time being.

His arms twine around her waist, tugging her the last bit forward and leaving no space between their bodies this time. The sudden movement draws a sharp gasp from the back of her throat and sends her hands out to brace themselves on his shoulders. The sound of the gasp that disappears into their connected mouths only fuels him on more. It makes him more eager with how he touches her with his hands drifting down the plane of her back, one of which playfully slipping beneath the hem of her soaked shirt in a way that makes her smile into the kiss.

He knows exactly what he does to her. He can sense it in the small reactions that would often go overlooked if it were someone less familiar with her.

It's easy to tell by the way she completely surrenders herself to him, letting out these soft little noises she doesn't even realize she's making when he takes control of the interaction and kisses her like he's starved for it. In a way, he is starving for affection and attention from her. He never knew it was something he needed so badly until he got it, and now he never wants to go without having her again.

That's why it doesn't surprise him when she starts getting antsy after a moment or two, especially after keeping away from him for days.

Her hands run down the length of his chest over the soaked t-shirt, taking a quiet victory in how his stomach flinches inward in response to her exploring touch, and she could swear his next exhale trembles as she continues lower. Never once does she break the kiss, which, by the way, has gone past the point of being passionate and straight to downright needy, but her concentration does falter. The perfectly paced rhythm of her mouth moving with his is interrupted when she touches him over the fabric of his shorts.

Those plushy soft lips go on an exploration of their own too. Leaving him with the first opportunity to catch his breath in minutes, she dips her head beneath the sharp edge of jaw in pursuit of the sweet spot she remembers reducing him to a grabby, moaning mess the last time they did this. It doesn't take her long, not if the tightening of his arms around her and the satisfied hum of a moan she feels vibrate beneath her mouth has anything to say for it.

He loses himself in it for a second or two...okay, fine, maybe ten.

The separate sensations combined spark a flame inside of him that burns so hopelessly for whatever she'll give him. His mind sends him images of them together, both real memories from their first time together and imagined fantasies he only let himself visit in his dreams, and he realizes how thinly spread his self control has become lately.

First, it's the thought of her from last week, thoughts of her gasping, writhing, and begging beneath him that makes his cock throb under the teasing contact of her hand through his shorts. But then he's brought elsewhere. Then, though he hasn't thought of it since the day after the party, he thinks of the mix of jealousy and anger he felt when he saw Tyler with her.

He remembers being sane one moment and charging across the room like a madman the next. He remembers how it felt to watch another person's hands slip under her dress, how it felt to see someone else try to kiss her the way he had, and this raw wound of a memory is all it takes to spur him into action.

It happens so quickly, she doesn't even notice what's happening until he has her scooped up in his arms with her legs around his waist. She doesn't even have the chance to voice her surprise or crack a joke at the expense of his neediness before he reconnects their paused kiss with enough force to make her teeth ache in the collision.

JJ's rings are colder than ice, digging into the flesh of her thighs as he holds them with a tight grip and blindly takes the few steps necessary to reach the back entrance of the house. His wet handprint smudges on one of the cracked-open glass doors and sends droplets of water dribbling down the surface. The teardrop of rain zig-zags at the swinging motion of the door on their way in, only changing course again when he nudges it shut behind him a little too loudly.

"Wh"—her question is cut off by him laying her down on the rug-covered floor in between the couch and coffee table—"What if John B wakes up?"

His first thought was to bring her into the spare bedroom, but then he realized that it shares a wall with John B. Then, he considered the pull out couch but realized that would be louder than the room adjacent to their friend's. His only conclusion was this.

It isn't nearly as romantic as either of them would've pictured, but they're not exactly picky either. They're so desperate for it, they'd likely do it on the porch in the middle of a hurricane if there weren't another option. And in their own weird way, they make it romantic.

There's no one else she'd rather risk rug burn for, and that is the peak of romance.

"John B sleeps like a fuckin' rock," JJ says, "and it's own his fault for trapping us here anyway."

He follows her down onto the floor without a second thought, not even looking up to see if they woke their friend with the sound of the door shutting behind them.

Hovered above her, he looks particularly captivating in the flickering candlelight. The fire burning in one of the three-wick candles they scoured the bathroom cabinets for brings out the warm hues in his blonde hair and highlights every edge of the angular face that looks down at her. The porch was far too dark for her to see him in all of his near-perfection, but this is enough for her to notice a multitude of things.

His slicked back, wet hair allows her to see his features better and the way he looks at her...it's enough to make anyone feel red in the face. How hadn't she see it before? She knows it was denial, but, somehow, she used to overlook the small hints along the way like how he looks at her like she's the only thing that makes sense to him. For the first time in a while, she allows herself to embrace the idea of being loved without looking for something to justify her fears surrounding it.

The sound of her voice brings him out of the mesmerized trance he fell under at the sight of her.

"I've missed you," she says softly, "like a lot."

The sweet admission slows him down for a second, making him stop to ignore the distracting desire that she sparked to life a moment ago and take the time to cherish this moment of rare serenity with her.

It's a wonder that she hasn't even acknowledged the storm raging on outside since they've come back in. It's all thanks to him, of course, since she's been too focused on everything happening between them, but it surprises him. It makes a sense of pride flare up in him on her behalf for being capable of forgetting something she fears so much.

But, on the other hand, it reminds him of how distraught she was right before their conversation/argument on the porch shifted from her panic to the topic of their relationship, and he can't help but hesitate a little.

"I missed you too." The hand he isn't using to support himself above her cups her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Are you okay though? You were just crying and I don't wanna make you—"

"Yes."

It was so said so quickly, there was zero hesitation. It's not that it doesn't surprise him that she's as eager as he is after what started to happen out on the porch, but it does make his eyes widen a little. His mouth curls with a slight grin. It's the kind that never fails to make her stomach fluttering and light with butterflies.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay, and I promise I'll let you know if I'm not," Y/N clarifies.

"Okay."

There's a short moment where all they do is look at each other with a complete loss for words to convey what they feel right now. It isn't as awkward as it would've been prior to tonight. Before they confessed their feelings, they wouldn't have been able to look at one another for any longer than a few seconds without needing to walk away to break the tension. Now, things have changed. They don't feel the need to conceal how much they care anymore.

They're still the same bickering duo they've always been with the added fun of being head over heels. She never used to understand how some people could let their feelings for another person drive them crazy, but it's done more than make her crazy this past week. It made her jealous, obsessive, and somehow happy too, and no one has ever made her feel so many varying emotions in her life.

Her fingertips graze the stretch of skin between where his cargo shorts sit on his hips and his shirt rides up the side of his torso, and he swallows thickly at the feeling.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

Her lilting, smooth voice is enough to soothe any nerves he could possibly have. It's as if hearing her ask that paired with the hand teasing the waistband of his shorts pulled him back to the place he'd been before when she was teasing him over his clothes.

He answers honestly, his head going fuzzy with the crushing desire that courses through him, "Not as nervous as I make you," and closes the space between them again.

The cheeky comment doesn't go unnoticed by her, not one bit. It makes her face heat up in embarrassment that is purely instinct after having to hide her feelings from her for so long. Maybe after they've been together for longer, it won't make her blush every time he acknowledges the effect he has on her out loud, but that day isn't today. Today, she goes hot in the face from a sole second of his attention, let alone this.

JJ lets his hand climb up the length of her torso as they kiss as if they have all the time in the world, as if their best friend isn't sleeping less than twenty feet away from them, until it flattens at the base of her neck. It doesn't curl around her neck and squeeze, nor does it do anything but remind her how much she loves the feeling of him touching her, the large palm of his hand simply stays draped over her throat to flaunt his ability to sway her nerves.

She's pretty sure if it were anyone else, it wouldn't work, but he's JJ for fuck's sake, and the quiet display of dominance sends an exhilarating little thrill rumbling through her. It isn't anything over the top or exaggerated like some people would do in an attempt to stake a claim over the person they love, just a simple gesture that they both know the meaning of.

She's his. After five months of friendship, two months of silent pining, and a week of sexually confused hell, she's his, and he'll never let her forget it.

The wind rattles the windows over the couch with its force and she notices that his hips grind into hers at the sudden sound. Even in the midst of such a heated moment, it's downright cute how he still makes an effort to distract her from what she fears. And, boy, does it work.

Their panting breaths in the brief seconds they allow themselves to break away from each other are the only sounds audible in the small living room. The storm drowns it all out for now, including the noises that start to leave them from the steadily building pleasure of their bodies moving together.

She can feel how hard he is through the layers that separate them with every absentminded thrust that brushes the fabric of her panties up against her clit each time. It leaves her breathless and wondering, despite already knowing, what it'll feel like when he finally slips inside of her again.

They both fantasized about it in the time they spent apart. Neither of them would dare deny it, least of all JJ. It actually became frustrating after a while because she started to become the only scenario he could conjure to get himself off when he had a rare moment of privacy. His fantasies, all stemming from the night that was so perfect, he began to question the reality of it, linger in his head.

The best part of his fantasies were the parts of them based in truth, and if he knows anything about her when she's in this state, it's that she's needy. Her tongue swipes along his bottom lip in a silent urging to let her deepen the kiss, and he complies without a second to spare, willing to entertain her every whim so long as she keeps being so good for him.

He revels in her muffled squeak of a moan when he presses down on the sides of her throat at the precise moment his hips grind down to meet hers. She can't keep herself still for any longer than a half-second, always meeting his movements halfway and unknowingly doing another thing that will be the death of him.

She leads his shirt up his body without having to second guess herself, knowing that he's always on the same wavelength as her no matter what. This was how it was the last time too. Anything she did, he was already one step ahead, and tonight isn't much different. By the time her hands ball up the dripping cotton fabric, JJ is lifting the hand off of her neck to reach for the neckline of the shirt and help tug it off.

There's a sense of urgency in everything they do. Charged up with frustration and jealousy that brewed within the days they spent apart, there's nothing to stop them from reducing themselves to a pair of panting, impatient lovers too consumed in each other to care about the outside world.

