#and its been pissing me off a little. but doing rough things like this and drawing sloppy rosies help <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lantismm · 1 month ago

Note

HEY! I saw your post about requesting stuff for Lan!

How about friend!reader cheering him up after the qualifying result last night 🥺😉

Like I can imagine him being so pissed afterwards, and he’s unintentionally snappy towards the reader because of it (Moody Lan does something to me don’t judge lol) You could make this bit angsty but afterwards the reader tries giving him a massage or something to release the tension and it turns all smutty? and she makes the night not so bad after all? 🤷🏼‍♀️

Just work your magic!!!!

Not So Bad After All

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Summary ────୨ৎ──── After a rough qualifying session, Lando’s in a mood—and you’re the one who gets caught in the crossfire. But under the frustration and sharp words, something deeper is waiting to surface. And maybe, just maybe, you can turn the night around.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Paring ────୨ৎ──── Lando Norris x She!Reader

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Word count ────୨ৎ────

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Warnings ────୨ৎ──── Emotional tension, moody Lando, argument, hurt/comfort, friends-to-lovers vibes, soft!dom Lando, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing, aftercare, vulnerability.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ────୨ৎ──── I haven’t written in a long time so hopping this is goodddd!!

You’d known Lando for as long as you could remember.

There were a thousand memories tucked away in your mind, ones filled with laughter, inside jokes, long nights, and louder engines. Most of them revolved around his races. You had been there through the rise of his career, watching from garages, stands, and screens. Always there, even when things were uncertain.

And this, whatever this thing was between the two of you had been brewing for a while. Unspoken, maybe. Undefined. But it was there, lingering in the looks, the touches that lasted a little too long, the way he always came to you first.

You were in your shared hotel room, curled up on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the screen as qualifying played out. Bahrain’s night air buzzed through the speakers, and Lando’s voice came through over the team radio every so often—tight, focused, determined.

He was on it. You could feel it, even through the screen.

He’d been chasing pole position with everything he had. And for a while, it looked like he might actually pull it off.

But when the checkered flag waved and the timing tower settled, you saw the shift in him instantly. Even through the grainy broadcast, you caught it—the way his shoulders dropped, the way his jaw clenched behind the helmet. Frustration. Disbelief. Defeat.

You didn’t need to be trackside to feel the weight of it.

He came so close.

You sat there, heart in your throat, watching him do the post-session interviews—short, clipped answers, the kind he gave when he was holding himself together by a thread. Then he disappeared off-screen, and all you could do was wait.

When the hotel door finally slammed shut behind him, you didn’t even need to turn around.

The energy shifted instantly—thick and heavy, like a storm had rolled in behind him. Lando didn’t speak at first. Just threw his cap onto the desk and let out a sharp breath through his nose, jaw tight as he ran a hand through his hair.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the look on his face. It wasn’t just anger. It wasn’t even just frustration.

It was disappointment—deep, cutting, aimed squarely at himself.

You knew that look.

And that scared you more than anything

The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, and the sound of Lando’s bag hitting the floor followed almost immediately. You let out a quiet sigh, finally looking up to see him standing at the foot of the bed. His hands were running through his hair, the tension in his body radiating off him like a live wire. He looked absolutely exhausted, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for him.

The qualifier had clearly taken its toll. You didn’t need to ask to know how brutal it had been, but somehow, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Bad day?” you asked softly, trying to keep your voice light.

Lando didn’t turn to look at you. His voice came out strained and tight, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m not in the mood for it.”

You exhaled slowly, your heart sinking a little. “Lando, I’m not trying to coddle you. Just wanted to check in.”

He finally turned, frustration etched across his features. His eyes were sharp, cold like knives, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. “I don’t need anyone’s sympathy right now. Especially not yours.”

The words stung more than you’d expected, but you didn’t let it show. You stood up slowly, pushing the blanket off your legs, and walked toward him. “I’m not giving you sympathy,” you said softly. “Just offering to help.”

Lando’s eyes narrowed as he stepped back slightly, his voice dropping a little lower. “Help? With what, exactly?”

You could feel the harshness in his words, but you also knew it wasn’t directed at you—it was just his frustration spilling over. And you cared too much to let it push you away.

You shrugged, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “You’re clearly wound up. You want to take it out on me, or… do you want a massage?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his gaze flicking over you. There was still tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched, but something in the way he watched you made your heart beat a little faster. Maybe—just maybe—he was more open to your offer than he let on.

He blinked, his expression softening, though it didn’t erase the frustration in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “You don’t have to do that.”

You stepped closer, ignoring the quiet flutter of nerves in your chest. “You know how tense you get after a session like that. Come on, let me help.”

For a long moment, he just stood there, his gaze flicking from you to the ground, clearly torn. You thought, for a split second, he might refuse—but then, his shoulders slumped, and his voice came out quieter, almost sheepish.

“Alright,” he said softly, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. “Fine. But no… weird shit, okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, your tension finally easing. You quickly stifled it before you spoke. “No weird shit. Promise.”

Lando moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it carelessly across the room. He didn’t seem to care where it landed. In the dim light, you could see the tightness in his muscles—the way every line of his body was defined, lean, and strong. But beneath it all, there was something different tonight. The anger from the race still simmered beneath the surface, and it felt like every inch of him was tense, rigid with frustration.

You didn’t waste any time. Quickly, you grabbed the cheap body lotion you had packed from your suitcase. You moved to sit behind him, straddling his legs, and began massaging the tension from his shoulders. Your hands worked carefully at first—gentle, slow—but as you felt the knots under your fingertips, you dug in a little deeper, firming your touch to release the built-up stress.

A low groan escaped his throat as you pressed your thumbs into a particularly tight spot along his upper back. The sound made your heart race—soft, raw, and unmistakably real.

Lando was always so controlled, so self-contained. But when he was like this, worn out, vulnerable, too tired to keep up his usual wall, you saw the cracks. And maybe that was what had always drawn you to him—the way he could let his guard down with you in a way he never did with anyone else.

His head tilted forward, and you took that as a silent invitation to continue. Your hands slid lower along his back, grazing over the warm, smooth skin of his torso. You could feel the muscles beneath your palms tightening and relaxing in response to your touch.

“Fuck,” Lando muttered under his breath, his body shifting as you pressed harder into the muscles along his spine. “You’re good at this.”

You felt a twinge of heat in your chest at the praise, but your mind wandered. You couldn’t help but imagine the sounds Lando would make if he were buried deep inside you, pounding into you while you clung to him. No, focus.

You cleared your throat, trying to rein in your thoughts, keeping your voice light. “Years of practice,” you said softly, a teasing edge to your tone. You let your fingers glide lower, brushing just along the waistband of his sweatpants. It was subtle, but just enough to make him tense under your touch. “You need to loosen up, Lando. Can’t drive tomorrow like this.”

His breath hitched as your thumbs pressed into the small of his back. He let out a frustrated sigh, chewing on his bottom lip before slowly turning around on the bed to face you.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like he was afraid the room might shatter if he spoke too loudly. “I didn’t ask for a massage.”

You matched his quiet tone, meeting his gaze with a soft, calm smile. “No,” you replied, “but you need one. And I want to give it to you.”

Lando stared at you for a moment, as if searching your eyes for something—permission, maybe. Peace. Whatever it was, it seemed to soften something inside of him. He didn’t argue again.

You leaned in, your lips brushing gently against the side of his neck. The kiss was slow, deliberate, lingering just beneath his jaw. He let out a shaky breath when you kissed him again, this time a little longer, deeper.

“You’ve had the weight of the world on your back all day,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin. “Let me take some of it off.”

Lando didn’t respond with words. His eyes were wide, pupils blown with something that could’ve been need, longing. He gave the softest nod, and you knew it was his way of telling you that he was ready to let go.

Without another word, you dropped to your knees between his legs.

Lando’s breath stuttered.

You trailed your hands up his thighs first, grounding him, feeling the heat in his skin. The muscles under your palms were tight, but you could feel how his body reacted to every little move, how your touch made his breath hitch and his jaw clench.

Your fingers found the waistband of his sweatpants again, tugging slowly. Lando lifted his hips just enough to let you drag them down along with his boxers, the fabric sliding over his skin until he was bare in front of you.

His cock rested heavy against his thigh, already thick and half-hard, flushed at the tip. An almost gasp left your lips, he was so big.

You could feel his eyes on you watching the way you looked at him, the way your fingers traced along his thighs like you were memorizing him.

“Still tense?” you asked, a little smirk playing on your lips.

He huffed a breath that was half a laugh, half a groan. “You’re fucking evil.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “I’m exactly what you need.”

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, slow and confident, and Lando cursed under his breath the second you licked a slow stripe up the underside. His thighs twitched, and he dropped his head back for a moment, one hand coming up to rake through his curls.

But when you took him into your mouth, that’s when he lost it just a little.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice sharp and low, the sound vibrating through the air like it had been dragged out of his chest.

You sucked him in slowly, inch by inch, your lips slick, your tongue tracing along the sensitive underside. Lando’s hand found the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair not pushing, not guiding, just there. His other hand clenched the edge of the mattress like it was the only thing grounding him.

“You feel—fuck, so good—” he panted.

You hummed in response, the sound reverberating through him, making his hips shift involuntarily. His cock throbbed against your tongue, and you hollowed your cheeks, letting your spit coat him as you started to bob your head in a slow, steady rhythm.

Lando looked down at you through half-lidded eyes, mouth parted, sweat already beginning to bead at his temples. He looked wrecked—but in the best possible way. All that tension, all the frustration from the day, was unraveling at your hands, your mouth.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered, voice rough. “You know that, right?”

You pulled off him just long enough to breathe, stroking him lazily as you looked up. “Good.”

Then you sank back down, this time taking him deeper. Your throat relaxed around him, your nose brushing his pelvis, and Lando groaned loud and low, his hips jerking slightly before he caught himself.

He tried to hold still. Tried to be good. But he was unraveling fast.

Your hands ran up his thighs again, soothing him, your mouth working him over like he was the only thing you cared about in the world. You didn’t stop—not when he cursed again, not when his grip in your hair tightened, not even when he warned you in a voice that barely held itself together:

“I’m close—I’m so fucking close—don’t wanna—”

You looked up at him, and that was it.

His whole body tensed. His hand fisted in your hair. A broken, guttural moan spilled from his lips as he came, hips stuttering forward, cock twitching on your tongue as you swallowed everything he gave you. You kept sucking him through it, slow and gentle, until his body finally slumped forward.

Lando dropped his head into his hands, breath ragged, chest heaving.

“Holy shit,” he groaned. “I—I can’t even—fuck.”

You wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, still on your knees between his legs. When he looked down at you again, his eyes were glassy and soft, like the storm inside him had finally passed.

You leaned in, resting your cheek against his thigh for a moment. “Better?”

He reached for you, pulled you up into his lap, and kissed you deep and slow, like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

“Not even close to done with you,” he murmured against your lips, voice still ruined.

His hands slid down your back, already tugging at your clothes. “Get on the bed, baby. Let me take care of you now.”

You didn’t hesitate. Crawling onto the bed, your body moved fluidly, knowing he was watching every inch of you. You could feel his eyes tracking you, his gaze heavy, almost possessive. He was so fucking hungry for you.

Lando followed you, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he bent over you. His lips pressed against your neck, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. His tongue traced along your collarbone, the lightest touch at first, just a hint of what he was about to do.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he muttered, the words hot against your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I want you? Want to see you fall apart just for me.”

You shuddered, your body already aching for him. You could feel the anticipation pooling in your lower belly, the need building. He wasn’t touching you yet, but the way he spoke to you made your skin burn.

His hands slid lower, pushing your shirt up, dragging it over your head in one smooth motion. His lips followed, brushing against your skin, kissing your chest, your nipples—tugging them softly with his teeth, making you gasp.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he said, his voice low and rough. “So fucking beautiful. You have no idea how badly I need to taste you.”

Lando slid his hands down to your pants, pulling them off with a practiced ease, until you were left exposed beneath him, your body trembling from the anticipation. He looked down at you, his gaze hungry, devouring every inch of you, before he lowered himself to the bed beside you, his fingers grazing your inner thighs.

“Look at you,” he muttered, the words almost a growl. “So fucking wet for me already. I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re dripping.” His fingers brushed over your folds, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped you. “Fuck, baby, you’re soaking. I can feel it all over my fingers. You want me that bad?”

You nodded, your breath coming in sharp gasps, your hips instinctively lifting towards him. “Yes, Lando. Please, I need you.”

Lando smirked, his fingers slipping between your legs to tease your entrance, just barely brushing against it before pulling away again. You groaned in frustration, your hips moving involuntarily.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh. “You’re gonna have to wait a little longer. I want you to feel everything. All of it.”

His lips moved lower, and you moaned when you felt his mouth hover over your most sensitive spot. “Such a fucking tease,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“I know,” Lando chuckled darkly. “I want you to beg for it, though. Tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you, Lando,” you moaned, your voice needy. “Please… I need your mouth on me. I need to feel you.”

Lando let out a low growl, before lowering his mouth onto you, his tongue teasing your clit with slow, deliberate licks. The sensation made your body tremble, your hips pushing up to meet him, desperate for more. His tongue flicked against your clit, teasing it, circling it before he sucked lightly, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

“You taste fucking incredible,” he murmured between kisses, his voice muffled as he held your hips down, his grip firm. “So fucking sweet, all because of me. Fuck, I could stay here forever, just tasting you, making you squirm under me.”

His tongue moved in long, slow strokes, each one more deliberate than the last. You felt yourself getting closer, the pressure building in your stomach, but Lando wouldn’t let you come yet. He pulled back, his lips still hovering just above you.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispered, his fingers now pushing into you, stretching you slowly, making you squirm. “Look at you, baby, dripping all over my fingers. You want to come so bad, don’t you? You’re so fucking desperate.”

“Yes, Lando,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Please. Don’t stop. I need you to make me come.”

Lando growled in approval, his fingers curling deeper inside you, hitting that spot that made your body jerk in response. His mouth returned to your clit, sucking harder, his tongue flicking faster against the sensitive nub.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” Lando’s words were dripping with praise and arrogance, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna make you come so hard, you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

His fingers and tongue worked in perfect sync, driving you to the edge. You were already trembling, on the brink, but he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He kept the pressure steady, pushing you further and further toward your breaking point.

“Lando—oh god,” you moaned, your body lifting off the bed as the pleasure took over. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, baby,” Lando growled, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “Let me hear you. Let me feel you fucking lose it all over my face.”

And with that, the pressure finally snapped. Your orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over you in waves of intense pleasure. You cried out, your body jerking beneath him, and Lando didn’t stop. He kept going, his fingers never stopping, his mouth never pulling away, making sure to drain every last ounce of pleasure from you.

When your body finally stopped shaking, Lando kissed his way back up your body, slow and deliberate, until his lips found yours. He kissed you deeply, his hands caressing your skin as he hovered above you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his voice ragged with desire. “But now it’s my turn. I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Lando murmured again, his voice a low, reverent growl against your lips.

His body hovered above yours, naked now every inch of him warm and hard and flushed from everything you’d just done. His cock was pressed against your thigh, thick and heavy, slick with precum from how worked up he was. But he wasn’t in a rush. No, Lando wanted to take his time with you.

His hand slid up your stomach, slow and possessive, until he reached your chest. He cupped your breast in one hand, thumb brushing over your nipple lazily, watching you with that dark, hungry gaze like he wanted to devour you all over again.

“Fuck,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your jaw, your neck. “You’re so soft, so fucking responsive. I touch you once and you’re already whining for me.”

You whimpered at his words, your hips subtly lifting to grind against him, searching for friction. But he wasn’t giving you that not yet.

He noticed, of course. Lando smirked as he kissed his way down your chest, then back up to your lips. “Getting needy again already? You came, what thirty seconds ago?” He dragged the head of his cock slowly along your soaked folds, not pushing in, just teasing, barely brushing over your clit as he hissed through his teeth. “And you’re still this wet for me?”

He looked down between your bodies, watching the way your arousal coated him, his eyes narrowing like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, filthy and low. “You’re fucking dripping. Look at this mess you’ve made. Look how desperate you are for me. Do you even know what you do to me?”

His hand slid down to grip the base of his cock, holding it there just against your entrance, still not pushing in, just resting the tip there to make you squirm.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he asked, voice suddenly softer, sweet, but with an edge of cruelty. “Want me to finally give you what you’ve been begging for?”

“Yes, Lando,” you gasped, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer. “Please. I need you inside me.”

“Oh, you need me, huh?” he teased, mocking the way your voice cracked. “Say it again. Say how much you need my cock.”

Your face flushed, but you said it anyway, too far gone in the heat and pressure and the way he was looking at you like he owned every inch of your body.

“I need your cock, Lando. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you.”

He groaned at that, dropping his head down to kiss you hard, rough and messy, all tongue and teeth and want. And then—finally—he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock pushing inside you inch by slow inch.

“Fuuuck,” he breathed, watching the way your body stretched around him, tight and hot and so wet it made him hiss through his teeth. “You feel so fucking good, baby. Taking me so well… like your pussy was made for me.”

He didn’t move yet. Just stayed there, buried halfway, savoring the feeling, the tight grip of you around him. His hips rolled just a little, grinding in slow circles that had both of you gasping.

“You feel that?” he whispered against your ear. “That stretch? That’s me, baby. All of it. You’re squeezing the fuck out of me.”

You could barely breathe, your body already trembling again, the overstimulation mixing with the intensity of his slow, deliberate movements. And then, without warning, Lando pushed all the way in—one deep, smooth thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs.

“Shit,” he groaned, holding himself there, buried to the hilt. “Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m not gonna last long if you keep clenching around me like that.”

You whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders as he started to move, slow at first, dragging almost all the way out before sinking back in deep, his hips grinding down against your clit every time.

“Listen to that,” he panted, and it took you a second to realize he was talking about the filthy wet sound of your bodies meeting, each thrust slick and obscene in the silence of the hotel room. “You’re fucking soaked for me. You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice wrecked. “I love it. I love you.”

That made something in him snap.

Lando’s mouth crashed into yours again, all teeth and desperation, and suddenly his thrusts got deeper, harder, still controlled, but rougher now, like he was letting the tension finally break.

“You’re mine,” he growled, fucking into you harder now, each thrust sending stars across your vision. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cried, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “All yours, Lando.”

He buried his face in your neck, his groans getting louder, more desperate. “I’m gonna make you come again, baby. Can feel you squeezing me. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could only nod, your voice lost to the pressure building inside you again. It was too much and not enough all at once. the way he filled you so perfectly, the way his hips hit just right, the filthy things he whispered in your ear like he owned your body and your mind.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Lando whispered, one hand sneaking between your bodies to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. “Give it to me. Let me feel you come.”

And just like that, you fell apart all over again your orgasm slamming into you so hard your vision went white, your body trembling underneath him as he fucked you through it.

Lando’s rhythm stuttered, his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m gonna—shit, I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” you gasped, barely able to speak. “Come inside me.”

He groaned your name like it was the only word he knew, thrusting one last time as he spilled into you, deep and hot and perfect. His whole body tensed above you, his arms shaking as he buried himself to the hilt, his moans rough and broken against your skin.

When he finally collapsed against you, chest heaving, face tucked into the crook of your neck, neither of you spoke for a while. The only sound was your breathing and the faint hum of the city outside.

Then, finally softly Lando kissed your cheek, still breathless.

“You really did make tonight not so bad after all.”

The sheets were a tangled mess beneath you, your body still warm, limbs limp and pleasantly sore. Lando moved gently now, his touches slow, almost reverent as he smoothed a hand down your thigh. He kissed your shoulder, lingering there, breathing you in.

Then, with a soft sigh, he peeled himself off the bed. You caught a glimpse of his bare back as he padded into the bathroom, The water turned on, and a moment later, he came back out towel in one hand, a soft look in his eyes.

He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair back from your forehead.

“Lift your hips, baby,” he murmured gently, and you did, letting him clean you up with slow, careful hands. You winced once, and his thumb instantly soothed over your hip. “I got you,” he said, voice even softer now. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling up at him with that warm post-orgasm daze. “Just a little sore.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, something between pride and apology in his expression. “You did amazing,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your knee. “All of it.”

