#also hi! merry almost Christmas! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barbieaemond · 11 months ago

Text

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn��t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos."

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

#likiri #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x wife reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #hotd fic

7K notes · View notes

evilwickedme · 2 years ago

Text

Fuck it I'm bored so here's a ranking of different Peter Parkers by how Jewish they are

Dead last, obviously, is MCU!Peter Parker. This version of Peter is the farthest from comic canon to the point of being almost unrecognizable at times. Also, Tom Holland answered the question "is peter parker Jewish" in a Wired Autocomplete Interview a while back with a very baffled "no", cementing him forever as my sworn enemy. So he's actually the only peter parker who, at least by word of God, is canonically NOT Jewish. -1000000/10

Next up is Tobey Maguire's Peter Parker. I think this Peter is... fine, at least he's much closer to comic canon than MCU!Peter, but honestly that's not saying much considering how far the MCU strayed from comic canon or even the spirit of comic canon. But like overall, Sam Raimi's movies just aren't particularly interested in presenting Peter as Jewish, so, eh. 1/10

By far the most Jewish of live action Peters is TASM!Peter, also by far the most comic accurate of live action Peters. I'd be remiss not to mention the fact that Andrew Garfield is Jewish, and he understands the character so fucking well. He stated on record that he played Peter as Jewish and that he sees Spider-Man as an inherently Jewish character:

However, the Webb movies still do not textually define him as Jewish, and the best parts of Andrew's Peter's Jewish subtext are better when viewed in light of the comics. Overall, 6.5/10

Next up is the original, our beloved comic book Peter, pictured here saying Happy Hanukkah in a panel from Matt Fraction's Hawkeye. Comic Peter is one of the most heavily Jewish coded comics characters of all time, which is saying something considering how Jewish comic books are as a medium. Obviously he was created and often written and drawn by Jewish writers and artists, but beyond that his driving ethos and values are incredibly Jewish, and as a bonus he's constantly sprinkling Yiddish and Jewish phrases into his speech, alongside things like the above panel where he outright acknowledges Jewish culture in a scene where everyone else is saying merry Christmas. However, despite the extremely heavy coding, Marvel Comics are fucking cowards, and he has yet to be confirmed Jewish, so I must give him a measly 8/10.

Finally, the cream of the crop, the most Jewish of all Peter Parkers, Into the Spider-Verse's Peter B. Parker my beloved!!! Peter B. is voiced by Jake Johnson, himself a Jewish actor, and is a phenomenally accurate representation of comic book canon - but he also has the unique quality of being canonically, textually, in the actual movie Jewish! It's a bit of a blink and you'll miss it scene, but when we get introduced to Peter B. in his "one more time" segment, we see his wedding to MJ, where he steps on a glass. This is a Jewish minhag - custom - meant to represent the destruction of our Temple and Jerusalem, as well as remind us that sorrow and joy come intertwined, and is one of my personal favorite Jewish customs. It's a phenomenal moment in the best Spider-Man movie, and while this version of Peter would have been my favorite film version regardless, his Jewishness absolutely pushes him even further up. 13/10, no complaints

#jew tag #jumblr #comics #marvel #marvel comics #spiderman #peter parker #peter b parker #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #tasm #sam raimi #the amazing spider man #mcu #gail speaks #jewish superheroes

17K notes · View notes

jasontoddisasorceror · 11 months ago

Text

Oh, I love it. What's up with the Jason/danny Ghost? Is it the other Jason's? And who brought Danny to this? Was it the ghost? Was it clockwork? Dan? Also I smell a custody battle brewing between the fentons and Bruce or maybe Dick?

sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)

>:) word count 8k+

So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it: @blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol

SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list: - CW Mild Swearing - CW Slight Psychological Horror - ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though) - CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare) - CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied - TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood - TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive) - TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above) - TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)

I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:

I know your addiction's attention, Let's start a show Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Show us something we ain't never seen before

The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.

(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)

(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)

And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in.

(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.)

All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"

Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."

Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"

(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)

(What a comfort.)

"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?

...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.

"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."

He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.

(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)

(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.)

Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.

Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air.

(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?)

He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.

"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."

Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"

Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."

...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears.

On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again?

He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."

Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate.

…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already.

"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.

"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."

That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."

Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are?

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:

How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?

"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"

"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."

(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)

(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)

(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.)

Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"

Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.

"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.

There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.

"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."

He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.

Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire.

Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."

Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.

Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."

Bruce looks conflicted.

"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."

...Actively or on purpose, that is.

He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."

Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."

Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."

—-----

Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.

He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.

Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.

He needs-

He needs--

He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.

He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again.

The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape.

"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.

"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.

He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.

No one hears him. He's alone.

God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.

Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.

He feels no need to chase after it.

The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.

Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.

He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.

There is none.

But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.

(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)

(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)

Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.

It's been three weeks.

Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.

His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.

He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.

Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.

They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.

Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.

There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.

Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized.

And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?

So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.

Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.

Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay.

Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.

Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...

He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.

Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about?

Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.

He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny.

(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”)

If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself?

He’ll never know, he supposes.

“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back.

He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it.

Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better.

“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.”

“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”

Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!”

Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff.

It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.

It was all just strange.

But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up.

“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.”

Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?”

Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh.

They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.

Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing.

In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas.

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?

But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were.

From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.

“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused.

Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning.

He didn’t think. He did. He did.

What did he see?

It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.”

He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off.

When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there.

—------------

Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to.

There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves.

He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops.

Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream.

Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.

He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts.

What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is.

Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.

He’s not wearing gloves.

His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe.

Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up.

Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies?

Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.

(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.)

He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face.

It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.

(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.)

Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”

Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way.

But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.”

Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.”

“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it.

They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time.

“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.”

“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse.

“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny.

Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight?

Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.”

Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.

“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.

Oh.

Yeah.

That’s right. His parents.

He probably had nightmares about that.

Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.

“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.”

Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.”

Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.”

Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.”

He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.”

(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.)

(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.)

(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.)

—-------

Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast.

(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?)

(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.)

But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor.

If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.

Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room.

“Yes, Danny?”

He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks.

Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.”

Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”

He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.

That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind.

Everyone goes back to eating.

(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)

(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)

(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)

(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)

(The window begins to crack.)

“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes.

Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.

And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned.

“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go.

Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again.

“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.”

Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?”

“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.

Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious.

Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit.

“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs.

Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him.

In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”

“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?”

“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.”

He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.”

Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library.

His appetite’s been ruined.

—---------

Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded.

His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare.

His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently.

(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?)

He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.

But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him.

(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t.

His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out.

“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”

He did not tell them anything.)

Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious.

Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.

It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare.

Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle.

The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.”

“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.”

Bruce’s eyes fly up.

There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do.

A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood.

The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly.

Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed.

When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows.

The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce.

He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.

Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.

When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dp x dc au #dpxdc au #dpdc #dpdc crossover #Danny is Jason Todd au #i didn't think of anything beyond the ending point howEVER #this post is totally open for additions if anyone is interested #i love seeing add-ons to posts #anyways EVIL LAUGHTER #THIS IS THE PART I WANTED TO GET TO. PYSCHOLOGICAL HORROR #ANGST #if this was a fic i would have ramped up the horror more #alas tis a ficlet #starry terrorizes the waynes with the fact that jason is going to die in his world and there's nothing they can do about it.#he doesnt know he's going to die. but they do :)#fun fact jazz was going to be here and she was going to be the one to see the ghost #if this was a fic that ending scene would've occurred after more build up of dick and bruce and co seeing the figure following danny around #in the original variant au the waynes dont meet danny until he's already died and is a ghost #and i was gonna have one more jason appearance but couldnt fit one in #merry belated christmas folks #have some angst after two consecutive clone^2 posts of fluff #i tried to picture what danny's body would have looked like before being ghosted and #extremely burned was the first thing that came to mind. his suit is also almost entirely melted. something to kinda resemble his ghost half #but also i couldn't stomach making him completely unrecognizable because he WOULD have been #genuinely think danny's body would have been like. half melted at least

347 notes · View notes

swe3tte4rs · 11 months ago

Note

Batifamily headcanons feeling jealous about their siblings spending more time with Batmom? Or something like that, however you like to write it 🙊

" Jealousy jealousy " - Batmom!Reader x Batkids

Author's note: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR (late)!!! Love this 🫶. And I feel like this request is VERY my AU!!! Dah, who wouldn't compete for the love of their sweet and loving mother!? (The hatred between them began when Bruce had to set schedules for each one so they wouldn't fight for Batmom's attention... joke)

Also I am very sad, because when I was responding to this kind of request and I saved it as a draft, it was deleted 😭!!! CRYING 💔💔!!! On top of that, I loved the request, it was beautiful 😭! It was about Batmom as Bruce's couple and Bruce introduces Batmom to the batkids... And if it was you who sent it 🫵, let me tell you that I loved it and it will take me a while to upload it 💓!! Lov you all

And (I almost forgot to mention this), This AU of the batfamily is a mix of comics, series, headcanons (I LOVE headcanons of batfamily 💗), video games, movies and webtoon! + My main language is not English, so if you find any spelling mistakes, tell me in a comment!

Request opens 💗💗!!! BUT, before you request anything check my rules.

Dick Grayson / Nightwing

Honestly, I don't see him being jealous of his brothers at all! But since I haven't read all of his comics and in this AU he is a mix, I don't have an opinion. 👀

Let us begin.

I feel like Dick is a real mama's boy, he love his mom and he will prove it.

Dick is very used to having all of Batmom's attention to himself.

But he hides his jealousy very well, or so he thinks…

Jealousy began when Dick started having siblings. DON'T DENY ME GIRL 🤝🤝!!!

When he gets jealous that you spend more time with, I don't know, he'll go to sleep with you and Bruce, but leaving Bruce aside and enjoying your caresses in his hair while he listens to his siblings complain from outside the bedroom. (Bruce hate this, but I feel that at the same time he love it just a little bit. Very little.)

Possibly he will also rub things you did with him that you didn't do with your other children in his siblings' faces.

I think he is the only one (along with Jason) who has a complete album with photos of him as a child. So he'll show it off to others by saying that you loved him so much that you made an entire photo album of him.

He would do the same with Jason, telling him that his album has more photos and with more photos of you and Dick.

I feel like he would start a whole fight against one of his brothers just to carry all the shopping bags by himself so you don't do it. (This idea is similar to "Jason Todd is a total mama's boy" because I was inspired by it, so credit to its respective author 💓)

"Mommy, did you just call me Damian? Oh my god... my heart..." #atotaldramaqueenbaby💋💋👊👊

Jason Todd / Red Hood

Another drama queen...

A mama's boy from head to toe. (My poor baby just needed a fucking mother figure 😭💔)

He is first in everything. Do you need help opening a jar? He already opened it for you and said I love you and then left and returned to a mission.

But that's not what we're talking about right now... Nonono, we're talking about jealousy, guys...

I bet he's the most sensitive of all.

He makes sure you don't show favoritism to anyone, unless it's him, if so he lets it go.

Did you spend an extra minute with one of your other children because you didn't see the time? He is already burning in a pit of jealousy.

I feel like he would start fighting with his sibling and then he would apply the law of silence to you. But it doesn't last long because he can't resist your cute nicknames and your "you're my favorite" (you say that to each of your babies)

"Why do you call him "son"? He isn't even your son!" And he gives you a whole long speech when you were just trying to be nice to Roy.

He even gets jealous of Bruce.

He doesn't care if it's one of his sisters or a good friend of his, you can't call them cute nicknames! And even less if they are the ones you use with him!

He has good hearing, he makes sure that you call him by his nicknames and not by one of his siblings' nicknames.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MA?! Why are you washing Tim's hair with the shampoo you use with me!?!?" You broke him...

Tim Drake / Red Robin

( I haven't read almost anything by Tim, so forgive me if something doesn't add up, but I promise you that I already have more or less what his personality is like.)

Tim does not admit his jealousy, he is calmer compared to his brothers.

He might start scheduling his patrols to coincide with Batmom’s free time, ensuring that he gets to spend some time with her.

I feel like he would feel more insecurity than jealousy

But I also think he would try to take Batmom's attention away from his sibling by calling Batmom to help him do something he can easily do alone.

He wouldn't care if you treated his friends like your children. I think he would be happy.

Umh Well… I think there's not much to jealousy about this one...

Damian Wayne / Robin

Yes, I headcanon that Damian is one of the most jealous once he realizes that Batmom can give him the love that Talia didn't give him.

He is the same as Jason, he has the same percentage of jealousy.

The only thing is that he would start making arguments about why Batmom would have to spend the whole week with him and not with her brothers.

Oh, and he doesn't care what Bruce does with Batmom. Although he is disgusted by the slightest affection they have.

At galas, I feel like he would be glued to you, hugging your waist and making sure there is no threat.

If you're not patrolling, he'd be with you watching some movie. (I DON'T KNOW WHY I IMAGINED HIM WATCHING MEAN GIRLS)

"I say mom Is going to go with me first because I'm the best-" And then he was interrupted by his siblings.

There is a relationship of hate and equality between him and Jason…

"Don't you see that my mother has an engagement ring and I'm next to her, son of a- *you interrupt him*" I feel like he would say this to anyone who flirts with you.

He is not understanding why his siblings get to spend more time with her.

Mama's boy

I would continue writing, but I have no more inspiration and ideas, sorry...

Cassandra Cain / Orphan

WHY DID SHE PUT THAT NAME BRO???

Cassandra, being the quiet and observant one, might internalize her feelings of jealousy.

Cass is the last one to get jealous, honestly.

She understands that Batmom loves them all equally and there is no favoritism.

Although sometimes she doubts…

She would feel excluded every time she sees you spend more time with one of her siblings.

But putting that behind, she would know that you love them all equally and would let it go by speaking with you how she feels.

0,1% jealous.

Stephanie Brown / Spoiler

Depends…

I think she would feel jealous if Batmom shows favoritism towards others.

In itself, I don't think Steph is VERY jealous. Just... a little bit.

Duke Thomas / The Signal

I need to read more about this man 😭

He's the newest one in the batfam, but he was still able to connect with Batmom very well.

Duke is not one to be jealous, he just doesn't care what batmom does.

Although he is a similar case to Cass.

He would feel a little "insecure" seeing the ties Batmom has with his siblings.

But it always ends well with Batmom watching a movie with him.

[You can put more headcanons in a comment if you like!! And suggestions are always welcome <3]

#🍓୧ ‧₊˚ Request answered! ⋅ ✮⋆˙#batmom #jason todd is a mama's boy #batfamily #batmom reader #batmom imagine #batfam x reader #red hood x reader #nightwing x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #batfam #idk what else to tag

1K notes · View notes

writing-wh0re · 11 months ago

Note

AAAAH, I just saw you posting your prompts and your requests are open. I don’t know if you write them together or individually, but if you can (or if you can’t but you can write for one of them), could you do Fred and George with a Smutty prompt #3?

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley

Word Count: 6,167 - I had so much fun writing this

Warnings: Smut18+, Unprotected Vaginal Intercourse, Female Performing Oral, Daddy Kink, Slight Choking Kink, Slight Slapping Kink (if you squint), Praise Kink, Slight Degration, Slight Breeding Kink, Spanking Kink. Slight cum kink. Use of pet names.

Basically its a very kinky smut and there's actually plot - look at me go.

A/n: Sorry I have been inactive, life am I right? But I'm getting a desk setup completed so I will be more fequent! I hope. I apologise for this being long, but I truly had so much fun writing this request. My love for the twins is reigniting. I will be fixing up my taglist as well / making a library blog for posts. I have written this smut differently to how I have in the past, let me know if you'd like a part 2!

Merry Christmas x

| | | |

Hogwarts was quiet the closer it got to Christmas, snow was gently falling and the gusts of wind were freezing. Most students went home for Christmas but this year was different for you. Your parents had decided to take a trip to get away from the wizarding world for a few months with no real timeline of coming back, it was something that shocked you but also didn’t surprise you.

Fred and George had decided to not rush home right away, debating on whether or not to ask you to join them at the Weasley house for Christmas, not really sure of what your relationship was, if it was anything other than lust and desire.

“You can’t sit alone in the common room for weeks, it’s Christmas.” George grumbled slouching down on the couch beside you.

“I’ll be fine, honestly, I have so many books I can read.” You gestured to the pile of books on the table that you had acquired from the library. “You two should head home, I’m almost certain your mum has made your favourite foods.”

Fred smiles at the mention of his mum and her tradition of making something for everyone to enjoy.

“You can come with us, we have a spare room and I’m sure mum would be overjoyed to finally meet our best friend.”

Best friend

Although not untrue the word still seemed to pang your heart with disappointment. An on and off hook up to them doesn’t mean the same thing it does to you and that was something you were coming to terms with.

Fred and George sensed the hesitation on you after Fred had dropped the best friend title, it was something they were yet to discuss with you, were you just best friends who fooled around? Or were you also wanting something more that you could all figure out together over time.

“I don’t want to impose, you’ll have such a full house, isn’t Bill in the guest room this year?”

George smirks, you do listen to every word they say.

“What Freddie is saying is there will be a spare bed somewhere, we have two in our room and the couch downstairs, I’m sure something can be sorted.”

“Mum already thinks you’re coming so hurry up and pack your things.”

Your mouth falls open at Fred’s revelation, your eyes flick to George who smirks.

“Go on, we leave in fifteen minutes.”

“I feel like there wasn’t much of a choice in this matter.”

The twins chuckle as you pack your things up and run up to your dorm, searching your room for a bag to pack things into you.

You quickly rush out of your dorm, running into the twins as you look up at them. Their eyes wander your face, a blush creeping up your neck.