The sopping wet fabric is thrown beyond her line of sight and lands on the hardwood floor with a 'thwack' that accompanies their cacophony of moans and gasps, and she whimpers at the sight of him. It may have to do with the fact that he's guiding their bodies together at a cadence and pressure perfect enough to make her legs tremble, but seeing him like this does nothing but aid the sensation.

Golden skin glistening under the candlelight, tendrils of half-dry blonde hair falling into his face with the lazy effort of his movements, and a stray raindrop that squeezed from the wet shirt dripping down his chest...she's not gonna make it out of tonight alive, is she? In her memory, she knew he was a sight to see in the midst of a heated moment, but, fuck, memories do not hold up beside the real experience of it.

Y/N is so caught up in his seemingly endless beauty, she doesn't notice him peeling her damp denim shorts off of her hips until they're halfway down her legs, and the only reason she does notice is because he must shift his position to do it. Suddenly, the budding feeling that stirred from their needy antics is plucked away and left to ache for more in the absence of him between her thighs.

Her middle and index fingers hook around the front of his necklace to pull him back down to her, but he doesn't budge at first. He's too busy trying to rid her of her shirt to care.

It was too much of a distraction while they kissed for him to resist slipping it off of her when he got the chance to. Much to his frustration when he first realized they were trapped with each other, she's braless underneath, and it's only worse now that the t-shirt is soaked to her skin and clinging to every delicate curve.

Once the clothing gives way to the canvas of her bare skin, he submits to her urgency and follows her down by the fingers hooked around his necklace without any qualms.

As soon as they resume, it's as if they never stopped to begin with, and they start to realize how seamlessly they fit together as the seconds elapse. Neither of them are actively thinking about it while he dips his hand into the front of her panties, but it is in their subconscious.

It's a revelation of sorts, an ah-ha moment where it hits them both in a sweeping realization that it was obvious from the day they met. They should've known sooner, they should've dropped their pride and admitted it as soon as the first inklings of desire began to pop up, but they didn't. Instead, it washes over them now and they let the current take them away together.

Her mouth falls open against his cheek at the feeling of his fingers swiping through the arousal that pools in her underwear for him, dragging the wetness over his fingertips and spreading it up to brush fleetingly against her clit. It's a split-second of a touch that it makes her hips lift up off the floor on their own accord to seek out more. It makes her dig her nails into the skin stretching over his taut shoulder muscles in a wordless plea for more that he doesn't indulge her in at first.

He makes her earn it from him without having to say a single word. He touches her, but he doesn't touch where she wants or ease his fingers into her to satisfy the need she feels yet. It's a blessing and a curse that he manages to turn her on to such an extent. He does it for her like nothing else can, so much so that she's noticed a distinct difference in how it feels when she's alone versus when they're together. When she's alone, it can tend to feel like active effort, but when she's with him, it's as natural as the urge to breathe.

His smirk is felt against her skin the entire time she begs for it through the revealing actions of her body—her hips jerking up toward him, her chest pressing tightly to his, and the sound of her murmuring, "Please," in a breathy tone that could stop his heart.

"Tell me what you want," JJ says, every word constrained and tight in a way that tells her he's a lot less composed than he lets on, and "accidentally" swipes his thumb over her clit again. "Talk to me, baby."

She almost forgot in their time apart how much of an effect he has on her, but this is the best reminder of that she could possibly imagine. If she could, she would find a way to bottle the feeling he gives her and keep it with her forever so that, no matter what happens between them, she'll never have the misfortune of forgetting him.

What he said simultaneously melts her heart and frustrates her to no end because he knows! He knows damn well what she wants from him and won't give it to her unless she asks for it, and she hates herself for loving it. She hates herself for enjoying the flushed-face embarrassment it brings to her cheeks to be so open with him about what she needs.

She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to focus through the clouded landscape of her head to speak to him. It's hard to concentrate when he's above her like this, touching her, calling her pet names, and looking at her like that.

With his lips worshiping the sensitive skin along her neck, she finds it hard to choke out the words, "I want you," into the humid air that has infiltrated the house.

It's not a lie. Anything regarding her wanting him or any related feeling is no longer something she can hide anymore, but they both know it isn't exactly what he wanted. No matter how it took his breath away to hear her say it, he was seeking something more specific. He was aiming to make her ask, maybe even beg, for it. They're both too impatient to wait and based on how wet his fingertips are from barely dipping into her, he can tell she's as eager as he is.

It's been thirteen days too long since the last time they allowed themselves to meet this way, and neither of them wants to let it happen again.

She was nearly trembling with the urge to go to him whenever they were together in the company of their friends, unable to think about anything except for how badly she wanted him. All the while, he appeared so unbothered, especially on the night of the party when he flirted with someone else, that she didn't even believe he felt the same way back. Thankfully for her, she couldn't have been more wrong.

He clicks his tongue and says, still teasing her with light touches that never linger in one place for too long, "That wasn't very specific."

Part of her should know that he's about to do something based on how he withdraws his head from its cherished place in the crook of her neck, but she's too caught up in the anticipation and seeing his face for the first time in a minute to think about it. How dare he look so good? She could cry in frustration, although she might actually already be tearing up a little with the rush of neediness hitting her in its full force.

Never has she felt so turned on by so little physical contact before. It usually takes longer for her to get to this point, whether it be alone or in the past with previous partners, yet all it took was being kissed, touched, and being given his undivided attention and now...She realizes she's in trouble. He has her in an emotional and sexual chokehold at this point, and she fears that no one can compare.

"I want—" her voice is snuffed out in an instant when he eases two fingers into her, "Oh!"

So that's why he pulled away from her neck to look at her.

It was worth abandoning the mark forming on her neck just to see the expression on her face shift. She gets this cute look when anything overwhelming starts to happen where her brows scrunch a little to create a soft wrinkle between them as her mouth drops open in a moan. And after ten steady minutes of doing nothing but some over the clothes action and painstaking teasing, this is as overwhelming as it gets without it crossing the line to being too much.

It never occurred to her how much larger his fingers are compared to hers until now. This type of pleasure is like an itch only someone else can scratch to her, she feels virtually nothing when she does it to herself, but when he does it, it's like an explosive being set off inside of her. Especially with the thumb that sneaks up to circle her clit without stopping to tease her again, she is putty in his hands at this point.

Every smooth stroke of his fingers into her reaches a spot she can never quite find on her own, and she can feel the cold bite of rings when they're buried into her to the knuckle.

It's a surprise every time, even when she knows to expect it. Like a delightful chill running up through her body and down her spine exactly how it's intended to. It strikes an idea in her head for when he eventually pulls them out of her, conjuring the image of her sucking them clean for him just for the sake of imagining what it'll do to him.

With that idea tucked away in the back of her mind, he's the center of her world right now. All she breathes, thinks, and feels is him. Whether it be the sight of him, or the feelings he's giving her, or even the taste of his kiss that still lingers on her tongue, it connects to one common thread.

"What were you saying?" JJ asks, and she wants to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It's virtually impossible for her to piece together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence detailing every filthy idea she has for him, but she tries. It takes another moment or two of her succumbing to the rapid incline of pleasure that he gives her, watching her in wonder through any greedy buck of her hips or gasping inhale that makes her head loll back onto the floor.

At first, what she wanted to say was that she wanted him to touch her, to do anything more than the fleeting touches he gave before. Now, she wants more than that. Now that she's drawn in closer to the eventual high that's to come, she doesn't want it to happen like this. She wants to feel closer to him than this, wants to feel him throb inside of her and fuck her with all of the urgency and desperation that has accumulated in their time apart.

That's why her hands start to grab at the belt loops of his shorts to tug him closer by them, meeting his gaze through the hazy bliss of his fingers pumping into her. It's not enough.

"Please"—she keeps pulling him closer to her, so close that there's hardly any space left to cross, and he revels in her desperation—"just fuck me already..."

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

Though this was what he wanted, what he coaxed out of her with the teasing and the pretend sense of a nonchalant attitude on his part, it hits him harder than he expected it to to hear her say it. It's not necessarily the act of begging itself either, it's the fact that she's the one doing it. She may have been jealous of the girl at the party, but she had nothing to worry about. Not in the slightest.

Before her, he never thought he'd fall for someone this way. It's not like he had a hatred for love or anything, he understood the appeal, it simply wasn't his thing.

He was perfectly content with his only form of companionship being his friends. Then, she came along and changed it. So to hear her say something like that isn't just breathtaking, it's the kind of thing that makes his heart ache for her. It hits him precisely where she wanted it to, and he has never felt as consumed with love the way he does now.

JJ can do nothing to stop himself from pouncing on her at this point, like some animalistic form of himself has worn down the restraint he used to keep himself at bay.

The loss she feels when his fingers slip away from her is an emptiness she mourns at first before she realizes what's happening. He pulls away slightly to reach down between them for the front of his shorts, and their hands clash as they both frantically try to undo them together. The rings adorning his fingers glisten when they catch the light and remind her of the thought that popped into her head when she first felt their coldness against her skin.

That idea paired with the promise of what they're trying to accomplish in their uncoordinated attempt to get the rest of their clothes off makes her want to press her thighs together. Her hands abandon the task of undoing his shorts for the sake of ridding herself of the last layer that separates her from him.

Her most embarrassing old pair of brightly colored panties, courtesy of past Y/N's questionable decision to trust her mom to buy some on her behalf, are hardly a sight to behold. They're the kind that come in a value pack from Walmart, vibrant blue with the word, "Tuesday," printed on the front of them, and she could hide her face into the rug in shame if she weren't so determined to get them off. Of all the days to wear the day of the week undies her mom accidentally got her, of course she chose today.

By the time she reaches for the waistband, he has pushed his shorts and underwear down his thighs and comes back to her with just as much excitement as he left with, but when he helps her tug her panties down her legs, he laughs. Apparently, he had also been too eager to touch her to notice what was written on them before.

"Cute," he breathes out through a laugh, then adds as the cotton fabric slips over her knees, "Pretty sure it's not Tuesday though."

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

He cuts her off, "Whatever you wanna threaten me with won't work, chances are I'm gonna be into it."

Her eyes are alight with a certain fire he's had yet to fully lure out of her. Even her voice is slightly more airy and seductive as a result of it.