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and grabbed a fresh pair of his boxers from the open suitcase on the floor. He crouched beside the bed again, holding them out with a little grin. “Here. Let me dress you.”

You giggled, lifting your hips again so he could guide the soft cotton up your thighs. They were way too big on you, practically falling off. He gave your hip a playful pat once they were on.

Then he stood, stretching just a little, completely naked in the half-light.

You took your time admiring him, his broad shoulders, lean back, the way his hair flopped a little over his forehead. He ruffled it back with one hand and grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants, pulling them on without underwear, then tossed a hoodie over his bare chest. He looked cozy and effortless, like he belonged in this moment with you.

He turned, caught you staring, and gave you that half-smirk.

“You’re looking at me like I’m dinner,” he teased, but his voice was fond.

“Maybe,” you murmured. “But I’m also starving.”

“Same,” he said, walking to the side of the bed where you were half-sitting now. He helped you up gently, tugging one of his oversized hoodies over your head. It swallowed you completely, falling to mid-thigh, sleeves bunched at your wrists.

“Perfect,” he whispered, brushing your hair out from under the collar. “God, you’re cute.”

You padded over to the couch with him, both of you moving slowly, comfortably, like your bodies had settled into a rhythm with each other. Lando collapsed beside you, phone in hand, already scrolling through UberEats.

“What do you want?” he asked, eyes flicking over the options. “Burgers? Noodles? Or we can get everything.”

You leaned against his side, cheek resting on his shoulder. “Everything sounds good.”

He chuckled, his fingers stilling on the screen. Then his voice dropped quiet, thoughtful.

“Hey…” His tone made your chest tighten just a little. “Earlier. When you said you loved me… did you mean it?”

Your breath caught. The room felt still again. You lifted your head, looking at him.

Lando wasn’t smirking now. His face was open, earnest vulnerable, even. One arm still rested along the back of the couch, the other loose around your waist, but his eyes were locked on yours.

You nodded slowly, your voice steady this time. “Yeah. I meant it.”

His lips parted, and he blinked, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say it again. Then a slow, quiet smile broke across his face, so genuine it made your heart ache.

“Good,” he said, tugging you closer into his side. “’Cause I think I love you too.”

And just like that, wrapped up in his hoodie, sitting beside him in the soft glow of the hotel room, everything felt right. You leaned your head against his shoulder, listening to the quiet hum of the city below, the soft buzz of his phone as he ordered food, and the steady, comforting beat of his heart beneath your hand.

It wasn’t the night either of you had expected—but it turned out to be exactly what you both needed.

#lando norris #fanfic readers #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris smut #lando x reader #smut #f1 smut

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cruel-as-sin · 1 month ago

Text

how long before you let me go? | logan howlett

↳ summary: riling up logan doesn't go quite how you planned...

word count: 1.3k

song: supermassive black hole | muse

pairings: bodyguard 70s!logan x rich kid fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn light plot, rough sex, overstimulation, mean!logan, hair pulling, mentions of bite marks and hickeys, spanking (so hard it leaves handprints), whiny!reader, unprotected p in v (practice safe sex everyone!), multiple orgasms, reader flirts with someone else to piss off logan (don't worry about me doing this again...), no use of y/n, pre-established safe word, doggy style, logan puts reader in a headlock, light choking accompanying said headlock, some degradation, pet names for reader (sweetheart, brat, slut), reader is a crying whiny mess and logan loves it, logan has insane stamina (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: cas finally posting something!!! (and everyone cheered!) this has been in my drafts for SOOO long and i'm so glad i finally finished it even if it’s shorter than i wanted it to be, logan is sooooooooo hot omfgggg... might turn this into a series bc i feel like this song fits them SO incredibly well

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The problem, if you could call it that, with having sex with Logan is that he Just. Keeps. Going.

Being a celebrities daughter has its perks. A rich lifestyle, for one. Lots of attention, and of course, a bodyguard with muscles that make you drool and a stern voice that leaves you dripping in… other areas.

You two have been having casual sex for about a month and a half now. He’s always been relentless, but usually takes pity on you enough to let up before he’s tired out. And, of course, you have a safeword if you ever need it. Just in case.

You knew he could keep going far longer than the average man, something about his biology letting him fill you up over and over. You didn’t question it- his business was his own, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

Now, though? You might start to complain.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

To back up a little: maybe this was your fault. Okay, it was definitely your fault, but really, could anyone blame you?

It had all started a few days ago, the last time you’d been having sex. His head was buried between your legs, his beard scratching your thighs as his tongue lapped at your clit in a way that had you seeing stars. You were whining his name, about to reach your peak, when suddenly he pulled away, shoving your bedsheets over you and kicking your clothes away as he took a step back.

You’re not sure how he knew- he must have super-hearing or something- but thank god for it, because if he’d noticed only a few seconds later, you two would’ve been interrupted by your father’s knock on the door.

It was a good thing, of course, that he stopped that night, his sharp senses and quick thinking meaning that you could just tell your father that you were changing and Logan was in the bathroom, and even if he had tried to come in, Logan had hidden the evidence well.

Even if it meant you’d spent the rest of that night pent up beyond relief, you were grateful.

Except for the fact that, and this is where the problem starts to come in, Logan had been very clear about one rule when you started sleeping with him: no touching yourself, not without his permission.

And not only does he reject your advances in the following days, claiming it’s too risky now that you almost got the two of you caught (so what if you’d insisted on sneaking away to your room with hardly any time to spare? It’s not like he didn’t agree to join you), he also tells you you’re not allowed to touch yourself, despite the way you beg and plead and give him those puppy dog eyes that you were formerly convinced worked like a magic trick every time.

So… you took matters into your own hands.

I mean, he said you couldn’t touch yourself, right? He never specified that you couldn’t have someone else do it for you.

The way you saw it, flirting with that politician’s son at a party was a win-win. Either you got some probably mediocre sex, but an orgasm was an orgasm (and the possibility of future blackmail was an added bonus), or you pissed Logan off enough that he’d come fuck you, or at least let you do it yourself.

You had been dead wrong.

Well, not entirely. Logan is fucking you. Just not quite the way you hoped.

You’re face down ass up on the bed, your face shoved into the pillows by a firm grip while his other hand digs into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. Your body aches, already littered with bite marks and handprints, and your cunt is sore. He’s given you nothing, the closest thing to foreplay you got being the hickeys claiming you and the spanking you’d been given before he’d all but thrown you onto the sheets and torn off his clothes.

Maybe that was the point when you should have caught on to what was about to happen, but you were a little too desperate to care. Now you suffer the consequences.

He pounds into you relentlessly, never giving you a break, never giving you a chance to breathe. You’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s pulled from you with his dick alone- four, maybe? And while he’s already cum once, he seems nowhere near done.

You fight to get out his name through the broken moans leaving your lips, eventually managing a strained, “Logan.”

Instead of responding with some sort of mocking tone or insult, he ignores you. Jesus, he’s mad.

“Logan,” you try again, whining his name as he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you.

“What?” He snaps, the way he smushes your head further into the pillow indicating that he doesn’t really want the answer.

When he keeps hitting that spot, your attempts at getting him to stop turn to muffled sobs as you cum once again, clenching around him.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He grumbles, groaning softly at the way your pussy tightens around his length. He grips you a little harder, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spills into you for the second time. Within moments, he’s hard again- really, how does he do that?- and you’re back to being used like a stress toy.

It's mind-numbing, a mix of pleasure and pain that has you reeling from every thrust. He keeps angling himself to hit you in the spot he knows makes you cum every single time without fail, and you curse yourself for letting him get to know your body so well as he pulls another orgasm out of you, his name falling from your lips.

When he’s cum a third time and continues to ignore your pleas, you try to squirm away from him. But your body is exhausted, and even at your full strength you’d be no match for him.

"Uh-uh." He grabs you by the hair and pulls your head back, his other hand keeping a firm grip on your hips so he can keep plowing into you. "You wanted this, you fuckin' brat. You're not goin' anywhere."

"Logan." You plead, tears starting to stream down your face. It's too much, he's everywhere, and you feel like his cock might actually fucking kills you. What a way to die.

"Nah, don't give me that shit." He yanks on your hair, and you cry out in pain. "You started this, sweetheart. You're the one who couldn't go a few goddamn days without my fuckin' attention. Be grateful you got it."

"But-"

The hand that's gripping your hips comes down on your ass, hard, the already sensitive skin stinging even more from the blow. "No buts. You get what you get, you hear me?"

When you don't answer, he spanks you again. More tears well up in your eyes, your protests reduced to incoherent babbling as his cock continues to assault you mercilessly.

"I could've tied you down, made you watch me touch myself. Or edged you until you were beggin' me for forgiveness. Maybe made you hump my boot like the slut you are." He growls, delivering another harsh smack to your ass. "I gave you what you fuckin' wanted. Deal with it."

As shameful as it is to admit, the idea of what else he could have done to you and the angry tone he speaks in is the thing that sends you tumbling over the edge once again.

He barks out a laugh, smacking your ass a few more times just to hear the way you cry for him.

"Please- Logan, I'm sorry-"

He releases your hair, and for one stupid, fleeting second you think he might be finished with you.

Instead he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into a headlock, holding you up effortlessly, his bicep flexing against your throat as he thrusts into you with a renewed vigor.

"Shut up." He snarls in your ear, letting the hand that was grabbing your hips snake down to your clit.

If you'd been overwhelmed with the pleasure before, you were fucking dying now. Drowning in it, suddenly thrown over the edge again by those perfect little circles. His grip is tight, the lack of oxygen making your head fuzzy, and you barely register the way you're drooling onto his muscles.

"That's better." He adjusts his grip to give you a little more room to breathe, letting your cries of pleasure ring throughout the room as they begin to turn to pleas for mercy once more.

"Lo-"

He doesn't let you get a word out, spanking you as he buries himself deep inside, his seed spilling into you, filling you up even more thoroughly. His bicep flexes against you, once again adjusting to choke you just a little less.

"Better get comfy, sweetheart." You can hear the sharp grin in his voice as he begins to move again, fingers returning to the sweet torture he's inflicting upon your clit. "We're gonna be here all night."

tags: @flowersforbucky @thinkinonsense @gewrgia-black @wlwloverwrites @buckybarneswife125 @sweetverine @dilfverines @wchswift @namikyento @lokirogersgirl @nymphoniah @logansdoe @robo-writing @atleastpleasetelephone @r0ttedcherubim @logaenhowlett @th3mrskory @pidgeypidge-pidge @lostinlovingrevery @rosenclaws @cenviswasteland @lubdubology @trr3rr @sacredsorceress @howlettsangel @dixie-isnt-cool @blythesarchives @loganismybodyguard

(this is the taglist for my logan howlett one-shots. if anyone would like to be added to or removed from this taglist, or would specifically prefer to only be tagged for f!, m!, or gn! reader, please let me know!)

#cas one shots #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett xmen #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #70s logan

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kurooh · 2 months ago

Text

WICKED GAMES !

⊹₊˚. DESC — hawks is stuck at a dumpy strip club with dabi until you come along to help him in more ways than one. / or, hawks’ initiation and corruption, all at once.

wc. 8.8k

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, stripper / strip club au, threesome, manipulation, spit roasting, oral [m/f rec], unprotected sex, public-ish sex, degradation, some alcohol, pussy slaps, creampie, rough sex.

hawks has better things to do than sit around with dabi, wasting his time in a dumpy strip club somewhere deep in the brightly lit maze of kabukicho. it didn’t surprise him in the least that he’d been dragged out this way, but it stresses him out, makes his feathers quiver with unease. he’s in too deep with the league, risking his public image just to appease someone who he considers half friend, half enemy.

strip clubs are meant to be hot, enjoyable places; patrons are not typically agitated, unable to stop twitching in their seats. despite looking like it’s closing down from the outside, the club surprisingly booms with some life, including that of japan’s number two hero.

“throwing a tantrum, hero? as i recall, you agreed to come here if you lost the bet.”

dabi just likes to rub his luck into hawks’ face, electric blue eyes following each movement of his twitchy wings. he tends to write off all the movement, assuming that it’s just something that comes along with the quirk, just like his resistance to colder temperatures. feeling like he’s being pinned down by that sneer, hawks draws his wings in close to his back, shooting a golden glare at his snarky co-conspirator.

dabi couldn’t begin to understand any of the hero’s concerns about reputation and the press, or anything positive concerning the fickle public eye. all hawks needs are a few negative news reports and his cover as a two-timer is completely blown, leaving the public safety commission and the rest of the country in limbo.

“you switched it up on me, dabi,” he purses his lips, miffed. “if i were in my right mind, i’d be gone by now.”

“too bad you’re in your left. you agreed to stay an hour, and you’re going to,” dabi smirks, pleased by any opportunity to get under hawks’ skin. he’s always got something to say, and he’s endlessly amusing—so damn easy to piss off or tease. a scarred arm is happily thrown around hawks’ shoulders, only aggravating him all the more. “now, loosen up and enjoy the fucking show.”

it’s uncomfortably hot in this establishment, all too humid for his liking. too many people are packed into the tiny club at once, and a miasma of sweat and sex hangs in the air, practically emanating from the shoddy walls. raunchy posters plastered around the club peel halfway off the walls and add nothing nice to the atmosphere, only making it look all the more trashy. fading bass booms out through the speakers, either because the song is coming to an end or because the speakers need to be replaced. not to mention, dabi’s like a bloodhound: picking up on traces of discomfort or annoyance and exploiting it in ways that will bring him the most entertainment. hawks rudely shrugs off the weight and tries not to act too sour, planning to block out his surroundings for the fifty five minutes he has left.

it’s bad in here, with every little noise making his wings tingle urgently—he can hear the pants of onstage strippers, the groans of men getting lapdances in the back, and footsteps in every single direction.

he lifts his drink with a small sigh, appreciating the cool burn that the alcohol leaves in its wake. the strippers on the stage shake some more ass to the fleeting beat before stuffing bills into their thongs and slipping off the stage to mingle with customers. hawks steals a glance toward dabi, searching his face for any interest in the scene unfolding before them. lazily leaning back in his chair, a foot propped up on the edge of the table, dabi swishes his whiskey around in the glass and regards the stage with an unreadable look.

god, this is so fucking annoying. hawks was dragged here and threatened, only for his abductor to not even end up enjoying himself. sulkily, he recounts the events of his relationship with dabi, finally able to focus now that all the noise starts to hush as an air of quiet settles over the club. dabi could be interested in corrupting him, leading him into a life full of nightly visits to strip clubs and shared cigarettes on public sidewalks; dabi also could’ve just taken him here because hawks had unintentionally admitted that he’d never been to a strip club over beers with the league.

red stage lights melt into a mix of pink and purple. dabi sniffs, tipping back the rest of his whiskey and setting the glass down onto the table. at least the electrical system’s running well.

a quieter, darker song begins to play, melodic vocals flowing through the speaker. this is certainly a far cry from what had just been reverberating through the club, and some of the tension ebbs away from his tense shoulders. hawks isn’t familiar with this song; he hasn’t heard it through his feathers when heading down the streets beside endeavor, and doesn’t quite recognize the artist.

the barest expressions of awe are written across the faces of many of the club’s patrons, something that definitely piques his interest—sharp gold eyes flick over to dabi, just in time to catch the unmistakable lifting of the villain’s scarred lips. after spending so much time around him, hawks has come to memorize some of dabi’s many facial expressions; this isn’t his usual smarmy smirk or scowl he wears around his colleagues.

of course he’d brighten up in a place like this! hawks has never seen that much appreciation when he goes out of his way to snag a bag of pretzels for that goddamn ingrate.

an annoyed huff slips out of him, and he looks toward the stage, chin propped up on his fist.

i left my girl back home, i don’t love her no more / and she’ll never fucking know that

a shadowy figure can be seen at the far back of the stage; draped in lace, you step out into the glow of the colorful lights, skin illuminated by hues of pinks and purples. you sway to the music, hooking a leg around the pole and giving a sultry spin that actually impresses hawks. each movement is purposeful and punctuated with an elegance he didn’t expect to see in a place like this. he gasps quietly, then covers it up with a hacking cough before dabi can look over, earning himself some unnecessary glares from nearby patrons.

the lace snugly hugs the curves and slopes of your body, standing out against your skin while your heels catch and reflect the overhead stage lights. through lidded eyes, you look out into the audience, allowing yourself to sway and swing against the pole in a way that is more tantalizing than it should be. you’re someone he’s never met, but judging by the way you carry yourself, you’re not just anyone—certainly not to the people in the club, who look on, just as entranced as he is. through his feathers, he can hear the bartender’s rag against a glass stop moving as they pause to watch you.

like a shooting star across the night sky, your eyes are twinkling as you skim over everyone in the sea of faces. it’s a clear sign of enjoyment, and your head tips forward to his table. a small smile tugs at your glossy lips when your eyes land on him, and warmth simmers under the skin of his cheeks. hawks’ charm is a practiced, polished facade, but he knows when someone’s checking him out, understands why they are. flattered, his red feathers puff out behind him.

bring your love, baby, i could bring my shame / bring the drugs, baby, i could bring my pain

hawks is suddenly grateful for dabi’s insistence to sit so close to the stage. he’d never admit it, but if he gets to finish watching this magnetic dance, this will have been his most successful trip to a strip club in his entire life. you’re not even finished and he already knows that nothing could ever top this; it’s hard not to look so damn starstruck, and as if dabi can hear his thoughts, he scoffs, shaking his head like he’s just thought of something funny.

bills are tossed onto the stage from all directions, floating in the air and drifting toward the floor like autumnal leaves. praise is given in the forms of drunken cheers, shrill wolf whistles, and money—none of it impedes your rhythm, heels clicking with each graceful step. another playful grind against the pole, and you’re strutting to the edge of the stage, hands set on your swaying hips. you’re close, close enough for hawks to catch a whiff of sweet perfume and steal a glance at the intricate lace adorning the edge of your panties.

you’re some kind of angel, too alluring to be just human. everything about you is too graceful to have been learned, too fucking perfect to be normal. he notices that he’s breathless, feathers absorbing the sounds of your soft breaths and delicate footwork across the floor.

just let me motherfuckin’ love you / listen, ma, i’ll give you all i got / get me off of this

for a moment, you bask in the limelight, chest rising and falling just enough for him to notice. hawks reaches for his glass, covering up the lower half of his face with the wide rim to hide the flush high on his cheekbones. you turn, heading back to the pole, but you make sure to throw him a heated look over your shoulder. it’s as if you’re both clued in on a secret, and the idea of sharing anything with you makes him sick with desire. a drink, a handshake, a kiss—he inhales sharply, wanting to focus on the rest of your dance.

you drop into a squat, glossy lips parting for breath as your thighs spread open widely, panties threatening to tug too far to the side. once you’ve allowed the visual to sink in longer than necessary, only inviting more tips and cheers, you sway to each side to bring your knees closer, a giggle slipping out of you when you’re pulling yourself to your feet. it doesn’t last for long; the air is practically punched out of hawks’ lungs when you swish your hips to the music, curling a leg around the pole to perform an impressive whirl around.

so tell me you love me, only for tonight / only for the night / even though you don’t love me

his wings are tingling by the time you slide to the floor with an arch of your back, something bittersweet rising on his tongue. he’s frustrated, so frustrated—he wants to talk to you, get to know you better in a private room in the back. talking would be better than a dance, but he definitely wouldn’t turn you down if you offered.

by the time the dance inevitably ends, hawks feels like he’s crashing back down to earth like a meteor, blood running hot and thrumming hard in his ears. if he could, he’d keep watching, soaking in the sight of you and letting it dominate his thoughts. it’s unusual that he’s so bothered by something like this, something of dabi’s doing; he’d allow himself to think further into it if he wasn’t so busy focusing on the swing of your hips as you head down the little steps at the corner of the stage. you’re looking at him like he’s a bullseye you’re aiming for with a bow and arrow, eyes set on him as you ignore the advances and conversation starters of other patrons.

hawks is caught in your orbit, wanting nothing more than to spin closer in ways that would likely spoil some, if not all of his reputation as the no. 2 hero of japan. out of his control, a few pesky feathers start to twitch noticeably as you come closer, the soft sound of your footsteps becoming louder against the booming club music. what will he say to you? how can he come off in the best way possible, make himself look a little better than he is? his mind is racing with deliberations, so many coming all at once that he doesn’t quite notice the way you step past him until it’s too late.

his head swivels to the side, where he takes in the scene with indignance and disappointment flaring hotly in his chest. the angel of the club—his nickname for you, since he doesn’t know your name yet—is fraternizing with dabi! hawks blanches, all the color draining from his face. don’t tell me, he thinks desperately, you were looking at dabi the whole time. it feels like he’d been swinging high and happily on a swing, and the chains have just broken, sending him catapaulting to the ground. he wants to shriek in embarrassment, frustration practically seeping through his pores as he struggles to haul his jaw up and off the floor.