You look down at the floor, before George places his hand under your chin.

“Everything okay baby?”

Baby.

You weren't quite sure how a simple nickname could make your stomach flip and your body tingle, but it did, especially coming for George and Fred.

“Uh, um.” Your mind is foggy, unsure what you were originally rushing for. The twins smirk, sharing a quick look before your face lights up, having remembered what you wanted to ask.

“How long are we gone for?”

“We will be coming back the week before term starts.”

“But we can come back earlier if you’d like.”

“So three weeks?”

The twins nod as you spin and walk back into your dorm, them following behind you. You walk back and forth from your closet to your bed, where the twins have decided to lounge while you pack. Finding outfits is easy, finding lingerie works out to be a little harder under the gaze of the men on your bed.

You quickly open your dresser draw, looking over the various colours of lace and matching sets. Quickly you grab a hand full and shove it into your bag, closing your dresser and zipping the bag closed.

“Darling, you dropped something.” George whispers, moving past you and bending down to pick up your dark red G-string, blush creeps up your face, your stomach filling with butterflies as George passes the material to Fred who simply places it in your bag and rezips it.

Your mind continues to rush, a million thoughts racing through your brain as the twins share a smirk before grabbing your bag from the bed.

“C’mon love.” Fred holds your bag as he walks out of your dorm, George follows closely behind his eyes looking you up and down, sending a swift wink your way before holding his hand out, an invitation to take his. Which you do, almost embarrassingly fast.

George squeezes your hand and pulls you along with him to follow Fred.

| | | |

After a few days at the Weasley home, you started to feel settled and a part of the family. Harry had joined the household on the same day as you, making you feel not so alone in the imposing feeling. No one was surprised to see you, they were excited to have another friend along for the celebration. Molly had made you feel so at home, hugging you when you first arrived, a feeling of warmth and comfort washing over you within her embrace.

Over the past few days, Molly had shown you how to bake a few of her signature recipes, she had even gone as far as asking what your favourite food was, setting herself a goal of creating it for you come Christmas Eve.

Being one day out from Christmas, Molly didn’t want to be disturbed in the kitchen, she needed her space and stated that everyone should go outside to play a friendly game of Quidditch, she emphasised the word ‘friendly’ mainly at the twins.

So you sat on your broom beside Harry, waiting for everyone who was playing to fly into the air.

“Have you played before?” Harry asks curiously, not knowing much about you, himself being two years younger.

“Yeah, but I'm definitely not a pro.” You laugh as Harry smiles, looking out at the Weasley family.

“I think they’re going to kick our ass.”

“Oh without a doubt.”

You and Harry share a smile, your eyes wandering to the golden ball, clearly not the shiny golden snitch but definitely close. The quaffle and bludgers fly through the air with a woosh sound, everyone going into game mode. You and Harry nod at each other, both taking the role of seekers before rushing into the air in search of the ‘snitch’.

Within a matter of seconds the twins are behind you, chasing after you. You fly past the duo, diving down behind Harry who seems to have his eye on the golden ball. You quickly look over your shoulder, the twins hot on your ass. You notice the golden ball dancing between the twins. A smirk dances across your lips as you fly up higher just outside of the quidditch pitch, pulling up on your broom as the twins fly past you. They stop and look back at you as you flash them your bare tits. Both of them go wide eyed as you hold the golden ball between your hands, pulling your sweater back down.

“Later losers”

You turn your broom around, wiggling your ass as you dive down to the grass.

“We won!” You scream, Ginny, Bill and Ron rush down to you, pulling you into a hug and cheering for your team as the rest of the players come to the ground.

You make brief eye contact with the twins, a darkness in their eyes but clapping for your victory nonetheless.

“Lunch is ready! C’mon darlings before the storm comes.” Molly gestures for everyone to come inside as you opt to help clean the game up, the twins staying behind with you.

You bend down to pick up the spare brooms, your ass brushing against George’s crotch, your eyes locking onto Fred and sending him a wink.

Fred stands in front of you, shielding you from the view of the house, George holding your hips, pulling you against his chest. Fred caresses your cheek, his head shaking.

“Do that one more time and we’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone.”

Your breathing hitches, your eyes never leaving Fred as he hooks one finger into the collar of your sweater, looking down at your bare tits. George slips one hand up into your sweater, groping your boob as you whimper, a shiver runs over your body at his cold finger tips. The fear of getting caught creeps up, a slight wetness running to your core. Fred tilts your head to look up at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly.

The twins smirk pulling away from you like nothing happened and begin grabbing the game equipment.

They walk towards the home, not once turning back to look at you. Thunder rumbles through the sky as you quickly rush inside, not wanting to be left out in the oncoming storm.

“There you are sweet girl, would you prefer peach or lemon tea?” Molly asks sweetly, smiling at you before worry washes over her. Molly places her hands on your cheeks and a slight frown on her face.

“Y/n, honey you look flushed, are you okay?”

You heart hammers in your chest, those fucking twins.

“I’m okay Molly, the wind just gets to me sometimes.” You smile, reassuring her as she pulls you into a warm embrace. You make eye contact with the twins, smug smirks on their face.

“You tell me if you need anything, now, lemon or peach?”

You nod at Molly, deciding on lemon tea before squeezing in between Fred and George at the table, conveniently the only spot left. You spin the pasta around the fork, thankful for a warm meal. Your body tenses slightly, feeling both Fred and George place a hand on your thighs. Both of them grab and squeeze the flesh, involuntarily rocking your hips at their touch. You quickly catch yourself, continuing to eat while the twins trace shapes and grip your skin.

| | | |

Not much continued to happen yesterday and today had mainly been taken up by Ginny and Molly asking for help with wrapping gifts, a cheeky idea coming into your mind as you pocketed a bit of red ribbon.

Tonight was the big Christmas Eve feast, Mr Weasley had finished work early and everyone was told, multiple times, that dinner would be served at 7pm, not a minute over. Molly hadn’t made lunch today, wanting everyone to wait with anticipation for her multitude of amazing dishes, a favourite created for everyone in the home, including yourself and Harry. You had simply asked for baked honey carrots, which judging by the smell of honey filling the home, Molly had delivered.

“Thank you girls, go get comfy while I finish up dinner.” Molly smiled, kissing Ginny’s head before ushering us away from the table so she could set it accordingly.

“I’m going for a quick shower.” Ginny states rushing up the stairs in front of you. You duck into the twins room, looking over George’s messy bed and Fred’s mattress on the floor, thankful that you could share a room with them but lucky enough to score Fred’s bed.

“Mum loves you.” I jump slightly at George's words not noticing him behind me. I smile, falling backwards on Fred’s bed.

“I love her, she feels like home when she hugs you.” I whisper as George hums in agreement.

Fred walks into the room, his hair dripping and a towel around his waist. I sit up slightly, resting on my elbows, my eyes shamelessly dragging over his toned body.

“My eyes are here baby.”

That fucking nickname.

“Oh I’m well aware.” I whisper, looking over at George quickly. “Remind me, do you look like that?”

George smirks, pulling his shirt over his head, his body just as toned as Fred’s.

I bite my lip, looking between the two shirtless twins.

“Noted.”

Fred locks the door behind him, resting against it. George stands from his bed, nodding at his brother before pulling me closer to the edge by my ankles.

“We’re sick of this game love.”

“We know you want us.”

“Fuck, we want you.”

“That shit you pulled during the game.”

“Dangerous.”

“Slutty.”

“Showing off what’s ours to the whole family.”

My breath hitches at their words, looking up at both of them towering over me on the bed.

“I’m yours?”

The twins smirk, George leans down, his thumb brushing against my lip.

“Should we remind you?”

“It’s been a long time, baby.”

“We forget what you feel like.”

“Sound like.”

They emphasise their words by groping at your body. Your body tingles, wetness pooling between your thighs.

Fred feels your pocket, pulling out the red ribbon with a smile. George smirks, tilting his head at me.

“Are you our Christmas gift?”

You open and close your mouth, simply nodding as they chuckle.

“Don’t be shy, baby.”

“Yes.” You whisper, watching their every move.

George smiles, leaning down and pulling you up from the bed, your chest against his, your back against Fred’s.

“How lucky are we Freddie.”

“Extremely.” Fred whispers, his hands gripping your ass.

George leans down to your lips, his lips hovering over mine, your breath mixing as my eyes flick from his to his lips.

“Please.” You whimper.

George closes the distance between you, your lips moulding against each other. Fred kisses along your neck and shoulder, sucking on your weak spot as you moan into George’s mouth, allowing for his tongue to twirl with yours.

“Be quiet baby.” George whispers as Fred captures your lips, his kiss just as soft as George, savouring every swipe of your tongue against each other. George’s hands slip under your sweater, a groan falling from his lips at your lack of bra, twisting your nipples.

“Fuck daddy.” You whisper, both of the twins stopping briefly, as George grabs your hair pulling your face to him.

“Say that again.”

“Daddy.” You whimper, your lips pouting, Fred moans, his hands spanking your ass.

“We’re going to ruin you.”

Before anything more can happen you hear Molly shout up the stairs, letting you know dinner is served.

“Fuck.” The three of you say in unison, the boys pull away from your body. Fred rushes around the room for clothing as George puts his sweater back on.

George smirks at you, tapping your ass and nodding towards your hair.

“Might want to fix that baby.”

“Don’t want everyone to know you’re our little slut.” Fred winks, both of them slipping out of the room, their footsteps bouncing down the stairs.

Your fingers brush against your lips, a slight tingle against the flesh from their kisses. A smirk forming on your face, thankful for the last few minutes, a step in the direction you crave.

After you fix your hair,you quickly bounce down the stairs, thankful you're not the last one as Harry and Ron rush in behind you.

“Sit, sit dear.” Molly gestures to the space across from the twins, next to Ginny and Harry. You quickly sit as Molly places the last dish on the table. The house smells amazing, a mix of spices and hints of firewood from the stove.

“Merry Christmas, I love all of you.” Molly smiles, kissing Arthur. “Including you two.” Molly gestures to Harry and yourself as you knock his shoulder, smiling at him. “Please, eat.”

No one waits for Molly to say it twice, everyone serving themselves. George serves you a pile of honey carrots and Fred places a few roasted potatoes on your plate before continuing to serve themselves. A soft smile falls on your lips, the simple domestic gesture filling your heart, maybe this could work.

Everyone is quiet while enjoying Molly’s food, the sound of knives and forks clicking together. You catch Molly’s eye as she enjoys watching her family sharing dinner together, only having this occur a few times within the year. Molly catches your eye and winks at you, scrunching her nose and smiling at you before taking a sip out of her wine glass. You smile back at Molly, a warmth washing over you at the small interaction. Your eyes flick to the twins in front of you, both of them almost finished with their meal. A cheeky thought pops into your mind as you shuffle on your seat slightly, dragging your foot up George’s leg. His eyes lock onto yours, he nudges Fred inconspicuously to get his attention before sitting back in his chair, his legs spreading wider as his older brother looks down at the chair quickly. You press your foot into George’s crotch softly noticing his body tense as Fred shakes his head, grabbing his cup and tipping the liquid into his mouth. You drop your foot from George and move it to Fred, not wanting him to feel left out. Fred grabs his napkin, wiping his mouth as he looks over at George and nods. A wordless conversation shared between the two as George smirks.

“So Y/n and Harry, what subjects are you looking forward to most next year?” Molly asks, butterflies flip in your stomach, feeling like Molly caught you. You quickly drop your foot from Fred causing him to chuckle slightly, George takes a sip from his glass hiding his smirk at your reaction.

“Defence against the dark arts, I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.” Harry states, causing a small chuckle to fill the air.

“And Y/n?” Molly smiles.

“Potions, I’m excited to create a few remedies for different conditions but also to help these two-” You quickly gesture to Fred and George who go wide eyed, you know Molly and Arthur don’t know about their ‘jokes’ yet but why not keep them on their toes. “With passing the subject. You know they don’t stir their cauldrons, they just expect it to work when you throw things into it.”

Molly and Arthur chuckle, a smug smirk on your face at the panic you just gave the twins.

“Oh that explains why their grades for positions are so high, we have you to thank.” Arthur chuckles as you nod, smiling at him. Little does he know, you have them to thank for your grades.

You pick up your glass, taking a sip of the cinnamon eggnog, freshly made as Molly questions her kids about what they’re most looking forward to. You only half listen, your mind occupied by the pair of redheads in front of you, your mind filled with ideas on what you want to do to them and them to you. Thankfully for such a great break.

| | | |

The night flew by, Molly handed out one gift to her kids, including yourself and Harry. Molly stated it was something to wear for Christmas day breakfast and to not fuss over opening one present early. She asked everyone to open them at the sametime, to which you did and found yourself with a handmade sweater with your first initial on the front, everyone had one. You held the fabric close to yourself, knowing you would hold onto this for the rest of your life.

Fred and George hadn’t spoken to you since dinner, opting to hangout with their brothers and Harry while you and Ginny gossiped on the couch. Ginny was confiding in you about her crush on Harry and how Dean had been sending her letters since he left for break. You hadn’t noticed when the room dwindled down to just yourself, Ginny and Harry. Upon noticing and remembering what Ginny had said, you excused yourself, leaving the two of them alone which caused Ginny’s cheeks to heat with a rosy blush.

You quickly went up the staircase, noticing how much quieter the house was the further you climbed. You slip into the twins room, hearing soft snores, noticing Fred’s asleep on the spare mattress on the floor. You look to George’s bed and see it's empty. You can hear the faint running of water, a small idea popping into your head. You walk over to the bathroom, your hand resting on the handle, hoping to god it’s George. You contemplate this gamble for a few seconds, bouncing on your heels slightly before the devil on your shoulder simply says ‘fuck it’ and you turn the handle to the bathroom.

“Hey, knock-” George pulls the shower curtain across, cutting himself off when he sees you leaning against the now closed bathroom door. A smirk forms on his face as pulls the shower curtain open a little for you, simply waiting. The steam flows outside of the curtain, the mirror foggy and walls wet. You quickly slip out of your clothes, untying your hair and letting it fall. A shiver runs over your body in the damp air and you hurry into the shower, wanting the warm water to cascade over your body.

George has his head tipped under the shower, leaving his body open to your eyes. You drink in his figure, his toned chest and arms, his semi hard cock and strong legs. The water streams down his skin, small sprinkles covering your body. Wetness slips past your folds, your heart beat picking up, this almost feels wrong without his counterpart. But you know they will talk and you know Fred will be jealous.

George faces you, dragging his hand down his face to wipe away the water, his eyes linger on your body, his tongue dragging along his bottom lip.

“What’s Freddie going to say?”

The mention of his name has butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Why don’t you tell him and find out.”

George smirks at your response, stepping closer to you and pushing you against the side shower wall, the cold tiles resting against your skin as a hiss leaves your lips.

“You’re a cock hungry whore, aren’t you baby?”

Your lips part at his words, simply nodding and leaning up to capture his lips. George pulls away from you tutting as he holds your chin between his fingers.

“You answer daddy when he asks a question.”

“Only for you daddy.”

George chuckles, tilting your face up to his. Small droplets of water fall from his hair and onto your skin.

“Liar.” He whispers, licking along your bottom lip and taking it between his teeth and pulling the flesh. “You’re a slut for Freddie, and fuck it makes me hard, but tonight you’re mine.”

You nod your head, a whispered ‘Yes Daddy’ slipping from your lips, your eyes staring into his. His lips lock with yours, his wet hand moving from your chin and tangling in your hair, pulling on the strands. A moan falls into your kiss, your tongues swirling against each other, his free hand holding your hip, pulling your dry body against his.

“You’ve gotta be quiet baby.” George whispers, his lips kissing down your neck, tongue tracing a line to your boobs. You softly whimper as he takes your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing against the hardened bud. He pulls from your breast with a pop, alternating to the other side, your fingers tracing through his hair, pulling when he bites your nipple. The warm shower water sprinkling your body, the steam filling your lungs as your gasp.

“You’re so beautiful and these tits.” George whispers, grabbing your boobs in his large hands and jiggling the flesh. He sucks on the skin of your cleavage, leaving a red and purple hickey on each one, definitely something to rile up Fred.

George presses against you, your boobs slip against his wet chest. His lips brush against your ear as you feel his hard cock against you skin.

“This is all for you.”

Your moan in response, causing George to place a hand over your mouth. Tutting at you as he shakes his head. He drags his fingertips up and down your thighs, softly tapping against your folds before slipping one finger past. He sucks in a breath at your wetness, pressing his fingers against your clit and looking into your eyes.

“You’re so good for me, so wet and warm.”

You nod against his hand that’s still pressed against your lips. His finger starts to swirl around your clit in small circles. Your eyes roll back, a moan vibrating against his hand.

“I’ve missed this pussy baby.”

He picks up the pace of his finger on your clit, your legs tense at the feeling of pleasure flowing through you at his actions. George pulls his finger from your clit, placing the digit against his tongue and rubbing it side to side, before his lips encase it.

“So sweet.”

If he wasn’t covering your mouth, it would be open in shock.

“Please.” You beg, whispering against his hand, it is barely audible, he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t feel your lips move against his skin.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you against the wall baby?”

His words cause more wetness to flow between your legs. He moves his hand from your lips allowing for you to answer.

“Please daddy, I’ve missed your cock.”

George smirks, placing his hand under your right knee and lifting your leg up, his other hand resting under your left arm.

“I bet you’d say the same fucking thing to Freddie.”

It’s your time to smirk at his words, nodding softly before you reach down and wrap your hand around his hard cock, tip red and beading with precum.