"Promise?"

JJ grins down at her as he finally tosses her panties aside with the rest of their clothes, "Cross my heart, pretty girl."

His hands grip her thighs and tug her down the rug to him with a quick jolt that snaps them out of the playful nature of their back and forth teasing. No matter how lighthearted of an interruption it was, the mini-conversation might as well have never existed for how easily they fall back into it again.

She watches with her forehead pressed against his as he strokes himself a few times, then drags his tip, messy with precome, through her wet heat. And though she watches it happen, her body still arches into his when he lines up with her and sinks his hips forward.

She anticipated it, but she still gasps and digs her nails into his biceps at the sensation of him pushing into her. Neither of them bothers to worry about the obvious lack of a condom—it was discussed the first time around when he offered and she told him it was okay. He's often the one to silence the alarm on her phone warning her in its title to, "Take your birth control or else, bitch," while she searches her bag for it anyway, so he trusts her.

Both of them prefer it this way enough to risk the minuscule failure rate of the pill anyway. It's more intimate, closer, and they can both feel the warmth of each other in a way that would've been somewhat muted with an added layer between them. It makes the feeling of him entering her all the more gratifying as she tenses up around him in reaction, drawing a groan from where his parted lips brush against hers.

She lifts her head off of the floor as much as she can to capture his mouth with her own and stifle the sonorous sound despite the storm doing a better job of it.

It seems that every blast of wind and roll of thunder is in their favor tonight, so much so that he isn't even worried about getting walked in on. It's not a thought in his head at this point, the only thought he's capable of having is this. Forgive him for being shortsighted, but he doesn't give a shit if John B notices or hears what's happening when he's buried inside of her so deeply.

His hips are flush with the backs of her thighs in a matter of seconds, and right when he pauses to give her a breather, he feels her shake her head ever so slightly against where their faces are pressed together.

The touch of her hands on his hips is not timid by any means, it's commanding. Her palm prints singe an indelible claim into the surface of his skin as she guides him to start moving without a second spared to dwindle the discomfort of him filling her up. It's less like a pain and more of a pressure blooming from the insistent presence of him, not so overwhelming that it's painful, but it's an effort to breathe evenly and the only thing that'll ease this transitional moment is to continue.

At first, their bodies start to rock together lazily as though on autopilot. They'd hardly be conscious of the fact that they're doing anything if not for the initial sensations of heady ecstasy that flash like the sparks of a lighter in response to their movements. As soon as he felt her hands coax him into action, he sighed happily and surrendered himself to the instinct of wanting to move.

The merging of their bodies is less of the aggressive rutting motions they'll surely succumb to once their current pace is no longer satisfying, but that doesn't make it any less intense. She's partly sure that this is one of the most vulnerable moments either of them has ever had when it comes to sex, and it wouldn't work if it weren't them together. No other person could consume her the way he does, taking up every unoccupied space of her soul until there's nothing left but the silent begging of her heart for him.

Their kiss is messy when it breaks to allow them the chance to suck down a couple breaths of air, saliva shining on his lips in between the seconds it takes them to come crashing back together.

It's loving enough to rot her teeth with its sweetness, a slow but impossibly deep grinding of their hips together that continually presses the tip of him into that sweet spot inside of her, but it takes a turn.

Not only do her hands shift from his hips up to the sides of his waist to get a firmer hold on him, the kiss starts to become vigorous, almost hungry, in search of something more. The dreamlike sequence of the first moment or so they spent slowly fucking under the warm hues of candlelight starts to unravel to reveal the baser instincts that guide them forward.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispers the praise into her mouth.

As soon as the words are said, he can feel the effect it has on her. The hands braced on his waist pull his body closer to her at the same moment that she involuntarily squeezes down around him, making the smooth drag of his cock against the velvet-soft heat of her walls even tighter than he thought possible.

The sudden feeling of it makes his first returning thrust much harder than the last. He jerks forward into her with none of the restraint he's retained for the past few moments, and her reaction is nothing short of perfection, at least from his perspective. He watches her throw her head back in a moan, hips bucking to him in pursuit of more, and feels the tips of her fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into the unmarred skin along his waist.

"JJ!" she gasps in surprise, and if her initial reaction weren't enough to spur him on in a frenzied state of desire, this is.

He almost forgot how intense it had been the first time. Their confessions of love preceding this made them both somewhat softer and sweeter in their approach when they started, but he knows how she likes it.

Nobody would expect it from her. He's another story entirely, especially considering how much John B and Pope know about him, but her? He didn't have any in depth conversations about it with either of them, so none of their friends know how dirty she is.

But when you start to tease it out of her, she's got a side to her that makes his blood run hot. Considering how polite she is, he sure as hell didn't see it coming. For fuck's sake, she's the kind of person who'll apologize to a chair if she bumps into it. With that in mind he never thought she'd be the type to demand such things of him.

Just like that, with one moan of his name, it's like she flipped a switch in him that they forgot was there in the first place. It'll never stop surprising him how little it takes to get him going when he's with her, and he doesn't see that changing no matter how long they spend together in the future. Just a touch from her is all it takes, so it's needless to say that the sound of her calling out his name was more than enough.

Those slow, deep movements he made to sink into her again and again have turned rapid and rough, but still controlled enough to have a semblance of precision to them, hitting in all the right places.

"I bet," JJ speaks lowly, "that you want John B to walk out and see us right now."

She doesn't want to admit how much of an instantaneous effect those words have on her, but the feeling of her clenching around him as she bites back a moan completely betrays her. Partly, she worries that he'll take that the wrong way and think it has something to do with John B when it has nothing to do with him at all, but he doesn't. For the spare second of thought she's allowed to have before her mind goes hazy again, she notes how much more eager he is on the upstroke of the next thrust.

Noticing how right he was in his assumption about her liking the risk of getting caught jumpstarts his heart and makes everything he does rougher. She can sense that he's starting to lose control over himself and is acting on instinct alone.

It makes her much more sensitive to everything he does, and all she can do is cling to him and enjoy it as she takes in everything he says and does. It's hard to pick one thing to focus on between the switch up in pace and what he said.

"You want John B to know you like getting fucked like a slut, don't you?"

She could get off on the sound of his voice alone. Hearing him say stuff like that kills her, it makes the swirling bliss that builds in the pit of her abdomen with every thrust he gives her triple in its extremity.

Her legs are tightly wound around his hips to keep him as near to her as possible, her hands sliding up around his waist to keep a steady grasp on him while he pounds into her. The rug scratches at her back enough to make it sting alongside the immense pleasure building in her, but she doesn't care. When blended with the good sensations, the pain underscores the addictive feeling of him inside of her, fucking her exactly how she asked him too.

Looking up at him when he's like this is simply unreal. There's no other way of describing it in her eyes except for that. He's so stunning, she's inclined to believe that he isn't even real as a means of explaining it. This shouldn't be real. It should be one of her daydreams while she steals covert stares at him as they hang out with the Pogues, but it isn't. She can't wrap her head around it.

Those strands of hair that were damp from the rain are mostly dry as they fall into his eyes with the force of his movements. The sight of him alone, set aside from the rest of it, is enough to make her writhe beneath him and claw at his back in tandem with another thrust that sends her jolting against the rug.

He takes one of his hands up from where they both held her hips for leverage to weave his fingers into the roots of her hair.

He demands between the panting breaths and moans that flood the limited space between them, tugging on her hair, "Answer me."

She instantly blurts out the words, "I want him to see us." The feeling of him tilting her head back by the fistful of hair he has wrapped up in his hand is her persistent reminder to concentrate enough to continue, and she bites down on her lip to contain a moan before speaking again, "I want him to know..."

Her cheeks burn with the mere thought of it, let alone saying it out loud. He's the only person she'd ever let in on this intimate side of her, the side that makes her crazy when she hears him say stuff like this. The reason she feels so comfortable doing this with him is that she knows he understands her. It's as if he can read her mind without even having to try, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

It wouldn't matter if the topic of their exhibitionism were any other Pogue or a stranger, it isn't about who it is, it's about the thrill attached to the concept of almost getting seen during such a heated moment. In all actuality, John B is probably snoring face down into his pillow right now with no care for what's happening out here, but he knows what it does to her when they push the boundaries of decency this way. It's the same rush he gets from stealing random, useless things every so often, it's the thrill of getting away with something.

The hand tangled up in the roots of her hair sneaks down between their colliding bodies to rub her clit, and her mouth drops open to take in a shaky breath.

The sight of her beneath him is undoing in and of itself. Head tilted enough to expose her neck to him, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths, and breasts bouncing gently with the momentum of their actions—seeing her this way makes his thrusts ramp up into more of a frenzied, uncontainable pace rather than one with the same control and cadence as before. But it's mostly the eye contact that kills him. She doesn't dare to shut her eyes the entire time, as if she can sense that he'll tell her to look at him again the second she does.

"You want him to know what?" he asks, and she knows he won't let her get away with not saying it.

She whines, utterly helpless to the climax starting to build inside of her, "Please."

What she's pleading for, she isn't quite sure, but he can tell by how she's acting that she's starting to get closer, and he wants nothing more than to tease her with the impending chance of her orgasm.

"If you wanna come, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Just like that, he withdraws his hand from between them and leaves her desperate, blindly grasping for the peak she was so close to reaching, she could almost feel it already.

With JJ rocking into her at a relaxed, slower rhythm, the pleasure hasn't disappeared completely. It's there, but she can sense the feeling of her orgasm receding as quickly as it had creeped up on her as soon as he slips his hand out from between them.

It's instantly clear to him how desperate she is as all of her previous shyness surrounding having to admit this to him out loud withers away in seconds. She isn't beneath begging again at this point. He could tell her to crawl across the floor to him and she'd happily do it for the chance of touching him. It's pathetic but true. As much as she has him wrapped around her finger, he has done the same to her and she isn't afraid to admit it anymore.

Her hips jerk toward him in search of the familiar frenzy they were in before that sent her to the brink of climax, but he is impressively stubborn. Despite the fact that it physically pains him to dial it back again, he tries to keep the signs of his own frustration at bay. She knew what she had to say to get what she wants, so he'll only cave when she does.