“look what the cat dragged in,” you say, voice lilting teasingly; it pulls him back to reality, and hawks is suddenly aware of how long he’d been spacing out. “you two must be good friends, if he got you to come down here.”

dabi, the ‘he’ in question, lets out a huff and nudges the tip of his boot against an empty seat at the table. “we’re not friends, and he lost a bet.”

“i lost a bet,” hawks echoes, trying to shake life back into his droopy feathers. “sunshine over here threatened to incinerate me, so i couldn’t get out of it.”

you look toward his wings, admiring them unabashedly. it’s an odd feeling, having the no. 2 hero of japan this close to you—and in a strip club, no less. it’d be a shame to see something so beautiful be reduced to ash, all over some kind of stupid bet. hawks doesn’t miss the frown you direct toward his colleague, lips tugging downwards in disapproval.

dabi grunts, tone derisive. “you’d feel the same if you were stuck with this chicken all day.”

hawks lets the jab slide, clearing his throat as though he never heard it at all. “i’ve never seen so many people quiet down when a dancer gets on the stage.” you offer him a little smile, noticing the barely concealed awe in his voice.

“you’ve never seen the inside of a strip club, birdbrain,” dabi’s quick remark is like a sharp needle, sticking right into a vein in his forehead. obviously, he’s trying to make hawks look stupid in front of you, because you’re friends or lovers, something he hasn’t distinguished quite yet. the vein throbs, inspiring a headache that dabi’s entirely at fault for. hawks’ nose whistles softly when he breathes in, an apologetic grin splitting across his face. he’s not sure what he’s trying to apologize for—how awkward he is, or dabi’s rudeness that you’re probably familiar with.

he plays it off with a breezy laugh. “should’ve taken me sooner, dabi.”

this gets the villain’s attention. his head lifts up and off the backing of the chair, electric blue eyes pinning hawks down, searching his face intently—searching for a shred of sincerity or truth. dabi’s unable to believe it, smirking as the cogs in his brain function, certainly coming up with some kind of competition. “oh, don’t tell me,” he starts, a scornful cackle bursting out of him, “you’re tired of toeing the line, hero?”

with a raise of his brows, hawks slips back into his casual charm. he may not wear anything but a visor on his face, but this is his mask; unlike the material of heroes’ costumes, this one rarely comes off. he looks at dabi, gold meeting turquoise as he challenges the villain right back. “yeah. i have been, since before i got involved with the league, dabi.”

back and forth.

push and pull.

this is simply how it is. their dynamic is not practiced or understood in either black or white; you’re lucky to witness it in all its intensity, and the air warms with what is undoubtedly dabi’s quirk. their staring match lasts until dabi slams his hands down on the table, a manic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. hawks doesn’t even look startled, his expression cool and open, as if to welcome whatever challenge dabi’s come up with.

a drunken passerby burps into your face, fingertips brushing against your shoulder for less than a millisecond before you’re swept away by hawks. his reflexes are as fast as the papers say.

“want—wanna dance,” he slurs, offering you 150 yen clutched between stubby fingers.

dabi’s on his feet, palms sparking with flashes of blue flames. he’s in the guy’s face, but doesn’t have to say anything to make him stumble off toward his obnoxious group of friends. hawks takes a step away from you, giving you some space as he starts to sit down again, but he is unceremoniously yanked away from the chair by a strong, scarred hand.

“you’re tired of playing hero, huh?” his voice rumbles in his throat, intimidating. “fucking prove it.”

hawks’ nose crinkles. dabi’s palms grow warm, gripping tighter around a jacketed forearm.

“private room. now.”

you lead the venture to the back of the strip club, passing closed doors on either side until you finally arrive at the room at the very end of the hallway. dabi’s simmering, wound up too tight by the time you get inside; hawks watches as you lock the door behind you, likely questioning how common this practice is.

carelessly, dabi throws himself onto the couch, just barely spreading his knees.

hawks is first to break the silence. “so, dabi? we’re all here now, what’s your master plan?”

“why, you scared?” dabi flashes him a wily smile as his eyes meet yours. this back and forth isn’t quite apart of your typical routine, but you step past hawks, skin brushing lightly against his feathers. he tenses, body rippling slightly as he tries to muffle something like a shudder; for someone so composed, he seems to struggle with controlling some of his physical reactions to different stimuli.

no wonder dabi’s always toying with him.

hawks scoffs, choosing not to dignify dabi’s vitriol with a clear response. “i’m thinking about heading out. we agreed on this earlier, i don’t have to stay longer than an hour.” for further effect, he tilts up his chin, but he just looks petulant.

you take your seat on dabi’s lap, facing his colleague with doe eyes and lips jutted out in a pout. as expected, he bristles, willing himself to resist; he’s the sole captain of the skies, all day, every day—seeing him squirm as the knowledge that he isn’t control washes over his face ignites a wicked delight in your chest.

“i was hoping you’d stick around, number two,” you barely arch your back, and the band of lace sitting beneath your tits hikes up a few precarious inches. “aw, i haven’t even given you a dance yet.”

dabi emanates unnatural heat through his pants, temperature soaring as you egg hawks on. it’s clear that he’s jealous, a little possessive—but this is all apart of the game. as a hero, he needs to prove himself, show how he can endure the mildest fall from grace; mingling with dabi, at a strip club, is barely scratching the surface.

“it’s considered bad form to leave a strip club without at least one dance, hawks.”

it’s the way you say his name, the way you’re able to almost hypnotize him with the simplest of movements; this serves as the final blow in a sequence of needling attacks, finally breaking away the first wall. his ears tinge pink at the tips as he comes forward, taking a cautious seat beside dabi.

you turn around, moving further up dabi’s thighs and facing him although your eyes settle on hawks. each movement is just as perfect as it was on stage, much closer and all the more mesmerizing now that you’re finally gracing him with your attention.

“keep watching her and you’ll wait twenty minutes longer,” dabi grouses, although he makes no move to impose the same sort of restriction onto you. “i’ll fuckin’ make sure of it, birdie.”

hawks’ gold eyes move from you to dabi, who he observes rather obviously. it’s hard to pretend he doesn’t want you to be entirely focused on him, but he’ll be damned if he takes these ridiculous demands lying down. he’s a bird, not a dog.

“you’re so rude, dabi,” you giggle, playfully sticking your tongue out as you push yourself up and off of his lap. the villain is affronted, clearly bothered by your sudden absence and uncharacteristic focus on someone else. “this is my room, don’t forget that.”

pressed back against the couch, hawks’ sensitive feathers puff up, indicating his smug triumph. you’ve chosen him over dabi, for the first time tonight—he’s too excited to concern himself with how long he’ll have your favor. it takes everything he has to bite his tongue and avoid making a quip, for fear of dabi possibly taking it to heart and burning down the strip club just to make a point.

there are two major differences that distinguish the lapdance you were giving dabi and the one that you are currently giving hawks. first, you’re seated atop his crotch and pressing your chest against his. second, you’re giving him your full attention and even going so far as to nudge at or under his jaw. this is his seventh heaven, and dabi’s second circle of hell.

“oh, i—” hawks begins softly, already struggling to form a coherent sentence with you grinding all over his lap to the low music flowing into the room. it’s a smooth, sensual song much like the one you’d performed to earlier, and it only amplifies the experience more. “i didn’t quite catch your name.”

dabi snorts loudly, knee knocking into his. then, not so quietly, he mutters, “dumbass.”

you’re completely unfazed. “i didn’t get yours either.”

“hawks,” he tries, cheeks starting to burn under your gaze. “but you already know that.”

“that’s not your real name, hero,” it doesn’t take long for him to understand what you’re playing at. eye for an eye, quid pro quo. “tell me yours and i’ll tell you mine.”

you half expect him to actually do it. anyone could see how infatuated hawks is with you—they could also see the way you’re playing him like a violin, pausing in between notes to make it a little less obvious. you learned from the best, after all; many of dabi’s tricks make up your arsenal.

he chews his lip, blood rushing between his legs as he devises a way to hedge around the demand. “another time, then?”

it makes you laugh, but the sound is not as derisive as dabi’s. hawks is cute, too new to the strip club for his own good, and so damn naive. this is the last place for someone seeking honesty or connection to come to, especially this far out in kabukicho.

you’re not as much of a stranger as hawks believes you are. you’ve heard everything about him from dabi, whispered low and honest in the privacy of dark alleyways or this very room over a shared cigarette after sex. his breezy, casual demeanor is just as it was described to you, and his tendency to fluster when razzed enough is not at all an exaggeration.

“see, that’s the thing about strip clubs,” you say, gently skimming a manicured nail over his cheek, “you’re supposed to embrace the fantasy, hawks. being a hero or a villain means nothing here.”

hawks can no longer hear through his feathers, and is finding it difficult just to hear over his own heartbeat. blood pounds in his ears, sounding something like a beating drum as it blocks out dabi’s annoyed comments and the impatient tapping of his boot on the floor. the day’s tension slowly filters out of his muscles, and his body’s a little less rigid under yours, anxiety tapering away all thanks to you.

rolling your hips against his and settling both hands on his chest, right above his heart, you lean in purposefully. to give him a kiss, tell him a secret, or maybe even share a meaningful silence with him—he doesn’t expect you to do almost everything, all at once.

“you ought to come here more often,” you murmur, dangerously close to the shell of his ear. “i’d take care of you like this any time.”

if it wasn’t for this infiltration mission, hawks would drop everything and come whenever his feathers tingled at the thought of you. however, it is crucial that he is careful not to attract negative attention or do anything too out of the ordinary; frustrated, his teeth dig into his lower lip.

“i can’t just come here whenever i want.”

“hawks,” just saying his name commands his undivided attention. in an instant, his surroundings become an unimportant blur and he’s only focusing on you. “you’re always in control, aren’t you? hasn’t the thought of temporarily letting go ever crossed your mind, pretty bird?”

here we go, he thinks, although warmth flares in his chest. it’s already enough that dabi doesn’t ever stop with the bird nicknames, and now you’re starting up the same kind of thing.

your nose brushes against his neck, and your voice softens to a volume intended for his ears only. “doesn’t it feel good to be something other than perfect?”

god, yes.

his memories and thoughts become hazy at the corners when he’s in your presence, and hawks is losing the sight of the lines he’s drawn in the sand. maybe you’re right; maybe he can shed his learned, polished persona in exchange for something more real here with you.

sweet perfume curls in the air when your head moves up and away from his neck, something daring flashing across your face. it’s the kind of look that tells him you don’t expect him to say or do much, although you clearly want him to—he’s leaning in, preparing to prove you wrong, and everything’s beginning to fall into place all at once.

you are promptly tugged away, and his lips drag along your cheek, having missed the kiss.

“kissing him before me?” dabi tuts, easily seating you on his lap and guiding you toward his mouth with a rough grip on your chin. “thought i told you how much i hate being betrayed, baby.”

hawks stares. he stares so hard his eyeballs grow dry, begging him to blink or at the very least turn away from such a terrible sight.

dabi snickers against your mouth; you moan into his, eyelids fluttering shut as his hands skim the expanse of your back, fingernails grazing against soft skin. for a moment, heat simmers dangerously below the surface, desperately seeking to release ultrahot steam.

hawks’ hand finds dabi’s thigh, and he makes sure to dig into the covered flesh, squeezing hard. the villain pulls away with a laugh, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. his fingers slip under the lacy band of your underwear, allowing him to shamelessly grope your ass.

dabi reads hawks like a picture book, a smarmy smirk tugging at his mouth. “shit, you’re out of your goddamn mind if you thought you’d be her first kiss.”

“what happened to proving myself?” hawks asks, defensiveness creeping into his voice. “this whole thing was such a joke.”

“take her from me,” dabi goads, tugging a hand out of your underwear to land a sharp slap across your ass. the impact makes you squeal in surprise, hips wiggling against his own. “go ahead and fuckin’ take her from me, hawks.”

and he does just that, accepting the challenge without a shred of hesitation.

hawks kisses you hard, a gloved hand rising to the back of your neck to gingerly hold on while the tip of his tongue swipes at your lower lip. it’s fast, and the kiss spirals quickly; it was never chaste to begin with, but damn—he’s probably doing all of this just to royally piss off dabi. teeth clink against teeth, but it doesn’t deter him in the least, not when he’s already thrown caution to the wind.

your tongue swirls with his and you moan, dragging your hips over the obvious bulge in dabi’s pants. it catches nicely against the thin material of your panties, and heat burns its way through your body, pooling right in your gut. even when hawks groans, pushing closer, dabi doesn’t interfere just yet. they’re simply testing each other, seeing how far they can go before the other snaps; it’s expected from their natural rivalry.

you’re dizzy by the time you part for air, lips slick with spit and skin tingling from the scratch of his stubble. dabi regards his colleague with a face that’s half impressed, half pissed—this is the only way he expresses approval with hawks.

“didn’t think you had it in you, birdie,” dabi’s words are dripping with condescension as he hooks his fingers under the band of lace again. without being asked, you lift your hips off of his lap, wet arousal soaking through the fabric and clinging to your cunt in sticky tendrils as he slides the material down your thighs. the garment is carelessly tossed to the floor. “so fuckin’ messy for me, baby.”

he swipes a finger through your folds and sticks it into his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around it. hawks’ face is beautifully flushed, strokes of pink on his cheeks slowly spreading to his neck; his eyes gleam hungrily as he watches dabi, too interested to pull away. his pupils are large, expanding splotches of black against molten honey; his eyes are glazing over with something primal, characteristic of a bird of prey.

dabi gestures indiscriminately, a hand flipping to the side. you adjust yourself, still sitting on dabi’s lap but in a way that allows hawks to directly see the mess between your legs.

“i – dabi, please,” a whimper tumbles forth from your lips, voice soft and desperate. hawks is rock hard. “i want—i need you.”

the simple correction gets hawks’ heart racing faster than it should. you’re not even talking to him, but everything about your plea is fucking delicious. it’s the spread of your plush thighs, the excited rise and fall of your chest, the slickness of your eager cunt, and the way your eyes are lidded with desire. to be wanted—needed, by one person and on such an intimate level, is something he wouldn’t mind in the least.

dabi’s rough fingertips ghost along the tender skin of your inner thighs and he barks out a low laugh. “is this all for me?”

of course it isn’t, and he knows that. hawks had a hand in this too, after all.

his fingers are so close to where you need them to be, and you nod urgently, not wanting to risk losing his touch when you’ve almost got it. but he smacks your cunt instead, tightly holding you against his chest when a sob tears out of you, whole body thrashing in response to the unexpected impact.

“why don’t you ask hawks to get you off, huh?”

fresh tears gleam in your eyes, threatening to spill over and cascade down your cheeks. hawks feels a twinge of both pride and sympathy in his chest when you raise your chin, looking at him like you’re desperate to be wrecked by his hand. sitting up on your elbows, you spread your thighs once more, bra hiking up an inch to expose a sliver of the lower half of your tits.

“hawks,” you begin imploringly, cheeks quickly growing hot, “p-please, put your mouth on me.”

“i got you,” he coos, trying to sound smooth although the pitch of his voice betrays him. hawks adjusts himself appropriately, bends forward for you; his wings twitch as he works himself between your legs, pausing to fully take you in. there are still traces of your sweet perfume, wafting through the air and telling him you’d sprayed some right between your legs.

he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the swollen bud experimentally at first. despite his reputation, hawks hasn’t been with that many women—he’s still new to sex in some ways, but he’s seen enough porn, hasn’t he? technique matters, he thinks, but an eagerness to both learn and please should be more important, right? you gasp sharply, breath hitching in your throat when he finally gives you that long-awaited bliss you’ve been dying for since stepping out onto the stage.

the whole time, you’d been performing a flawless dance to dabi’s favorite song. it’s a sacred ritual, implicitly understood between the two of you; to patrons, it is simply another show for cash.

your fingers push through blond curls, tugging nicely when hawks’ spit-slicked fingers slide into you. he can feel the sticky ripple of your walls, gummy and hot as you bear down around him; it’s impossible not to imagine what this would feel like around his cock. you’re panting now, hips weakly thrusting upwards as you push his face further into your pussy, each stroke of his tongue scratching a lustful itch in your brain.

an irritated sigh slips out of you when he pulls up for air, bushy brows tugging in concern. it’s not like you’re verbally guiding him, so he’s not sure if he’s doing this the way you want him to.

“is this how you want—”

hawks is unable to finish his sentence, because dabi interferes, once again. he cups the back of the hero’s head, careful not to snag any staples, and slams him down hard enough to nearly break his nose.

this bitch, hawks thinks, already predicting the shape of a nasty bruise in the center of his face.

“can’t even follow a simple order,” dabi goads, a self satisfied grin stretching across his face. “she told you to put your fucking mouth on her pussy, birdbrain.”

hawks’ fingers curl, pressing right into your sweet spot. he supposes that perhaps this isn’t the time to ask any clarifying questions; clearly, neither you nor dabi have the patience or interest to answer. this room isn’t a place for tenderness, and despite your allure, the sex is entirely meaningless. he remembers where he is—a shabby strip club somewhere in the district of kabukicho, a place where morals are left at the door like shoes—and hardens.

dabi’s hand remains where it is, and listening to hawks’ gasps for breath every now and then doesn’t seem to phase him in the least. you shudder as he eats your pussy, heels digging into his shoulders as a litany of moans spill out from your lips. euphoria shoots through your veins, curling through your limbs in a way that is thoroughly intoxicating; from what you can see of hawks’ face, his cheeks are glossy with your slick. his nose is red, probably still throbbing from when it was smashed against your pubic bone.

he continues to drink you in thirstily, as if he’s been without water for days.

“hawks,” you gasp, whimpering around his name, “fuck, you’re so good. oh my god—yeah, yes, right fucking there.”

curses just keep falling from your lips, a wayward praise embedded in each word. you’re twisting in dabi’s lap and using hawks solely to get off through little humps of your hips against his face or by grinding into his fingers. he doesn’t even notice the embarrassing way he’s been rutting against the couch cushions until he shifts and feels a growing wet spot in his boxers; all the more reason to shed all of his clothes and let them join your panties on the floor.

another curl and flex of his fingers before he draws them back, beginning to scissor them in and out of your fluttering cunt.

the wet, squelching sounds are amplified through his feathers. they fill the room, his ears, and his entire head. hawks is able to acutely hear the pounding of all three hearts, the heaviness in his own breathing, and the silent creaking of the couch beneath all the weight. if the three of you were to end up fucking on top of the junky piece of furniture, it’d end up giving out pretty quickly into the endeavor.

one tear pours down your cheek and is swiftly followed by many more. “nghhh, oh my god, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop—”

your back arches off the couch and dabi’s lap, hips jerking erratically as all the euphoria hits you at once. hawks’ fingers are pushed out of you as you cum hard, whole body trembling as you ride out the pleasant wave; his face is shoved deeper into your cunt, and yet he still makes quick work of everything you have to offer him. after all, it’s the polite thing to do when treated to a meal.

dabi only lets him up when you start to whine, rearing your hips away from all the overstimulation. hawks raises his head, breathless and sputtering for air; he fixes his colleague with a teary-eyed glare. “what, dabi? trying to kill me now?”

the prominent bulge between his thighs speaks volumes otherwise. chest heaving, hawks scoots back, the lower half of his face shiny with your cum. it’s a lewd sight, the kind that makes your cheeks burn as you realize just how empty your pussy is—and how much you want to be stuffed full.