“I would, because I’m a whore for you and a slut for him.” You whisper, slowly pumping your hand up and down his dick. George bites his lip, looking down at your hand. You place his cock against your folds, the tip brushes your wet clit causing him to hiss at the contact. You guide him lower to your entrance, angling your hips to allow for him to slide into your velvet walls.

Both of you sigh in unison at the contact. George keeps his hips still, his lips capturing yours, savouring in the feeling of your walls around his cock. You rock your hips up slightly, a silent beg for movement as he smiles against your lips, pulling his cock from your pussy before plunging deep inside of you. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he finds his rhythm, his cock slips in and out of you, your wetness growing the deeper he thrusts inside of you. His lips are resting against your ear, his low whispered moans and groans echoing in your head.

“So tight and wet for me.”

“Such a good girl for daddy.”

Hearing him refer to himself as Daddy has your pussy tightening around him, his praise sending tingles through your body.

The water of the shower continues to run, it ever so slightly sprinkling you both with droplets. The steam continues to fill the room, the water pressure dropping from being on for so long.

“Touch your clit for me baby, I’m close and want you to cum first.”

You slip your hand between your bodies, a moan falling from your lips as you circle your clit, the wetness causing it to slip against your finger. You add another, two now circling your clit and fast to help you reach your high.

“Look at you, such a whore.”

You whimper at his words, your pussy tightening causing George to hiss, tilting his head back, his wet hair sticking to his skin as he continues to rock in and out of you.

“D-don’t stop.”

Your legs tense, your fingers rubbing your clit faster and George’s lips fall to your neck, kissing the skin and whispering for you to cum.

“Cover my cock baby.”

Your heart beat picks up, your breath hitching and your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Your legs tingle and untense; George’s cock continues to slide in and out of you, his pace picking up as he moans in your ear. His mouth falls to your shoulder and bits skin to muffle his moan as his cum spurts, warmth pooling inside of you.

George pulls away from you, watching his cock pull in and out, covered in a mix of cum. He gently places your leg down, slipping out of your pussy with a hiss.

“C’mere.” George whispers, pulling you to his chest and kissing your hair. He spins you around, softly placing the warm running water against your cold back, his fingers tracing in your hair. He places a kiss on your forehead, his hands now holding your hips.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.”

| | | |

You wake up in the morning, a dull ache in your legs from last night. The memory of last night floods your mind, you lift your shirt looking at your boobs beautifully covered in hickeys.

“I hear you had fun last night.”

You look over at Fred leaning against the doorway. Your face fills with blush, your eyes quickly flicking to George’s bed as you hear Fred chuckle.

“George is out with everyone else, mum insisted they hand deliver Christmas cards to the neighbours.” Fred states, closing the door and moving closer to the bed. “And I insisted on letting you rest because you were up late last night and had to make sure you didn’t wake up alone.”

“Freddie.”

“Nuh-uh, what’s my name baby girl.”

Your stomach fills with butterflies, watching the eldest twin sit on the bed beside you, his fingers caressing your face.

“Daddy.”

Fred nods, his hand tilting your chin up, before settling around your throat. Bending down to your lips and whispering against them.

“That’s better, I bet you called George daddy and I bet you fucking loved it.”

“I did.”

You want Fred to be rough, you want him to compete against his brother, you want to be filled with his cum.

“I hear you’re a slut for me, is that correct?”

His hand tightens around your throat before releasing softly, dragging his hand down your body and resting it on your boob.

“Yes daddy, whatever you want me to be.”

Fred smirks, chuckling at your response.

“So submissive for me, you wanted to make me jealous didn't you baby?”

He grips your breast, pinching your nipple and dragging his hand down your body, cupping your pussy through your thin pyjama pants.

“You want me to fuck you better than George.”

“Please.” You whimper, your hips rocking up against his hand.

Fred slaps your pussy through your pants as your hips stop.

“He was right, you’re a slut for me.”

You simply nod in response. Fred leans down, his lips ghosting yours.

“Get on your knees and show me what you want.”

Within a second he’s pulled away for you, leaning back on the bed and resting against his elbows. You scramble off the bed, falling to your knees in front of him, the wooden floor hard and cold.

You loop your fingers into Fred’s pants, tugging them down his body along with his underwear. His cock springs free, hitting against his lower stomach. Your mind floods with comparison to George, the thickness and length comparable, a vein running from the base to the tip. You run your tongue along the vein, flattening your tongue against the head of his cock before slipping it past your lips.

“Fuck.” Fred moans, falling back on the bed, his hands dragging down his face.

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick, meeting your lips half way, your tongue flicking side to side around his cock. Fred’s fingers lace in your hair, assisting you with bobbing your head up and down, his hips thrusting into your throat. Your eyes water, a few gags filling the air and drool leaking from your mouth.

“Such a messy baby.”

Your eyes roll back, moaning around his cock.

“You didn’t- fuck- suck George’s dick, did you baby.” You shake your head, popping his cock from your lips.

“Just for you daddy.”

“Mm, just what I wanted to hear.” Fred grabs your face between his hands, kissing your lips sloppily, his tongue rubbing against yours. Your lips are puffy and glistening with spit, his teeth pull at your bottom lip pulling away from you.

“On the bed baby, ass up for daddy.”

Within an instant you’re standing in front of him, stripping your clothes. Fred stops you before you can lay across the bed, noticing the hickies covering your boobs.

“Cocky fucker.” Fred groans, spanking your ass in encouragement to get on the bed.

You lay with your ass in the air, feeling Fred kiss down your back. He reaches your ass, spanking the plump skin, soothing it with a soft kiss to your cheek. His teeth graze the skin, biting and sucking, leaving his mark on your ass. You squeak as he spanks you, his cock dragging up and down your slit, bumping against your clit, your moans filling the air.

“No one’s home baby, be loud for me.”

Fred slides deep inside of you, the angle allows for him to brush against your g-spot a moan pulling from your throat.

“Fuck, I should just stay inside of you, that would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it baby?”

“Yes daddy, please fuck me.”

“Mm, what would George say?”

“Fuck, please, fuck me.”

You push your hips back against his cock, a low groan falling from his lips.

“Fuck yourself on my cock baby.” Fred encourages, your hips rock back and forth on his cock, wiggling them against him. You pull forward just far enough to leave the tip inside of you before pushing back allowing for him to slip deep inside of you. This causes Fred to grip your hips, starting his own rhythm and thrusting in and out of you.

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it baby?”

You nod against the comforter, your hands gripping the material.

Fred spanks your ass, his fingers looping your hair around his palm and pulling you up.

“Answer me.”

“Yes daddy, wanted you to fuck me.”

“Wanted me to fuck you better than George.”

You moan at his words, his pace picking up. Both of your moans and heavy breathing fill the air, his grip still tight on your hair. Fred uses his grip to pull you up against his chest, his arm wrapping across your boobs as he bounces you on his cock.

His lips fall to your ear, using his free hand to rub your clit.

“Fuck, Freddie.”

Fred chuckles against your ear, his warm breath fanning your neck.

“Scream my name louder baby, I want George to hear.” He pinches your clit, your body jumping in response before he rubs fast circles around the bundle of nerves. You rest your head against his shoulder, lips parted with moans pouring from them. Your pussy tightens around his cock as his dick twitches.

“You can cum for me baby, I’ve got you.”

Fred’s grip on your body tightens, his hips rocking into you faster.

“Daddy, so good.”

He kisses the side of your head, his pace picking up on your clit. He feels you clamp around his cock and your body tense. Your toes curl and your body shivers, cumming around Fred.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” Fred whispers, the sound of your wetness filling the air as he continues to pound into you. He pushes your torso back onto the bed, holding your ass in his hands and chasing his high. Fred curses and you feel his load shoot inside of you, a few more thrusts and Fred gingerly pulls out of you.

“Look at you baby.” He whispers, softly caressing your skin.

You gently roll over onto your back, attempting to catch your breath as Fred rushes around for clothing before disappearing. You hear the front door to the Weasley’s home open close and a chatter fill the air. You heart rate picks up slightly, your body aching and mind blissed out to cover yourself.

Fred reappears in the bedroom with a warm towel between his hands. Within a moment later George is sliding through the door. His eyes darkening when they land on you, legs spread and pussy dripping with his brother's cum. The twins share a look as Fred throws the towel to George who stalks over to you.

“Such a pretty baby, our little cum slut.” George whispers, his eyes fixated on your pussy. A gasp falls from your lips at the feeling of George slipping his fingers inside of you. George pulls his fingers from you, a mix of cum sticking to his flesh. You grab George’s wrist, pulling his hand to your mouth, dragging your tongue up his fingers, sucking the mix of cum, your moan vibrating around his fingers. Your eyes lock with the younger twin, a smile present on both of their faces.

“We’re so lucky Freddie.”

| | | |

Let me know if you'd like a part 2 with both of them.

1K notes · View notes

whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

Text

Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

#kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen smut #kimi raikkonen x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #merry smutmas xoxo

2K notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 11 months ago

Text

My Dear Little Girl

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: The Christmas gift you never imagined.

CONTAINS: Smut, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, oral sex (f), tongue fucking, nipple play/sucking, body worship, praise kink, manhandling, dirty talk, pet names, marking, biting, established relationships, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman himself.

WORDS: 3.3k

SONG REC: The Neighbourhood - Softcore

A/N: Merry Christmas guys, I'm so happy to have you all! 💞

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]

There has always been something magical about Christmas, the holiday atmosphere, the sweet smell of tangerines and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yes, all of this became a standard set of things that people thought of when it came to Christmas. And you were probably one of those who believed in miracles that could happen during this magical time. At least you tried to believe it, but when Bateman told you that he had to go to his company Christmas party tonight, that actually brought you back down to Earth, because sometimes our expectations simply didn't match up with reality. And that was absolutely fine — those were the exact words you told Patrick when he called you a few hours ago, before he actually went to that party.

Everything was fine.

You repeated this over and over again as you walked around your apartment in Manhattan, which was not as spacious as Bateman's, but you really loved it, especially now, with the beautiful Christmas tree that shone brightly with different illuminations when you turned off the lights. Since you knew Patrick wasn't coming, there was no point in waiting to open the bottle of the finest red wine he'd given you especially for this Christmas Eve. Sighing, you poured yourself a big glass of the red liquid, took some sweets and went back to your living room, where you stood at the wide window and looked at the breathtaking scenery of New York City in winter — this year it was quite snowy, which could not make you happy, even though you were going to spend this evening alone.

As the fireworks began to paint the midnight sky in ornaments of different shapes and colors, you couldn't take your eyes off this sight, as you were absolutely mesmerized. At first, you didn't even hear the doorbell ring, and only when it rang for the tenth time in a row did you realize that someone was at your front door, which actually scared you a bit because it was already quite late.

Your steady footsteps echoed off the walls of your hallway as you finally reached the door and looked through the peephole - the person you saw almost made you drop your glass to the floor. Damn, you should have left it in the living room.

Before you slowly opened the door, you coughed several times to clear your throat, and you also quickly fixed your hair — although your whole appearance could hardly be called fancy or party-like, as you wore your casual top and shorts set — the moment you and Bateman saw each other, you both remained silent, as if you were seeing each other for the first time.

"Well, hello (y/n)," he was the first to speak, with his absolutely haughty smile that always left you no choice but to be embarrassed. "I thought you were out walking somewhere."

"At this time?"

Patrick grinned even wider before glancing to the right, where a small commotion could be heard. "Some people here are already celebrating, you know."

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside to let him enter. "What happened to the Christmas party?"

Your question made the man chuckle as he brushed some snow from his shoulders before taking off his beautiful dark blue coat. "Actually — nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's exactly what I said." Patrick crooned and came closer to you, pressing his cold palm against your cheek, making you squirm and almost spilling wine on your shirt. "Uhh, you have such warm cheeks, honey."

"Okay, I'll ask it another way," you managed to regain your composure, even though Bateman seemed to be doing his best to make you lose your cool. "Why are you here?"

Pulling his hand away from your face, Bateman narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms after checking the time on his Rolex. "Were you expecting someone else?"

And now his voice sounded as grumpy as if he was seriously asking that question, but instead of defending yourself, you just chuckled and took a sip of your drink.

"Oh yes, I was expecting a handsome man so we could drink this wonderful wine and... talk about music, the meaning of life and whether or not true love exists." You chirped quickly before taking his hand and dragging him into your living room before this conversation could lose its jokey undertone.

"That was," Bateman stammered when he finally realized what drink you were holding. "That was very smart. Have you ever thought of applying to a Broadway theater? I think they would love to offer you a job." His statement made you stop and turn to give him a deadly stare. "What? If you don't like theater, you can always try your luck in the circus."

"Patrick!" You scolded, fighting the urge to throw your drink right in his cheeky face. "You were the one who told me I would be alone today! And you didn't even suggest that I go with you!"

Having said that, you continued on your way to the living room, but without holding Patrick's hand as you left the man behind, though his expression was still as bright as the New York sky inscribed with fireworks. "Wait a minute, honey," Bateman muttered, following you. "You made it pretty clear that you don't want to go to parties like that, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," you lied, bursting into a soft laugh, swirling the glass in your hand. "Oh, this wine tastes amazing, by the way. Would you like to try some?"

The sudden change of subject just made him smile cheekily, and before he could answer, Bateman tucked his hands into the pockets of his Amrani pants and leaned against the door to your living room. "I know this wine is good, that's why I gave it to you, sweetheart," his brilliant, full-toothed smile made your heartbeat faster and for a moment you even forgot what you were doing. "But yes, I would definitely have a drink."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Grinch." You mumbled playfully and went to the kitchen.

Fireworks began to explode just as you opened the shelf to grab a glass for him, thanking God you managed to hold it in your hand. The loud sound coming from the outside drowned out the approaching footsteps behind you, so when a pair of strong, big arms wrapped around your waist, you didn't even have time to get scared, you just gasped and fell right into Patrick's tight embrace.

"I got you," he whispered in your ear, sucking on your lobe tenderly, but with an undisguised desire for something more intimate. "You little liar." Bateman pulled you closer with a possessive grip as his hand carefully found its way to yours to take the glass and place it on the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. "We don't want any trouble, do we?"

Panting, you turned halfway to look up into his brown, mesmerizing eyes. "Patrick," you let him nuzzle your cheek, his perfect nose brushing against yours, and then Bateman kissed you softly on your plump lips. "Mmhm, I'm so glad you came, I've missed you and —"

"Shhh," he silenced you with his thumb, his glowing gaze never leaving your beautiful face. "I know, darling," another sensual kiss was planted on your neck this time, eliciting a muffled moan from your half-open mouth. "You don't have to say anything else, just relax..." Patrick nipped at your throat more eagerly, leaving marks here and there, while his hands drew invisible ornaments all along your inviting little form. "...and let me take care of you."

Dear Lord, it was impossible to think clearly, not when he was talking to you like that and his hot lips were caressing that exact spot behind your ear, driving you absolutely crazy and you didn't even notice the way your hips were grinding against his hard groin, spurring him on to go even further. Groaning softly into your ear, Bateman couldn't wait any longer, his pants getting too tight with every brush of your ass against his throbbing length.

"Fuck, babe, you're so gorgeous," he purred in a low voice, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your shoulder, then moving lower to your shoulder blade, pulling up your top to taste your skin. "Do you know what I was thinking about during the party?" Bateman asked suddenly, tugging at the lace of your shorts, tantalizing you with his intentions.

"N-no, tell me," you closed your eyes from the intoxicating pleasure of his thin fingers darting across your belly, but when they finally reached your heated core, you couldn't keep a loud whimper from breaking out of your dry lips. "Please, a-ahhh, tell me everything."

"Uh, look at you," he quickly licked the back of your neck before grabbing a handful of your soaked pussy. "Such a curious little kitty," Patrick huffed, suddenly pulling down your shorts with your wet panties, leaving you no chance to even react, not to mention struggling. "I was thinking about you," Bateman carefully lifted one of your legs to rest it on the kitchen counter, then crouched down behind you, leaving a sloppy kiss on your lower back. "About fucking you senseless, to be exact."

"Oh my God," you mewled, clinging to the surface of the counter as you felt his hot breath between your legs. "I was... I was thinking about that too."

Smirking to himself, Bateman gave your ass a few firm squeezes before finally touching you where you wanted him most, his warm tongue feeling so fucking amazing on your swollen clit. "Oh, that's interesting," he cooed to you, enjoying the way your body reacted to his every move, it was always amusing and turned him on, the knowledge of having such power over you was enough to make him rock hard. "Looks like you're just pretending to be shy. Now spread these beautiful legs wider for me," as you did so he used both hands to massage your buttocks before sliding his digits along your tight lower lips to get better access to your wet entrance. "Good girl, so fucking good for me."

With that, he plunged his tongue into your tight hole, trapping you in place as you jerked in his grasp from the intense sensation in your lower abdomen, but that was only the beginning as the next moment, Bateman returned his assault on your little bud, rubbing it in intense circular motions.

"A-awwww, Patrick," your sweet voice was music to his ears, especially when he made you do those high-pitched wails, each time his tongue sank deeper into your soft, inner channel. "Please...that feels so..."

"Good?" he chuckled before peppering your dripping slit with little kisses. "Jesus, you're so yummy, mmmh," Patrick lapped at your pussy like a starved man, gripping your ass tightly to remind you who was in charge here. "I'd like to stay between these legs forever if I could."