This time around, she doesn't give a fuck about how badly she blushes or the voice in the back of her mind telling her she should keep this side of her to herself. This time, the one thing she needs to do to prompt her to open her mouth and speak the dirty words he asked her less than a moment ago is look at him. One second of staring up at him and here she is, driven mad enough to say or do anything to get him to pick up where they left off.

She says between the soft noises and breaths coming from them both, clinging to him through every slow but deep thrust that sends sparks ricocheting through her body, "I want John B to know I like getting fucked like slut." Her voice is breathless, and he hangs off of each word as she pauses, looking up at him with a challenging attitude swirling in those pretty eyes. "So stop being a tease and fuck me like one."

His jaw clenches at the bratty statement, one he's too far gone to resist at this point, and right when he's about to respond to her, she speaks again.

"Either that," she says, and a deceptively sweet smile crosses her kiss-swollen lips, "or I can go ask him to—"

She doesn't even get the chance to voice the rest of that thought before he's set into motion.

The hands on her hips flip her over with such casual strength, all she can do is yelp in surprise at the sudden movement that blurs the living room in her peripheral version until she lands with her hands and knees pressing into the rug. He was so swift in pulling out of her and tossing her onto her front like she was nothing more than a rag doll, she hardly had the time to take a breath before she ended up here.

There's hardly any time between when he pulled out to flip her over and when he returns to her again, but it feels like an eternity for them. The few second transition might as well be a few years as she feels his hands guiding her body where he wants it, pushing down on her back until it arches just so, and falls down onto her arms. But as soon as she gets situated, she feels a pair of hands yanking her arms away from where they were braced against the floor and put them behind her back.

It's only then, when he has an unflinching grasp on where he keeps her wrists behind her back with one of his hands, that she is met with the relief of him sinking into her again.

Y/N's jaw goes slack, and she cries out into the rug that her cheek is pressed into as he gives her no chance to adjust or catch her breath before resuming the brutal pace they kept a moment ago. Mentioning anyone else but him doing this to her was the quickest way to get him to snap, so it's safe to say that she's getting what she wanted. After all, she did what he asked, it's fair that she gets rewarded for it.

Amidst the sounds of the storm waging war on the landscape outside of the house, the one thing she can hear over the buzzing pleasure that drowns out her senses is the sinful blend of sounds they create together. It's the sound of their bodies merging, his name falling from her lips, and the curses he makes under his breath that never fail to drive her a little wild.

The hand that isn't holding her arms behind her slides down the length of her curved back until it wraps around her throat to pin her down, and her reaction is everything he could ask for. Seeing her rock back against him to meet him halfway makes his grip on her wrists tighten enough to turn his knuckles white.

Her hair is spread in endless directions in a fan around her head, and he can only see one side of her face from where he kneels behind her, but that glimpse is more than enough. Brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth dropped open in a gape as soft 'uh's and 'ah's escape her on the upstroke of each thrust—she's a mess right now. A beautiful, perfect mess.

"Oh God, JJ," she moans between her rapid breaths and the strong hand constricting her neck, "I'm so close. Please, just let me come."

It took virtually nothing for her to be pushed right back to the edge of the peak she was at less than a minute ago. It took a mere half-minute of this and she's once again reduced to incoherent pleas for more and shaking with no control over herself. Her legs tremble with the effort to keep herself up in this position, and she isn't even the one doing most of the work. In all fairness, this change in position has made the intensity triple. It's deeper this way, and with how harshly he slams into her, it's as though she can feel it in the base of her abdomen.

It's the enjoyable type of pain, however, not the bad type. It'll surely end up with her being sore tomorrow, but she can't hide how much she loves the painful pleasure of how rough it's getting. Being denied an orgasm when she was so, so close to it was initially disappointing too, but it was worth it. If the build up to what would've been her climax before was a spark, this is a flourishing fire spreading through her with no chance of smothering the flames.

He lets go of her throat and taps the side of her jaw in a silent request that she picks up immediately, letting her lips fall open to suck his fingers into her mouth without a second of hesitation.

The taste of her arousal on them is faint, but still there, and it occurs to her that she thought about this earlier before things evolved into chaos. Her tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers as he starts to pull them away in what feels like the blink of an eye to her, leaving him to remember what it felt like when her lips were once wrapped around a more sensitive part of him a week and a half ago.

The one other time he let himself remember it was when they were on the boat with the Pogues, yet that wasn't really of his own volition. It was hot out, so Kiara bought ice pops for them and his mind wandered far from where it should've stayed.

Shining with her saliva, his fingers are pulled from her lips with a soft 'pop' in pursuit of that sensitive collection of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She just needs is a little push to go over the edge, and when he slips his hand down her body to rub tight circles onto her clit, she loses whatever remnants of control over herself she had left.

The steady rhythm of her hips moving back against him falters as she is overwhelmed with the separate sensations culminating into one and giving her the push she needs to come. Her entire body tenses up in anticipation, and since she's pinned to the floor with her hands behind her back, she can only lay there and savor the feeling as it hits her.

After what felt like ages of having it build and build within her, then having it taken away to start the process over again, finally being given a release is a relief beyond any she's felt before.

It's so consuming, it takes away her ability to think of anything outside of how it feels to dissolve into the shockwaves of euphoria rushing through her. Every pulsing wave is prolonged by him, not even through the peak of it does he let up on his precise touches and unforgiving thrusts into her that turn a typical orgasm into the most intense thing she's ever felt.

She's melting in his arms through it all, and as if the change in position didn't make it worse, her involuntary spasms leave him hanging on by a thread.

JJ collapses onto her, barely having the chance to keep himself propped up on his arms as he lets go of her wrists and falls forward onto her sweat-slick back.

The heat of his panting exhales raises goosebumps in its wake where his face is buried into the curve of her neck, and he whines at the impossibly tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock through the end of her climax. Those sounds he doesn't realize he's making have her writhing through the aftershocks, answering with a sound of her own that almost makes him come instantly.

For that reason, he makes the decision to pull out and flip her onto her back.

At this point, she's so dazed and fucked out that she doesn't register any of it until she notices the hollow absence of him inside of her, but it doesn't matter when his face appears through the partial darkness above her.

Despite how sensitive she is right now, the sight of him makes her hands reach out blindly to pull him closer again. They're frantic in their need to get back to one another, grasping and clawing until he finds his way back to her in less than a second, hiking her legs up around his waist with a touch that is somehow demanding and tender at the same time.

It's only when he's inside of her again that it occurs to her why he rolled her onto her back again, and it makes her want to kiss him until her lips turn numb. It may be undeniably hotter to pin someone down and fuck them hoarse, but, no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be able to look at her, to see her face, and the thought of that has her biting back a sudden confession of love. She isn't sure why she doesn't say it right away, since it isn't like they haven't already done it, but she keeps it to herself for a second first.

It's different now. It's not less passionate or frenetic. It isn't as if he isn't being as rough with her as he was before, but they can both sense a shift in the energy between them as soon as he reenters her. It's less about the pursuit of pleasure and more about the feelings they've kept hidden away for so long. It's a simultaneous realization that hits them a little late after they initially confessed their feelings for each other: this is reality. It's real, and when she touches him this time, he isn't going to disappear if she opens her eyes.

The realization of what happened tonight had yet to hit them until right this second, but now that it has, they move forward with a sense of sentimentality that remained partly dormant before.

If there's anything JJ dislikes, it's being vulnerable. The idea of letting someone in to see every part of him, including the parts he doesn't want to see of himself, has always terrified him after years of being made to believe he's undeserving, yet he isn't uncomfortable right now. Somehow, he feels safe with her. Sex has never been something so emotional for him until now, until her, and he doesn't want it differently.

Their bodies are drawn in close, her arms thrown around his neck, and he's so close, he can feel the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contract with the inevitable approach of his orgasm. She can sense it too in how he acts.

When he gets close, he becomes clingier and lets his feelings get the better of him. His hands squeeze at her hips, sliding up her sides and back down to hike one of her legs up high around his waist to press deeper into her. He can't bear to allow his touch to stay in one place for too long before exploring another part of her, wanting to memorize the delicate intricacies of her body in its entirety.

It's as if she can read his mind too, cause even when she's sensitive enough to gasp when he pushes her thigh to her chest and throws his remaining energy into fucking her at a satisfying pace, she understands what he needs. She knows to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, to tug on it gently until the light strands are taut from his scalp. She knows to lift her head off of the floor enough to trail tender kisses along his face, his jaw, his neck—anywhere she can access.

"Come for me," she says into a kiss placed on the edge of his cheekbone, reeling in overstimulation as she jolts with his quickening thrusts, "I want to watch you..."

Hearing those words, paired with the kisses and fingers pulling on his hair, does it for him. It doesn't take more for his hips to falter and jerk forward into her a final few times before he comes.

Their foreheads press together as they cling to one another for stability, though it's mostly JJ clinging to her while she watches in adoration, and she has to bite her lip to contain a moan at how it feels. The aftershocks of her orgasm have yet to fade as the feeling of pulsing warmth inside of her makes them stronger, reigniting the fire she felt a moment ago if only for a second.

There's a closeness to this situation that they hadn't felt the last time, and they know it has everything to do with what was said before this happened. The sex itself feels like a dream sequence in her mind now that she's coming down from it with him, moving together slowly and gently beneath the candlelight until they ride out the ends of their highs. It was like they were put under a trance by each other, and now that it's over, the first thoughts that come to mind are of what comes next.

It's not the sole topic on their minds though. They're more focused on catching their breath from where they lay, tangled up together, on the living room floor. As soon as the very last of his orgasm faded from him, he fell onto her without a single ounce of energy left to spare. He's careful not to crush her, but, for the most part, he relaxes on top of her and lets his head rest on her heaving chest.

Strong arms slip down to loop around her waist, and she sure that she couldn't get him to release her if she wanted to, which she doesn't.