“not just yet, birdie,” dabi smiles dangerously, tilting his head to the side with an almost predatory gleam in his striking turquoise eyes. “looks like someone still wants you around.”

you mewl when his palm lightly smacks against your sensitive clit, sparks of both pain and pleasure shooting up your spine. slowly, you sit up on your knees to look at hawks with such need in your eyes he feels himself melting inside. “come here, hawks.”

oh, fuck. you’re so goddamn pretty, and although your words were framed as a request, there wasn’t much of a choice for him—he’d be out of his mind to deny you.

he comes closer, letting his eyelids fall shut as you pull him into a kiss, manicured nails lightly raking along his jaw and against his stubble. the personification of unattainable, you’re dabi’s favorite sin—and yet you kiss someone else so gently, as if you’ve been waking up by his side day in and day out. hawks doesn’t register or react to an unbuckling belt, or the slam of the metal against the floor.

rough palms stroke over your back, fingertips faintly pressing into the dimples there. dabi only laughs when you gasp into hawks’ mouth, the sound muted against his tongue; he continues to venture on, slipping his hands past your sides until he splays his fingers against your thighs. you’re feeling up hawks, pressing your hands to the hard lines of clear cut abs and wispy hair trailing up his stomach.

“you’re such a slut,” dabi leans in, sucking the tender skin of your neck between his teeth as his voice drops into a low growl. “just so goddamn greedy for dick, baby.”

why is he talking to you like that? hawks can’t help but feel indignant, close enough to smell the smoke and petroleum jelly on dabi’s skin. once, he mentioned using it before he goes to bed—something about moisturizing the staples so they don’t tear his skin as easily. hawks, heroic at heart, is ready to pull back and question dabi, until he feels and hears your responding moan against his lips.

you allow dabi to push you forward onto all fours, lips falling away from hawks’ despite being still connected with a sticky string of spit. he thumbs it away while dabi spits onto his own cock and teasingly rubs the tip between your ass cheeks—when did he take his dick out?—some kind of warm up to get you begging.

“dabi, come on,” you’re just so easy that hawks actually starts to understand dabi’s degrading comment, the dynamic between you and him. it’s something like his own, except there’s the sex and strip clubs. “i can’t – oh my god, jus’ fuck me already.”

just for that demanding, bratty tone, dabi heats up his palm and smacks it against your ass, nodding to himself when you shriek, unintentionally jerking back against his cock.

“always fuckin’ talking too much.”

“fuck you,” you bite out rudely, while hawks divests himself of his boxers. he swallows as his cock bobs in the warm air, not sure what to think when you look at it with this unreadable expression on your face. hawks is supposed to be a people person, the kind that can understand body language and the particular tells that every single person has, too natural to hide.

if he focuses hard on his feathers, spreading out his wings, he can almost discern the sound of wetness in your mouth. saliva slicks up your tongue and throat, and he realizes that you’re not judging the leftward curve of his cock, but instead sizing it up and getting ready for it.

“yeah, i’m trying to,” dabi grunts, cursing under his breath. “god, fuck.”

then he notices the unusual quiver of hawks’ vermilion wings, the puffing of his feathers, and the bright flush high on his cheeks. it’s pretty much spread to the hero’s chest and dabi just wonders how embarrassed his colleague must be. out of his depth in a place he’d never voluntarily go to, about to fuck someone he’s hasn’t formally met or introduced himself to, and with dabi of all people on the other side, directly facing him. dabi’s eyes meet his, the look lasting as long as the flash of a digital camera, and a smugness swells in his chest.

hawks hasn’t quite proved himself yet, but he will.

you complain again, although your heart-filled eyes are glued to hawks’ cock.

he inhales sharply through his nose, feeling the metal piercings grow warm with his aggravation. “just shut her up already, hawks.”

hawks slips his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so he can look at you; desire swims in pools of gold, his eyes pouring into yours. “guess you’re the boss. open wide for me, baby.”

the head of his thick cock is leaking with sticky precum that gets onto your lips when he nudges his hips forward, a sigh escaping him at the contact. you do open wide, practically drooling by the time his heavy cock is sitting against your tongue; it’s a tight fit, but goddamn is it worth the stretch—a few stray feathers fall away from his wings, littering the floor. his head tips back, and the rosy column of his throat gleams with sweat under the light; the number two hero of japan looks nothing less than appetizing.

despite the gagging and sting of tears in your eyes, you power through, pushing further and further. each inch is one step closer to heaven, which he finally reaches at the back of your throat. hawks’ cock throbs, and he shakily pushes a hand through his hair, shoving it out of his face.

“isn’t she just impressive?”

you start to choke, teary lashes fluttering, when dabi finally presses his own cock inside of you. it’s long, fraught with veins, and big enough to leave you feeling full for days afterward—body and mind. an obscene mixture of hawks’ spit and your slick gathers on dabi’s cock as he grips your hips and pushes in, the heated silver spheres along his length dragging deliciously against your walls.

in the beginning, when you’d first seen dabi’s cock, both worry and excitement coursed through you. the ladder of silver piercings embedded along the underside of his cock was nothing short of intimidating; in retrospect, there wasn’t much point in worrying. he still split you open and fucked you until you forgot your name; the piercings are only a lucky addition to the package.

“she likes havin’ her throat fucked,” dabi rasps, sneering, “give her what she needs instead of sitting around, birdbrain.”

“shut the fuck up, dabi,” hawks rolls his hips forward, breath catching once he feels the squeezing and tightening of your throat around him. it’s . . better than anything he could’ve ever imagined, silky smooth and gripping him like a vice. “oh my god—hah, s-so pretty like this.”

another experimental roll of his hips, and you let him slip a little deeper.

while hawks develops a sloppy, rough-at-the-edges pace into your throat, dabi is keenly aware of his colleague’s disappointing performance. because he’s an asshole, he points it out.

“forget i said anything, birdie,” and the disappointment is so pronounced in his words that hawks quickly reaches the end of his rope. he’s not one to swear often, but when he does, each word is said with enough weight to reveal how he really feels. dabi and his commission handlers are the only ones who hit the nerve that makes him transform into a sailor.

“what?” he snaps, accidentally thrusting with too much force. it makes you choke loudly, and you suck in air through your nose, eyes stinging with tears. he’s still defensive, but he bends and thumbs it away, murmuring an apology before returning to glare at dabi.

“that,” dabi supplies unhelpfully, languidly rocking his hips against your ass, “fucking like a hero is so goddamn pathetic. do you really think she needs all that sweetness? she’s a slut, so fuck her like one or don’t fuck her at all.”

hawks does pause at this. a glance at your face reveals a depraved greed for more; dabi’s right. you fuck villains, not heroes. you practically told him that earlier, when you were riding his cock through his pants—god, he needs to remember his place here. how many times has he come to this kind of conclusion in the past hour?

gently, as if he’s handling a glass figurine, hawks’ hand cups the back of your head. your heart sinks a little; you thought that dabi’s small speech would knock enough sense into him, but maybe hawks is too much of a hero. old habits die hard, or whatever.

but then, he fills his lungs with air and slams you down. your nose brushes against his pubes, and your arms nearly melt into useless jelly under you.

“hell yeah,” dabi’s getting serious now, arousal ripping through his body. this is a real tag team.

hawks’ entire demeanor seems to change. muscles ripple under his skin, all of them pulling taut like a bow string as he uses your throat, finally taking hold of the opportunity that’s been presented to him. the commission decides everything for him—how he acts in public or in interviews, how he’ll talk with dabi to extract information about the league, and even what he can or cannot have in his home.

it’s time to take control for once, he thinks bitterly, thoughts foggy with arousal, this is the one thing that the commission isn’t all over when it comes to their star. hawks’ wings spread out, beating the air and producing a cold breeze that cuts through all of the heat inside this little room. he shudders, forgetting about everything that had concerned him before as he enjoys the moment, no longer acting. it feels so sweet to have some goddamn control for once, especially the kind that doesn’t slip through his fingers as quickly as it got into his hands.

dabi grunts, his hand locating the softness above your pubic bone. it’s already hard to breathe, with hawks shoving his dick down your throat and dabi fucking out all the air you manage to inhale through your nose—dabi just makes it ten times harder, pressing down forcefully.

stars flash across your vision and you moan, throwing your ass back onto him as best you can. being plowed from both ends—double stuffed—is another level of pleasure, as overwhelming as it is.

with your mouth forced open and your cunt being pounded into oblivion, it doesn’t surprise dabi when you start to slump, tired of holding yourself up. it does, however, piss him off; he didn’t spend all that time stretching out your throat with his dick for nothing, and those marathon sessions weren’t just because he was pent up. he grabs at your hair, wrapping it around his fist and dragging you up, forcing your back into an arch.

“keep that fuckin’ arch, you hear me?” dabi’s demand cuts through the steam filling the room and hawks’ choked groans, too clear to even dare to ignore. there’s nothing to do but nod, a whine slipping out from your bulging throat.

you really are an obedient slut.

“good girl, just like that,” he praises shortly afterward, voice lilting into something almost flattering.

the couch creaks dangerously, yawning under all the weight and movement. it’s an old piece of junk that has finally reached its limit, but nobody hears it. you’re too busy slutting yourself out to hear it; hawks doesn’t care at all; dabi’s inspired to go harder.

hawks’ orgasm sneaks up on him. heat coils tightly in his gut, and each thrust into your throat makes his tip throb with euphoric sensitivity; he looks at you, noticing the streaks of mascara infused tears running down your cheeks and the drool streaking down your chin, dripping onto the couch. his heart swells in his chest, beating right in his dick, and he knows right then and there that he’s fucking done for.

the final, warning moan is everything but villainous, and he can’t bring himself to care.

“oh, i—” hawks’ abs clench, a few beads of sweat racing down between the ridges of muscle and disappearing in the trimmed hair of his pelvis, “hah, fuck. cumming, baby, please—”

dabi lets go of your hip, fingers searching for your clit. once he finds the swollen, sensitive bud, he pinches it—hard enough to push you right over the edge and into bliss. it’s a messy mix of orgasms, with hawks cumming thick and hot down your throat as you squeeze around dabi’s cock, cunt tremoring from the strength of it.

dabi is last, but seeing you and hawks fall apart was entirely worth the wait. “fuck—” he groans, biting down into his lower lip hard enough to taste the unmistakable tang of blood, “f-fuckin’ take it all, greedy pussy can never get enough.”

he babbles on, muttering unintelligible curses and filth until the euphoria hits him like a high, finally shutting him up. you can feel the smooth metal of his piercings pressing deep as his cock twitches, spilling hot cum against your cervix. it’s the kind of load that’ll prevent you from going back onstage—as if your legs could handle it after this sort of event, damn—soaking through your panties and running down your thighs to show the whole club what you’d just gotten up to. cum pours out from your abused hole, splattering your skin with gooey white as it drips onto the wrecked couch. dabi loves to see you in white—covered either in lace or his own cum.

the stench of sweat and sex hangs in the air, hot and heavy with silence. dabi lets your hair go, making sure to keep his softening cock inside of you as he lounges against the armrest of the couch to catch his breath. hawks carefully pulls away, shaking out his wings and flopping back against the cushions.

“ready to head back to your cage, birdbrain?” dabi pants out, rubbing a hand over your back as you stretch out, exhausted. then his lips pull into a mean smirk. “might wanna rough up your handlers while you’re at it. you’re in.”

hawks’ head spins. he parrots the words back. “i’m in?”

“the league. no turning back now, hawks.”

☆ ☆

hawks still remembers the date and time of what ended up being a two hour long visit at the strip club in kabukicho. he returns a few weeks later, despite being ordered not to hang around these kinds of areas anymore (some reports with photos had been aired online), but he doesn’t give a damn. the thin skin under his eyes is dark with a lack of sleep and too many missions piled onto his back. he never heard anything from dabi about staying away (not that he can recall), so it must be okay.

he makes it right before you get onto the stage, sitting down in a chair heavily. it’s the same singer playing through the speakers, but it’s not the same song as last time. nonetheless, your movements are languid, body flowing like water against the pole. everything is almost the same as his last trip here, except this time, you strut up to him after the performance and seat yourself in his lap, purring into his ear.

“came back to see me, pretty bird?”

“why else would i come here?”

with eyeshadow shimmering under the club lights, you grin as if you know something he doesn’t. “perhaps you’ve developed a penchant for lapdances. who knows what you’ve been up to since the last time we saw one another?”

808 notes · View notes

stellamarielu · 3 months ago

Text

blurred lines II

joel miller x female reader

read part one here

summary: after the little stunt you pulled last night, joel can't bring himself to be in the same room as you. he's canceling his weekly plans to join your dad for sunday night football, and you're fed up with the awkward tension which leads you marching right over to his place determined to fix the problem.

content: nswf, 18+, dbf!joel, age gap, a sprinkle of angst, pet names [duh its joel], lots of praise, fingering, penetration, riding that man like a mechanical bull, unprotected sex, joel finishing in reader without explicit permission, basically just smut with very little plot let's go!

author's note: i need joel miller circa 2003 like i need air in my lungs, so of course i had to write a part 2 for this one

“What're you doin' here?”

Joel hadn’t expected to see you standing directly in front of him holding a Tupperware bowl when he opened his front door.

“Brought you some Chili.” You were stating nonchalantly as if he should’ve been expecting your company.

He had flaked on your dad tonight. Of course he had.

After what happened last night, you didn’t expect him to show his face at your house like he normally did every Sunday, but it didn’t stop his excuse of feeling “under the weather” from pissing you off.

You made things complicated when you decided to call him last night. Why couldn’t you have kept it together and just called an uber instead?

You spent the entire day feeling guilty and embarrassed and even though you tried to blame your inappropriate advances on the alcohol you’d consumed, you knew it wasn’t the real reason you crossed a line in the backseat of his truck.

After he got out of coming over for the game, you watched the empty seat on your couch that he usually occupied and let the guilt eat you alive. Him and your dad should have been drinking beers and yelling at TV together, but instead your dad just sat in silence.

You couldn’t handle it— you needed to talk to Joel. You weren’t sure what you would even say to him, but before you knew it, you were packaging up leftovers and telling your dad you were taking dinner to Joel and Sarah during halftime.

“Is Sarah home?”

You were asking and looking over Joel’s shoulder, the leftovers still warm in your hands.

“No-“

He’d hardly responded when you pushed past him and into the familiar territory of his living room, cutting straight to the chase.

“Why didn’t you come over tonight?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.” His voice was laced with annoyance at your question.

He was standing a few feet away, still by the front door. Watching as you angrily stormed into his house, setting the Tupperware down on the coffee table.

“Okay, but you didn’t have to lie to my dad.”

You were coming in hot. You needed this to be over so you could stop feeling so embarrassed and remorseful about the whole thing.

“Oh, your right, I should’ve just told him I almost fucked his daughter so it’d be kinda weird for me to come over.” Joel was scoffing as he leaned against a nearby wall, folding his arms over his chest. Your skin was burning at his words.

“Look I’m sorry for making things weird, but can we just move on? I don’t want to be the reason you don’t come around anymore. You’re like my dad’s only friend.”

“Then why’d you do it?” His voice was rough, almost like he was angry with you, but his eyes told a different story. They were gentle— carefully watching your expression as you wracked your brain for an answer.

“Because…” You were trying to avoid his eyes but it was nearly impossible given the way he was staring so intently at you from across the room.

You started out so firm but now you were crumbling. His tender gaze picking away at you, wildling you down into a pile of nerves.

“I don’t know Joel, let’s just drop it. I’ll keep to myself from now on and we can just pretend like nothing happened. Just please don’t let this effect your friendship with my dad.”

Joel chuckled at your words, an amused smile forming on his lips— Like this is something that could be easily forgotten.

“Why’d you ask me to pick you up.” The smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it had formed. His demeanor was serious again as he revisited the objective of the conversation. The memory of you touching yourself in his car standing between you like an undeniable presence the room.

“What do you mean? I was out drinking and needed a ride.” You were trying to keep it together but there was a hint of hesitation in your words.

“Yeah, but anyone could’ve given you a ride. Why’d you call me at 2am.”

His eyes were locked on yours, heavy and sincere.

“What do you want me to say Joel?"

here you go.

"Do you just want me to keep embarrassing myself? I didn’t want anyone else to pick me up. I wanted it to be you. I wanted an excuse to see you.” You were huffing out the words in a quiet voice, too mortified to speak above a whisper.

“Thought that was pretty obvious when I had my hand between my legs in the backseat of your truck.”

Your words were left ringing in the silent room as Joel just stared, his expression stuck in concentration.

“Happy now?” You were deadpanning with a wave of your hands. Why wasn't he saying anything? You couldn’t read his expression and it was infuriating.

“Very.”

One word was all he said as he pushed himself off the wall, his arms still loosely crossed over his chest. He was taking small steps in your direction and your entire body froze.

“I’ve been tryin’ to convince myself all day that you were just drunk last night. That the only reason you did such a filthy fuckin’ thing was because you were horny off one too many vodka sodas.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke, his body now within reach.

“I needed to tell myself it wasn’t because you like me.” His eyes were glued to you.

“Needed to convince myself that ya weren’t bein’ all sweet touchin' yourself like that because ya wanted me to fuck you.”

He was taking another step, the gap between you dwindling down with every word he spoke.

“Because if that was the case, if ya did do it on purpose...” He paused, letting his eyes rake down your body. Taking his time before he continued, his stare lingering on your lips.

“Do ya know how hard it was for me to keep my fuckin’ hands to myself?” He was so close, you could see his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath he took.

His stare was dense and all you could think about was how you’d never been this close to him before.

“Joel…” You meant to whisper his name as a warning but instead it came out as a pathetic whimper; only encouraging another inevitable step over the blurred line of your relationship.

He was leaning in, and you weren’t stopping him.

“This is such a bad fuckin’ idea.” He avoided your lips and ducked his head into your neck, his whisper landing right below your ear and you could feel his breath on your skin.

“I don’t care.” The words were a rushed hum as your fingers found the nape of his neck. You suddenly felt desperate to have his lips on you.

“Please.”

That word had Joel spiraling. God, hearing you beg for him like that, he needed to hear it again. Wanted to hear it fall from your lips over and over again while he had you sitting on his cock.

“You said you think about me when you touch yourself.” Joel’s voice was a hum against your skin as his lips finally connected with your neck. He was placing a long drawn-out kiss right beneath your jaw before pulling away just enough for more words to make their way from his mouth.

“Tell me what you think about.” His breathless whisper on your body made you dizzy, sending your fingertips clutching into this hair- desperate to find something to tether you back to earth.

“I think about the way it’d feel- when you touch me.” Another pitiful whine.

“Touch you where?” His words were barely audible as he continued placing gentle kisses down the side of your neck.

“Joel…”

“C’mon sweetheart, you were so brave tellin’ me what ya wanted last night. Don’t get all shy on me now.” His voice was low and rough- intoxicating.

“Think about your fingers in me. How they’re so much bigger than mine. How good they’d feel filling me up.”

You were reaching for one of his hands as you spoke, holding it in front of you and tracing his palm before you pressed your hands together, his was so big and rough compared to yours.

Then he was intertwining your fingers together and using the hold to pull you into him, your bodies flushed together. A groan left his mouth sending a sweet vibration into your skin.

“There she is.” He was murmuring into the crook of your neck, his hands finding your waist and gripping tight, pulling your hips closer. He absorbed your frame in his own, the muscle of his body solid and sturdy against yours.

Joel felt like he was dreaming.

After he got home from dropping you off last night, he barely made it to his room before he was yanking down his jeans and wrapping his hand around his dick. The images of your fingers pushed deep inside of you were pulled from his memory, making him finish in record time. He thought about you all night. He couldn’t even sleep as visions of you filled his mind; you curling your fingers into his hair with his head between your legs, you on your knees for him, you with your head buried into his pillow and your perfect ass pushed back while he railed into you from behind. He thought about nearly every sexual scenario possible and now you were here, your soft body like putty in his hands.

“Let’s see then.” His voice was low as he kissed your neck one last time, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes.

“See if I can make ya come on my fingers yeah?”

There was a soft smile on his lips conflicting with his sinful heavy-lidded stare. His hands were unruly as he explored your figure, dipping beneath the material of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin on his fingertips.

“Wanted to see it last night, could barely hold myself back from pushin’ your pretty little hand out of my way so I could be the one makin’ ya feel good.”