By the time he was done eating you out, you could barely breathe as you balanced on the edge of falling into the oblivion of pure ecstasy, his chiseled face covered in your sweet flavor, which he immediately cleaned up with his tongue.

"Patrick, it felt so damn amazing..." you whimpered and turned around to see him undoing his expensive suit, his red tie already loosened, making him look even sexier, if it was possible to be hotter than he was. "Please."

With a sassy grin, Bateman unbuttoned his blue shirt, revealing an absolutely mouth-watering view of his sculpted chest and perfect abs. "Please what, honey?" He cupped your face before pulling you into a ravenous kiss, his tongue swirling shamelessly around yours, making you moan at how heavenly he kissed you. "Use your words, make me proud of how bold you are."

A brisk unzipping sound hit you like a whip, giving you a strange feeling of liberation and excitement. "I want you, all of you. Whatever you will give me, I'll take gladly."

You could see his nostrils flaring with each word, as if you were a moth to a flame. Biting his lower lip, the man came closer just to pick you up as if you weighed nothing, and he walked into your bedroom, where the beautiful garlands on the window shone with all the colors of the rainbow, making the whole atmosphere truly magical, especially with the lights off.

Bateman didn't like it at first, but when he saw your childishly happy face, he gently placed you on the bed, towering over you like a mountain. "Lovely here."

"You like it?" Your question forced him to frown in irritation, but he just pecked your temple and shamelessly removed your top, leaving you completely bare before his hungry eyes. "I spent a lot of time decorating it."

Smiling ironically, Patrick placed a reassuring kiss on your temple before he removed the last of his clothes and you finally felt his soft skin against yours, you couldn't help but hook your hands and legs around him like a vine. "I like it." Of course, he didn't, you knew that, but it didn't matter because now you two belonged to each other, both physically and mentally. "C'mere, babygirl," Bateman suddenly sat down on the bed and invited you to get on top of him. "Today we're going to try something new. Do you trust me?"

Breathing heavily, you nodded, and the next thing you knew his thick cock was sliding along your wet folds as he held you tightly by your waist, manhandling you with such ease as if you were a feather. With a longing growl, the man pressed you closer to his strong body so he could graze your collarbone and play with your engorged nipples as he literally buried his face between your breasts, squeezing them with both hands.

"Mhhm, Patty!" You moaned as he sucked on two of your little peaks at once, his leaky tip already prodding at your dripping opening as Patrick decided to test the patience of both of you. "Please, oh-please, fuck me, please, fuck...fuck me!"

Bateman snickered against your neck, sending little tickles that made you smile, and he couldn't stop himself from squeezing your cheeks as you looked so fucking cute and sinful right now. "Uh, I'll give you more than that."

After that, he carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and slowly lowered you down onto his beefy dick, the second your bodies finally connected, you both let out loud moans and held each other tighter as if your lives depended on it.

"Mmhm-fuck," the man had to close his eyes from the way your pussy was clinging to his huge cock, encompassing it so tightly that you both saw stars as Patrick supported your bobbing movements, holding your hips in his big palms and rocking his own towards yours. "You feel...f-fucking amazing!"

"I love you, I love you, Patty!" you cried out desperately, looping your hands around his neck to pull him closer as your bodies intertwined like snakes, each move bringing so much pleasure as he could fuck you so deeply and lustfully in this position. "Please, c-cum inside me!"

Your words made his eyes open wide and then you heard a low, guttural growl as Bateman suddenly pushed you down, forcing you to lie on your back and lift your legs to press them against his broad chest as he began to pound harder, rolling his hips to stimulate your G-spot.

"Is that what my dear girl wants, huh?" The man asked, mesmerized by the sight of your bouncing breasts, the lewd sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling your bedroom, making you scream shamelessly in pure bliss as his swollen tip brushed relentlessly against your cervix, stimulating you in a way that could bring you to climax without even touching your clit. "'C'mon honey, milk my dick and I'll give you my cum." In addition to his dirty talk, Patrick pecked your ankle as gently as he could — on the verge of a frenzy, he could just ravish you until you couldn't move, but right now he was trying his best to focus on your release. "Do it for me, sweetheart, cum around my dick like a good girl!"

Creasing the sheets, you threw your head back onto the pillows from the pulsating sensation in your lower body. "Pat-Patty! A-aaahhh—" You choked on your own moan, writhing erratically around the bed, and only his strong arms managed to hold you in place as Bateman was aware that you were about to fall off the fucking bed.

"That's it, mhm," Patrick watched you attentively, relishing the way your eyebrows knit together from how hard you cum on his fat dick, your eyes closed and your lips frozen in a silent moan. "So fucking gorgeous, so fucking...mm-so fucking tight, fuck!"

Bateman shifted his position again, covering you from above, transferring his weight to his sturdy arms as he rammed into you like a jackhammer, you could feel his heavy balls slapping against your cunt in the obscenest way possible. And then the man finally collapsed inside you, painting your velvety walls white, pinning you down with his huge frame and biting your shoulder like an animal claiming its prey. You couldn't move and you were barely breathing, but you took him completely, until his hot liquid began to flow from your ruined pussy, flooding the sheets beneath you. Spent and exhausted, Patrick kissed and licked the mark he had just left before pressing his forehead against yours, holding you tightly in his arms and you knew he would never let you go as you were born to be his.

Moments later, you were standing next to the Christmas tree in your living room, Bateman sitting on the small couch, finally having his drink, but not wine as he managed to find some whiskey in your minibar.

"Next time, let's put a Christmas tree in your apartment!" You suddenly blurted out, clapping your hands.

"No, don't even think about it, kitten," Patrick almost choked on his drink and coughed several times. "Oh, honey, don't make that face."

Damn, although you knew that Bateman didn't like all that stuff, it made you sad anyway, so the man had no choice but to comfort you here and now, before the situation got worse.

After putting the glass on the nearby coffee table, he stood up and approached you from behind, hugging you, but you were still pouting. "Listen," he whispered into your ear. "I have something for you, something special that will make you forget everything."

"What is it?"

Thrilled, Patrick slipped into the pocket of his robe, which he had brought especially to your place because he couldn't stand any other robes but his own, and took out a small, velvety box. "And what do you think it is?"

As soon as you turned around and saw this little box, something in your mind flashed like fireworks. "Oh my God, Patrick..." you covered your face in your hands from shock. "Is that..."

Bateman opened the box in one swift motion, revealing a magnificent ring that shone brightly, reflecting the illumination of the Christmas tree. "I want us to meet next Christmas in a different status," he murmured, taking the ring in his hand. "You know what I mean?" Tears welled in your eyes as you couldn't believe this was happening. "Will you be my wife, (y/n)?"

At first, you couldn't say anything because you were shocked, but then you managed to whisper. "Yes, yes, of course I will," and then you snuggled into his warm embrace, allowing him to put the ring on your finger and kiss your forehead, and this kiss was different because now you were his fiancée. "I love you, I love you so much!"

With a bright grin on his flawless face, Patrick rested his chin on the top of your head and stroked your hair. "Merry Christmas, my dear little girl. I love you too."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

667 notes · View notes

macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @hopplessilse @vickywallace @gracieispunk @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #fic: cowboy like me

1K notes · View notes

aureatchi · 11 months ago

Text

⛇₊˚ .࿐₊˚✧ BUBBLES IN MY CHAMPAGNE, LET IT BE SOME JAZZ PLAYIN’ . . .OSAMU DAZAI

⟢ SYNOPSIS. the port-mafia was infamous for throwing glamorous holiday parties every year. not only were you attending this time, but you were also finally going to be introduced as the port-mafia boss’ pretty girlfriend! or…that was the plan.

of course, things never go according to plan.

a/n. merry christmas !! adding onto the xmas dazai fics jdjsjwn <3 this one’s vv chaotic.

info. fem!reader. pm boss!dazai. pm exec!reader. fluff, angst, pinch of sugg. there’s DRAMA. mentions of drinking. lil jealousy. dazai is a 💩. the pm is filthy rich lmao. pazenia is a made up country. wc. 3.4k

“Oh my.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

The brunette chuckled as he waltzed towards you. You saw him appear behind you through the sizeable full-body mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as you finished applying your lipstick.

“It looks even better on you.” Dazai’s fingers wandered playfully, tracing the curves the red dress he gifted you hugged so well. The tailoring was so impressive—the dress could fit noone else but you. And indeed, it was made exclusively for you, for the largest and most luxe corporate event of the year.

It was the Port Mafia Christmas party. Everyone was required to attend, and plus-ones were allowed too, stirring even more chaos into the affair. You were a Port Mafia executive—of course you were going, but the night was going to be unique for another reason.

Tonight, the Port Mafia boss would confirm all the rumors…all the gossip circulating the past few months. He was finally making your relationship with him official in front of everyone.

As if everyone still doesn’t know.

Yet you were nervous. Keeping things an enigma actually worked in your favor—besides suspicious stares with muffled voices and jealous women, you didn’t have to worry about much. Dazai would take care of any problem. After all, you trusted him completely.

But now, everyone would know. You and Dazai had gone through all the downsides—you could become a potential target for any enemies, your name would rise even higher on the wanted list, and you could be stalked by frustrated, jealous men…honestly, you two were almost too hot for your own wellbeing.

Just almost, because “I’ll take care of it all. I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you, darling.”

He whispered those words into your ear, sensing your anxiousness as you continued to look at your reflections.

“Please don’t worry.”

He did not speak in his usual teasing, playfully amorous voice. The brunette’s face matched the seriousness of the topic you had both gone over multiple times, making sure that the other wanted to still go through with it. You both didn’t want to force the decision of your relationship upon the other—though it was Dazai who had suggested the idea, the choice rested entirely on you. He ensured you knew you could change your mind anytime you wanted.

And Dazai wished you could see that he truly, would go to the ends of universes to make sure you were safe.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I won’t,” you replied. “I’m only worried about you. I need to be by your side at all times to fight any bad guys that come for you.”

And girls. If you were being honest, you always felt a bit sick thinking about other women wanting him. Maybe this is why your nerves hadn’t backed you out yet…you wanted everyone to know their leader was indeed taken.

Dazai laughed more heartily than he intended to at the comment. He, the now Port Mafia superior commander, known even before as the Demon Prodigy, was being talked to in concern that he needed a sidekick to help him.

Though, he was also the same man whose mind was full of fervor for one girl. You giggled, seeing the apparent blush on Dazai’s face when you fixed his black tie. He was matching with you, of course—his red attire was the ruby scarf.

“Perfect,” you mused when you were done. “Wow, you’re handsome.“

“And you’re ethereal,” Dazai responded, putting on your coat. “Ready to go shock everyone?”

“As if half of the mafia doesn’t already suspect anything between us, Osamu,” you smiled.

“Hmm…you’re right.

“Of course they’d think I’d sought after the prettiest woman in the world.” A coy grin snuck back onto his lips.

…

It was evident your lover had good taste, not only in outfits. He chose to rent out one of the big hotels as the venue for the party—very fitting for the filthy-rich organization.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the limo was the massive Christmas tree in the center of the hall.

“Woah.” There were at least fifty gifts under it already.

You noticed Dazai’s brows suddenly furrow as he, too, inspected the presents.

“Osamu?”

“Bella, remind me who this person is again.”

He picked up a present, showing you a familiar name.

“Oh!” He was the assistant under your wing. You two had worked together for years—you had built up a lot of trust and a friendship to have him in charge of some of your responsibilities.

“I see. Don’t mind that; I forget some of my men sometimes.”

You nodded, though you felt a bit unsure about his response. Regardless, you cast the thought aside.

What you didn’t notice was the way Dazai showed you the package. The present was from your assistant, but the name it was for was entirely covered by the brunette’s hand.

“Well, are you ready to go in?” Dazai asked, holding out a hand towards you.

“Yeah, I’m-”

“Dazai!”

It was Kouyou, another executive. She saw you and greeted you, too.

“My, you’re looking lovely today,” she chirped. “So you and the boss are dating.”

You smiled. “Yes.”

“Well, better tell everyone soon,” she told the both of you. “Dazai, a daughter of a very infamous organization in Europe, is at this party as a plus-one. She wants to discuss a business proposal…‘as soon as possible,’ she said. It’s confidential, too; she only wants you. Do you have a few moments to spare?”

Dazai immediately turned toward you, to which you nodded at him. “It seems important, especially if she’s from Europe.”

“You’re sure?” Dazai asked. You were supposed to walk into the dining hall together to introduce yourselves as the power couple of the evening. “What about…”

“Yeah, the mafia is the priority. I’ll find you soon.” You were an executive, after all. The mafia existed to protect Yokohama City, so work should be an urgency.

“Alright,” he replied. He took another look at you—a singular, amber eye softened once he met your gaze. The other was hidden behind bandages, and so were the emotions of his heart. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment.

“Let’s go, big sis.” He turned towards Kouyou, who led him out of the room.

Now alone, not counting the guards, you glanced at the presents again, picking up the one Dazai had previously questioned you about.

Oh! Your assistant gave you a present. You found it sweet; your assistant hadn’t gifted you anything until this year. Now Dazai’s reaction made sense—perhaps he had thought you had a secret admirer or something. You giggled at his assumed jealousy.

…

You walked inside the dining hall by yourself, a large crowd already entertaining themselves inside. Everyone who saw you stopped to greet you—their executive, and you wished them a merry Christmas back with a friendly smile.

“Huh? So she’s not dating him?”

You turned your head the slightest, pretending to grab a drink while you instead eavesdropped on two employees you hardly knew. Thank goodness they weren’t the ones going out on missions to spy—they were terrible at not being obvious.

“I’m not sure. But that underground aristocrat from Europe that everyone knows has a crush on the boss showed up to meet him. That huge Christmas tree by the staircases is actually a gift from her.”

“Really?! So…maybe she was the boss’ plus-one? Now that’s wild. Everyone really had me believing he was seeing the executive.”

“Yo!” Your attention was suddenly pulled from their conversation.

“You good? You’re overflowing your cup.” You had poured too much drink, so liquid was running all over the floor.

“Shoot, I think she heard us!” you faintly heard behind you as the employees moved away.

“Oh, yeah. I’m so sorry,” you responded to your assistant who had found you. He handed you a few napkins to clean your hands and dropped a few more to mop the floor with his shoe.

“You didn’t need to help, and thank you,” you said as you cleaned up, too, feeling bad.

“All good! Merry Christmas, by the way. How’s your evening going so far?”

“Good, thank you,” you responded, half-truthful. You needed to find somewhere to process what you had just heard. Even if they were only rumors…they bothered you.

“I saw you got me a gift in the lobby,” you added, recalling earlier. “I was surprised! You haven’t done that before, so I found it so sweet.”

“Oh yeah!” he replied, and you didn’t miss the pink that tinted his cheeks. “Who knows…I may have had a change of heart this year.”

You chuckled innocently. “Well, whatever the reason, thank you! I’m excited to see what you got.”

“Of course. I do hope you like it! Also, your dress. It looks good on you.” His voice sped up at his last comment.

“Oh, uh, thanks-”

That was really awkward. You gave him mercy, though…you hadn’t even told him you were in a relationship. So, you tried to say to him that it was your boyfriend, Dazai, who had the dress made for you, but you were cut off.

Dazai had finally entered the room, but he was accompanied by that noblewoman everyone was speaking about.

Wow, she was gorgeous. Her hair was in a perfect blowout, and she wore an emerald green dress that fit her like a glove.

And with each step Dazai and this new woman took into the hall to be regarded by everyone, your heart sank a bit more into your stomach.

What??

“You don’t look so well. Are you okay?” Your assistant paid no mind to the mafia boss’ new commotion. He was wholly concerned for you.

“Yeah. This drink tastes weird, but I can’t put my finger on what.” Yet, you took another sip. What was going on? You had never doubted Dazai’s love or loyalty toward you. Had you been so blind by your own to miss this?

Dazai didn’t even bother trying to search for you. And the way the lady’s arm touchingly clung around his infuriated you.

“He was seeing some foreign princess all along?”

“The boss always has to cause a scene with something new.”

“They’re kind of hot together, though.”

Now you really wanted to puke. You stared until the noblewoman’s eyes finally caught yours and dwelt on your figure briefly before turning toward Dazai and asking him something.

Dazai’s lips read, “Okay!” before a guard approached you.

“The boss is summoning all the executives to him,” he whispered in your ear, and you nodded, strolling over to him.

Fuck. You wanted to cry. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

You felt a bit better when the other executives—Kouyou and Chuuya showed up before you.

“Miss, these are the Port Mafia’s three executives.” He introduced you individually, not meeting your eye when he went to you.

You wanted to leave. There was no point in being here anymore. What you thought would be a cheery Christmas Eve turned out to be the worst night ever. It couldn’t have gotten any worse…

“And this is the Lady of Pazenia,” Dazai said, introducing the woman. “Our most important foreign guest tonight.”

“So, uh? I’m kinda confused,” Chuuya commented. “Mackerel boss, ya dating her or something?” He glanced at Dazai, the girl on him, and then you.

She responded for him. “We’re getting acquainted tonight, that’s all,” she replied smugly. Dazai chuckled. “Yes…we’ve communicated online a few times, but this is the first time we’re meeting face to face.”

What the fuck.

“Oh, uh, okay.” For once, Chuuya didn’t pester, didn’t tease anymore. Because he was just as startled as you. He, too, suspected that you were dating the boss.

“I’m sorry, will you please excuse me? It was nice meeting you, m’lady; I hope you enjoy your Christmas with the boss.” You didn’t even wait for a reply. You stormed off in the direction of your assistant. You were going to ask him to drive you home, and then you’d pack your things and then stay at a friend’s house for a few days to figure out what to do next.