But they can't stay like this, not for any longer than a few moments anyway, since they don't know how if John B might wake up and come out of the safety of his bedroom after hours of leaving them to their own devices. JJ was right. He's out cold, but for as much as it turned them on in the heat of the moment, neither of them finds getting caught by him as hot with the clarity of their rational minds coming back to them.

He's the one to break the silence.

"As much as I wanna stay like this, we should probably move in case John B wakes up."

The sound of his voice settles in her with the effects of a sedative. It calms her more than anything else could, especially with the added comfort of him cuddling her so closely. One of her hands strokes through his hair and pushes the damp tendrils of sunshine away from his face as he cranes his neck to look up at her. And, for fuck's sake, what else is she to do except admire him?

His cheeks are dusted pink in a way they often are when he spends too much time outside without one of his hats shielding his face, and she thinks he's never looked better.

Ever since they became friends, she's had this theory about him. In the unrealistic landscape of her overactive imagination, JJ didn't come to this world the way the rest of them did. To her, it seems impossible that someone so good, even in his worst moments, could've come from someone like his dad.

So, in idle moments where she would watch him on a day out with the Pogues or daydream about him, she decided that he's the sun.

She imagines he was created in those breathtaking but brief moments where the sun meets the horizon atop the ocean and washes the sky with a vast array of colors. She likes to think he's the incarnation of it. Golden, warm, and bright for everyone but himself, he keeps the world light for her and their friends without intending to.

Some days are warmer than others too. Some days, the light is dimmed by another bruise beneath his clothes or a bad run-in with some kooks, but today is not like that. This moment is eighty-five and sunny with a balmy breeze. Looking at him right now feels like basking in the sun, and she'd burn here forever if he let her.

Without realizing she zoned out, she jolts when he pinches her arm to rouse her from her ridiculous thoughts. He has this dopey half-smile on his face that nearly draws her back into them again.

"You know what they say," he says, "if you take a picture..."

Her soft laughter invades the room, filling his heart with this light, fluttery feeling that always finds him when she's near. His smile grows as she playfully shoves him and reaches above their heads for her wet shirt to cover up with just in case. Odds are, their friend isn't waking up at the exact moment before they seclude themselves to the spare room and get dressed, but she doesn't wanna take that chance.

"I wasn't staring."

She was totally staring. But who could blame her? When someone looks at a person the way he looks at her, how could they ever stay away?

"Whatever you say."

JJ keeps smiling to himself while he pulls his underwear and shorts up his legs and waits for her to be decent enough to sneak past John B's bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The clothes are soaked through with rainwater, so they feel quite uncomfortable to slip back on, but they merely redress enough to be covered. She stole his shirt to avoid putting her shorts back on, the hem of the grey tee hanging right at the tops of her thighs when she walks. As soon as she slips her panties back on and picks up the rest of their cold, wet clothes, that's the cue he needs to scoop her up and take her away.

Y/N curses under her breath in surprise at feeling her feet being plucked off the ground, but she relaxes again once she's settled in his arms, realizing that it was just him who snuck up behind her and lifted her into his arms.

She doesn't say anything on the way to the bathroom. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and finds herself staring at the mark she left behind on his neck.

It's a deep, purplish red against the backdrop of his tan skin...the Pogues will surely notice the next time they see him. And while it will make her blush, it won't make her scared as it once would've. There may be a lingering sense of doubt and insecurity within her, but she wants this with him. Even if it means being teased by their friends or dealing with the jealousy of watching kook girls and tourons at parties hit on him, she wants this.

By the time the shower is spraying the rainwater from her hair and washing her clean of sweat sticking to her skin, she realizes that he isn't saying anything either, but she doesn't think it's out of any awkwardness or miscommunication. There's truly nothing to say, at least for now.

Though they didn't have the chance to talk in depth about everything yet, neither of them thinks of that right now. All they know is that they're together, whether it be officially or not, and it feels good. For once, something in his life feels right, and he lets himself enjoy it in silence.

The shower is a cramped space when shared between them and the wet clothes they have draped over the back edge of the tub, but they make it work. It's not like they mind anyway.

They bump into one another whenever they do so much as breathe, and the white walls echo the sounds of her giggling when he tries to tickle her. She leans her head back against his chest and lets out a laugh with shampoo dripping down the front of her face, and he'll be damned if he ever heard a sound as intoxicating as that.

It's a little weird. He's never been as soft and loving with a person before, and he has already felt overwhelmed in the lulls of quiet between them when he's given the chance to think about it.

When she washes his hair for him, insisting that she must return the favor after he so kindly washed hers, he was struck with the same mixture of wanting to simultaneously lean into and pull away from her that he felt the night of the party.

The warmth of the water loosens his sore muscles, washing suds of the green apple scented shampoo over his shoulders and down, down, down until it circles the drain beside his feet. All the while, her fingertips are delicately tracing over a healing bruise on his torso. Those pretty lips of hers are painted in a suppressed frown that she can't hide from him.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

His instant reaction is to fake a smile, to brush it off and distract her as he usually does, yet he doesn't. He forces himself to remain neutral and not push her away.

"Happens all the time," he murmurs, shrugging and averting his eyes to reach for the soap off on the ledge.

The hands holding either side of his waist tighten as he tries to turn, pulling him back to her with more strength than he knew to anticipate from her. Their chests gently collide back together beneath the stream of water, and she can feel his breathing catch for a second or so in response.

The fact that their relationship has changed doesn't change how she handles this aspect of his life. Their new confessions don't have an impact on the part of his life he never wants to let anyone see, so she isn't going to force him to talk about it because they're trying out this whole relationship thing now. He has hard boundaries that she knows not to push sometimes. That's the way it is, and it might change as they grow closer but she knows to accept it for the moment.

As soon as he hears what she has to say next, he could crumble in relief at the realization that their new dynamic doesn't change anything.

"I didn't necessarily mean...that...I meant generally, you know? It's just that—" she sighs, "you shrink away a little when I hold you, and I wondered if I was making you uncomfortable."

Before she could finish the sentence, JJ was already thinking of what to say to prove her wrong, because that's not it. That's not what it is, and if she thinks she's done anything wrong, he'll do anything to convince her otherwise because it isn't her. It's him.

It's his dad lingering in the darker trenches of his mind, commanding his fear and attention so that even when he isn't physically present, he's still here. Part of why he denied wanting her was because he knew these types of things would arise in the beginning, that there would be difficult adjustments to make and conversations to be had, and he didn't want her to leave him as soon as she was faced with one of these things.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

The feeing of her chest rising and falling with his begins to steady him after a moment of allowing the initial hesitation to dissolve. His internal reaction to her touch is the mental incarnation of a flinch. It's him waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting her to do something, to hurt him, before his mind catches up with his heart. But once he realizes everything's okay, he loves it.

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I guess when you touch me, I'm expecting something else," he says softly, scared that if he speaks too loudly, everyone in the world will know how weak he feels.

She should've figured, but hearing him say it is different than wondering what the reasoning behind it is. Hearing him admit it after months of strict avoidance on the topic is a sucker punch to the gut.

Both times they had sex, he was too distracted and thoughtless to get caught up in that part of himself, but it's when the bliss of the afterglow disappears that it creeps back in. That's why he could always handle touch when it came in that context. It was his way of obtaining what he wanted without having to face this side of it—a temporary fix to a greater web of issues.

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx s2 #obx #fanfiction

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jikookiekosmos · 4 years ago

Text

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, boyfriend!jungkook/reader, artist!jungkook

➥Summary: After surprising Jungkook with his own studio room for his paintings, he couldn’t be any more over the moon. All’s well and good until he’s struggling to find inspiration...which you happily provide him with. He’s ecstatic to find his muse in you, and painting your portrait brings him so much joy. Things take a turn however, when he suddenly realizes what else he wants to paint.

➥Genre: established relationship, tiny bit of angst if you squint, fluff, smut

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.9k (small drabbles don’t exist for me apparently, oops)

➥Content warnings: most of this at the beginning is just cute fluff domestic times (finally not much angst!), blonde jungkook, jk ties his hair up at some point (my weakness), jk puts paints on the reader, making out, slight hair pulling, cursing, shower sex times, jungkook has a big dick, oral (m. receiving), very slight mouth fucking, dirty talk, fingering (very brief), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), biting, cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around six months after the events of OFY (so in between that and the dream drabble I also posted).

Once again, thank you to @dntaewithluv for her endless support and always giving me feedback, I forever appreciate you and your friendship is more than I could ever ask for 💜

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

When I Dream of You - ~1 year after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after the dream drabble

Also, I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You would do absolutely anything in the world for Jeon Jungkook.

Seeing him happy had to be at the top of your list of favorite things in the world, as it had been for many years as his best friend, and now in the several months since the two of you started dating. Some things just never changed, you guessed.

Which is why you took it upon yourself to change one of the spare rooms in the house you two were renting into a space where he could thrive as the artist he was. Initially, the two of you thought it would be nice to use that space as a work area for you, since your job required you to sometimes do work from home. And for a little while, that’s exactly what you did.

But ever since you found out Jungkook liked to paint – scratch that, he loved to paint, and had been doing so for longer than you thought – the gears started turning in your head.

The current space he was using to create his art was definitely less than ideal. The house had a decent sized garage area, so there was enough room for him to store his supplies and be able to paint without it being too much of an issue. The downside, though, was it was cramped and even though Jungkook said he didn’t mind it, you still couldn’t help the frown from masking your features whenever you saw him huddled up so close to his easel.

For the last few weeks, and with lots of help from internet searches, you’d been slowly converting your space into something like a studio. You didn’t have to worry about Jungkook finding out, either, since he very rarely went into that room seeing as he had no reason to. He respected your privacy the same as you respected his, so this made everything infinitely easier for you in the long run.

The day had finally arrived where you would show the new space to Jungkook. Everything was set up as perfect as you could manage it – at least you hoped so – and you were dying of excitement to show him as soon as possible.

You were also, however, incredibly nervous at the same time. What if he didn’t like it? Even worse, what if he hated it?

Of course, you knew deep down that there was no way Jungkook could hate anything you ever did, unless it was something horrible, but you worried about everything because that’s just how you were. So, when the two of you were sitting at the dinner table one night, you tried hard to swallow the lump in your throat as you listened to Jungkook talk about his newest work.