One of his hands remained on the skin just above the waistband of your jeans while the other trailed up your body until it was on your face.

Joel’s hand was carefully caressing your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your skin. The act was reminiscent of the way he was rubbing your thigh not even 24 hours ago, and the recollection had you clenching your thighs together. You let your mind wonder back to the dirty things Joel said to you last night; the way he watched with a predatory glare as you fingered yourself in front of him. You were lost in the echo of it all until Joel caught you off guard, crashing his lips into yours.

His kiss was heavy. The weight of unspoken feelings and undeniable tension fueling the way his lips molded into yours. Your shared desire was finally being dealt with and the relief was almost palpable in the liberation of his mouth on yours.

Your lips were tangled in a messy embrace as Joel ushered you backwards until you felt the back of your legs hit the couch.

His lips were following as you flopped down on the cushions, his body leaning forward between your legs. The kiss didn’t lose any momentum as his hands pulled at your jeans. You were arching off the couch assisting Joel as he slid the denim down your legs, breaking the kiss to watch you kick them off your body completely.

He had been aching to see you like this again. Legs spread and chest heaving. Only this time he didn’t have to hold back. He could touch you; see what you looked like with his fingers knuckles deep in your sweet little cunt.

At that reminder Joel was reaching a hand down to feel you through your panties, his fingertips tracing the outline of your swollen lips, already wet beneath your underwear.

“Fuck sweetheart you’re soaked.”

The hot sticky evidence of your arousal was seeping through the cotton material, causing Joel to let out an animalistic groan. He hadn’t even touched you yet and he was losing all sense of control.

He continued running his fingers over the ruined material, circling your clit over the clothing.

You were already writhing under his touch, which you normally would’ve considered pathetic, but not now. Not when you had been waiting for this exact moment. Now that it was really unfolding, you were proud of yourself for not taking his hand in your own and shoving his fingers where you really needed them.

He kept circling slowly and intricately, still leaning over you— his face inches from yours.

“That feel good?” His voice was a sweet murmur as you moaned in response.

He was pleased by your answer, pushing your panties to the side and dipping a single finger into your entrance. His digit was gently pressing into you as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

Letting you bathe in satisfaction for only a second, he was retreating. Pulling his thick finger from your core before pushing it back between your wet folds, only this time adding a second along with it.

You were immediately reaching for his forearm, grabbing it instinctively, looking for something to hold onto while you went braindead with pleasure. You were biting down on your lip as he leisurely pumped his fingers in and out of you, scared of the obscene noises you would make if you didn’t.

“Let me hear ya baby.” Joel was smiling down at you with a devious grin. He could see the way you were suppressing your moans. He wanted to hear you; wanted to know how good he was making you feel, wanted to hear the pretty sounds you made when you came around his fingers.

You let your mouth fall open. The whimper that fell out upon hearing his words prompted Joel to push his fingers further into you, curling when he felt the spongey warmth of your walls tightening.

He could tell by the moan rolling off your tongue that he had found a favorable spot deep in your core. He kept his fingers bending in the perfect position as he peered down at you.

The sight beneath him had his hips bucking into nothing. You with your head thrown back on his couch; eyes shut, brows furrowed and jaw slack. After last night he thought he’d never see something so glorious again, but now you were proving him wrong. You looked so beautiful like this— all fucked-out with his hand between your legs.

The deliberate curl of his fingers with each plunge was sending you reeling as you let profanities bubble up in your throat. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release Joel added the pressure of his thumb on your clit.

“You gonna come already?” His words were sprinkled with amusement as he felt you clenching around his fingers.

“Joel…” His name was a moan on your lips, and you were digging your fingers into his forearm, desperate to hold yourself steady as your body tensed.

“Fuck- you’re gonna come.” He was grunting as his fingers kept their pace. You were mewling out his name and nodding your head in desperation as you felt the coil inside you pulling tighter, ready to snap.

“Let me have it baby.” Joel was nearly begging you to let go. His tone as he growled out the words pushed you right over the edge, sending you into an abyss of pleasure.

Your body was trembling as you whined out Joel’s name. He could feel your pussy squeezing his fingers as he continued to push them into you gently, relishing in the feeling of your warm embrace.

“There ya go.” His grunts and groans were replaced with a calm voice as he worked you through your orgasm.

“Good job sweetheart.”

His praises only added to the sensory overload running rampant through your body.

“So beautiful baby.”

You were finally opening your eyes, looking up at him with a lust clouded gaze.

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you again, only this time deeper. It was laced with passion and had you pulling him down onto the couch next to you.

Your mind and body were still buzzing from your climax, making it easier to gain dominance over him. You were pushing Joel back against the pillows and climbing onto his lap, straddling his waist. Your kiss had become sloppy and hungry as your lips worked in tandem to relieve the thick tension.

“Off.” You were mumbling against his mouth and fumbling with the button of his jeans.

He got your message loud and clear as his own hands flew to the waistband of his pants. He was lifting his hips off the couch to free his body of the jeans but in doing so he was thrusting up into you, his erection grinding into your unclothed core. You were bringing your hands to his chest to stabilize yourself as he pushed his pants and underwear to the floor.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering down to his member now on full display. He was big. You knew he would be, but this, this was more than you'd imagined.

In awe you brought a hand between you, encasing him gently with your touch and ever so slowly letting your fingers follow up and down his length.

You looked to his face to see his eyes fluttering closed in pure delight from finally feeling some sort of relief. The pressure that had been building inside him since he watched you finger fuck yourself last night was slowly dissipating with every pump of your hand around his cock.

You stroked him a few times, your touch soft and cautious; driving Joel insane. He was groaning with every flick of your wrist.

“Need to be inside ya.” A longing yet primal gaze took over his expression as he muttered the words; confessing his need to feel you, all of you.

They were the magic words, the ones that had you lifting your hips and guiding the head of his cock to your slicked entrance. You lingered there, with his tip filling you just enough, soaking in the final tension filled moments before you both completely gave in to your mutual desire.

Your eyes were locked on his, the two of you exchanging one last look of approval before you were sinking further onto him.

You both let out hums of relief as you felt him stretching you inch by inch.

You were moving slowly, letting yourself adjust to his size as you relaxed onto him. His fingers were gripping onto your hips, holding you steady but careful not to guide you further. He wanted to let you set the pace.

You sunk down until you were met the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. You were sat completely on him, taking a moment to savor the way he felt pushing deep inside of you.

“That’s it baby.” He was whispering another praise as his hands traced up your body, taking your shirt with them and tossing it to the floor. Then his touch was on your face, holding your jaw in his fingertips and bringing your gaze down to meet his.

“That okay? Feel good?” His questions were genuine, but they were spiked with such a immoral tone you might’ve thought he was mocking you.

“So good.” Your voice was breathless as you affirmed him.

You decisively rocked your hips over his and an unconscious moan slipped from your lips at feeling him move inside you.

He brought his hands back to your hips as you started to move. Gripping onto your skin and guiding your body onto his as you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

“Oh honey- fuck.” He was moaning out as you picked up your pace, relentlessly taking him as deep as you could with every rebound.

“That’s its baby.” His words were tumbling out of his mouth with every movement of your hips. You were riding him with such precision his mind was going numb, rendering him uncapable of piecing together coherent sentences.

Your palms were flat against his chest and your head thrown back in pleasure as he rubbed against you at just the right angle. You were using him to your full advantage as you shamelessly fucked yourself on his cock.

“Take what ya need baby.” He was encouraging your lewd movements, the sounds leaving his mouth were borderline pathetic as he tried to keep himself together long enough to feel you coming around him.

He was letting his hands wander further, gripping the flesh of your ass with his palms and using the hold to pull you harder into him with each thrust.

The desperation in his grasp had you seeing stars. You were bracing yourself on the rigid surface of his chest as you felt the familiar crawl of a second release sneaking up on you.

“Joel I’m gonna…” Your announcement was cut short by a surprised whine as Joel moved his hips along with yours, pushing himself even deeper into you. The way he was stretching, filling and holding onto you had your body straining and your vision blurring.

“Let me have it sweetheart.”

The carnal grunt off Joel’s tongue as he coaxed you into another orgasm brought you to your finish. You were clutching at his chest, your body melting into his. The pleasure surging through your body caused you to lose all balance, making you slump forward until your forehead found his.

Joel reached for you, placing a hand carefully at the nape of your neck, holding you against him.

“God you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Another groan was leaving his throat as he pushed his lips onto yours. You were still coming down from your high, pussy squeezing and clasping around him as he muffled your moans with his mouth.

“So perfect baby.” He was mumbling as he used both of his hands to hold you firm, slowly bringing his hips up to meet yours. His pace was unhurried as he took pleasure in the way you fluttered around him. Then he got caught up in the moment, his tempo quickening. He was thrusting into you persistently, mercilessly rutting as breathless whimpers fell from his tongue. He was holding you still with his fingers curling into your hips as he drove into you— hard and fast.

He was groaning and greedily fucking up into you as his hips began to stutter. With a low guttural sound his movements ceased and you were met with the warmth of his release spreading into you.

He was frozen in place for a few seconds, catching his breath and gathering a sense of composure. You could feel him throbbing in you as his hands kept their hold on your hips.

“That was so fuckin’ stupid.” He was muttering under his breath, and you immediately felt insecure. He was still inside you and he was already regretting hooking up with you?

“We don’t have to do it again Joel, it was just-“ You were beginning to defend yourself before Joel cut you off.

”No sweetheart, comin’ in ya.” Joel looked at you with a sympathetic grin on his face.

“I can’t be doin’ that.” He was shaking his head at the poor decision of burying his spend deep inside you.

“I’m on birth control, it’s okay.” You felt relieved to know his shame wasn’t about having sex with you, but rather his panic of potentially knocking you up. Understandable.

“Don’t care it’s not smart.” He was reaffirming and leaning up to place a kiss on your forehead; a simple gesture but it had butterflies swarming your stomach.

“How ya gonna explain to your dad why it took so long to drop off leftovers?” Joel was releasing his clutch on your hips and letting his hands rest lightly on your thighs as he spoke.

“Oh my god, please don’t talk about my dad right now.”

You were mortified. You couldn’t think about your dad. Not while you were straddling his best friend’s lap who’s come was fighting not to leak out between you.

“Looks like I’m really gonna need to move out soon.” You were groaning and bringing your fingers to your temples, hiding your face in your hands.

“Oh, without a doubt.” Joel was laughing at your predicament, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t keep having you like this. Now that he’d gotten a taste, he wouldn’t be letting you out of his sight any time soon.

my masterlist

#country boy i luv you #dbf joel miller till the day i die #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

Text

✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.

things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3

“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.

you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.

playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”

“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.

you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”

gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.

“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”

he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.

“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“my friends are coming over.”

“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”

“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”

“do you own this house?”

“no but i-“

“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”

“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.

even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.

your poor, spoiled, baby brother.

however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.

but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.

“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”

saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.

you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body.

satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”

your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”

“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”

you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.

he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”

“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”

you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”

satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.

guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal.

pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock.

“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”

he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.”

his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and—“

he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“s-satoru!”

he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?”

you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell.

“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride.

angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.”

the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.

and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base.

he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise.

“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“

the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks.

that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!”

you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.

“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.

when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms his hard and heavy cock as he pleases.

it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears.

you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires.

you think you prefer that side of you more.

meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.

a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.

whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.”

“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation.

satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle.

“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends.

he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him.

whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell.

that day, you learn two valuable lessons:

one — never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills.

two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.

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jyoongim · 1 year ago

Note

Just found you and read all your Alastor fics. Love them! My request is jealous fucking with breeding. But the jealousy comes on because of Lucifer. Luci comes to visit the hotel and causally makes a sweet comment to reader but as soon as he notices that it pisses off Al, Lucifer just goes all in offer to buy readers soul and free her just to piss off Al until reader and Charlie have to break them up before they fight. Then comes in the breeding, so everyone knows your his as if him owning your soul wasn’t enough

Oh I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoy it around these parts and I am happy you enjoy my writing!

Warnings: fem!reader, jealous!Alastor, flirting, Lucifer riling up Alastor, rough sex, breeding kink, pregnancy mentioned

The hotel was in an uproar over the King of Hell's impending visit.

Charlie was a nervous wreck and you were doing everything to make sure that the hotel was somewhat presentable and that everyone was well behaved.

”Now just be your charming self and make sure to help promote the purpose of the hotel for Charlie” you said fixing Alastor’s bow tie. He smiled down at you, waving his hand dismissively “Oh don’t worry my dear Ill be the perfect host. There’s nothing to worry about”

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell…was not what you had expected.

You could see where Charlie got her flare from.

He was looking around the lobby, taking in the interior and the residents. You didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up a bit.

”And here are our lovely hotel managers dad” Charlie said, turning towards you and Alastor.

You smiled, giving him a slight curtesy “Its a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, I hope that you enjoy your time here at the hotel”

Lucifer dawned a sultry smile, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. Kissing it.

”The pleasure is all mine”

Alastor growled, stepping between the two of you. He gave a tense smile “Pleased to meet you sir” he slapped your hand out of his and took it to shake. Lucifer blinked, a slight frown on his face “and you would be?” A snort escaped the red demon

“Alastor! Im the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard of my radio broadcast?” Lucifer deadpanned “nah never was one to consume media” he shrugged.

He slipped by to your side, looping an arm around you “Now I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a tour hmmm? Show me all of the more intimate parts” he chortled, as you nervously turned to Alastor.

Alastor's smile was tense and his eye was twitching slightly.

Irritated and annoyed.

Lucifer seemed to pick up on that.

He eyed the lanky demon, before cooing at you “oh don’t tell me you need the bellhop’s permission? ”

oh no. The lights flickered.

You cleared your throat “I would be honored your grace,but Alastor knows the hotel better than I. He can show you around” you offered, making the King groan.

Charlie chirped in “Yes yes. Alastor has been a great help. Well shall we?”

The tour went without any mishap. Alastor had you tucked away into his side as Charlie gave a run through of what she was trying to achieve.

Charlie suggested dinner before her dad left, to give him a little convincing to help.

You bustled about the kitchen, setting everyone’s meal down and making your way to sit by Alastor.

A hand grabbed your wrist, you stiffened as Lucifer gave you a charming smile “why not sit by me. Charlie has told of some of the improvements you think would work for the hotel”

You heard a static buzz as you took a seat by him.

You listened quietly as Charlie went on and on about her plans.

Lucifer had been not so subtly subtly flirting with you the entire dinner.

”Well I will think about it Charlie. I do believe your dream is possible” She smiled happily. he turned his eyes to you

”Especially with such lovely help” you blushed.

He seemed more interested in you.

”sooo what’s your deal with that guy” he was referring to Alastor

you tilted your head in question, he clarified his intention

”I mean he own your soul or something? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be tied to the likes of him. how about I nullify whatever deal you made and you take you under my wing instead”

You looked at him shocked.

The sound of glass breaking sounded and Alastor shook his hand of the liquid once in the glass

He chuckled darkly “Well I am afraid it is late, wouldn’t you agree dearest?” His eyes narrowed on the man as he stood, coming around to stand behind you.

His eyes were black and glowing red as he practically sneered at the King.

Lucifer was unfazed by the intimidation tactic.

”haha what I strike a nerve? You’ve got this amazing beauty on a leash and for what? Im sure shell do much better being tied to you”

Before Alastor could lunge at the man, you stood up and pressed yourself against him as you heard Charlie grab her dad to pull him away.

Your hands reached for his face, turning his enraged eyes to you.

You shook your head at him slightly. You know when someone wa just trying to ruffle his feathers.

”I am feeling quite tired from today’s activities why don’t we turn in for the night yes?” You pleaded with him, softly pushing him back towards to door.

Large hands gripped your waist as his turned his eyes back towards Lucifer, he hissed lowly before whisking you out of the kitchen and to your shared bedroom.

———————————————————————————

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

You whined at a harsh thrust that jolted your body against the silky sheets.

The room was buzzing with static as Alastor fucked into you.

Green chains hung heavy around your collar as Alastor pulled on them to pull you into his thrusts.

He was pissed.

His usual composed and controlled demeanor slipping the moment he slammed the door.

He had taken you against the door roughly, too pent up to let you get a single word out.

He had thrown you onto the bed after, a dark aura surrounding him as his antlers grew with the angry emotions swirling inside him.

“Ah! Ha! A-Alastor!” You moaned as another orgasm racked through you.

He twisted your chains around his arm as he used them as leverage to drill his dick into you.

“Who do he think he is?” He growled, pushing your head into the mattress

“Thinking he can just take you from me…ME?! You are mine”

You let out a cry as he ruined your walls, balls slapping against your cunt.

“You wouldn’t leave my side would you sweetheart” he hissed down at you, turning your head so you could see him.

”Who would want you after I ruin you hmm? You would be nothing but sloppy seconds.” He regraded you, angry at the very thought of you thinking you could terminate your deal with him.

Your deal with Alastor was nothing too extreme. Your complete devotion to him for his protection.

While he might not admit it, Alastor had grown accustomed to you being by his side, able to help him see reason and take on tasks he found too mundane.

You were like his wife in a sense.

Soft and caring, always doing whatever he asked of you.

You never complained, happily fulfilling your duties to a tee.

And some goofy, short king thinks you would leave your benefactor?

Had he not given you anything you ever wanted?

You were the most free soul he had, that was a privilege.

Your cunt squelched as he pulled out, the tip kissing your outer lips as he stilled in his rough fucking.

You panted, clammy sweat sticking to your body as he tugged at your chains.

You were on your back, thighs spread around his waist.

A hand wrapped around your throat, Alastor leaning down to press a surprise soft kiss to your forehead

”You wouldn’t dare leave me would you baby” he cocked his head at you.

You shook your head quickly, hoping that he had blew off enough steam to finally be reasonable.

But Alastor’s jealousy was ugly.

He wouldn’t be done with you until there was nothing you thought about but him.

He should be what plagues your thoughts.

You should crave him by the time he was done.

He slotted back inside you, making you gasp as he returned to his fast pace.

”Leave me for that sorry excuse of a king? Ha! You wouldn’t. No not my pretty girl. Youre my good girl aren’t you?”

You mewled as you watch him transform.

”I-Im your good girl Ah! Pl-please!” Your eyes clenched closed in pleasure.

”Youre mine. You understand that? I own you. Your every thought. Every feeling. Your body, mind, and soul are mine. You gave them to me oh so happy. I can do whatever I please with you. Ruin you and dump you off into the street like a common whore if I wished”

You whimpered at his words.

”But thats not enough is it? Hmmm? Noooo. Youre not mine” he purred.

you pouted, ready to reassure him that you were, in fact, his.

He lifted one of your legs to your chest, angling his hips down

”Ill make sure every disrespectful wretch knows you are mine. Fir it seems my constant presence isn’t enough”

Your cunt fluttered.

How else would….

His dick hit that sweet spot deep inside you

”Oh! Ah!” His hand on your neck tightened as a sharp smile appeared on his face

”So maybe putting a claim to you will do the trick”

Your mouth shaped into an ‘O’ as he fucked you roughly, hips grinding down as if to make you mold to his very shape.

Sinners couldn’t reproduce.

Right?

that was your last coherent thought as he slammed his hips into yours over and over til he sighed, his dick twitching as he filled you with his cum.

You whined as he gave soft thrusts to keep his cum inside you, purring as it spilled around him, pooling around your ass.

You whined when he pulled out, hearing a soft ‘pop’ as you clenched around nothing.

A hand settled on your lower belly, now full of his cum, Alastor grinned wicked “Let’s see how much the pipsqueak will want you now my dear” he chuckled.

———————————————————————————

“Its nice to see you again sir” you said welcoming the King of Hell inside the hotel.

He smiled and once he got a good look at you, it fell.

”Charlie will be down in a second do you need anything?” You asked sweetly, hand resting on your swollen belly.

He stuttered out a response in surprise “O-oh w-why thank you. I take it you’ve been well”

Alastor manifested behind you, grinning at the short monarch, his arm roping around your waist, hand settling on the side of your stomach “Ah yes! We’ve been busy. Im sure you can tell”

Alastor- 2

Lucifer- 0

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel

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jimxnslight · 8 months ago

Text

Fool's Gold || Part III

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. gun/physical violence, blood, dead bodies, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

A/N: it's finally here! Sorry for the wait, things have just been really busy lately... but I hope you enjoy!