Everything was crashing down like an avalanche.

But before you could get to him, the bastard’s subordinate stopped you.

“Akutagawa? Hi, Merry Christmas. Sorry, I’m in a rush-”

“Merry Christmas, miss,” he responded, moving in front of you again when you tried to shift over. “Aren’t you going to rescue the boss? Has your emotion clouded your rationality so much you can’t see things clearly anymore?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

You turned back towards the scene, and yeah—what you saw was your final straw. Akutagawa misjudged. Not even a glimmer of hope remained in you.

Somehow, they had ended up at the corner of the room. And lo and behold, Dazai and the Lady of Pazenia had ended up under the mistletoe, and many of the upper ranks surrounded them. There was even a Paparazzi.

You tried to push past Akutagawa, but he stopped you.

“Watch.”

Why? Did Dazai place him there to make sure you suffered through it all? This was so cruel. Tears welled up in your eyes as the room went quiet to watch.

“Oh! Silly me…how did I manage to get here?”

“I’m not sure…” the woman replied flirtatiously. “But you can’t break a tradition, boss of the Port Mafia.”

“I guess I can’t,” Dazai replied, leaning in. “But, can we make a deal, Miss?

“You can kiss me, but tell me where the real Lady of Pazenia is. The exact coordinates where you’re keeping her hostage. If there’s anyone kept in place to secure or torture her.”

And the crowd suddenly gasped. She did, too, and a hand flew to her mouth.

“Shit!”

About ten guards ran towards her, restraining her before she could do anything. Dazai calmly backed away, continuing to explain.

“The business proposal was crafty and would’ve led to our doom quite quickly. You’re trying to overthrow your own government. So, you devised a cover-up to get the mafia to help you, with a deal to help us on our end, but just like your original goal, you want our city’s government to fall into anarchy, too.

“An underground noblewoman. You are exactly that—quite literally.” Dazai sighed. “No, I’m not in a relationship with her, I…”

Dazai finally met your eye, and his heart immediately sunk seeing you cry.

“Oh my gosh,” he whispered, and he ran towards you, tightly embracing you.

You wanted to punch him, throw him away—something, but you were surrounded by half the corporate. There was already enough scandal tonight, you didn’t need to add any more.

“Hah, it’s okay,” you responded audibly, hastily wiping tears. “You’re a great actor, Osamu, really got me believing you were cheating on me for a second.” Words spurred out of your mouth—you hoped you wouldn’t regret it later.

Dazai’s grip on you tightened to silently show you gratitude before he turned to your audience. “Now that the problem is out of the way—Merry Christmas to you all.” A waiter handed him a glass of champagne, who had also gone around with multiple others to hand out drinks to everyone.

“And a special Merry Christmas to my girlfriend, right here.” He gave you a kind smile, and you tried your best to reciprocate your own. There were “awe”’s and “that’s so cute”’s about.

Dazai held his glass up towards everyone else’s before toasting with yours.

…

You stayed away from Dazai for the next hour. He respected your space for that long—in the meantime, you acted fine. You conversed with others, you laughed. Your assistant apologized for his comment on you earlier—“I was completely oblivious to you and the boss! I’m so sorry; I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” You laughed it off, telling him it was okay.

“Hey, bella.”

Dazai had finally found you alone. You looked at him, facing the inevitable.

“I’m getting tired. Wanna sneak away with me?”

You hesitated. “Where would we go?”

“The drinks suck here, besides that champagne. I know Chuuya was definitely not in charge of this part.”

You had to agree with that one. You couldn’t even finish the glass you overfilled earlier.

…

Bar Lupin was surprisingly empty that night. The bar was Dazai’s safe place, his getaway. You were constantly reminded of his genuine, complete trust in you whenever he took you here.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai apologized as you waited for your drinks. “What I did was brutal.”

“It really fucking hurt,” you said, finally able to release your true feelings now that nobody else was around.

“I had to keep up the act to expose her. Her vulnerability was that…she had a crush on me? So, the most rapid way to gain her trust was to make her believe she had a chance. She didn’t know I was seeing someone.”

“You take acting too seriously. You’re the Port Mafia boss, not some goddamn movie actor. You couldn’t even…make eye contact with me? Give me a reassuring look or something?”

“You’re right. That’s no excuse.” He took a breath. He had actually messed something up. He could predict and do everything else flawlessly until it came to the people he loved.

He always screwed it up.

“I set aside our relationship for a mission. I’m really sorry, love. And I understand if it takes awhile for you to think through it all. The only thing I ask is for forgiveness.”

“I dunno…it kind of seems like you enjoyed it…”

That was a lie. You were just saying things out of spite now. You had rethought the previous events after recalling what Akutagawa had harshly told you without context—rescue the boss? Yeah, Dazai clearly didn’t enjoy it. He never touched the woman back in any way, and his word choice was very cautious. Except one line.

“Us communicating online? Yeah, I knew she’d just go along with it. I had to say that so Chuuya would stop pushing and blow my cover. Besides, you literally have my email login, darling. You see everything.”

“I really hate you sometimes, Osamu, you know?” you muttered as the bartender finally handed you two your drinks. You took a thirsty sip out of yours. You couldn’t even stay mad anymore.

“Is that your way of saying you forgive me?” he chuckled, knowing the mood was lightening.

“No. You’re just too…attractive. Like, why are you so hot? All the girls want you…I was actually quite relieved when you asked me if we should make things official so everyone could finally know that we belong to each other…”

Hah, if only you knew.

“You don’t assume I think the same? You almost pissed me off by hanging around your little assistant, too, belladonna. He clearly fancies you.”

You gulped, remembering his earlier compliment. “Don’t do anything to him—he didn’t know. He does now.”

“He better,” he simply replied. “And everyone else. There’s no excuse now—you’re the Port Mafia boss’ girlfriend.”

You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. The protectiveness was attractive. You pulled on Dazai’s tie, reeling the rest of him towards you.

“And you’re my boyfriend,” you smiled.

To everyone else, Dazai was known as evil, suicidal, murderer, demon, saint. But to you, he was simply Osamu. Your boyfriend. And perhaps that’s what he loved most of all. Across universes, you would not fail him—not even Odasaku succeeded so highly.

“Are you going to kiss me, bella?” Dazai asked, the signature smile back on his face.

“No,” you teased, pushing him back. “I’m still mad at you. Nothing went according to plan.”

“Nothing did,” the brunette replied. “But isn’t that what’s so exciting about life? Life is unexpected, yet some good things can come out of it, such as…”

He revealed a piece of mistletoe in his hand, holding it above you two.

“Even if you’re mad, you can’t break a tradition,” Dazai spoke, swinging the plant back and forth.

You sighed before you both leaned in to kiss each other. Dazai pulled you onto his lap, and you kissed him even more feverishly. Your hands ran through his hair until the bandage around his head finally came undone, unveiling the rest of his pretty face.

You focused on his dilated, honey-colored eyes. Finally, they revealed what he was feeling. Comfort in having you in his arms again. In your warmth.

Everything felt too intense after that. He had started making out with you again, his hands were wandering you curiously, the dim lighting, the jazz instrumental, how tipsy you felt from the drinks…

“Let’s just go home.”

…

You were swaddled in Dazai’s arms under the bed's covers at home. So sleepy. Dazai promised that the next day would treat the both of you better—a peaceful Christmas gift.

“Let’s stop doing such large parties,” you said, looking up at the ceiling. “It just calls for trouble, to be honest.”

“Yeah…we’ll have a small houseparty next time. Everyone else can do what they want.”

You were gently kissed on the forehead before the brunette softly whispered to you. “Merry Christmas, belladonna. I love you.”

“I love you too, Osamu.”

dazai told me he’d kiss u if u rb this. rbs are cherished; they are ur christmas gift to me! <3

tags: @kissesmellow21 @osaemu @ruanais + @lovedazai @chuuyrr @anqelically (i think u guys would like this <3)

606 notes · View notes

seokgyuu · 11 months ago

Text

→ GENRE: smut, college au, crack, → PAIRING: Vernon x Afab!Fem!Reader (Feat. Soonyoung x Afab!Fem!Reader & Chan x Afab!Fem!Reader) → SYNOPSIS: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ WARNINGS: angst in this chapter, shower sex, unprotected sex (you know... that's just who she is, like fr, all of the sex in this is unprotected), cumming in pants (m), virgin!vernon, cum eating, angry sex, usage of the words "baby", "princess", dirty talk, Mommy!Kink (Vernon)

→WORD COUNT: 13k

previous ; masterlist ; next

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Or happy holidays for those of you who don't celebrate! For this year I thought I'd give you a treat in the form of a new chapter of everyone's favorite shit show, lmao. We are actually nearing the end - only one more chapter left of the regular scheduled content aka after next chapter every single member of svt got his own time to shine (some even... more than once). I honestly don't know how this happened, this was supposed to be a funny little smut fest and now it's literally almost 100k words of filth and drama. Thank you for reading this and sticking by it for the past 3 years! I also want to thank @bitchlessdino for betaing this chapter <3 And now enjoy the ride!

Also: I opened a ko-fi! If any of you want to support me through that, I would be extremely thankful! If not that is also completely fine of course! Remember that reblogs and asks is what keeps us as a writing community going, so please, if you like my work consider reblogging with feedback <3. Happy holidays!

taglist: @ariachavez168, @sandcasltes, @amiga-qmilagraso, @learnthisfeeling, @cersti-mo0, @nixtape-foryou, @minahoeshi, @listxn, @starlight-night0, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @kwonranghae, @haogyuslut, @a-dramatic-girl, @lovercuff, @grapefruithan, @whyokoa, @lovercheol, @cosmicupoftea, @knucklesdeepmingi, @wonusworldd, @baldi-2, @seventeencaratworld, @kingalls00, @1-800-jeonwonwoo, @hoeforhao, @p-dwiddle-blog, @tsukimiyuukun, @urfavtallgirl222, @jordand2012, @lcvejordyn, @jeanjacketjesus, @gaebestie, @hara-98-fan, @human-wthout-dreams, @eburneon, @xiusmarshmallow, @spbrax, @speaknowlwt, @lvlyjisung @yogurttea, @novalpha, @woo8hao, @hgma @akemiixx01, @volitina @haoxiaoba @justhere4kpop @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken, @miriamxsworld, @lexix001, @avyskai @punkhazardlaw, @lostmembrane, @magicshop1913 @tigerhoshii You can join the taglist here. If you're user is crossed out, I was not able to tag you!

The whole thing was like a blur. One second you were in the car with Seungcheol, the next you were outside, hearing your best friend yell at you. Her whole face was red, her eyes wide and her mouth moving as the worst insults left her lips. The worst thing was, you couldn’t even be mad at her. You couldn’t even be offended because she was right.

Her brother tried to calm her down, but the look she gave him made even Seungcheol back down. In all your years of friendship with Jiwoo, you had never seen her this mad. She suddenly looked way taller than she actually was, taller than Seungcheol, taller than your apartment complex.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She now asked for the nth time and you once again didn’t know how to respond.

“Jiwoo, I-,”

“You really couldn’t see the very clear invisible boundary that you’re not supposed to fuck my brother?”

“How can it be clear when it’s invisible?” You responded without giving it much thought. Jiwoo’s head turned even redder and Seungcheol sighed, closing his eyes as he let his head fall to look at his shoes.

“Oh my god, you know what I mean! Y/N, you can’t seriously think it’s okay to sleep with my brother behind my back!”

“I never- fuck, Jiwoo, I’m sorry, okay? I really- I didn’t plan for this to happen. After the first time I really wanted to end it, but-,”

“The first time?!” Jiwoo gasped and you noticed your mistake too late. Seungcheol rubbed a hand over his face, stepping closer again, wanting to get in between you two.

“Jiwoo-yah, please, don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.”

“A big deal you say? You mean as big of a deal as you made it when you found out I slept with Taehyung one time?”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. You looked between him and his sister, chewing on your bottom lip. There really wasn’t anything for you to say to make this any less bad. You had betrayed her trust, had lied about who you had slept with when you had actually slept with Seungcheol. You had been avoiding her, having Soonyoung be something like a freaking owl between you. Sighing, you pulled a hand through your hair.

“You’re right, I did cross a boundary. I- I should have told you and I shouldn’t have avoided you. I am sorry, Jiwoo, I truly am.”

She turned back to you, her eyes still full of fire, no sign of forgiveness. Seungcheol looked over at you too, his gaze unsure.

“Can you promise that it won’t happen again?”

The silence that followed the question, even if it only lasted a few seconds, spoke more than any of your words could have.

Jiwoo snorted, shaking her head.

“You know what, go right ahead. I should have known at one point you would do just about anything to finish this stupid challenge. You never respected any fucking boundaries, you slept with Soonyoung when I told you I wanted to, you slept with Wonwoo even when you already knew he had feelings for you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, Y/N, you just want to win, prove yourself to whoever the fuck. Most certainly not to me because if that was the case you wouldn’t have fucked my god damn brother!”

Without waiting for an answer, Jiwoo turned around and stormed off, most probably to her car. You couldn’t move even a single muscle. It was as if she had pushed you right off the edge of all the anxiety you had been feeling these past weeks. As much as you felt like crying, you couldn’t.

“She-”, Seungcheol’s voice seemed distant, even though he was right next to you. Perhaps you were now stuck in your own little bubble, far, far away from everyone, only close to yourself and the knowledge you had hurt the one person who meant most to you.

“She didn’t mean it, Y/N, she is just angry right now.” His hands were on your shoulders and as soft as his touch was, as much did it burn. You shook your head.

“No, she is right. I don’t respect boundaries, I- I forget about them, I just do whatever I feel like doing. I- god, I slept with Seokmin today, right outside your office, all for you to hear, I- I made you angry, I manipulate people, I-,”

“No, don’t do this,” Seungcheol interrupted you, “you don’t get to make yourself feel worse. I told you to sleep with Seokmin. Hell, I told you to sleep with three people to get this challenge over with.”

He wanted to make you feel better, you knew that. He wanted for you to not spiral and fall into a whole of self pity and self hatred but it was too late. You were already there.

“I need to go, I need to- I need to be alone, okay?” You ignored the hurt in his eyes, the obvious need to hold you close, to comfort you. Right now, you couldn’t. Acting like you hadn’t just lost your best friend of years and years, acting like you hadn’t been a horrible person, that all of the things she said hadn’t been right.

Without saying another word, you turned away from Cheol and walked to your complex, typing in the code and finally letting the tears fall freely.

A week went by. A week filled with nothing but you and your self pity as well as self hatred that made you turn off your phone and cry into your pillow for as long as you could before all of your tears dried out. You had done this to yourself - all of it. If you had done what you had known was right, none of this would be happening right now. Jiwoo would still speak to you and perhaps you could have seen Mingyu again, could have spent hours just forgetting about that stupid challenge and feel like you had any other purpose than this. It was silly really, how much this had changed your life. If for better or worse… debatable. Right now it was definitely worse.

On Saturday Soonyoung decided it was done though. Your pity-party had to come to an end. Jiwoo had told him all about your fight and when she had read on his face that he had known about you and Seungcheol, she had called him an asshole and left. So, now he was here, 8 pm sharp at your door, banging on your door and almost gasping in shock when he saw the state you were in. Your hair was greasy and your eyes swollen, the clothes you were wearing had probably been on your frame for more than just a few days and judging by the way you were holding a bucket of ice cream pressed against your chest, you probably hadn’t had any real food in god knows how long.

“Y/N…,” Soonyoung sighed and you rolled your eyes.

“What are you doing here? Isn’t my not answering any calls enough hints that I don’t want to talk or see anyone?”

“How do you know I called you when your phone is off, hm?” Without waiting for you to answer and completely ignoring your complaints, he squeezed into your apartment and closed the door behind him, the grin on his face almost scaring you.

“We’re going to a party, babes,” he then said and you laughed, getting your spoon out of the pocket of your sweats, ready to dip it back into the cookie dough ice cream. Soonyoung gasped for real now, grabbing the spoon out of your hands and shaking his head.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Y/N. Go take a shower. Maybe even two, for Christ’s sake. And then, I don’t know, look in the mirror and try a smile.”

His words made heat rush to your cheeks and you found yourself scratching the back of your head as you slowly made your way to the bathroom not even sure how he managed to change your mind so quickly. But perhaps a shower wasn’t such a bad idea. Showers always helped to make you feel better after a hard time and if this wasn’t a hard time you didn’t know what was.

So, standing in the bathroom, a soft towel pressed against your naked body, you chewed on your bottom lip and finally stepped into the shower, towel set aside on the toilet seat. The second warm water started running down your body, the tension of the past days seemed to finally leave your body. You didn’t feel as sore anymore, as sad, as useless. Less like the worst human on this planet, who didn’t care about anyone but herself. Your eyes flew open, seeing only the already wet tiles staring back at you. The sound of the water hitting the floor mixed with the blood rushing in your head gave you a sense of steadiness as well as made you feel like you were about to pass out. Tears were about to well up again, tears you were sure had already grown tired of leaving your body.

“No crying in the shower, you hear me?” Soonyoung’s voice echoed through the door and you felt the sob in your throat turn to a choked laugh, your head turning to the door. An idea popped into your head. Clearing your throat, you slowly moved the glass door to the side.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you…want to join me?”

The silence only lasted for a few seconds before you heard something like a thump noise and the door opening around ten seconds later. There he stood, Soonyoung, in his naked glory a big grin on his face as he stepped under the shower, your back hitting the wall you had stared at just a few seconds before.