“I really think you’re gonna like how this one turns out, angel.” Jungkook was offering you a sweet smile as he went to grab another bite of food from his plate. You managed to smile back, despite the hammering of your heart against your chest. He was basically handing you the perfect opening for you to segue the conversation!

“I know I’ll love it, Koo.” You watched as his small smile turned into a full grin, his nose scrunching up in that adorable way that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw it.

“Speaking of your paintings,” you started off, clearing your throat while he swallowed down his food. He looked at you with his undivided attention and it made your heart skip a beat.

Ok let’s be real, every damn thing this man did made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah? What about them?” He twirled more of the noodles around his fork while he waited on your answer.

You gulped. “Wouldn’t you like it if you had more space?”

Jungkook chuckled and placed his fork down, shaking his head as he placed on hand on top of yours that was still resting by your plate. You’d barely touched your food and he noticed.

“Baby,” he started, “as much as I would love to have a bigger space, what I have now is just fine. I know you think it’s stifling my creativity in there, but I’m still creating things and am comfortable.” He squeezed you hand gently before returning to his food.

“I get that you think the garage is fine but what if I told you that- that you could have a bigger workspace.” You finally picked up your fork and were poking around at your own food now, avoiding his gaze. You could feel his stare boring into you regardless, though.

“I mean – yeah, hypothetically I could have more space, but it’s not in the cards for us right now and that’s ok, too. Maybe one day.”

The way he always was optimistic about your future together made you feel warm all over. Jungkook liked to look on the bright side of every situation, and it’s been enough to help you keep your own wits about yourself numerous times now.

But this time you wanted to show him that the future could be closer than he realized.

“Koo, can you come with me real quick? I have something I want to show you.”

You didn’t miss the confused look that flashed across his face for a second before his calm demeanor took over again.

“Of course.” He hopped up from the table, that smile you adored now plastered on his face. “Lead the way.”

“Ok but I also need you to close your eyes.” You reached out to take his hand and were rewarded with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed thoughtfully but did as you asked, closing his eyes and grasping your hand tighter so you could lead him wherever you planned to.

You walked through the house pulling him behind you, feeling your heartbeat quicken with every step to where its pace was almost concerning. Whether or not it was mostly from excitement or nervousness, you weren’t sure.

You finally reached your destination and let go of his hand so you could open the door.

“Keep your eyes closed, ok,” you asked. Jungkook simply nodded and you saw a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had no idea what you were about to show him, but knowing you and how much he loved pretty much anything you did, he was sure it’d probably make him happy.

And he couldn’t have been more correct in his assumption.

At the quiet sound of you telling him he could open his eyes he did so, slowly at first, blinking to adjust to the light the now flooded over the both of you. It took him several seconds to register exactly what he was seeing, and when he did he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare around the room, mouth agape.

Decorating the walls were the paintings he had given you, beautiful works of various sizes and themes. Alongside the far wall was a tall shelf that housed all his supplies (how had you managed to get them past him without him noticing?), and even some new things like paints he’d been eyeing for a while and other tools he hadn’t had a chance to get himself yet.

But in the middle of the room stood his easel and chair, set up in the similar fashion as it had been in the garage. His apron was draped across the back of the chair, and there was even tarp laid out underneath the workspace. You research had paid off because everything was set up in such a way that it created the perfect atmosphere for Jungkook’s creativity to shine through in ways it hadn’t been able to before.

You weren’t aware of this yet, however, because you were still watching Jungkook’s reaction. He still hadn’t said anything, and as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, you started to wonder if this was the right call-

Strong arms were pulling you up from the ground and spinning you around before you could process it, making you squeal with delight as Jungkook twirled you before bringing you back down to pepper kisses all over you face.

“Angel, I can’t believe this, you did all this for me?” He was still holding onto your hips tightly, beaming as he looked down at you. Your nod and giggle was all the confirmation he needed before he pulled you into another kiss, this one slightly more heated than the ones before.

“Do you like it,” you questioned when the both of you pulled away to breathe. Jungkook laughed before taking your face in his hands and brushing his nose along yours.

“Do I like it? Baby, I love it. It’s perfect! Thank you so much.” Another kiss. “I love it and I love you, I love you so fucking much.”

His happiness made your heart soar and you definitely knew that you’d do something like this an infinite amount of times if it meant he’d keep that smile on his face.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

A few weeks passed by and Jungkook had been using his new studio nearly everyday at this point. His creations had been increasing in numbers and he was starting to receive commissions from others thanks to his small online shop he’d set up with your help. He still worked at the bar as his primary job, but he was also grateful to have a hobby on the side that could potentially yield something lucrative.

Of course, Jungkook’s increase in his time spent on his art still didn’t take away from his time with you. If anything, it gave the both of you another way to spend time together, since now there was enough space for you to sit in and observe him paint when you couldn’t before. You often sat quietly and either did some of your own work or engaged in your own hobbies while he painted, and it was always peaceful.

There came a day, though, that you never thought you’d experience: Jungkook had run out of inspiration. He’d hit his first real artist’s block and it was taking a bigger toll on him than he would’ve liked.

You rubbed his shoulders as he sat in front of his easel one night, groaning in frustration about his current work. “It’s not turning out at all like I want it to. I’ve been struggling with finding new inspiration and it clearly shows in whatever this is.” He vaguely gestured to the canvas, prompting you to place a kiss on his cheek as you ran your hand through his pretty blonde hair. You knew that always helped to calm him down and this case was no exception.

Jungkook sighed heavily, turning to place a kiss on your palm that was still lingering around his face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get worked up. It just sucks, you know? I’d been on this really good streak of creating things and now I just…can’t. It’s weird and I don’t like it.” He pouted slightly and the sight made you giggle.

“I know, baby, but you’ll figure something out. You always do.” You placed a kiss on top of his head before you walked around to sit on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands cradled your waist to steady you.

He was humming thoughtfully as he looked you up and down, your hands now playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What are you thinking about?”

He smiled slyly. “You.”

You rolled you eyes before returning the smile. “Ok, what about me? I’m curious.”

His hand was rubbing up and down your side. “Nothing in particular, just usually looking at you can help me with inspiration.”

His confession made you gasp. “Really?”

He nodded and smiled wider. “Really. You inspire me a lot.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before sighing again. “This time though it’s not really working like I’d hoped.”

You watched his eyes close and his brows furrow before an idea popped into your head. “Hey,” you reached down to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you, “It might be a long shot, but: have you ever considered painting portraits?”

He pursed his lips as he thought about it. The simple act made you want to kiss him but now wasn’t the time.

“Honestly…no. I’ve never thought about it before because I usually prefer to paint scenery.”

You searched his eyes as you asked your next question. “Well, if you want to try, maybe you could paint me? Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, maybe it can help spark a new idea or something?”

You watched as his eyes slowly lit up at your suggestion, his face morphing into a smile that you mirrored.

“That’s a great idea! It’s something new and it also includes you, so I already love it.” You chuckled in his lap as he hugged you closer, placing a small kiss on your neck. “Thank you.”

You ran your hands through his hair again before leaning back. “Anything for you. Do you want to start now?”

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, we can do that. Is there, uh – was there something specific you wanted to wear for it?”

You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. “Are you suggesting you want to paint a nude portrait?”

Even though Jungkook knew your body better than you did at this point, your words still managed to make him blush as he groaned. “No, I wasn’t thinking that- not that I’d mind of course just you know, whatever makes you comfortable-”

You laughed at his flustered nature before hopping off his lap. “You’re so cute. I’ll go find something to change into, it shouldn’t take long.”

“R-right,” he stuttered, still clearly somewhat affected by what you had said. You shook your head with amusement as you went to your bedroom to find something to wear. You settled for a purple dress that you knew Jungkook loved, and considering a lot of his paintings involved shades of purple and blue, you figured it would be perfect.

You knew you made the right choice when you stepped back into the room and saw Jungkook’s face when his eyes fell on you. He looked like he’d never seen someone so beautiful (he looked at you like that a lot and it always did something to you) and your lips curled upwards into a smile before you could realize it.

You stopped in the doorway and twirled, giving him a full view of the dress. “Is this ok?”

You already knew the answer, but it was always nice to hear him say it.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s perfect. You can, uh, you can take a seat whenever you’re ready.”

While you were changing, Jungkook had pulled one of the loveseats from the living room into the space so you’d have somewhere to sit or lay while he painted you. The loveseat was a dark blue color and it contrasted beautifully against the color of your dress. You decided to lay on it in a comfortable pose, and you couldn’t help the small giggle you let out at Jungkook’s reaction to your choice.

You had laid an arm behind your head, turning your face so you were looking at him while the rest of your body was sprawled out on the loveseat. One of your legs dangled over the side, making the skirt of your dress hike up somewhat. You were very comfortable, and Jungkook was very happy with your pose.

“Make it pretty, ok,” you joked with him. He smirked at your comment.

“You know I will. I’ll use my best colors, just for you.”

“Wow, I feel special,” you quipped back. You were rewarded with the sound of his beautiful laughter as it echoed off the walls.

“You’re the most special,” he admitted honestly. You gave him a brilliant smile and he felt his heart stutter.

With the way you were looking at him, Jungkook thought that if he didn’t start painting, he may never start. So, he forced himself to tear his eyes away from you so he could find the paints he needed to get started. He tied up his hair, a few of the blonde strands escaped and framed his face but he didn’t seem to mind it too much as he got to work.

Thankfully, since you’d chosen a good position, the process was easier than you thought it would be. You just had to lie there and watch him work, which you happily did. You enjoyed watching his face scrunch up in concentration before relaxing again as he brushed stroke after stroke onto the canvas.

You were so beyond proud of him that it made your heart swell inside your chest.

Jungkook had been painting for a little over half an hour before he announced it was time to take a break. He could paint for hours on end without stopping, but that was when he didn’t have a live subject he was working with. He walked over to you with a bottle of water so you could sip from it without having to disturb your position too much.