<< previous part || masterlist || next part >>

Living with you has been an absolute nightmare.

Obviously Jungkook had known that dropping poison in his champagne and whiskey wouldn’t be the end of your little assassination attempt; he’d expected you to continue doing whatever was in your power to make good on your threat. He may have been a little cocky about it too, teasing you over the fact that he was standing before you unscathed, but the logical part of him still knew to keep his guard up constantly.

What he hadn’t realised was how exhausting it would all be.

You’d been here only four days and Jungkook had already had to evade poison in his toothpaste, a suspicious looking pin wedged into the insole of his shoe, and garlic juice in his cologne- the last one seeming far from a homicide attempt and closer to just pissing him off.

Dealing with that alone was one thing, because it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. But on top of it all, Jungkook hadn’t slept properly in days. He’d found himself dozing off for a few minutes here and there while holed up in his office at night occasionally, but he had mostly just stuck to spending his nights working, especially on the Park issue. He couldn’t risk actually sleeping in his office considering he knew that you had the ability to bypass the lock. And besides, as much as he would appreciate a few extra hours of sleep, Jungkook still had to be ready for if Jimin decided to attack again, even if he’d been quiet so far.

One of those preparations involved speaking with your father, which was why you and Jungkook were seated in one of the guest houses at 8:00 AM in the morning while your father was sat casually on the creme-coloured settee across from the mahogany coffee table before you both. The guest house was situated near the gates of Jungkook’s estate, still within its borders, but far enough that it had its own entrance and ensured guests wouldn’t end up too close to his house, just how he liked it.

The initial meeting with your father had been awkward, though Jungkook may have been the only one to catch onto it. Your father hadn’t embraced you or kissed your cheek or told you how much he missed you, instead he had sent a formal nod in your direction before giving Jungkook a firm handshake. After that your father had barely spared you a glance, addressing Jungkook as if he were the only one in the room. You didn’t seem very offended by this either, your gaze instead drifting around the space looking almost bored as the two men conversed casually for a few minutes.

It was an interesting detail, one Jungkook tucked into the back of his sleep-deprived mind.

“The differences between the North and South have surprised me a ton,” Mr. Lee commented, taking a sip from the teacup in his hand. His accent was rough, no doubt a product of his upbringing in the South, “you guys do things a lot more softly here in the North.”

It was a jab, Jungkook wasn’t stupid enough not to know that, especially knowing how rough things were in the South. That comment was enough for him to know that your father was the type of man that liked to put others down to make himself seem superior. It only amused Jungkook though, because as per the culture, your father already had a bit of an upper hand since he was older, and yet he still felt the need to talk down to him.

Distantly, he wondered if your father’s personality had something to do with why you decided to hide your true personality even from him.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Jungkook decided to reply dryly, not bothering to bite back. If he had learned anything, it was how to choose his battles, and an ego trip was not worth it in his books.

Instead his gaze drifted towards your seemingly aloof form. It was a bit unnerving to see you look so quiet and proper, almost like he was being shown a third side of you. Your facade was still definitely up though, no one could miss the slight widening of your eyes and faint pout of your lips to feign an innocent look, but this version of your act was definitely more placid.

Jungkook’s gaze travelled back to your father as he smiled, a sudden urge to get you to react overtaking him, “it’s definitely been an adjustment for your daughter.”

At your mention, your wandering eyes were reeled back to meet the gazes of the two men before you once again, but, unlike during the dinner with Taehyung and Chaewon, that was the extent of your reaction to the obvious dig. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in your direction as you continued to sit silently beside him, an innocent expression still painting your already heavily painted features.

Despite the topic, Mr. Lee’s gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook, “hope she hasn’t been too much trouble. She used to be quite the spitfire growing up, but thankfully I fixed her right up before she could bring that attitude into adulthood. Can’t imagine how I would’ve gotten her married if I hadn’t.”

The room became quiet as Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in his place, your father’s words, which sounded so casual on his tongue, unable to settle comfortably within him. Jungkook wasn’t so naive as to believe that “fixed her up” alluded to gentle parenting and stern lectures. And if his guesses as to how your father might have disciplined you growing up were correct, then you had his sympathies. Jungkook’s childhood wasn’t exactly filled with rainbows and butterflies, the son of a mafia leader’s childhood never is, but everything his father had done was for the betterment of the Jeons, not so Jungkook could be a good slave to a spouse.

“No,” he finally decided to answer, “she hasn’t been any trouble at all.”

If your father’s comment had bothered you, you didn’t show it. But Jungkook was still eager to change the subject.

Before he could, however, he was surprised when he felt you straighten up beside him and beat him to it.

“How is Hannah doing, father?”

Despite all his research, Jungkook had no clue who Hannah was. He’d never even heard of the name before, which he found surprising considering how well he made sure to research the Lees before his marriage. Nevertheless it was clear to him that whoever this Hannah was, she was important. You’d asked the question with your usual soft voice, a casual hint in your tone, but Jungkook had known you long enough at this point to see past your act. He could see the way your gaze had turned calculating, taking in each and every expression that flitted across your father’s face as he took a sip from his teacup before he finally allowed himself to take you in.

“She's doing fine,” he answered after a moment, voice void of any emotion, “very fine actually.”

Jungkook didn’t miss the subtle jump in your eyebrows at his words, so subtle that he doubted your father would notice it even though he was finally acknowledging your presence.

“But you should start worrying more about this place, Y/N. This is your home now after all.”

Your gaze immediately dropped at his words as you gave him a timid nod, ditzy Y/N clearly back in full swing. Most would have witnessed this interaction and seen a loving daughter being rejected by her cold, heartless father. But looking past your act of innocence, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel that there was more to this interaction than that. The relationship you had with your father was weird. If Jungkook hadn’t known either of you, he wouldn’t have guessed that you were more than mere acquaintances with how distant you both seemed. No love, no animosity, just… impassive.

And yet, despite this clearly uncommunicative relationship, you’d spoken up only once in this entire conversation to ask about a person named Hannah - or rather you had wanted confirmation about something regarding Hannah, and judging from the way your expression had returned to that naively bored look, you had gotten the confirmation you were seeking. Neither of you had offered to identify who Hannah was to Jungkook either, so he doubted asking would prove to be very useful.

If only Jungkook had the mind to figure everything out on his own at this moment. He’d already had to stifle three yawns since the beginning of the conversation, all of which he was able to hide only because your father had initially seemed very interested in scanning the contents of the guest house. Hopefully he’d get better at hiding his exhaustion as the day progressed, he had a long day ahead of him after all.

Your father caught Jungkook’s attention once again when he leaned forward to place his empty teacup on the mahogany coffee table in front of him. The teacup clinked against the wood before he leaned back into the settee, giving Jungkook a questioning look.

“So, now that we’ve got the chit chat out of the way, why’d you need to see me so desperately?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Jungkook ignored the arrogant structuring of his words once again, gaze instead drifting to you, who was keenly scanning the front page of a newspaper that had been haphazardly placed on the coffee table to give the room a more homey feel.

He wasn’t entirely sure whether you knew anything about Jimin’s attack on the West Docks. Yes, you had broken into his office once, but Jungkook didn’t leave important stuff like that just lying around so technically you didn’t have any way of knowing about it. Jungkook preferred if you didn’t, because obviously the less you knew the better. You were trying to kill him after all, and as much as he liked to make a joke out of it, he wasn’t dumb enough not to at least partially take it seriously.

So Jungkook shifted in his seat to face you, the action catching your previously wandering attention, before he placed a hand on your knee. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hesitant, but thankfully you didn’t flinch at the contact.

“Why don’t you go freshen up, princess? Your father and I have some business to discuss, and then after that you and I have somewhere to be.”

Jungkook watched your eyebrows twitch, though whether it was from the nickname or in question of where the two of you would be heading he didn’t know. But then your gaze flickered to your father’s direction for a moment before you quietly nodded.

You stood from the settee, ignoring the way Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your knee, brushed against your skin as it fell. When you faced your father, hands clutched before you, he was already looking up at you with a familiarly indifferent expression.

“It was nice seeing you again, father,” you said formally, keeping your voice light and soft as you offered him a small bow. You were returned a formal nod, another familiar action, before you turned away from the two men and pushed through the double doors of the guest house.

A deep sigh escaped your lips the moment you heard the door shut behind you, feeling as though someone had lifted an anvil off your chest. Your father’s presence had always felt suffocating, you were just glad that the two of you being in the same room has also always been a rare occurrence in itself.

You didn’t have time to dwell on that fact as the beauty of Jungkook’s estate now stood before you in all its glory. Lush green grass surrounding a stone walkway, colourful flowers popping out of strategically placed beds, and large, but maintained, Japanese Maple trees scattered here and there were all organised neatly to form a breathtaking courtyard.

This was the one thing you could unconditionally appreciate about Jungkook’s estate. Most leaders’ estates screamed money with the various marble statues of themselves and their families littering their front yards and excessive landscaping drenching the flowers and grass in stone and metal. But Jungkook’s was filled with greenery, as if you were walking through an enormous garden. You loved it.

While surveying the area your gaze dropped to the stone pathway before you, the one you and Jungkook had walked through to get to the guest house and also the one you were certain Jungkook was expecting you to take after being kicked out of said guest house. You stared at it for no more than three seconds, not even bothering to think it over, before you spun around in your spot and pressed your ear to the door you had just emerged from.

There was something wrong.

Although alliances were a very uncommon thing in the South, you were still smart enough to know that business deals between allies should be eased into slowly, not started four days after a marriage. This meeting was happening way too soon, which made you doubt it was business-related at all.

Jungkook needed something from the Lees. The only question was what?

After leaning quietly against the door for a few minutes, you were only able to pick up a few words here and there between quick stifled yawns. It would’ve disappointed you if it wasn’t for the one name you managed to catch Jungkook say as clear day.

Park Jimin.

The leader of the Parks. The man whose close friend consisted of the ruthless Min Yoongi, leader of the Mins. Both mafias were located north of Taehyung and Jungkook’s territories. Personally, you’ve never heard of any ongoing disputes between the four, but if Jungkook was mentioning Park’s name in a meeting with your father, there had to be something going on.

That would be perfect, because if you killed Jungkook while he was having a feud with Jimin, then Jungkook’s death would be more likely to be pinned on Jimin, allowing you to bear no consequences and be sent back to the Lees without a scratch.

Except… it wasn’t perfect, because killing Jungkook had proven to be a lot harder than you had anticipated.

Killing your first husband had been child’s play. Even after you’d grabbed the gun from his waistband and shot him twice in the chest, his men had taken one look at the scene and ruled you out before you had even had the chance to construct a detailed tale of an assassin that had come through the window and shot him dead. They had been complete idiots, entirely unable to see the doe-eyed girl with frilly pink dresses and a soft airy voice as anything more than that.

But this case was an entirely different challenge. You’d realised on the very night of your wedding that the people around Jungkook, as well as Jungkook himself of course, were not as stupid. You knew that if you tried to pull the same stunt again, you’d be pinned for the murder eventually. It’s why you hadn't even bothered to search for some kind of weapon in Jungkook’s mansion, nor had you tried to steal the gun you knew stayed sat on Jungkook’s waistband at every moment of the day. If you used a weapon to kill Jungkook, you’d be caught.

That’s why you had stuck to poisons as your main choice of weapon. The collection of toxins you had managed to smuggle into the mansion, all thanks to Persilla of course, was made to make kills look like nature’s fate. Yet, despite dropping toxins into anything that could possibly make contact with Jungkook’s mouth or skin for the past four days, your efforts were proving to be futile. Jungkook’s knack for catching onto small details was just a difficult barrier to overcome.

You knew H hadn’t sent you that note to pressure you into speeding up Jungkook’s murder, and you hadn’t taken it in that way at first, but now that four days had passed you were beginning to think about changing your methods. It would be more complicated, but you needed to get this done quickly.

A gun would be the best way to finish him off in your opinion; it was the one weapon you were a master of and getting a hold of one shouldn’t be too difficult with all the guards milling around the estate. Then all you’d need to do was get Jungkook alone, shoot him dead, and then plant some evidence that pointed towards the Parks. You’d need to be careful, but it was doable a-

“Now look what I’ve found.”

You snapped away from the door and whirled around, startled entirely as a male voice suddenly spoke up from behind you. You were met with the view of a man, one you’ve never seen before, standing a couple metres away from your form, his hair as light brown as his eyes. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, while the buttons of his white polo shirt were open to reveal a sliver of his neck.

“I seem to have caught a nosy little mouse.”

You wanted to ask him who he was and what he was doing here. Anyone within the gates of Jungkook’s estate had to be close to him, you’d learned that much during your stay here. Yet, Jungkook had failed to mention this man at all.

But before you could voice your questions, the man stepped forward, brown dress shoes tapping against the stone beneath you both, and held out a hand, “I’m Daehyun, Jungkook’s cousin. We haven’t formally been introduced.”

Tentatively, because you still had an act to uphold, you reached out to shake his hand, making sure to keep your grip weak, “I’m Y/N.”

Then you remembered that eavesdropping on a conversation between Jungkook and your dad may not seem like the most innocent thing to Daehyun. So you quickly mustered up a believable excuse.

“I swear I wasn’t trying to listen to their conversation! I just…”

You paused, pretending to shy away from him to give the illusion that you were embarrassed to admit the blatant lie that was about to escape your lips.

“I just wanted to know if Jungkook would talk about me,” you said, keeping your gaze on the ground as you started fidgeting with your fingers, “he’s not the most talkative man with me, so I just wanted to see if he would admit anything to my father.”

“Mhmm,” Daehyun replied, and you couldn’t help but feel that the tone of his voice gave the impression that he wasn’t paying attention. Finding that strange, you lifted your gaze from the ground hesitantly and observed him. The sight made you grimace inwardly.

Daehyun’s lack of interest could be explained by the fact that he was too busy raking his eyes across your body, taking in your bare legs and neck, almost as if he were entranced. You noticed his fingers twitch as he took in the frills of your pink dress and the silk bow holding up half your hair.

“God, you don’t look a day over 19,” he commented, as if you weren’t even there and he was simply talking to himself, “how old are you, darling?”

This was far from the first time a guy had looked at you as though you were a piece of meat. In fact, your act seemed to garner a lot more attention from the male species than it should. You liked to think that all the years of this had made you immune to moments like these, but deep down you knew it still made your skin crawl.

That being said, the implications of Daehyun’s words were beginning to register in your mind. This was Jungkook’s cousin, his family. It was customary for all male members of mafia families to have a gun with them at all times, which meant that there was a very high probability that, if Daehyun were to turn around, you would catch sight of a shiny black gun wedged into his waistband. He didn’t seem like the intelligent type to you either, which meant this would be a better opportunity to steal a gun compared to snagging one from a constantly alert guard.

All you needed to do was get him a little closer to you.

“Twenty-three,” you finally answered, keeping your voice soft and innocent-sounding. You took the opportunity to take a timid step forward, one that seemed to go unnoticed by Daehyun.

Instead he nodded, as if in approval of your answer, “Jungkook really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t he… I expect you’ll age beautifully. Lucky bastard.”

You pushed down the urge to throw up in your mouth. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t think you had it in you to lead him on in order to steal the gun. He was just way too slimy, saying things that were way too gross.

But turns out, you didn’t really need to say anything as Daehyun took another step towards you, leaving only a hand’s length between yourself and him. You automatically felt yourself tense. If it were up to you, you’d have grabbed his shirt and kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine. But you were ditzy Y/N at the moment, and ditzy Y/N couldn’t fight back.

Instead you tried to focus on the gun. He was close enough that you could snake your arm behind him without him noticing, but he still needed to get a little closer for you to grab it.

“Relax, darling,” Daehyun soothed, and to both your distaste and relief he placed a hand on your shoulder, closing the distance you needed. Your hand crept forward slowly, stopping at his waistband, “you don’t need to be so tense-”

“Daehyun.”

Crap.

Your empty hand shot back to your side as your gaze snapped to the source of the voice, Daehyun’s following suit less quickly. Jungkook was shutting the door of the guest house behind him, dark eyes fixed on the hand on your shoulder. His voice had been low, the threat in them evident. Yet, Daehyun smiled, instead taking his time in removing his hand from your shoulder and taking a step back.

“Jungkook,” he nodded, his hands returning to his pockets, “your wife and I were just having a small chat.”

You searched the space behind Jungkook, finding no sign of your father. The guest house had two exits, one that led into Jungkook’s estate and another that led outside of it. Your father must have gone through the latter.

Jungkook gained your attention once again when he took a few steps forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Daehyun, “you can talk without touching.”

Daehyun raised his hands in mock surrender as Jungkook paused in front of you, scanning you from head to toe for a second, before he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away from him, barely sparing him another glance as he started on the stone pathway you knew led to his mansion. There was this one patch of the pathway that you noticed hid the two of you from the attentive eyes of the guards. You took that opportunity to drop your act of innocence.

“Cousin of yours?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Unfortunately.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched Jungkook spit out the word through gritted teeth, keeping his face forward. He was angry. He didn’t like Daehyun, you realised. Yet he seemed to have free access to his house? That didn’t make any sense.

You watched the patch eventually give way to a large circular driveway that laid before the front doors of Jungkook’s mansion. There was a sleek black car already parked on the grey concrete, obscured slightly by the fountain in the circle’s centre. It probably had something to do with what Jungkook was talking about earlier, about how there was somewhere the two of you would be going.

With your innocent facade back up, because you noticed guards milling around this part of the estate, you turned to Jungkook with a curious look, “where are we going?”

He paused for a moment as his gaze dropped on you, and you immediately knew he was choosing his next words carefully, making sure to pick the ones that only allowed you to know as much as he wanted you to.

“We’re going to meet some families,” he finally answered, but you’d already become distracted as you noticed a guard walk up to the window of the black car and begin speaking with the driver, the exposed gun at his hip suddenly looking very attractive to you especially after your failed attempt at snatching Daehyun’s.

“And why is that?” You asked him absentmindedly, wondering if there was any way you could grab the weapon. You’d only need to brush past the guard for a moment to grab and shove it into the holster at your thigh. You knew the frills of your dress would do an amazing job at hiding its outline as well, even from eyes like Jungkook’s.

“There was an accident at the West Docks and a few workers died. We’re going to meet with the families and pay our respects.”

Your attention snapped back to Jungkook, the reminder to keep your expression light coming just a millisecond too late. It was a practically microscopic reaction, but it was enough for Jungkook to pick up on, making him tilt his head in question.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked without much thought, because you honestly didn’t have anything smarter to say. Why was a mafia leader paying respects to people who weren't part of the family?

You weren't an idiot; it was no coincidence that Jungkook mentioned an incident taking place at the docks around the same time he had a meeting with your father in which he was mentioning Park Jimin’s name. You’d pieced together that said “incident” was more likely some kind of attack, and the one responsible for said attack was probably Park Jimin. If Jimin had attacked Jungkook’s docks, then that meant he was testing how strong the Jeons were at the moment, which further meant that he was interested in taking over the territory. Obviously Jungkook would have wanted to ensure that he had your father’s support if things were to escalate.

People would have died in the attack at the West Docks, that’s how it always worked. Hell, people died at the borders all the time in the South since there was so much animosity between the territories there.

But that’s just how things worked, or at least that’s what you’d heard mafia leaders parrot to each other growing up. “They knew what they were signing up for.” “They’re doing it for the sake of the mafia.” It was the kind of thinking that you loathed, and that exact thinking that you hoped to dismantle bit by bit until everyone, not just you, could see the flaws behind it.

Yet… here Jungkook was, saying he wanted to value those lives lost by paying respects to their mourning families…

It was unbelievable.

However, before either of you could speak, the door of the parked car opened to reveal a man wearing a standard suit. He stepped out onto the concrete, only to turn around in his place and open the door to the backseat. He continued to stay like that, patiently waiting for the two of you.

Jungkook was the first to move, walking around the car to open the door himself and disappear behind the sleek black metal, while you eventually followed behind him, giving the man a soft thank you before sinking into the backseat beside your husband. In a matter of seconds, the doors were shut and you felt the car begin to move beneath you.