“To what do I owe the honor?” He asked, his hands creeping around your waist. You shrugged.

“I thought you wanted to help me get my mind of things?”

“And that's how to do it?” He asked, smirking.

“We can shower together, make out a little…,” your hands moved up his torso, stopping at the sides of his neck, tongue licking over your lips, “maybe more… we’ll see.”

No further words were exchanged when he dipped down to kiss you, one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip, his already half hard cock pressing against your stomach as you let your arms wrap fully around him. Your eyes closed as you let him lead the kiss, his tongue now devouring yours, every touch of his setting you on fire, giving you new energy. You let every bad thought leave your body, instead let him enter it - metaphorically as well as physically. His fingers made you arch your back and his lips sucked softly on your nipples, and when he finally sunk into you, his cock stretching you out as good as it had back then, it seemed as if you had never felt anything bad ever in your life.

“God, not gonna lie, missed your tight little cunt, baby,” he breathed against your ear, your legs wrapped around him, teeth sunken into your bottom lip as you let him fuck you into your wall, droplets of water running down both of your bodies, his cock hitting the perfect spot over and over until he made you cum, your moans echoeing through the room like a song he could never get enough of. He pulled out of you, jerking himself off as he kissed you hard, his seed soon getting washed away with the rest of the metaphorical dirt you had felt on your body for days.

After, Soonyoung helped you pick out an outfit for the party, comfortably seated on your bed, his legs crossed and his face red from the shower. He was seriously adorable.

“I like the black dress, it’s super sexy,” he said as you were holding up said black and a rosy pink dress. You pursed your lips and nodded, hanging the pink dress back into the closet and walking over to the mirror, holding the black dress against your frame. It was tight, but didn’t show any cleavage with its almost turtleneck-like cut. Was this what you were going for? Sexy? You clicked your tongue and turned back around, placing the dress on the bed before slipping into some underwear that wasn’t necessarily extremely sexy but also sexy enough for anyone to see (if you somehow managed to score in your current mindset).

“Where are we going by the way?” You asked Soonyoung now and the man shrugged, grabbing his phone.

“Not too sure, actually. Like I know where it is, but that’s about all the information I got from my source.”

“Your “source”? What are you? An investigative journalist?” You chuckled and Soonyoung grinned at you, eyes on you instead of his phone for a short while.

“Maybe.”

Laughing, you finally slip on the dress and walk over to the mirror again, eyeing yourself cautiously. Yes, this was good. This made you look hot and also sophisticated, made you feel confident and less like a failure. You smiled. Soonyoung had a good eye for dresses, apparently.

When you finished applying your make-up and Soonyoung had also gotten ready, you found yourself in the backseat of a cab, not paying much attention to where you were going as you were busy finally turning your phone back on, Soonyoungs portable charger plugged into it. Anxiety rushed through you, when the lock screen lit up and was flooded with countless notifications once you had typed in your pin-code. Missed calls from Mingyu, Seungcheol and Soonyoung. Messages from all of them, as well, plus a group chat for a project you had completely forgotten about. Your friend next to you eyed you worriedly.

“Perhaps you should have done that tomorrow.” He scolded you, snatching the phone from your hands to lock it and shove it in the pocket of his oversized denim jacket. You pouted, crossing your arms before looking out the window. Seoul passed by your eyes, lights everywhere and you noticed how much you had actually missed leaving the house. The last time you had been this upset, it had also resolved around Jiwoo. But back then, it had ended well, the two of you had found your way back, mayhaps even stronger than before. But this? You weren’t so sure you could come back. It shouldn’t be as big of a deal as it was, you thought. So what, you slept with her brother? He was his own person! He could make his own decisions! Fine, you lied to her about it. Lied for weeks and weeks. You felt small again, suddenly, wondering if you even deserved Jiwoo to ever forgive you for betraying her like this. Her words still stung and you knew that while she was angry, being that mean hadn’t been fair.

“We’re here!” Soonyoung grinned at you, handing the cab-driver his card and thanking him, before opening the door and helping you out, your hand in his. When your feet touched the ground, the door closing behind you, you finally took in the surroundings. And felt yourself almost falling right into Soonyoung’s chest.

“Tell me, god fucking hell, Soonyoung, tell me that this is not the house the party is at.”

Soonyoung blinked, his arm wrapped around your waist to steady you after you had almost tripped.

“Uh… it’s not?” He tried, but judging by the way he said it, you knew it wasn’t true. You closed your eyes. Pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Soonyoung-ah,” you start, “was your source Joshua?”

Silence. Soonyoung stays fucking silent. You feel heat arise within you and it’s not the kind you had felt earlier when you had asked him to join you in the shower. It’s anger, fueled by Soonyoung’s carelessness and his obvious stupidity. Bringing you to a party at Joshua’s place? Joshua who was roommates with Mingyu? Mingyu, who you had been ignoring for the past week, who had called you and texted you, the only thing missing was him barging through your door!

“I’m sorry! See, I thought you would never go if you knew!”

“Well, you’re correct! Do you know how many of them will be there? Haven’t I been through enough already?!” You slapped his shoulder and Soonyoung winced, holding the spot with wide eyes.

“Oh, come on! I get it, alright? You fucked it up with Jiwoo. Jesus, so did I!”

Now it’s you who blinked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, did you forget that she also has to fuck people? A significantly lower number than you, yes, but still! And, well- I was one of them.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. But it still made something inside you sting.

“And why did you fuck it up with her?” You asked quietly. Soonyoung sighed.

“When I heard about your fight I took your side. I told her that there are worse things than you sleeping with her brother. That, even though I understand it sucks that you lied to her, it wasn’t like you killed someone, or did something illegal. You just slept with him!”

Yeah, and kind of gave him hope there would be more. After the challenge. You pressed your lips together.

“But, well, Jiwoo didn’t like it. And she kind of guessed that I knew about it.”

“You like her, don’t you?” You found yourself asking him the second he finished his sentence, catching him off guard. He cleared his throat, fixing the collar on his jacket.

“It’s not that I didn’t like her, Y/N. But she went completely nuts over this, so out of character. I was confused and hurt that she threw this at me, that she said I owed it to her. As if because we were seeing each other casually, mind you, she still had other people to fuck, I suddenly became only hers and not your friend.”

They were seeing each other. Your stomach dropped and you felt like you were about to actually pass out.

“You were seeing her? And you still- you still had sex with me today?!”

“Woah, okay, I see how this can be confusing, but, Y/N, it was never serious. It wasn’t exclusive. We slept together a couple of times and had a few dates, but that’s it! I’m pretty sure I saw you more than her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You watched his face, saw the way his eyes shift, how the wheels turn behind them and something told you, that you probably already knew the answer. You decided to stay silent.

“I just- I don’t know, I really don’t know.”

It was a lie, but neither of you exposed it as such.

You ended up inside anyway. Fleeing from whatever was going on with Soonyoung, you were in desperate need of a drink. The familiar space was packed with people - courtesy of the apartment being big enough to hold that many. In addition to Mingyu’s room and the bathroom, there was a relatively big kitchen, a living space and, of course, Joshua’s room. The doors to the bedrooms were closed and upon seeing Mingyu’s, you felt guilt and shame creep up your spine. He was here somewhere, maybe drinking, maybe kissing another girl. And if that last thing turned out to be true, you knew you couldn’t even be mad at him. You had basically abandoned him for a week. After he had proven to be incredibly sweet and understanding, you had decided to just ignore him, to leave him in the dark, to forget all about him.

While you did see a few familiar faces (Seungkwan was chatting with Minghao in the kitchen and Jun was downing a bottle of vodka with a guy you didn’t know), Mingyu was nowhere to be seen. Only when you reached the living room did you spot one one of the hosts. Joshua was wearing a tight dark blue turtle-neck and perfectly fitting black slacks, his hair was up and only a few strands fell into his remarkable face. He spotted you right as you walked through the door, a hint of surprise on his face. He excused himself to the girl he was talking to and walked over to you, eyebrow raised.

“Y/N,” he said, “you’re alive.”

You deserved that. Maybe not from him, but in general. You cleared your throat.

“Seems like it.”

“Where were you? I had to physically restrict Mingyu from running to your place countless times.”

Your heart dropped once more on this night. Heat erupted on your face and you let your head drop for just a second, before looking back up at the man who had been the one to start off this stupid challenge.

“I was at home. I… wasn’t feeling too well. Is Mingyu here?”

Joshua didn’t seem too pleased with your answer, but decided to not pester you any further. Instead, he shook his head as he crossed his arms.

“Not yet. He is getting more drinks. Speaking of, should we get you one?”

You followed Joshua back to the kitchen, Soonyoung somewhere lost in the crowd, apparently. After your little talk, he had excused himself to the bathroom first thing and if you were being honest, you weren’t too keen on seeing him right now anyway. You let Joshua mix you a drink, thanking him with a more or less honest smile when he handed it to you. He himself took a sip from the fresh bottle of beer he had taken for himself out of the fridge, eyeing you over it now.

“Mingyu told me about the challenge.”

You almost dropped your cup.

“He did what?”

“Ah, don’t be mad at him. He kind of tells me everything, you know,” Joshua’s smug smile made you want to punch him in the face. You decided against it mainly because causing a scene wasn’t on your to do list tonight. Neither was talking to Joshua, though. Still, here you were.

“So, does this mean I was number one?” Jesus Christ, you rolled your eyes.

“Yes. And that’s the only number one you’ll ever be in my book.”

“Ouch.” He was still grinning. Even more than before. How on earth could he have played the part as the cute and innocent barista so well, when in reality he was nothing but a cocky fuck boy? It was official: you needed to get away from him asap. But when you turned, you suddenly felt like your feet had been glued to the ground because why the fuck was Vernon walking into the kitchen right then and there?

He saw you the same time you did and the look on his face was a mixture of shock and confusion. It had been weeks since the… incident at Mr. Choi’s office and while he hadn’t seen you in the flesh since then, he sure as hell had thought of you. His cheeks began burning when he saw the suspicion in your eyes and when you came over to him and his two friends, he literally felt like all of his wet dreams and fantasies about you were suddenly out on display.

“Did Seungcheol send you?” Was the first thing you said to him and poor, poor Vernon could only shake his silly head and point at Hyunggu and Seungyoun over his shoulder with a shaking hand.

“N-No, I came with my friends.” You followed where he was pointing with your eyes and the two young men behind him waved at you rather confusedly. You clicked your tongue and nodded, turning back to look at Vernon.

Vernon, who was out of the usual suit you had seen him in before. He was wearing a dark t-shirt and dark jeans, a necklace adjourning his slim upper body. His hair was messy, but a good kind of messy, that kind of messy you wanted to claw your hands into. Taking a sip from your drink, you contemplated. Seeing Vernon here, out of all places, seemed almost too much of a nudge in his direction. When Seungcheol hadn’t been the one to send him here and it was pure coincidence, didn’t this mean something? As much as it had bothered you that Seungcheol had wanted to decide this challenge for you, it now seemed to come in handy.

Licking over your lips, you took another step towards Vernon, one hand reaching for the small cross necklace he was wearing and letting it slip through your fingers. Your eyes stayed on the silver for a second before looking up and seeing his gaze, his red cheeks and the mouth that hung slightly agape. You smiled.

“How do you know the hosts?” You asked. Vernon needed a few seconds to regain composure.

“I, uh, I don’t actually. Hyunggu is, uhm, he works at the same coffee shop as J-Joshua.” He explained and you nodded, still playing with the jewelry. The poor man in front of you was close to losing his mind once more.

“I see. Well, this seems fated, doesn’t it, Vernon?” Your voice was merely a whisper when you leaned forward, your lips meeting his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Vernon didn’t know what to say to that. In fact, he didn’t know what to say ever again. His ability to speak had been ripped from him - by you and the way you looked at him, the way your breath hit his neck and ear.

The thing was - you had kind of ruined everything for him. There was no porn he could watch that could even come close to what had happened at Mr. Choi’s office. At some point he had tried finding women who looked like you in the videos, tried to replace your image with theirs, but nothing would work. More often than not he would find himself with his hand full of lube, eyes squeezed shut, imagining you and the way your pussy had looked all wet and ready just that this time it was his cock that was about to fuck you stupid.

So, when he felt your hand wrap around his wrist he didn’t even think about stopping you. He let you lead him into one of the bedrooms, let you sit him down on the bed, your legs on either side of him as you began straddling him. His head was in a haze, no thought to be thunk, only your lips on his, your tongue inside his mouth and finally your hips grinding against his extremely hard cock.

Somehow his hands had landed on your back while yours laid on his shoulders, slowly moving up to cup his face as you kept on grinding down on him. Vernon’s head was spinning.

“You’re so hard already, can feel you against my pussy, Vernonie…,” you whined against his ear and his eyes opened, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing on this earth. No words were able to leave his mouth, though. He could only nod and move his arms around you, finding himself rutting his erection against your core, catching you off guard. The moan that escaped you got him close to cumming right then and there.

“F-fuck, bet you can fuck me so good, baby,” you said before moving down to kiss his neck, his hips still moving up, chasing his own high.

“Shit!” His eyes rolled back when you found an especially sensitive spot on his neck, your tongue dragging over it just as your hand opened his jeans and slipped into them and his briefs - causing Vernon’s eyes to fly open and look at you in shock.

“W-wait I-,” he began, but the second your hand touched his bare cock, he couldn’t stop it.

“O-oh, n-gh, f-fuck,” he whimpered as he came onto your hand and into his underwear - thick ropes of white and hot cum leaving you with your mouth dropped in surprise.

His head dropped onto your shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing. Shame crept over him and he swallowed hard before he dared to look at you again.

“I’m sorry, I, fuck, I, uh- I’m a virgin.”

And scene.

“You’re a what?” You stumbled out, the shock ever so present on your face. Vernon felt his face heat up.

“A... a virgin.”

Slowly, you pulled your hand out of his pants, looking at the stickiness he had left on it for a second before licking it off, your eyes not leaving his face. Vernon felt his cock twitch and a whimper escaping him. You were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

“Cheol doesn’t know that, does he?” You asked once your hand was clean and Vernon was already a little hard again. Vernon shook his head and you sighed.

“Well, I certainly won’t take your virginity for this stupid challenge, so…,” you stood up from his lap and looked at the mess he (or you?) had made, clicking your tongue before looking around the room and walking to one of the drawers on the side. You haven’t been in Joshua’s room before, but you definitely had not wanted to take Vernon to Mingyu’s room to fuck him. Or, well, not fuck him. You opened the first drawer and found yourself successful, grabbing one of Joshua's neatly folded pairs of underwear and throwing it at Vernon who caught it, with a somewhat horrified look on his face.

“Change into that. Don’t want you walking around with pants full of cum, baby.” You winked at him, and Vernon turned even more red. He mumbled a quick thank you and you chuckled, closing the drawer again, before walking to the door to go back to the party.

Just that, once the door was open, you were met by yet another familiar face. Chan was leaning against the wall, talking to some girl, a drink in his hand. When the door opened, it was more like a reflex to look at who came out - never had he expected to see you or the dude stumbling over his own feet behind you. His brows shot up and your jaw tightened.

“Now, who do we have here,” he says, the girl next to him forgotten, “you don’t pass up any dick, do you?”

Your veins began burning. Anger, raw and so real like back when Chan and you had seen each other last. Your hands were balled into fists in no time and you somehow succeeded in moving, ready to leave the party for all you cared, but Chan was quicker than you. He grabbed your wrist and held you back, pushing you into the kitchen, where music was now blasting as well, music that rang in your ears as you were pressed against the wall right next to the door.

“What the fuck do you want?” You spat out, trying to free yourself, but Chan just grinned down at you, his head slightly tilted.

“Just trying to make sense of you, princess,” was his awful reply. You scoffed, shaking your head and looking to the side, seeing that Vernon had escaped the bedroom now, closing the door and hurrying into the living room.

“You should leave me alone,” you breathed out finally and Chan leaned forward, his lips right by your ear.

“I can’t really hear you, you know?”

You closed your eyes. Was he kidding? He had dragged you in here. He had chosen this god forsaken kitchen as the place he wanted to talk to you in. When you opened your eyes again, you saw in his eyes what you hadn’t before. Want, need. He was desperate for you. He craved you - had probably been lurking around your apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But you hadn’t come out, you had stayed inside and now that he finally saw you…

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” you say now, his eyes still boring into yours. Something flickers in them now, hurt maybe, or something totally different. You just know that his jaw is suddenly tightened and one hand is on your waist, grabbing you roughly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Says who?”

“I do. Did you fuck that guy?”

“Fuck you, Chan.”

There was too much tension between you. More than back then in the elevator. His breath hit your face, his brows furrowed.

“Did you fuck that guy?”

“What is it to you if I did?” You spat back at him. One of his hands was suddenly right there on your neck and your eyes widened at the sudden wave of want shaking your body.

“It’s an easy question, doll. Did you fuck him?”

His grab on your neck was almost too much to handle right now. Your pussy was crying into your panties and your head felt so far away, you feared it wasn’t even on your neck anymore.

“No.”

You wished someone would walk in. One of the guys you had seen earlier. Soonyoung, for all you cared. Even Joshua would be fine - just anyone to get Chan away from you. All of the arousal from your make-out with Vernon was still fresh and with Chan’s hand on your body, you couldn’t guarantee anything.