You sat up slightly so you could drink, and while you did so, one of your dress straps started falling down your arm. Jungkook immediately went to move it back into place, but as he did, he couldn’t help but stare at the dark contrast of the purple satin against your skin. He thought it was so pretty, and his mind started wandering to how the paint itself might look-

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He may have been covered in paint himself, but that didn’t mean he needed to go putting paint on you.

When you were re-situated on the loveseat once more, Jungkook strolled back over to this easel. Unfortunately, since that thought of you covered in paint first took up residence inside his head, he now found it hard to focus on anything else. While he stared at you to try and resume your portrait, he just kept picturing you with painted streaks covering your skin instead.

You must have noticed he was distracted because soon you were calling over to him. “Kook? Is something wrong?”

He gulped and shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong! You’re doing great, baby.”

“Do you need me some other way?”

Such a simple statement and yet it was stirring something inside of him. Asking him if he needed you a certain way ignited that desire to once again paint you and he found himself unable to hold back from asking anymore.

“Yeah, I uh, I wanted to try something.” You were confused when he got up and started walking toward you, only carrying his paint supplies. At first you thought maybe he just wanted to get closer, but he didn’t bring the easel with him.

“What are you wanting to try,” your voice was laced with curiosity. He gave you a shy smile.

“I was just thinking about how pretty it would be,” he looked down at the floor then back up at your face before he continued, “if I used you as a canvas instead.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the request. Jungkook was asking to paint you, not paint you on a portrait, but to paint you. The suggestion intrigued you a lot more than you thought it would, which is ultimately what led to you nodding your agreement. “I think I’d like to try that, too.”

Jungkook’s face broke into such a dazzling smile that excited you to no end. You watched as he pulled his chair close to you, as well as some tarp to place around the area. When he was situated where he wanted to be, he dipped his brush into some of the purple paint on his palette and gently lifted your arm. The feeling of the paint as it brushed along your arm was foreign but not unwelcome. There was something about it that was almost calming.

You were now also recalling all the times you’d told Jungkook how pretty he looked even covered in paint. The pretty colors contrasting with his beautiful, golden skin tone never failed to take your breath away no matter how many times you saw it. You wondered briefly if this is what he was experiencing now as he took his time painting your skin.

He was focusing on your with such intensity and taking great care to only get the paint where he wanted it, so as to not stain certain parts of you or your dress. The sight of his caution made that familiar warmth bloom in your chest again.

He took his time painting beautiful designs along your arm before moving down to paint on your thighs and legs. He was alternating between purple and blue hues now, and the swirling patterns reminded you a lot of his tattoos that you adored. You had spent many nights lying next to him in bed, tracing the lines of his tattoos until you were too sleepy to keep it up. Seeing the patterns against your own skin briefly made you think about if you would ever want to get a tattoo. Before you put too much thought into it, your attention was pulled back to Jungkook who was sitting up now and admiring his work.

The time had passed by much quicker than you anticipated, and it was starting to get dark outside as the light was no longer filtering in through the windows of the room.

He seemed satisfied as he nodded and smiled. “Wait here, I’ll be right back. Stay just like this,” he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. When he returned, he had his coveted polaroid camera in his hands. Jungkook was also big into photography, and every one of his hobbies suited him perfectly in some way.

“Is it ok if I take a photo of you, baby?”

You grinned and nodded, being careful not to move too much from your current position. He snapped the photo and the polaroid was printing immediately after. When he pulled it from the camera, he laid it down on the table next to his easel so it could develop properly.

Jungkook wiped his hands off on his apron before taking it off and drawing his attention back to you. He could stare at you like this all day, but he knew it would probably be best to get you both cleaned up and paint-free.

He offered a hand for you so he could help pull you off the loveseat. When you were up fully, he wrapped his arms around you, careful to not get any of his exposed, paint-covered skin on your dress.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured softly, brushing some of your hair out of your face as his eyes scanned up and down your body to admire his creation. “And as much as I love seeing it, we should probably get this paint off soon. When it dries too much, it can be a bitch to scrub off, and I don’t want that for you.”

You chuckled at that and simply nodded your head. You’d been lying there for nearly 2 hours at this point, so you were pretty tired and ready to just relax for the night.

The two of you hopped into the shower shortly after, helping each other rid your bodies of the remnants of paint covering you both. You always loved taking showers with Jungkook, because whether or not it was a short, regular shower, or one shared after a night of intimacy, these moments were some that you cherished the most and wouldn’t change for the world.

You got lost in the feeling of Jungkook scrubbing shampoo into your hair, letting out soft noises as your eyes slipped closed.

Your noises always threatened to drive Jungkook crazy, and this time was no exception. He couldn’t deny the stirring of his cock as he listened to the little moans slipping from your mouth at such a simple action.

Of course, since he was so close to you, there was no way you didn’t feel him. His cock was hardening against your thigh, and the fact that you were turning him on by not doing much turned you on.

You could feel the wetness start to slip past your folds, but you decided to not make any moves yet, wondering how far you could take this before either of you snapped. You knew that teasing him was one of the quickest ways to get Jungkook riled up.

“Feels so good, Koo,” you shamelessly moaned out as he kept massaging the shampoo into your hair. You heard him let out a small grunt at your deliberate words, feeling him twitch against your thigh as he got harder.

You leaned your head back to give him a better view of your neck, since you knew he loved to mark you up there. His hands were starting to tangle in your hair, but he took care to not pull too hard as he brought his attention back to the task(s) at hand.

He was currently focusing on two things: 1) getting the rest of the shampoo out of your hair, and 2) not fucking you up against the shower wall. Doing the first thing was currently keeping him from acting on the second, but you certainly weren’t helping with that.

Your head lolled around on your neck, your eyes still closed as your sounds got louder. He knew you were messing with him now, so as retaliation he pulled on your hair a little tighter, making you gasp.

“You’re doing this on purpose, angel,” you could hear the dark tone of his voice over the waterfall in the shower clearly, and it just made you more aroused. You chanced opening your eyes to look at him, and the sight you were met with made you moan louder, this time without trying.

Jungkook was staring at you, mouth slightly parted as he let out pants of his own, his blonde, soaked tresses falling in his face and covering his eyes. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he tugged on your hair again, making you reach out to place your hands on his chest.

“You’re teasing me to get me worked up, hm?” All you could do was nod, his husky voice and the feeling of his hand wrapped in your hair making you wetter by the second. There was no use in playing coy any longer. You wanted him, and he wanted you.

The question now was: who would make the first move?

You realized that you wanted to be the one to make the first move, so you did.

“So, what if I am,” you asked sweetly, wrapping your hand around his length and pumping him slowly. His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against your shoulder, fingers now digging into your waist.

“You know what happens when you do that,” Jungkook warned. You absolutely knew what happened, and you definitely wanted it to happen.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe you should enlighten me.” You teased him as you gently nibbled on his earlobe, increasing your pace as you continued to stroke him. You heard him let out a soft moan against your shoulder as he placed a kiss there.

With no more hesitation, you turned him slightly and sank down to your knees in front of him, delighted by how his cock jerked in your hold when you steadied it with your hand.

Jungkook stared at you wide-eyed as you started moving your hand around his shaft before placing a gentle kiss on his tip, the prettiest groan falling from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure you want to do this?”

You peeked up at him as you fluttered your eyelashes, knowing that seeing you like this always aroused him beyond belief. You continued moving your hand in slow, languid strokes, and he was almost fully hard now.

He let his head hit the wall behind him, soft curses and praises for you tumbling from his mouth.

Seeing him like this had to be near the top of the list of your favorite sights to ever witness. And right then is when you figured it’d be the perfect time to surprise him. Without a warning you opened your mouth and took all of him in that you could reach.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate.

“Hey wait what are y- oh my God, fuck.” His loud moan echoed off the walls of the room, causing a fresh wave of arousal to pool between your thighs. You sucked harder as you hollowed out your cheeks, ignoring the way your throat constricted around him.

“Y/N, shit, you feel so good, your mouth- fuck, angel, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jungkook was panting hard above you, eyes shut and brows furrowed, jaw slack as he unabashedly continued to moan at your actions. He was reaching behind him to try and hold something, but the smooth wall had nothing to offer him. His fingers were slipping against the tile, so he gave up and instead settled for clenching and unclenching his fists.

You pulled off him with a pop, a string of saliva left in your wake. You smiled up at him as you kept stroking him, not wanting his pleasure to disappear in the slightest.

“You won’t hurt me, Koo,” you reassured him, earning another groan from the man falling apart under your touch. He twitched in your hold, and you stuck your tongue out again to run it along the underside of his length.

Jungkook chanced looking down at you, only to look up at the ceiling a moment later while he muttered a strained “holy shit.”

“C’mon baby, don’t you want to look at me,” you taunted him as your tongue played with the head of his cock, swirling around him. The low groans coming from above you let you know that he enjoyed that a lot.

“Fuck, angel, I-” Jungkook’s sentence died as a moan ripped itself from his throat when you surged back down to take all of him in again. This time you continued moving, feeling the tears in the corners of your eyes but not stopping.

It wasn’t like you’d never sucked him off like this before, seeing as it was one of your favorite activities, after all. But it was a rare occasion where Jungkook would let you take all of him in one go for fear of hurting you. So, you took these chances whenever they presented themselves, and the reward was always, always worth it.

Tears along with the water droplets from the shower were coating your face but you didn’t care. All of your focus was on Jungkook and how he was trying so hard to restrain himself above you. You watched his fists clench and unclench and you could feel himself struggle to keep his hips from moving forward so he didn’t fuck your mouth.

Yeah, you weren’t having that. You wanted him to let go, wanted him to know that it was ok, that you wanted this. You reached out to grab one of his hands and placed it in your hair, relishing in the way his fingers immediately tangled themselves into the wet strands. You pulled your mouth off of him again, but not before letting your tongue drag slowly across every inch of him.

You looked up at him again as you pumped him leisurely, waiting until he brought his gaze down to stare at you, only for him to quickly close his eyes again.