There was an unfamiliar silence as you peered through the tinted windows, watching as the car passed through the front gates before submerging into a thick forest. The four days you’ve been at Jungkook’s mansion had been full of constant bickering, that was until someone else would enter the room. Then suddenly you were clasping your hands in front of you and bowing with a soft smile, all while Jungkook hid his cocky grins.

“What? No snappy comebacks today?” Jungkook spoke, probably feeling the uncharacteristic silence as well. Despite noticing that there was a divider between the driver and you both, meaning there was no reason for you to keep your act up, you didn’t answer.

You didn’t know why his earlier words weren’t sitting well with you. Just because Jungkook dropped a few condolences here and there didn’t make him a good person. He was the leader of a mafia after all, and you’d met enough of them to know the kind of people they were: cruel, merciless, and lacking in respect for the ones outside their families. Even the level of care they had for their families was questionable.

But still… this was throwing you off.

You turned around in your seat as a sudden thought came to mind, causing Jungkook’s gaze to shift from the window to your form.

“What do you mean by paying respect?” You asked. Perhaps the phrase meant something different in the North. Perhaps instead of meeting the families and expressing empathy for their loss, he was going to lecture them on the need for martyrs and how the families owed the Jeons for letting them live in their territories. Yes, that made a lot more sense to you.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was looking at you as if you’d gone insane.

“I won’t even begin to answer that question,” he scoffed. But then he seemed to consider something for a moment, probably the fact that you would also be the one paying respects and not knowing what that was might be a hindrance to his perfect image, and spoke with an annoyed sigh, “we will be meeting with the families, relaying a few comforting words. Let them know that we will be supporting them from now on so they can focus solely on overcoming their grief rather than on how they’ll make ends meet moving forward.”

You turned back to your window with a frustrated breath, his answer doing nothing to dissipate your confusion. You might have also faced away from him to hide a stifled yawn. Car rides tended to make you sleepy, and in combination with the fact that you haven’t slept properly throughout your stay at the Jeon Mansion, it was taking a lot of willpower to keep your mind alert at the moment.

“Considering that this will be our first official public appearance, I should also repeat how crucial it will be for you to act like a good wife.”

You rolled your eyes as a huff escaped your lips, “Yeah, I get it.”

“If you getting it means you’ll act better than the way you acted in front of your father, then good,” he commented, which made you turn to him once again with a brow raised.

“What is that supposed to mean? I was fine in front of my father.”

Jungkook shrugged, “you could have been better.”

“How?”

He thought for a moment, mulling it over before he responded with an amused look, “when you were leaving the room, you stood up and just let my hand fall away to the side. Some would take that as a sign that you’re mad at me.”

“I am not going to kiss the ground you walk on just so that a few jobless people will keep their mouths shut,” you shot back. If you were having any qualms about killing him earlier they were entirely gone now. You were going to enjoy each and every moment of gutting the man at your side, not even the slightest hint of guilt.

“Not to mention how quiet you were,” he continued, but this time you could feel the weight of his gaze deepen, “you do know that we’ll have to actually speak to the families, right?”

There was a silent curiosity in his eyes that he didn’t voice, but you knew it was there, though for what exactly it was for you didn’t know. Was he questioning why you were so quiet? If that were the case, you didn’t have an answer; you hadn’t even realised you’d been so quiet during the meeting. Or was he curious about Hannah? You doubted it. With all the research he had done on the Lees and your territory, you guessed he already knew who she was.

“Relax, Jungkook,” you waved him off, “I’ve been acting as someone else for years. You’ll get your nice and loving wife.”

With that settled you turned back to the window, stifling another yawn with your hand.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the fact that you were actually waking up, meaning that at some point during the ride you had fallen asleep. The second thing you noticed as you were waking up was that whatever thing you were leaning on did not feel like the inner side of a car door. That second realisation had you sitting up in your seat instantly, eyes shooting open to understand the situation.

Outside you could see that there were no longer thick-trunked trees surrounding the road in which you drove on, instead replaced by groups of houses and small apartment buildings. You watched as kids playing in the roughened streets stopped to stare at the sleek black car, their parents no different as they tried to see through the tinted windows with unfiltered curiosity.

You turned away from the window to take in Jungkook, whose shoulder you realised you’d made your pillow while you’d fallen asleep, only to have your eyes widen.

To your surprise, Jungkook had fallen asleep as well, with his head resting back against the headrest and lips just slightly parted. Small puffs of breath rhythmically escaped from between them when he exhaled, a telltale sign that he truly was asleep and not just resting his eyes or something.

The image had you frozen for a moment. He looked so… peaceful. Not that he always looked stressed out. Despite having a killer for a wife, Jungkook seemed to be pretty relaxed most of the time, amused even. But this was a different kind of peace, one that came with a complete lack of thoughts, making him look almost innocent - not the hard leader that you knew him to be.

Without his gaze on yours preventing it, you also noticed things that you’d never really noticed about him before. Like the length of his eyelashes, or the strong dip of his jawline. His lips had a red undertone and rounded into a slight pout, while his skin was flawless - not a very common characteristic amongst leaders, though not many were as young as Jungkook - aside from the end of a faded scar peeking from behind the collar of his black shirt. The side of his hair that was facing you was slightly ruffled, as if his head had been leaning against something before it had moved to lean against the seat behind him.

God this man was fine.

You forced your gaze forward, realising that you were staring. Were you really so deprived that you were finding the man that you were supposed to kill hot? Well, in your defence, you had eyes. Also in your defence, the leaders in the South were all old and slimy dudes that should have been put down years ago. Just looking at Jungkook was like a breath of fresh air after drowning.

But then you paused, realising the weight of the situation. Jungkook was asleep, the same Jungkook who you knew had a gun wedged into his waistband at this very moment. It was risky, he’d definitely notice it missing when he woke up considering his attention to detail, but if you were to grab the gun, and then immediately get out of the car, he’d have no choice but to let you hold onto it until the two of you were out of the public’s eye. It would be more than enough time to secretly kill him and then plant evidence incriminating Jimin.

Judging from the houses outside, you deemed that you both were close enough to the destination that you could hop out of the car immediately after it stopped. So you turned around, making sure to keep your movements as slow as possible, before you snaked an arm around his torso. You could feel the soft inside of his black blazer as your hand slipped beneath it, fingers just barely ghosting over his equally black dress shirt. It was unlucky that his gun was on the side of his waist facing away from you, but thankfully after checking to make sure he was still asleep, which he was, your fingers wrapped around the metal handle.

Or at least you thought he had been asleep, because as you pulled the gun from its confines, a hand suddenly engulfing yours made you flinch.

Your gaze snapped up to him, surprised when you found him wide awake and staring back at you. In all honesty, it wasn’t the fact that you were caught that had you frozen like a deer in headlights, Jungkook was well aware of your intentions, but rather the position that you were in. You’d used your left hand to grab his gun, which left your entire front to be pressed against his chest, while your right hand was resting on his other side, practically caging him against the seat of the car. Barely a breath’s distance separated your face with his, making the intensity of his stare all the more intimidating.

You tried to pull away from him, but his hand brushed higher to wrap around your wrist and keep you in place, dark brown eyes still boring into yours.

“Put it back.”

It shouldn’t have, but the deepness of his voice sent a tiny shiver down your spine, one that you did everything in your power to make sure Jungkook couldn’t notice. You’d rather be caught dead than having Jungkook think you were into him in any way whatsoever.

A small part of you, the same one that had persuaded you to drop a good amount of garlic into his cologne just yesterday, also reasoned that you’d never be caught dead taking orders from him as well. Logically speaking, there was no way you could save this attempt at taking his gun, he’d caught you and that was that. And yet, despite that, you didn’t move, hand still clutching the gun which was now hovering over his waistband.

You felt Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around the soft skin of your wrist, the lack of your movement not going unnoticed by him.

“Put it back, Y/N.”

It only made you want to do the opposite, just to piss him off a bit more, but you knew you were only delaying the inevitable. So, with the tiny devil at your shoulder retreating back to wherever it had come from and with a frustrated breath escaping your lips, you slowly pushed the gun back into his waistband. The action was slow, still dragging it out for as long as possible, until you felt the trigger guard push against the edge of the cloth. Yet, even when you let the handle drop from your grasp, Jungkook’s hand didn’t drop from your wrist. Instead, the edges of his lips twitched upwards.

“So we’ve moved on from poisons now?” He asked instead, voice low as his satisfied gaze stayed fixed on yours, “is my whiskey finally free from your terror?”

Your reply was quick, though your voice was just as low and breathy as his, “I wouldn’t start trusting it just yet.”

You really meant that, considering the new bottles of whiskey Jungkook had ordered had already been spiked not even an hour after they’d been placed in his cabinet. You knew that he knew, making the action pointless, but you were weak in front of that little devil at your shoulder.

The abrupt sound of the car’s door opening made you jerk back into your seat, ripping your empty hand from Jungkook’s, as you quickly fixed the ruffles in your dress. By the time the driver’s face appeared at the doorway, you were offering him an innocent smile, making sure to keep your eyes bright and lips stuck in a perpetually delighted turn. An amused breath escaped Jungkook as he turned to open his own door. You hadn’t even realised that the car had come to a stop.

You accepted the driver’s hand as he extended it towards you, the short heel of your white shoes tapping against the grey concrete while you stepped out of the car, grateful suddenly for the fresh air.

You didn’t know what exactly you were expecting when Jungkook had said that you were going to meet with families. Mostly you had pictured a stage, one that he would stand and speak on, and then a crowd of families standing before it paying close attention to his every word. But there was no such stage in sight, in fact, as you looked around the area you noticed that there was nothing out of the ordinary; just a simple neighbourhood with kids playing in the cracked street and parents standing in their worn front porches. Everyone was staring though, curious eyes staying fixed on Jungkook, and then on you.

It was a bit daunting if you were being entirely honest with yourself. Yes, you were the daughter of a mafia leader, but you’d never actually been made to make public appearances like this, much less speak at them. Daughters of leaders were more like decoration pieces, hidden away until they were married off.

Jungkook rounded the car until he was standing at your side, an arm wrapping snuggly around your waist. The action had been hesitant, as if he expected you to push him away or flinch at the touch, but you were beyond trying to fight whatever image of perfection Jungkook was trying to sell; there were bigger issues you needed to worry about now. And maybe a tiny part of you found comfort in it as you noticed all the eyes that were on you now. It was your first public appearance in the Jeon Territory after all, everyone would be curious about the Jeon Jungkook’s new wife. You needed to appear shy for the sake of your act, but you were still able to notice the mixed reactions, some confused, some sceptical, but most were just surprised.

Jungkook also seemed to be scanning the crowd before he turned towards you, whispering the words in your ear, “let’s get going.”

You didn’t have time to notice the fuss that action had caused in a group of girls before you both began following a guard into a house on your right. He guided you through the doorway, the door already wide open, as you made your way towards what seemed like a living room. The space had a homey vibe, pictures of the family scattered across the walls and lit candles placed on the tables, but it was clear that whoever lived here was struggling: the paint was peeling off the walls, the wooden floor was littered with scuffs and dents, and the furniture looked a day away from crumbling. It pained your heart to see the kitchen barren.

It was only when you and Jungkook managed to squeeze into the small living room that you finally noticed signs of life. There was an old woman sitting on the only sofa in the room, her expression dejected while her form was hunched forward in a way that you knew was a result of grief and not old age. At the sound of your footsteps her head raised, taking in the two of you with pained eyes.

You had to mask your surprise when you watched Jungkook lower himself onto a knee before her, “hello Mrs. Hwang.”

The woman, Mrs. Hwang, ignored the greeting, instead shaking her head while keeping her gaze on the hands resting in her lap, “I don’t understand. They keep telling me he’s gone, but I just don’t understand… How could he be gone? How could my beautiful son be gone? What happened to him?”

“Mrs. Hwang,” Jungkook said slowly, his brows pulling together in sympathy, “your son and a few other workers were killed in a construction accident at the West Docks. I’m sorry.”

The tears that had been swimming in her eyes finally began to stream down her cheeks, the news coming from the leader of the Jeons finally confirming what she had seemingly been denying for a while, but you could only try to fan the flames of the anger that ignited in your chest. There was no construction accident, there had been an attack orchestrated by Jimin, and normal people who had nothing to do with the territorial feud had suffered the consequences. This poor woman, for example, had lost her son. She deserved to know the real reason he was gone, deserved to belt out her anger at the actual people responsible, not be fed a cover-up story you knew was only being promoted in order to prevent public unrest.

You watched as Jungkook tried to reassure her, his words artfully compassionate and reassuring, wondering just how much of those words he actually meant. He probably didn’t mean many of them, if any at all. Perhaps this was the method in which he maintained his power? Leaders in the South usually asserted their power by ensuring the public feared them, scaring them so much that even the thought of betrayal had them shaking in fear. But Jungkook was a smart man. Perhaps he realised that being loved by the public was a better method of manipulation, one that produced more loyalty.

You’d been so deep in thought that when you felt the tap of Jungkook’s black dress shoe on your white ones you almost flinched. He was looking up at you with a pointed look, and it was then that you realised that the woman was staring at you as well, as if she were waiting for you to speak. Jungkook’s words, genuine or not, seemed to have stopped the tears that had been flowing down her cheeks while you’d been distracted because there was almost nothing left of them except the water staining her cheeks.

Sensing your confusion, Jungkook gave Mrs. Hwang a strained smile, “you must excuse her, she’s still getting used to the North. It can be overwhelming at times.”

Mrs. Hwang nodded in understanding before she turned to face you once again.

“That’s okay dear. I was just wondering how married life has been treating you. My husband passed away so long ago yet I still find myself missing the companionship even now.”

Oh…

That was not the kind of question you hesitate at if you want people to get a good impression of your and Jungkook’s relationship, and the look on Jungkook’s face at the moment only confirmed those thoughts.

“It’s been treating me well,” you answered finally, hesitating on what the right thing to say would be in this situation, “he’s been very good to me.”

It was the wrong thing to say, you realised that at the exact moment Jungkook grimaced and tears started to stream down Mrs. Hwang’s face once again. She nodded in your direction, “my husband treated me well too. How I miss him… And now my son is gone as well, who do I have left?”

Your voice died in your throat, mind unable to come up with anything that could possibly comfort the bawling woman who had lost so much. All you could do was stand dumbly and watch her crumble before you, wishing you could crawl into a hole and stay there forever hidden.

Jungkook, on the other hand, immediately placed a hand on her knee and began to reassure her once again, comforting words falling from his lips like a gentle stream. He reminded her of how her son and husband were in a better place now, of the friends she still has in the neighbourhood, and then of her granddaughter who needed her to be strong.

At the mention of her granddaughter, the door of the living room suddenly smacked open, revealing a little girl skipping into the room. She was wearing a sparkly pink shirt and washed out jeans which were fraying at the edges, while a worn doll hung from her fingers. Despite this, there was a bright smile on her face as she walked deeper into the room.

The sight of Jungkook slowed her down in her tracks, replacing the once innocent smile with a deep blush painting her cheeks. Her gaze shifted away from him, clearly shy from her sudden crush. But then she caught sight of her grandmother and her gaze became worried. She made her way to her side quickly before gently placing the doll on her grandmother’s lap, also placing a comforting hand on her arm.

“Don’t cry grandma,” she said with a frown, using her other hand to push a few strands of her grandmother’s hair behind her ear. The girl turned in Jungkook’s direction, though the blush was back and her eyes wouldn’t meet his, “I keep telling her not to be sad, but she keeps crying.”

It was then when she caught sight of someone else in the room, making her turn to face in your direction. Her reaction was immediate, eyes lighting up in excitement as she took in your dress, then your shoes, and then your makeup. The girl quickly jumped from the side of the sofa and skipped over to you, eyes wide in childlike amazement.

“Your dress!” She squealed, continuing to skip in a circle around you as she scanned you from top to bottom, “it’s so pretty! I’m going to ask Daddy to get me one just like it when he comes back!”

The last sentence felt like a hammer to your chest, and you could see Jungkook’s expression also sadden from behind her. How long would it take this little girl to realise that her father would not be coming back? That his life had been taken from him only because of the cruel way in which this world was structured?

Before you could think much of it, you slowly lowered yourself to the ground, knees touching the cold wood as you became eye to eye with the excited girl before you. It gave her the opportunity to marvel at your hair and the light sparkles on your eyelids, her small hand brushing against the frills of your dress softly as her excitement only heightened.

“You look just like a princess!” She continued. But then a thought seemed to strike her, suddenly making her shy, “do you think I could grow up to be a princess like you one day?”

You smiled at her, using every bit of your self control not to cry for this little girl and her innocence, “I think you’ll grow up to be an even prettier princess one day.”

Her smile brightened again, her confidence restored in that quick way only a child’s confidence could. You wanted that confidence to stick though, knowing just how quickly the cruelty of this world could destroy it .

“But do you want me to tell you a little secret?” You asked, to which she nodded hastily, also desperate in that way only children were.

“You don’t need pink dresses and sparkles to be a princess.” You gently took hold of her hand, giving her tiny fingers a comforting squeeze. This new information seemed to shock her, her eyes widening as a surprised gasp escaped her lips, “what matters is your heart. Your grandmother lost someone very dear to her, and she’ll need someone to help her get through her sadness.”

The girl straightened up immediately, chin rising as if to meet the challenge head on, “don’t worry, Daddy always makes me in charge of helping grandma. I’ll always take care of her.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” you praised.

“I am! I’m very-” She struggled with the words for a moment until she finally seemed to manage the beast, “responsible!”

An amused breath escaped your lips at her childish confidence, despite the sorrow tugging at your heartstrings.

“And when you realise what you’ve lost,” you continued, this time speaking to the girl she will become when the devastating news finally hits her, “your grandma will be there to get you through it as well. You won’t be alone, okay?”

She nodded innocently, the weight of your words flying over her head. But that was okay, she’d realise their meaning when the time came. You could only hope that they would provide at least some comfort when it really mattered.

Without another thought, you reached behind your head to unravel the silky pink ribbon in your hair, making sure to smooth it out before you held it out to her. She squealed in delight, grabbing the ribbon and softly running a hand over the silk material.

But then she suddenly looked up from it and threw her arms around your neck, the spontaneity of the action causing you to flinch.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She continued to squeal, “I think you’re the best princess in the world!”

With her chin laying on your shoulder, your gaze automatically met Jungkook’s as your hands hesitantly raised to rest on her back. He was still kneeling in front of Mrs. Hwang, but his hand had dropped from her knee to his own, realising that it was unneeded as a fond smile was overtaking her expression at the sight of her happy granddaughter. Jungkook’s expression was unreadable as he watched the girl jump excitedly in your embrace.

The two of you only stayed a few minutes longer, only because the girl had insisted that you tie the ribbon in her hair, before Jungkook stood and cleared his throat, a clear sign that you both should get going. You hadn’t even realised how heavy the atmosphere had been in the house until you were walking through the doorway, finally able to take in a full breath of fresh air. A guard was already standing before the front door, turning around to lead you both to the next house when he noticed your presence.

“Well… that was interesting,” Jungkook commented, his face turning in your direction to meet your gaze.

You were quiet as you followed behind him, making sure to pull your act back up in the process. You hadn’t realised that it had sort of dropped when you began speaking to the girl, the heat of the moment enough to make you forget.

You didn’t turn to meet his gaze, instead scanning the area and people that surrounded you both as you spoke, “I’m not very good at it.”

His head tilted in question.

In hindsight, you should have told him earlier, but perhaps you were a tiny bit embarrassed of it. Now, though, the cat was out of the bag, so there was no point in trying to hide it from him now.

“The wife thing? The hugging and laughing and kissing? I can do that,” you finally admitted, “but comforting? I’m not the best at it.”

That was an understatement, but you were sure Jungkook probably knew that by now. His gaze felt heavy as he watched you for a moment, studying your expression. Then he turned away, keeping his eyes fixed before him as he spoke words you were not expecting in the slightest.

“You did alright.”

It was early in the evening when you and Jungkook finally visited the last house, the sun just barely visible above the horizon when you had crossed over the street to follow behind the guard for the last time today. You had visited at least 20 houses, all of which weighed your heart down more and more until you had felt like you were dragging it against the concrete beneath you. Some had lost their son, their brother, their husband, all of whom were important not only because they were loved, but also because they had been the sole provider of the family. You committed each grief-filled face to memory, promising that pain like that would be a thing of the past.