He was so close and he smelled so good. His face was mere inches from yours and if you moved just a tiny bit…

Chan was quicker than you. The thoughts were running around in his head ever since he saw you come out of that room, ever since he saw that random dude behind you. Jealous. That’s what he was. Jealous of some guy you had been in a room with by yourself and jealous of everyone who would come after. It was stupid and twisted, considering his brother was literally in love with you. His grip around your waist got stronger and suddenly his nose was touching yours, both of your mouths opened in a breathy gasp and when he saw the way your eyes fluttered close, there was literally no way around kissing you anymore.

It didn’t start out sweet or slow, no, Chan was full on kissing you like he knew you wanted to be kissed. His tongue was right there, his other hand on your chin, moving your head up so he could dip his tongue easier into your awaiting mouth. You moaned into the kiss, heat between your legs now accompanied by throbs that made you press your thighs together. Chan pressed himself against you, felt every curve of your body and wished he could just take you right here and now. But there were people around, drunk people, people who might not mind you any business, but still people. And so, he grabbed your hand after parting from you and taking you to the bedroom you had just left, the door falling shut behind you, his lips on you again right then. Hands were back on your waist and he groaned when he felt your hands feeling him up, sliding underneath his shirt and down, pressing against his bulge.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” you breathed and Chan bit down on your lip, nodding because, fuck, he wanted that too. It’s stupid, really, there is a bed right behind you, but Chan was greedy, Chan maybe even wanted someone to notice, wanted to get caught red handed, his cock in your tight pussy. He wanted everyone to know he got you, not Wonwoo.

Your hands moved to open his belt and you shoved his jeans and briefs down at the same time, have them pool at his ankles, your hungry eyes looking between his face and hard cock that laid against his stomach. Skilfully, you grabbed around the base of his cock and started jerking him off, Chan moaning against your neck as he tugged your dress up and panties down.

“Your fucking dripping, baby,” he breahed into your ear and you nodded, looking up at him with a pout.

“Fuck my dripping pussy, Channie, need you so bad.”

He didn’t need to hear that again. He grabbed his cock after you dropped it, your head banging against the door behind you, and brought it to your pussy, sinking into you a second later, your one leg wrapped around his slim waist.

“God, fuck, that’s right, such a wet tight pussy just for me.”

He began to move right away, devouring your lips with his as his hips frantically fucked into you. Your hands held onto his shoulders, eyes closed shut and skin on fire from desire. He fucked into you quick and hard, hitting you right where you needed him to and, fuck, did it feel good. Felt so good that you already felt yourself nearing an orgasm.

Chan’s breath hit your face again when he parted from you and leaned back, his eyes studying you as he continued to fuck you. You still had your eyes closed, which meant Chan could look at you all he wanted. His cock was twitching wildly at how your face looked, how your mouth was dropped open at how fucked out you looked, at how much you were into this. He licked over his lips, hands grabbing your hips harshly, thrusts becoming sloppier the closer he felt to release.

“Craved your pussy so much, baby, look at how good you take my cock, shit.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, Chan staring at you making your stomach turn and your cunt clench around him, a moan escaping you when he picked up the pace once more, the door literally banging from the movement. There was no way people who passed wouldn’t notice.

“Ch-Chan!” You cried out, and he smirked, continuing what he was doing.

“What is it, doll? You scared people will know that you’re getting fucked like the filthy whore you are?” He slowed down his thrusts just for a moment, your whimpers music to his ears.

“Pl-please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for but Chan just chuckled, finally pulling out of you to lead you to the bed, where he told you to get on all fours. You did as told, your pussy aching for his cock to come back and fuck you. You wiggled your hips just when Chan slipped back into you, a harsh slap landing on your ass.

“So impatient, slut. Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum on this cock.”

He went back to fucking you hard and quick, your moans filling the room and making Chan move even quicker. He was so close to emptying his load in your warmth.

“Don’t stop, oh fuck!” Your walls clenched around him multiple times, letting Chan know that he had in fact made you cum on his cock. He kneaded your ass, slapping it as he fucked you through your orgasm, closing in on his own with every passing second.

“So good for me, came so prettily on my cock, my perfect little whore, isn’t that right?” One of his hands now moved, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you against his chest, his cock seemingly vibrating inside of you, overstimulation making you cry out.

“Want you to cum in me, Chan, want you to so bad!”

Somehow your words were like a spell, getting Chan to do exactly as you had told him to the next second. Hot spurts of cum filled your spent pussy that was now milking him for all he had.

“Fuck! Yes, take it all, every last drop, that’s right.”

Chan thrusted into you a few more times, sloppy and uncontrollable, his cock finally slipping out of you, accompanied by his own release that now dripped onto Joshua’s bed sheets. He couldn’t stop staring at your pretty pussy filled with his cum. Gosh, he really wanted to take a picture of this.

You were the first one to come back to her senses. You turned around, seeing your panties and his pants and underwear laying on the floor by the door and you climbed off the bed to grab it all, put your own on and hand Chan his clothes.

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat as you pulled your dress back down. Chan was back in his underwear and suddenly unable to look at you. What a joke.

“This probably shouldn’t have happened,” you finished then, feeling your own conscience starting to grow extremely guilty. Not to mention that you felt just extremely… yeah, what even? At this point there was nothing to say about you. How long had you been at this party? Thirty minutes? And you had already made out with Vernon, had made poor Vernon cum in his pants and now you had fucked Chan? Chan, who you had sworn to never fuck again because it was obvious you shouldn’t. Maybe Soonyoung’s idea to get out of the house had been a bad one after all.

“Yeah. It shouldn’t have.” Chan didn’t look at you, he in fact couldn’t bear to do so. Guilt flooded him, making it almost impossible to even leave the room. Wonwoo was out there somewhere, drinking, dancing, not knowing you were here and most definitely not knowing his own little brother had betrayed him. Again. Chan sighed pulling his jeans back up and trying to fight the urge to just stay in here and wait this party out.

With nothing but static sounds in your ear did you move to open the door, hand already around the knob.

“If he wasn’t in the picture,” Chan’s voice suddenly cut through the silence and you stopped midway opening the door, “would you think about it?”

Your heart ached at his question and you closed your eyes. You really had a talent for making people fall for you only to disappoint them.

“I don’t think the answer I have is the one you want.”

Even though he would never admit it, Chan felt his heart break a little at that. He knew it was stupid. Liking you was the exact opposite of what he should’ve done. You were just a girl he slept with once. You were the girl his brother had been talking about all this time, the one he had been hopelessly in love with.

It wasn’t fair, really. That the cute neighbor turned out to be you. That the girl he wanted to see again so badly after that first fateful meeting in the hallway was the one his brother wanted. In all his years living on this earth, he had never hated Wonwoo. His older brother had always been his favorite person in the entire world. But now? In this exact moment he hated him.

“Is it because of my brother?” He finally asked and you turned around to look at him.

“No, it’s not. I promise you, he has nothing to do with this.”

Chan moved his head and looked at you, nodding slightly. He would probably feel guilty about feeling relieved in a few hours, but right now he enjoyed the knowledge you wouldn’t go for his brother.

With one last smile, you finally turned to open the door, Chan right behind you.

And that was when time seemed to stop for both of you.

Of course this would happen because how could it not? How could you ever walk out of this room without any problem, without anyone seeing you. It was like ice was somehow replacing the blood in your veins, making you shiver, making you freeze.

Wonwoo stood there, right in front of the bedroom, just like Chan had earlier. And as if that wasn’t bad enough - Mingyu stood right there next to him.

You heard Chan’s gasp right when Wonwoo and Mingyu looked at you. Saw your disheveled hair, Chan’s not fully closed belt. The guilt in his eyes, the shock in yours. It took Wonwoo everything in him not to drop his glass at the sight.

“Tell me this is not what it looks like.”

Where his voice came from, he couldn’t tell. He just heard it, felt it ringing in his ears after. When neither you nor Chan began speaking and only continued to stare at him, he felt his jaw tightening and his body move. Without knowing where he was headed, he ran out of the apartment, leaving you and Chan behind with nothing but the biting feeling of a guilty conscience. Your eyes briefly met Mingyu’s, before you followed Chan, who was now running after his brother.

Cold air was giving you an unwelcome hug when you reached downstairs, Wonwoo standing on the side of the road, seemingly trying to catch a cab.

“Hyung, wait!” Chan called out for him and Wonwoo let his arm drop down - there wasn’t a cab around anyways. God, why didn’t he take his own car? Why did he have to get here with Mingyu and why did he plan on crashing here? Why had he even decided to come here in the first place?

When Chan finally reached him, Wonwoo slowly turned around. As much as you wanted to deny it - seeing Wonwoo this way made your heart clench painfully. Coming to a halt behind Chan, you suddenly felt like maybe you shouldn’t have followed them.

“Hyung,” Chan started again, looking at his brother with pleading eyes, “I’m sorry, I- I know what this must look like to you.”

“It looks like you slept with the girl I’ve been telling you about for weeks, yeah.”

Chan swallowed.

“He didn’t know, Wonwoo. Neither did I, when we slept together - we didn’t know.”

“But you knew today, didn’t you?”

Chan and you shared a quick glance and Wonwoo scoffed, looking away for a second, before he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stared back at you.

“Mingyu told me, actually. That you two- that this happened. And I was planning on letting it slide because as you said, you didn’t know. But tonight? You knew and you still-,” Wonwoo closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You know, I’m not even mad at you, Y/N. Because I don’t expect anything else from you. You take and take and take and you never ever think about the consequences of your actions. You simply don’t give a fuck about anyone’s feelings and some fucked up part of me admires you for it. How easy it must be to go through life not caring about anyone but yourself.”

Any other day his words might have made you feel a different way. Maybe you would have felt offended, angry even. But right now? You knew he was right, felt it in your bones that his words couldn’t be any more true. Averting your gaze, you looked at your feet, not allowing yourself to cry.

“You, though,” he was talking to Chan now and even though something inside you itched to step in, you didn’t, “you knew who she is, what she means to me. And you still did this?”

“Hyung, I’m sorry, I truly am, I don’t know what to tell you.” Chan sounded just as broken as you felt and it took everything in you to not put a hand on his shoulder to offer some comfort.

“That makes two of us, Channie. I also don’t know what to tell you.”

Wonwoo finally turned around to walk off and when he walked around the next corner, Chan finally moved again, pulling both hands through his hair, before turning around and spotting none other than Mingyu stepping outside. Anger rushed through Chan, but you stopped him before he could do anything.

“Let me talk to him, Chan,” you said quietly and while Chan looked like he didn’t want to listen to you, he ended up nodding and storming off, back inside.

Once he was gone, you took a few steps closer to Mingyu who looked at you with a blank face. He didn’t feel bad about telling Wonwoo, you could tell. You could also tell that he was mad at you, if because of the ghosting or the fact he had caught you with Chan, you didn’t know. Sighing, you shrugged slightly and looked up at him.

“When did you tell him?”

“Around three days after you suddenly disappeared.”

“You’re angry at me.”

“You think?”

Mingyu had never looked at you like this before. Like he was actually mad, like there was something seriously wrong.

“I’m sorry for not texting back, for not calling you back, Mingyu, I truly am. Something happened and I just closed off. Not just you, I- I just turned my phone off and didn’t think.”

“I was worried about you.” He took a step closer. You felt his warmth and closed your eyes, even let him put his hand on your cheek. That was until you remembered Wonwoo’s face, the way he had looked at Chan. And that’s when you realized something.

“You told Wonwoo about Chan,” you started, your eyes back open and looking at him, “but you didn’t tell him about you.”

Mingyu’s jaw twitched, his hand slowly falling from your face again. He didn’t have to confirm it with words for you to know your assumption is correct.

“How can you do this to him?” Now, you felt the tears behind your eyes that you had held back the entire day. Mingyu licked over his drying lips and let out a bitter laugh.

“Why is it always him you’re worried about? Why does it matter that he liked you first, why do my feelings not matter to you, Y/N? This isn’t fair.”

“No one ever said this is fair, Mingyu. This whole situation is fucked up, this has nothing to do with fairness. If I was smart, I’d just stop right here. I’d leave you alone, I’d never speak to any of those guys upstairs again. But I can’t because I’m selfish, because I don’t want to leave you alone, I don’t want to never speak to them again. I’m selfish because somehow I still can’t let go of things I know shouldn’t be mine.”

“I am yours, Y/N, I have been yours since the day you stepped foot into the office, the first time you kissed me. How can I prove to you that I don’t care about any of this?”

Both of his hands were on your cheeks now and his thumbs wiped away the tears that began to fall.

“Mingyu, you know it’s wrong, you know it’s not fair. Not to you or Wonwoo or anyone else. I can’t just accept you as mine when it’s so clear Wonwoo will never forgive you, not after Chan.”

“I don’t care. I love you, I want to be with you.”

“You don’t mean that. You shouldn’t mean that.”

Even though it took everything in you, you let your hands wrap around his wrists, lifting his hands from your face.

“Y/N…,” he whispers, but you shake your head, another set of tears dripping down your cheeks.

“We can’t do this anymore. I appreciate you wanting to wait, but even if I were to finish this stupid challenge, I don’t think you and I should be together.”

Mingyu heard your words and he understood them. Every single one of them reached his brain and a part of him even agreed with them. But looking at you, seeing the face he had been seeing in his dreams for the past months, the one he had missed so much when you had left him the first time - that part fell extremely small. The bigger part wanted to reach for you, tell you how wrong you were. No one would be as good for you as him, no one understood you the way he did. Yes, Wonwoo was his friend, maybe even his best friend, but you… you were his. Everything about you was made for him and it didn’t make any sense for you to not see that. He knew you did, he knew you felt the same. But, apparently, your conscience won over your heart this time.

“Don’t do this,” he heard himself say and you pressed your lips together, shaking your head again.

“Mingyu, it’s for the best. I am not- I am not good. Something inside me is rotten, I feel like… I feel like I’ve lost who I am in the past few months. I did things because I was being selfish and I need to stop. I already lost my best friend, I can’t lose myself too.”

You let go of his wrists now, looking up at him with a sad smile. You hoped he knew that if you had met under different circumstances you would love to be with him.

When you left, Mingyu stayed back, staring at the spot you had just stood in. And, somehow, he didn’t believe that this was the end of you two just yet.

You sat down on the bench of one of the bus stations near Mingyu’s apartment complex, about to get your phone out to text Soonyoung - when you realized that he still had it. Groaning, you let your head fall back against the glass behind you. Wonderful. Just great, really. He would probably drop it off tomorrow once he realized you weren’t at the party anymore. Maybe it was better this way - not having your phone close to get any ideas about texting Mingyu. Or Seungcheol. Another groan left you. Seungcheol. The fact he hadn’t sent a whole SWAT team into your apartment was probably thanks to Jiwoo. Maybe he didn’t want to see you again after talking to his sister. And maybe that was right. If you couldn’t see Mingyu anymore, you probably shouldn’t see Cheol anymore too.

“Y/N?” A voice made you open your eyes, surprise visible in your face when you saw Vernon parked in front of the bus station, passenger seat window down as he looked at you with worry.

“Vernon? You’re already leaving?”

“Yeah, I, uh, thought that maybe this was enough socializing for the next couple of weeks.”

The way he awkwardly smiled made you laugh. Nodding, you let your eyes roam over his car. It’s nice - not as nice as the car he drives for Cheol, but definitely on the more expensive side. Vernon clears his throat.

“Do you need a ride?”

It probably took a lot of courage for him to ask you this. Smiling, you thanked him, getting up from the bench and walking over to his car, opening the door and plopping down onto the passenger seat.

“Guess you won’t need the address,” you joked and he blushed, still with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah. I think I got that covered.”

You drove in comfortable silence. The city was still alive since it wasn’t that late and you watched strangers laugh on the street, drink in some of the booths standing around town. A part of you wished to be as carefree as them, but you figured that this would take a while for you to gain back. Not caring and going out, making friends without thinking about how you could possibly get them into your bed. It was crazy, really, how much this challenge had affected your life, how now, three months after the idea had left Jiwoo’s lips, she wasn’t even your friend anymore.

“Can I ask you something?” Vernon spoke into the silence and you turned to look at him, nodding.

“Sure.”

“Okay so, I know that Mr. Choi kind of told me to, uh, sleep with you and… I also know that you are now aware of me… never having been with someone like that,” he began and you frowned slightly, unsure what he was going to say next, “if I am honest with you, Y/N, ever since that time in Mr. Choi’s office, I… couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not… not in a romantic sense, more like, as in-,” he scratched his head, trying hard to find the right words for what he wanted to say, “as in I think I actually need you to take my virginity, or else I’ll probably never be able to get this out of my head.”

Oh. You raised your eyebrows, blinking at Vernon a few times, the words still registering in your brain. Then, when it finally clicked, you broke out into an honest laugh, catching Vernon off guard.

“I’m- I’m serious!” He whined and you nodded, waving with your hand as if to signal you weren’t really laughing at him.

“No- No, I know. And I am flattered, but-,” you let yourself look at him again and when you spotted the earnest look on his face, your laugh faltered, making space for a smile that somehow even spread to your heart.

“I know it’s a weird request. But I’m just a guy Y/N. And you, quite literally, have been taking over my mind. I just- I would be incredibly happy if you would… do that. And of course I understand if you’re not into it, but I thought I could at least ask and-,”

“Okay,” you interrupted him, Vernon now being the one to blink at you a few times when he stopped at a red light.

“Okay?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll do it. We, you and I, can do it. Not tonight though, I’ve had, uh, quite the evening and would just like to fall into bed. By myself.”

Vernon felt like he had just seen the gates of heaven and he wasn’t even naked in bed with you yet. Quickly, he nodded, continuing the drive when the light turned green, a wide smile on his lips as he realized you had really just said yes to his insane request.