“God, I can’t look at you, like I want to, fuck do I want to, but you look so fucking good like this, I’m not gonna last-”

You always found his stammering to be cute and you didn’t want to torture him too much longer. Deciding that you’d teased him enough, you took all of him into your mouth again, intertwining your fingers with his unoccupied hand and giving it a squeeze. The intimacy of this particular action was always enough to get both of you going, and it had Jungkook’s hips stuttering as you sucked hard.

“Fuck, baby, always take me so good like this. Always so good for me, I love you, fuck,” he was groaning as his head hit the wall behind him again, his hold in your hair tightening the same moment you felt him buck his hips like you’d been wanting all this time.

Unfortunately, for you, whenever Jungkook would fuck your mouth, no matter how much you wanted to sit there and take it without issue, his size always proved to be too big for you to handle and it had you coughing around his length in no time. Which, of course, always made Jungkook stop what he was doing before either of you had the chance to enjoy it much.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Jungkook pulled you up while you kept coughing, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face and looking at you with worry. You nodded and tried to reassure him, wanting to get back on your knees for him, but he held you in place.

“You don’t want me to continue,” you asked, your voice a little more hoarse than usual thanks to what your throat had just endured.

Jungkook shook his head. “No, angel, it’s not that. If you do keep going, I’ll cum in no time.” He brushed some of the water away from under your eyes, not knowing if it was tears or from the shower. He bent down to place a rough kiss on your lips, such a contrast from how his hands caressed your face.

“I want to be inside of you when that happens,” he murmured against you, gently biting down on your bottom lip and pulling a whine from you, in turn causing more wetness to gush between your legs. “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You almost laughed. “Koo, you know I’ll let you do anything at this point.”

He chuckled. “That’s a dangerous admission, baby. You sure about that?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Of course I’m sure. I’d let you do anything you want because I trust you. Because I love you,” it was your turn to kiss him this time, and it was filled with so much passion it nearly made him dizzy. Jungkook could never get tired of the feeling of your lips against his, of hearing you say that you loved him, of feeling your skin pressed against each other during times like these.

Jungkook was hooked on you and he never wanted to go back to a time where he wasn’t.

You pulled him out of his thoughts as you tugged on some of his hair, earning a delicious sounding grunt from him. You whispered your next snarky comment right by his ear.

“You gonna fuck me now, baby?”

Your bluntness had his cock quickly stirring back to life after it had softened some during your coughing incident. He growled low and dark as he started placing love bites on your collarbone.

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor first, angel?” He was marking up your skin while he asked this, so you almost didn’t realize what he was asking specifically but then it dawned on you.

“As much I love seeing you with your head between my legs,” you responded, tugging on his hair again, “I’d rather have you fuck me up against this wall.”

He moaned against your collarbone, the action vibrating your skin. He pulled off of you and brought your lips to his in a filthy kiss. “Your wish is my command.”

Jungkook lifted you up then by placing his hands under your ass and you got the message, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up. He turned so your back was against the wall, the only things now holding you up being his strong arms and the smooth tile behind you.

He first plunged two fingers inside you without a warning, making you let out a silent scream. He smirked at the way you clenched around his fingers, scissoring them before pulling them out again. You whined at the loss and he shushed you with a gentle kiss on your nose.

“Had to make sure you’re ready, baby.” He had one arm wrapped around your waist, trapped in between your back and the shower wall. With his now free hand, he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when the tip of his cock was sucked in by your velvety walls.

“Fuck, you already feel so good and I’m barely in yet,” he clenched his jaw as he sank further into you inch by inch. When he finally bottomed out and was filling you up in the best way possible, you clenched around him to tease him further, making him curse.

“Watch it, angel,” he growled. “You’re gonna make it very hard for me to not blow it if you keep doing that, and I want you there with me when I do.”

“Then I guess you’d better start moving,” you teased, wrapping your arms more tightly around his neck. You knew what was coming next; Jungkook would put you exactly in your place, just like you wanted. And for that you needed to hold on tight for dear life because that man could rock you like nothing ever had before.

Jungkook grabbed your hips firmly in his hold as he fucked up into you, making sure you were held against the wall and weren’t in danger of falling down as he did so. Despite this, each thrust had you sliding more up the wall until he would bring you back down again. When he found a pace that was he was sure he could resume without either of you getting hurt, he finally let go.

To say you saw stars would be an understatement. Jungkook was fucking you with so much vigor that you weren’t just seeing stars, you were sure you were seeing entire galaxies. Your sounds kept dying out on your tongue because the feeling was so overwhelming and it had your trembling around him in no time.

“Can’t make any sounds when I’m fucking you this good, angel?” Jungkook was taunting you now and quite frankly, he was right, he was fucking you so good that you were finding it hard to say anything. And the mixture of his dirty words with the sweet pet name you adored had you clenching even tighter around him, causing him to groan loudly and grip your waist tighter.

You eventually found your voice again when Jungkook hit a certain spot inside of you, pulling an embarrassingly loud whine from your throat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, tears almost brimming in your eyes once again at how good he felt.

“Fuck, Jungkook, feels so good, oh my God-” your praises made him twitch inside you as he moved his hands now from your waist to hold you up by cupping your ass, squeezing tightly in time with his thrusts. He was bouncing you up and down on his cock now with his strength alone, and the thought of it made your orgasm start to approach at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I love feeling you so close like this, I love you, so fucking much, shit-” Jungkook cut himself off as threw his head back to get his hair out of his face, careful not to let his balance falter or his grip slip on you. He had to do it though because his hair was keeping him from seeing your face now that you were leaning your head back against the wall, and he couldn’t have that.

“I love you, Jungkook, I’m close, fuck,” you were breathing hard as you couldn’t control your moans any longer, eyes squeezed shut and tears falling from just how much pleasure you were receiving and also how much you loved this man. Jungkook was the man you’d loved for so many years before you were finally able to call him yours. He always took care of you in every aspect of life, and you reciprocated it as best you could. And it was because of this kind of love you two had for each other that made these intimate times all the more meaningful. You were sitting here, back up against a shower wall in the arms of the man you loved while he rearranged your guts, and it was such an emotional experience alongside being a pleasurable one that the tears actually made sense.

Jungkook bit down on your shoulder and pulled you out of your reverie, making you cry out as he muffled his own sounds against your skin. You could tell by his thrusts that he was getting close now, his grunts happening more frequently and louder, echoing off the tiled shower walls. The water had already started to get cold but neither of you cared. Nothing outside of the two of you existed in this moment, and that was exactly how you liked it.

“Touch yourself for me, baby, I’m close, want you to be there with me,” Jungkook breathed out, his grip on your ass harsher now and you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow. You loved it when he marked you up, and even though he always felt slightly bad about it, you knew Jungkook loved seeing the marks, too.

You obeyed his command and reached down to rub your clit, nearly shrieking at the new wave of pleasure that washed over you. The sensations on your clit, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you, the way he was holding you, and all the things he was saying to you was enough to finally push you over the edge.

“Jungkook, I’m cumming, fuck-” you barely had time to utter out your warning before you were cumming hard around his length, your body spasming as he held you through it.

He sped up then, chasing his own high now, the feeling of your walls clenching around him making his eyes roll back. “Fuck, I can feel you, always so perfect for me, I’m close-”

His eyes were closed now so he didn’t see you reach for him. You pulled him closer so you could kiss him, hoping to help him along this way, swallowing down every beautiful sound he was making. “C’mon Koo, cum for me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned out, loud and long as that was the last thing he needed to get him there. His hips stuttered a few more times before you felt him twitch and fill you up, just like you wanted. Because gravity was working against you due to your current position, you could feel some of it dripping out of you despite Jungkook still being inside of you. The feeling made you scrunch up your nose, and the action made Jungkook laugh and mumble out ‘cute’ as he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He pulled out of you carefully before moving you away from the wall so he could set you down on your feet. Your legs were a little wobbly, so he let you brace yourself against him as he helped you clean up.

The water was nearing a very uncomfortable cold temperature, but the both of you would rather endure that than leave the shower without cleaning off completely. After the workout you both had, there was nothing more you wanted than to curl up with each other in the bed.

After helping each other get clean again, and stealing quite a few kisses while doing so, Jungkook helped you out of the shower since you still didn’t trust your legs and dried you off before taking care of himself. Your heart swelled at the sight of him as it always did when he would take care of you like this.

You just hoped that you were taking care of him in all the ways he needed as well. You were certainly trying your best and would continue to do so for the rest of your life.

Once you were both snuggled into bed, him with an arm under you and you with your face nuzzling against his chest, you broke the silence first.

“If that’s what happens when I let you put paint on me, we should do that more often.”

Jungkook, who was tracing invisible patterns on your back in between your shoulder blades, laughed so hard you shook along with him. When he finally calmed down, he was able to answer you. “I totally agree. Although, I don’t think that happened because I painted you. It happened because you-” he booped you on the nose “-teased me, knowing full well what happens when you do.”

You shrugged as best you could with his arms around you. “You love it, though.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Indeed I do.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head and resumed his earlier soothing tracing of patterns on your skin. You rested your cheek against his chest and could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. The combined actions of his hands and the steady thrum of his heartbeat was enough to have slumber calling your name in a matter of minutes.

Jungkook had something more to say, however.

“Hey,” he called gently, making you look up at him with groggy eyes. He smiled at the sight. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me. For being my muse. I’ve got more ideas now about what else to create, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten there without your help.”

You smiled at him before you placed your head down again and shut your eyes once more, breathing deeply. “You would’ve eventually. That’s just how you are. Maybe I sped up the process, but you would’ve done fine.”

“Perhaps,” he sighed and looked at the ceiling. His glance travelled down to look at your nearly sleeping form, laying on him calm and unbothered. Moments like these topped his list of favorite things, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

“Goodnight, angel,” he murmured softly, not sure if you were asleep or not yet. You muttered something unintelligible back, but he knew you were telling him goodnight all the same, and it brought a smile to his face.

Jungkook wanted to tackle life with you, the good, the bad, all of it; he wanted to do it with you by his side. He wanted to make sure every day of your life from here on out was filled with happiness and love and everything you deserved in the world, just as you wanted to do the same for him. He knew you’d do anything for him, and he’d do anything for you.

Only for you.

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #ofy drabble

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