“Sure! I get that, I, uh, we can definitely do it another day, I’m fine with that. You can call me, I- you have my number, right?”

Soonyoung ended up bringing your phone over the next day, not even staying for a chat and not even able to look you in the eyes. Your jaw hurt from how hard you were biting down, knowing exactly why he was behaving this way. Thanking him and slapping the door closed, you sighed and fell back onto your couch, plugging your phone into the charger and waiting for it to turn on.

Going through your messages was a true pain. Mingyu wondering where you were (before the party, obviously), asking if he had done something wrong, telling you he was gonna come over. You closed your eyes, holding back the stupid tears that wanted to slip out again. You should really get a fucking grip. Mingyu had been part of the challenge, nothing more! He should have never become more than that, should have never become someone you actually cared about as much as you did now.

You deleted his chat, not even opening the messages. Then, you moved on to Seungcheol. Your next big problem. While he did text you several times, he did seem to understand you needed your time and space and he was willing to give it to you.

But I just need you to understand that I am serious about this, about you. I want to be with you.

Seungcheol’s words suddenly barged into your mind, reminding you of the fact that he did in fact care about you, that he wanted you, that he didn’t care about anything else. Sighing, you closed the messenger app and instead opened your contacts, choosing his and pressing the call button.

He picked up after the second ring.

“Y/N,” the way he said your name soothed you right then and there.

“Cheol…,” you breathed out, feeling another set of tears wanting to break through.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you could hear him moving, making you wonder about whether he was at home or in the office on this Sunday morning.

“Not really, if I’m gonna be honest,” you replied, turning over so you laid on your back now, “but I will get there. Eventually.”

You could imagine him nodding, could imagine the worried frown on his face.

“I am so sorry about my sister,” he then said and you shrugged, smiling sadly to yourself.

“It’s not your fault. She had every right to be mad at me.”

“No, she didn’t. And I told her that. I talked to her, tried to make her see that she is completely overreacting. Yes, I am her brother and, yes, we should have just told her, but she is making this a bigger deal than it ever had to be.”

“Maybe. But as you said, we should have told her. I should have told her. Instead I told her a lie about a businessman I met at the hotel, instead I kept on lying to her for weeks, I avoided her, scared to accidentally let it slip. Yeah, what she said to me was… harsh and it did hurt me. But I deserved it, Cheol.”

You heard him sigh on the other line.

“Baby, you didn’t deserve it. We all make mistakes, we are humans. She acted like you killed someone.”

The usage of the pet-name made your stomach flutter. Chuckling lightly, sadness still audible, you let your hand rest on your forehead.

“I can’t really change the situation now. She didn’t contact me at all while I had my phone off. We had fights before, but never like this.”

“Just give her time. She’ll come around.”

Around to what? You didn’t dare ask the question.

“Yeah, maybe,” you just said and swallowed hard, licking over your lips after.

“If you need anything, call me, okay? I’m here for you,” he paused, “and Jeonghan is back. So, if you want to finish what you started - you can.”

Finish what you started. At this point you weren’t even sure you wanted that.

“I’ll call you. Bye, Cheol.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

Vernon picked you up in the car he drove for Cheol a day later.

You kept telling yourself this wasn’t for your challenge, but for Vernon. He had asked this of you. He wanted you to do this for him. It didn’t matter that you could beat the challenge because the sole reason for it wasn’t your friend anymore. Still, even with all of this in the back of your mind, your pride remained right there, wanting you to do this for yourself, prove to yourself that you could finish this even when wounded and on the floor with nothing left.

So, when Vernon parked the car on a high spot with a beautiful view of the city and the two of you were making out on the spacious backseat - you allowed yourself to count this towards the challenge you so desperately wanted to leave behind you.

Vernon’s hands were careful, shy even, placed on your hips as his mouth discovered yours, his tongue slowly moving against your own. You wanted to let him find his pace but when he didn’t try to make a move fifteen minutes in, you decided to take the lead. Quickly, you moved onto his lap, straddling him like back at the party, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him deeper this time, tongue licking sensually against his and he whimpered underneath you - absolute music to your ears.

“Touch me, I know you want to,” you whispered into his ear then and he swallowed hard before letting his hands slip to your back and down, fingers almost clawing into your ass, your hips beginning to grind against him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his cock already rock hard in his pants. You chuckled, kissing his neck and letting your finger glide under his shirt, pulling it over his head skilfully, his hands landing right back on your ass once he was shirtless in front of you. You licked over your lips and moved to kiss down his neck, tongue flicking against his skin and finally his nipple, the moan coming out of Vernon’s mouth deliciously ringing in your ears. He dared to move your shirt up as well, helping you get rid of it and he immediately groped your breasts, his eyes glued to them still covered by pretty dark red lace. You smiled smugly, fingers caressing his abs and chest, thumb and index softly pinching his nipple and making him throw his head back.

“Feels good,” he mumbled and you giggled, doing it again. The way he pushed his hips up, searching for friction had your pussy dripping into your panties. You happily continued, lips back to kissing his neck and chin, moving up to his mouth where he gladly welcomed you with his tongue searching for yours. God, he was eager and you loved it.

“Keep telling me what feels good, Nonie, wanna make you feel so so good.” Your voice was dripping in honey and Vernon nodded rapidly, reaching for your face to kiss you again and you let your hands wander down to open his jeans, hoping the incident at the party wouldn’t repeat itself. Vernon was concentrating on your lips on his, on the way your skin was warm under his fingertips, on how good it felt to kiss you and to have you on top of him. When you touched him over his boxer-briefs, he did moan into the kiss, but he didn’t fear coming undone like last time - he had jerked off twice this morning to prevent that from happening.

“So hard for me already, bet you have such a pretty dick, baby.”

He twitched under your hand now, his long eyelashes fluttering as he watched you - how you sat up, biting down on your red bottom lip, your fingers pushing down his pants and underwear so his cock could spring free.

“I knew it, so pretty, Nonie.”

Your hand around his cock did not make him cum, but it did make a good load of pre-cum leak out of him, his face red as he watched your thumb carefully collecting all of it, smearing it over his shaft and using it as lube for your hand that now grabbed around him. Vernon couldn’t help the pathetic little cries when you began jerking him off.

“Y-yeah, j-just like that.” His eyes rolled back and you watched him in awe, taking in every single one of his pretty sounds and the way his hips bucked up into your fist.

“Be a good boy and stay still for me, yeah, baby?” You grinned to yourself, seeing how he struggled while nodding, his teeth sinking into his lip, his eyes squeezed shut. He was incredibly pretty at that moment.

Your hand moved quicker, getting him as hard as you could without making him cum.

“F-feels really good,” Vernon sighed, his hands grabbing onto the seat underneath him, nails dragging into the leather. You watched him carefully and finally dropped his cock from your hand to rid yourself of pants and underwear. Vernon’s eyes flew open and he held his breath watching as you shifted, pants and panties slipping down your legs.

“I would love to suck you off, baby, but I fear you’ll come right away and I really, really want your cum in my pussy.”

The whimper leaving Vernon now made you grab his cock and lead it to your dripping pussy.

“F-fuck, I- I- oh my god,” Vernon’s hands found place on your back, eyes wide as he stared down at your pussy sinking down on his length, his whole brain working on not cumming the second his tip breached you. His head was spinning, his breath hitched once he allowed himself to breathe again and when you were fully sunken down, he felt his dick twitch wildly inside of you.

“Holy fucking shit.” His nails dug into your skin and you let your pussy get used to his size, arms wrapping around his neck, lips back to kissing him softly.

“Feel good?” You asked and he nodded, not able to speak, too busy concentrating on not shooting his load right then and there.

What he did not expect was the feeling of you moving. How your walls felt around his virgin cock that was only used to his own hand. How tight you were, how warm, how perfect. There was no stopping the moans, the cries, the whimpers as you began riding his cock, your lips traveling from his neck to his lips, from his lips to his ears, sucking on his earlobe and making him push you harder against his chest.

“M-Mommy, f-feel so good.” The word slipped out and it rang in your ears, your pussy clenching around him, a smirk on your lips inevitable when you parted from him only to take a look at his face.

He was lost in pleasure, but the fact he had said that was somehow displayed on his face as well. Your hands moved to your own back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall off your frame. Vernon twitched inside you once more.

“Such a good boy for Mommy, aren’t you, baby?” You brought his hands from your back to your front, placing them right there on your tits.

“I know you want Mommy’s tits in your hands and in your mouth, isn’t that right?” Vernon saw stars when your hips moved again and your tits almost slipped through his hands. Quickly, he nodded, beginning to grope at them harder, his mouth open as he watched how they looked in his hands, how soft they were, how good they felt. And when you pushed his head down, his face right there between your perfect tits, he almost couldn’t believe he hadn’t cum yet.

With his tongue shooting out and lapping at you, you began riding his cock quicker, letting yourself lose, moans coming out of your throat that made the poor man feel like he was dying. He brought his lips to your nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he heard angel’s sing in his ears, tongue twirling around the hard bud.

“Just like that, baby. Your cock feels so good in Mommy, gonna make me cum.”

Vernon knew it wasn’t going to be long until he exploded, his spit running down your tits as he kissed and sucked on your skin, moving up to your neck and kissing your mouth again, hands still busy on your breasts.

“Are you gonna cum for Mommy, Nonie? Are you gonna fill Mommy’s pussy with your cum?”

“Y-yes, gonna fill M-mommy up, pump her full, o-oh,” Vernon had never ever expected to last as long as he did.

“That’s right, baby. Pump Mommy full, come on. Know you want to.”

The second the words had left your mouth, Vernon couldn’t help it anymore. He cried out, calling for you over and over as his cock twitched and twitched, hot cum filling your pussy, his hips fucking into you with absolute no control. You felt your own climax hit you just then with the way he kept on thrusting upwards, hitting you right there where you needed him.

“Fuck!” You cried out, pussy tightening around his cock and he whimpered, overstimulation hitting him as you kept fucking yourself on his cock, the sound of your cum stuffed pussy riding his cock so lewd it literally caused his cock to grow in size again, all of the blood in Vernon’s body down there, all of his senses heightened but his brain completely shut off.

“Sh-shit, n-ngh, Mommy, please!” His cry made you look at him, the fucked out face having you clench around him again. He wasn’t done with you yet. Instead of letting his cock die down, he kept on fucking into you, his head now thrown back as he cried with every thrust, his hips showing you no mercy as he chased his pleasure. There was nothing you could do but enjoy, your mouth hanging open as you let him have his way with you, your hands back on his shoulders.

“You fuck Mommy so good, baby, come on, I know you wanna give me more, want all of it, Nonie, all of your delicious cum in my pussy, gonna make me so fucking proud.”

His overstimulated but incredibly hard cock obeyed immediately. A second orgasm made Vernon’s body shake, more cum filling you as he cried, head falling forward onto your shoulder as exhaustion hit him next. He was still twitching wildly and you allowed yourself to fuck down on him until you yourself reached a second high, his whimpers telling you to keep going.

“W-wanna make Mommy cum,” he cried and you grabbed his face, seeing actual tear stains on it, kissed him softly.

“Made Mommy cum two times, baby, I am so proud of you, did so well for Mommy.”

A smile spread on Vernon’s lips, before his head dropped again, his chest heaving with great effort.

As a good virginity-taker should, you held Vernon against your chest for a while after he had slipped out of you, his cock extremely sensitive. You had cleaned him and yourself up and helped him back into his boxer-briefs, finally letting him rest against your frame, as he came down from his high.

“I’m sorry if this was a bit much,” he mumbled after a while and you chuckled, fingers caressing through his hair.

“It was all fine, don’t even worry about it, alright?” You kissed the top of his head and Vernon thanked you, squeezing your hand before lifting his head. You allowed him to kiss you when he wanted to and you agreed to grabbing some McDonald’s before parting ways.

Having made the decision to end this challenge once and for all, you had called Seungcheol the day after your “date” with Vernon to tell him you were willing to meet that business partner of his. Setting a time and place (two days from then at Seungcheol’s company), you were content with finally finishing what you had started. Sure, a part of you felt devastated about the fact Jiwoo wouldn’t be there to share this with you. Maybe even a really big part. You decided to forget about this for the time being - after all there was still a chance Seungcheol was right and she would forgive you.

When you arrived at the company that day, you mentally prepared yourself to, one, see Seungcheol and, two, see this stranger you’re supposed to let into your bed. You didn’t even know why you hadn’t asked Seungcheol for a picture or even any more information about Jeonghan, but then again you had been worried about a lot of other things. One that apparently had not been on your mind, was Seokmin.

Seokmin who was talking to one of the women at the front desk and who, once he spotted you, seemed to stop mid sentence. You felt your cheeks heat up and your heart beating faster, remembering the last time you had seen him. Seungcheol had gotten you out of that situation rather quickly and a part of you had been worried that Seokmin would have to deal with repercussions - but since he was still here, you figured there hadn’t been any.

“You’re here.” He said when you reached him, a small smile playing on his lips. You nodded and he excused himself to the woman, leading you through the gates with his ID card and to the familiar elevators.

“Meeting Mr. Yoon today, I heard.”

Yoon. Yoon Jeonghan? You frowned. What a strange coincidence.

“Yes. What’s he like?”

“Well, he’s… something, for sure. Good looking, intelligent. Very well traveled, too.”

The elevator pinged and the two of you walked inside, your hands tightly clasped around your purse.

“Right. And… is he nice?”

You looked over at Seokmin, who seemed like he really had to think about that question.

“Uhm, well, I guess, “nice” wouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Mr. Yoon, but he is… he can be nice. If it benefits him.” Seokmin slowly turned his head, his eyes meeting yours.

“And I would assume in this situation, it would definitely benefit him.”

Smooth. Another heatwave met your cheeks and you averted your gaze, clearing your throat just in time for the elevator to come to a stop and open its doors.

Seokmin let you out first, a quiet “thank you” leaving your lips as you stepped out, your head turning to face the way you knew Seungcheol’s office was - only to be met by something, or more someone you most certainly had not expected to see.

Jiwoo was standing there, right by the entrance to Seungcheol’s office space, talking to a man who’s face you couldn’t see.

“Ah, Mr. Yoon is already here.” Seokmin’s voice said next to you and you blinked, looking from him to Jiwoo and finally to who you presumed was Mr. Yoon. Yoon Jeonghan.

You stopped in your step, feet suddenly glued to the floor. Yoon Jeonghan had moved his head. His face was right there in your field of view. And Jiwoo’s hand was on his arm as she laughed about something he said.

“Y/N?” Seokmin was visibly confused, but you couldn’t even hear him. There was only the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears, only the faint memory of a voice that belonged to the man standing right there.

I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Aren’t best friends supposed to share things?

You were taken back to the time Jiwoo and you had your first real big fight, to the way neither of you understood that it wasn’t any of you who was the problem but him. Him, who had lied to both of you, who had known you were best friends, who had taken advantage of both of your naivety.

And now he stood here? In this very office building, being Jiwoo’s brother’s business partner? Your world was spinning and you only found your senses again when Seokmin’s hand landed on your shoulder and his worry was even more visible on his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked and you looked at him, really looked at him, shaking your head as an answer. You didn’t say anything, instead you continued walking, your steps echoing against the walls of the space and finally Jiwoo and Jeonghan noticed you.

While Jiwoo’s eyes widened in shock, Jeonghan remained oddly calm. Instead of surprise that it was you, there is a smug smile displayed on his lips as his eyes lingered on your body.

“As it turns out,” he began, “we do get a chance for that night we never had after all, Y/N.”

Your hands turned into fists - fists you were ready to throw at him. But before you could do that, you were interrupted by Jiwoo.

“Are you joking?” She gasped, looking between Jeonghan and you, “Is it not enough for you to drag my brother into this, now you’re going after my ex as well?!”

If the world wasn’t spinning anyways, you would have been sure it had started doing so right then. There it was again - the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Your ex?” You croaked out, shaking your head in absolute confusion.

“First of all, I didn’t know he was the Jeonghan Cheol was talking about. And second of all, as far as i am concerned he is not your actual ex, you fucked like what, once? And then you broke it off right?”

You knew the answer even before asking the question. The Jiwoo standing in front of you, with her face pale and her jaw tightened - she was someone different from the Jiwoo you knew, but perhaps the realest version of her you had ever gotten.

“Well- well, yes! But-,”

“You’re lying,” you now interrupted her.

“I am not!”

“Yes, she is,” Jeonghan now chimed in, a smile on his lips you could only describe as mischievous. As if he knew he was stirring the pot.

“Oppa!” Jiwoo hissed and you felt your stomach drop right down to your feet.

“She wanted to break it off, she really did. But I guess she just couldn’t resist me. You will find out soon enough what that means, sweetheart.” His phone started ringing just then, a wink in your direction serving as his goodbye right before he began walking towards the other side of the floor to his own office space.

You were shaking. Your whole body was in something like a trance. Jiwoo could only stare at the spot Jeonghan had just stood, blood rushing back into her face.

“You’re telling me that, even after you found out he had lied to both of us, you went and slept with him again? You even went as far as to date him behind my back?”

“So what! You fucked my brother behind my back that is far worse than this!” She screamed back at you, her eyes wild and her face flushed. You couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you are horrible, you are fucking horrible, Choi Jiwoo.”

And even with her screaming behind you, you didn’t look back when you stepped into the elevator with its open doors seeming to welcome you like a warm hug from a friend you so desperately needed.

header by @wongyuseokie

587 notes · View notes