It only made you more determined to accomplish your goal.

Now you stood behind Jungkook as he spoke to a woman in her kitchen, listening attentively to her describe the kind man that was her late husband with a bittersweet fondness. His expression was sympathetic as she spoke, nodding every so often with a gentle smile, while the woman thanked him again and again for being here and helping them.

If your observations proved anything, people certainly respected him around here. Whenever he would pass by in the street or when he spoke with the families, you watched many bow in his presence or express their gratitude for him. But no one ever invaded his space, and they definitely didn’t try to speak to him unless spoken to. It was all in all a respectful appreciation for the man they thought was a good leader. It was such an odd sight to you, being so used to people in the South trembling in fear in the presence of a leader, that it seemed almost foreign.

Your gaze travelled around the room as you continued to stand with your hands clasped in front of yourself, casually surveying the small area while simultaneously making sure to absently follow the conversation in case you were spoken to. After your visit to the first house, you’d decided that it was best if you stayed as quiet as possible seeing as you were a trainwreck when it came to comforting people. Sure, you’d sort of saved yourself when you had spoken to the little girl, but you had clearly said the wrong things when you’d spoken to Mrs. Hwang. It was an embarrassing shortcoming on your part, but you also couldn’t really blame yourself. It’s not like you had any examples from when you were growing up to draw on.

You were pulled from your thoughts, however, when you noticed a quick shadow flit in your peripheral vision, making you discreetly turn your head in that direction. For a moment, the doorway in which your gaze had settled on was empty aside from a guard who stood still in front of it, to the point that you thought you had imagined it. But then a fluffy black tail slithered from behind the wall, making you freeze in place. The tail brushed against the wooden floor before its owner turned around, the familiar face and collar moving into view.

Persilla’s feline eyes stayed fixed on you as she sat herself down for a moment, tilting her head as she watched you meet her gaze in surprise. She was going completely unnoticed by everyone else in the room, though that part didn’t surprise you. That cat was a master of camouflage after all. She was only seen when she wanted to be.

Which was why her presence had you wondering what she was doing here.

The answer to that question came when she suddenly stood, walking dangerously close to the guard as she crossed him and made her way into the hallway slowly. She easily blended into the shadows as she paused and turned back for a moment, making sure that you were still watching her, before she finally slipped into one of the rooms which had a door that was slightly ajar.

The message was clear to you: she wanted you to follow her.

You glanced at Jungkook and the woman, who were still deep in conversation thankfully, before you silently shuffled to the doorway where the guard was standing idly.

“Excuse me?” You spoke, voice soft as a feather. The man’s firm gaze shifted to you, “is there a bathroom anywhere that I could use?”

You could feel Jungkook sneak a glance in your direction, but the woman was still speaking with him, keeping him occupied. You’d made sure to keep your voice loud enough so that he could hear the bathroom excuse though, not wanting him to suspect anything.

The guard nodded and began to guide you down the same hall Persilla had walked through. Then, to your relief, he stopped in front of the door she had disappeared behind, unknowingly making your life much easier.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind you. You immediately began to survey the small space, taking in the toilet and small sink, but your brows furrowed when you failed to find your favourite black cat.

You kneeled before the sink to open the cabinet underneath it, frowning when it also was empty.

“Persilla?” You whispered, so silently you could barely hear yourself.

That was when you took notice of the window beside the sink. It was high up and blurred, but what really made you pause was the fact that it was open. Perhaps Persilla had jumped out of it before you’d entered the room? If she was expecting you to follow her, though, she clearly underestimated your size…

You flinched backwards when she suddenly dropped from said window, paws soundlessly making contact with the tiles before she circled your form. When she was satisfied she sat in front of you, showing you her neck. Once again, wedged between her fur and collar, was a small folded piece of paper.

“He better not make a messenger out of you,” you practically mouthed with a grumble before you reached out and slipped the note from her collar, unfolding it curiously. The handwriting was familiar as your eyes scanned through the words, though there was only one person the note could be from anyway.

I heard he has a knack for detail, so I’m assuming that’s why it’s not done yet. No problem. But we really should meet soon, there’s something I need to tell you. (I would’ve let myself in now, but your husband is waiting right outside the door so I had to make good use of Persilla)

~ H

P.S. I left you a little gift in the toilet tank. I think you might like it.

Your brows furrowed at the last part, gaze immediately shifting to the toilet in the corner of the room. It was a standard two piece, one with a removable back cover that made it easier to access the tank.

You pushed yourself off the tiled floor and made your way towards it before grabbing the heavy cover and hauling it upwards with a strained huff, eyes immediately scanning the inside. There were shiny metal pipes intersecting with each other and valves protruding in some places, but it was a black handle wedged between the mess that caught your eye. You grabbed it and pulled it out of the tank, easing the cover back into place with a smile.

Finally…

Delight was all you could feel as you rotated the shiny new handgun in your hand, taking in its familiar shape. You pressed against the release button first, catching the magazine expertly in your other hand as it popped out of the handle and checked its contents. It was full of ammunition, allowing you to push it back into the gun in satisfaction. Then your attention shifted to the silencer that had been screwed into the gun’s barrel. It wouldn’t entirely silence a shot, but it was still better than nothing and it could definitely come in handy. He knew you well, didn’t he…

You unscrewed the silencer from the gun and then shoved both into the holster at your thigh, making sure to smooth over your dress quickly. One look in the mirror had you satisfied, even eyes like Jungkook’s wouldn’t be able to tell there was a gun concealed under here. He would have no clue what was coming.

You crouched down to scratch Persilla’s chin, promising her some good salmon for being such a good girl, before she jumped out the window and scurried off. Unable to contain your own curiosity you walked over to the window and gave it a quick glance, but there was no one in sight.

Just as you had been told, Jungkook was standing right outside the door when you opened it after flushing the toilet and washing your hands to give the illusion that you’d really used the bathroom. You weren’t surprised when you watched his eyes dart behind you to carefully scan the bathroom, but you knew there was nothing to see. Everything that mattered was now strapped to your thigh discreetly hidden underneath your dress.

“Checking the bathroom after a lady uses it is a bit much, don’t you think?” You couldn’t help but comment, keeping your expression innocent as you noticed the guard standing patiently at the end of the hallway.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in your direction, but there was an amused turn to his lips. You maintained your expression as you felt his arm wrap around yours and pull you closer, whispering the words into your ear as he began to guide you out of the house, “and trying to kill your husband isn’t?”

“A woman can’t have hobbies?”

He steered you along the street, passing by crowds of people who stood at a distance around the neighbourhood, as you both made your way back to the car. Because of that you had to keep a smile on your face as you spoke, despite the nature of your words.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow to pair with his smile, aware of the crowd’s eyes on you both. There was no doubt that, through their eyes, you both looked like a nice couple speaking about nice things, far from the truth of course, “there are many husbands that wouldn’t be so understanding about your particular hobby. I think I deserve some credit.”

“Dead men don’t get credit.”

“Good thing I’m not dead yet, princess.”

You wished you could shoot him a nasty glare to wipe the cocky grin off his face, but you could only watch him innocently as he opened the door of the black car and waited for you to get in, an arm resting on the top of the car’s door nonchalantly. Taking the opportunity, you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving the impression that you were thanking him for the gesture, but instead said, “I wouldn’t count on that for long.”

Jungkook shut the door behind you in amusement after you sat in the car, ready to join you in the backseat until he felt his phone vibrate suddenly against his thigh. He stayed standing on your side of the car, resting a hand over its top as his other hand went to grab the phone out of his pocket and bring it to his ear.

“What have you got for me?” He asked, casually surveying the area as he waited for a response. His brows furrowed when he heard the person on the other end of the line hesitate before he spoke.

“Hello sir,” he finally said, to which Jungkook huffed, knowing whatever was about to be said wasn’t going to please him.

“Out with it, I don’t have all day.”

The man on the other end of the line sighed, “I was just contacted by the informant who has been working on what you ordered him to do…”

Jungkook frowned, remembering how he’d asked the informant to investigate your room and the man you’d been having hushed phone calls with before your marriage. He had wondered why it was taking the informant so long to get back to him, but Jungkook trusted the informant with his life, that’s why he had placed him in the Lee mansion in the first place. If things were being delayed, there was a reason.

One that was about to be explained to him right now.

“The informant just told me that he wasn’t able to identify the man.”

Jungkook’s grip on his phone tightened at the news, brows furrowing even further, “what?”

“He said he searched through Mrs. Y/N’s room from top to bottom, but was unable to find anything out of the ordinary, nor anything related to the mystery man. Then he traced her prior phone calls, but none led to anywhere significant. The only thing the informant was able to figure out was that the man goes by the letter H.”

Jungkook mulled over the information for a moment, tapping his finger against the hood of the car while deep in thought. H… that was practically nothing to go by. Why were you talking to a man that seemed so untraceable? What did he have to hide? What did you have to hide?

Jungkook’s jaw ticked.

“What do you mean tracing the phone calls led to nowhere significant?”

“He explained that the locations were all scattered. Some were in the South, some were in the North, some were in the western and eastern regions, and a couple were even outside the country altogether,” he explained, then seemed to hesitate on his next words, “the informant mentioned that there were a couple locations that may seem slightly promising, but he admitted that he doubts they would prove to be very useful.”

“Tell him to send you the locations, and then send some men to check them out,” Jungkook said immediately.

His gaze dropped on you, who was already staring back at him from your seat.

“That man is not a ghost. We’ll find him, whether he likes it or not.”

Unlike earlier, you nor Jungkook slept as the car raced through the highway, nothing but the darkness of night visible from outside of the window aside from the occasional streetlamp. You’d already been on the road for about an hour or two, the entirety of the trip drenched in silence.

Jungkook clearly had something on his mind, you could tell from the way his eyes were clouded over in thought as they stayed glued to the window. You hadn’t been able to hear what he’d talked about on the phone, so you’d settled for deciphering his expressions. He’d seemed frustrated by something he’d been told, that was as much as you could make out.

The weight of the gun on your thigh felt heavy, the need to grab it and use it itching against your fingers. Technically speaking, you had an opportunity right at this very moment. You could shoot Jungkook dead, bang on the divider to get the driver to stop the car, and then shoot him dead too before he put two and two together. It would be simple, and you’d also be able to run to the nearest sign of life and dramatically explain how a man associated with Park Jimin had hijacked the car and killed Jungkook and the driver, leaving you alive to relay the message. They’d buy that in a second. It would be perfect.

The only thing holding you back was the fact that you would have to kill the driver. Jungkook was a mafia leader, and mafia leaders were cruel and merciless. He deserved what was coming. But this driver… he was just a guy doing his job. He might even have a family waiting for him at home, and after the day you’d had, the thought of another family losing someone dear to them made you squirm in your seat.

Realistically, you knew your goal couldn’t be complete without the deaths of a few innocents. But even that thought wasn’t enough to get your fingers to grab the gun at your thigh. A frustrated breath escaped your lips at the lack of your action, one that of course, didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook.

“Someone seems frustrated,” he commented, the first time either of you have spoken after entering the car. You rolled your eyes, refusing to face him. But Jungkook continued to observe you intensely, giving you the impression that he wasn’t ready to let the conversation end so easily this time.

“You know, you seem so adamant on killing me,” he said slowly, “if I’m going to have my wife perpetually working on my death, I think I at least deserve to know why she’s so passionate for the cause.”

It didn’t go over your head that he was suddenly so interested in your intentions after that ominous phone call, and you had no problem calling him out on it, “I heard you had an interesting phone call earlier. Maybe you should focus on that instead.”

“I am. I’m trying to find a pesky man that goes by the letter H, you wouldn’t happen to know him would you?”

You froze, surprise freezing your limbs as you wondered where Jungkook had gotten that name from. Had you messed up somewhere? You’d burned the first note you received and flushed the second down the toilet, so there was no way he could have gotten hold of them. Besides that, you’d never uttered his name out loud since marrying Jungkook. No, there was no way he could have found out from you.

Jungkook smiled, as if reading your thoughts, “it seems you do.”

You shrugged, trying to collect yourself, “H knows everyone and no one.”

“But you know him better than others. Tell me, is he the reason you want me dead?”

You turned to meet his gaze, the taunt in your voice evident, “maybe you should find him and ask him yourself.”

“I will. He won’t be able to hide from me forever.”

You chuckled, answer instant, “doubtful.”

That made Jungkook tilt his head at you, an evident question.

“He’s only found when he wants to be found. Otherwise, he’ll have you running in circles like a clueless pet.”

For some reason your words seemed to irritate Jungkook as you noticed his gaze narrow.

“You seem pretty fond of him.”

You didn’t answer, your gaze instead drifting back to the window. Up until now you’d been driving through a thick forest, the concrete road surrounded by enormous trees that seemed to extend into the sky. But the window on Jungkook’s side showcased the trees starting to dwindle, empty patches emerging in the thicket occasionally until they finally gave way to a grand view of the ocean. If you squinted your eyes enough you could make out a large docks system in the distance, full of enormous ships and warehouses.

The view had caught your eye though, distracting you from the sorry excuse of a conversation you were having with Jungkook. It was the light that had initially caught your attention, more specifically the sheer intensity of it. The docks were lined with the same street lamps that were brightening the road you were currency driving on, yet it looked like someone dropped the sun into one of the warehouses.

At first you thought perhaps you were overthinking it, but then Jungkook followed your line of sight, peering critically through the window for a moment before he suddenly sat up straight. It was then that you saw it as well; at the edge of one of the warehouses, a roaring fire was beginning to destroy everything in its vicinity. It was only visible now because it had moved on from behind the warehouse, engulfing the structure itself at an alarming rate.

A sudden explosion shook the docks, so powerful that you could feel the vibrations of the shock despite your distance from the area. At that moment you felt the car screech to a stop, the momentum pushing both you and Jungkook painfully against your seatbelts for a split second, before Jungkook’s phone suddenly started to ring.

He picked it up on the first bell, not bothering to hide the call from you this time. You could hear loud sounds erupt from the phone the second the line was accepted, a man’s voice barely audible above the chaos.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asked hastily, eyes glued to the wreck. He looked as if he wanted to jump out of the car and run to it, but the distance was far too large for him to get there at any reasonable time.

The man on the other line grunted for a moment, yelling orders to another before he shouted, “sir! There’s been a few explosions at the West Docks! Three of our warehouses have been destroyed, we’re trying to staunch the flames in the fourth one at the moment!”

“Forget it,” Jungkook shook his head immediately, “order thirty guards to the area to make sure there aren’t any actual threats around and to help out with the flames. And take anyone who’s injured to the hospital right away.”

“Of course, sir!” The man on the other line shouted instantly, but then he hesitated before he spoke again, “but sir… who could have done this?”

Jungkook was silent, and you knew you both were thinking of the same man’s name.

“Just do as I’ve said. I want the least amount of casualties possible.”

There was an incoherent sound on the other end of the line that resembled a “yes sir” before it went dead. Jungkook’s hand instantly went to brush through his hair, the gears in his head clearly working overtime as he seemed to be deep in thought. Before you could say anything though, his phone rang again and this time your eyes widened as you got a clear view of the caller ID. It was the man that you both were thinking of not even a full minute ago.

Park Jimin.

This time Jungkook did wait to pick up the call, instead staring at the screen for a few seconds longer than he should have. The silence in the car stretched, nothing but the sound of his ringtone reverberating throughout the small space, as you noticed his muscles tense under his black suit and the grip on his phone tighten to a point that you were sure it would snap the thing in half. This was probably the most tense you’d ever seen him look.

Jungkook finally grabbed the handle of the door and threw it open, stepping out of the car without so much as a sound. You watched him close the door behind him, only pausing for a moment to say something to the driver before you watched him disappear into the thick forest on your side of the road, leaving you and the driver alone in a dark and empty road.

Wow… he really did not want you to hear that conversation.

Jungkook cut through the trees of the forest, the sound of his ringtone practically mocking him as he continued to walk way deeper than he knew was necessary. He couldn’t help it. Park Jimin’s mere name angered him, and cutting through the trees of the forest was helping him direct that anger onto something unimportant. Because he wouldn’t be able to let it out on Jimin. He had to be calm, collected, and even amused in front of that bastard, nothing that could give away just how well Jimin managed to get under Jungkook’s skin.

But he eventually came to a stop, realising that he couldn’t go traipsing through the forest forever. The phone still vibrated against his hand as he relaxed his muscles, slipping into the Jeon Jungkook that was unbothered and coolheaded. The one that wouldn’t allow Jimin to have the upper hand because of his practically ancient anger.

Jungkook brought the phone to his ear and, finally, accepted the call.

The line was quiet for a second, as if Jimin expected Jungkook to say the first greeting, but he was just as quiet, forcing Jimin to be the conversation initiator.

“Hello Jungkook, I was just calling to confirm if you received my gift or not.”

His voice was just as melodically taunting as Jungkook remembered it from years ago, the words instantly causing him to clench his jaw. But he relaxed it once again, knowing that he needed to stay clear headed.

“All that just for me? I must say you flatter me, Jimin.”

“How can I not flatter an old friend?” And Jungkook could practically hear the smile in his voice, knowing how much the mention of old friend would make his blood boil. It did, but Jungkook pushed down the feeling of strangling him through the phone.

“But to what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden gift?” He asked, knowing full well what the attack meant. But he was interested in how Jimin would explain it, whether he would put it plainly or jump around the topic like a coward.

The line was silent for a second, as if Jimin were choosing which angle he wanted to go by, before he finally spoke again.

“Why don’t we speak about it over dinner?“

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise, the words catching him off guard. How could Jimin be inviting him over to his territory so easily, after years of silent animosity? Sure, Taehyung and Yoongi have been at each other’s throats the past few years, Taehyung constantly having to fight off the Mins at his border, but the border between the Parks and Jeons have been silent, much like their leaders.

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, “you’re inviting me to the Park Territory?”

“Yes, I believe it’s time we settle a couple things, don’t you think?”

Settle a couple things was much too ambiguous of a phrase for Jungkook to decipher. Did he want to sort out the terms for a war? Or was Jimin beyond morality now and instead going straight to setting a trap? Jungkook wasn’t really sure what Jimin was capable of after the warehouse of bodies he’d witnessed a week ago.

His doubts kept him from speaking, allowing nothing but the serene sounds of the dark forest around him to fill the silence. Jimin seemed to sense his hesitance, letting the silence stretch for only a few moments before he chuckled into the line.

“Come on, Jungkook. What will it be?”

This was an opportunity.

Currently, your husband was alone, surrounded solely by trees, in an environment dark enough that you could very much get away with shooting him dead and not being blamed for it. You wouldn’t even need to shoot the driver to cover up your tracks, lessening your guilty conscience to a decent amount. It was perfect. The only issue now, was how you were going to get into the forest without arousing suspicion.

You tapped on the divider, waiting only a couple seconds before you pulled the panel down to reveal the professionally dressed driver.

“Excuse me? I need to use the bathroom,” you announced, trying to sound as urgent as possible while simultaneously keeping your voice naive.

The driver, on the other hand, looked as though you’d slammed him in the stomach with a sledgehammer.

“Ma’am…” He spoke hesitantly, “you’ll have to wait.”

“But I need to go nowww,” you whined, trying to put every bit of spoiled brat into your voice as you could. Then you turned your face towards the forest Jungkook had disappeared into, widening your eyes to give the impression that an idea had suddenly popped into your head, before turning back to face him, “I know! I’ll just go in the forest very quickly.”

Without a response, you pushed the door open and stepped out, causing the driver to scramble out of the car as well, pure panic washing over his expression at your determination.

“Please ma’am! I can’t let you go out there in the dead of night.”

“Why?” You asked, sporting a confused, and very much dumb, look, “it’s fine! I’ll just go towards my husband. He’ll protect me.”

The mention of Jungkook seemed to visibly calm the man, though there was still a lingering hesitance in his expression, “let me walk you to him.”

You waved him off, praying that he let you go without a fuss. You didn’t want things to get more complicated than they needed to be, or it wouldn’t end well for the man before you, “he’s right at the edge, don’t worry! I saw him and everything!”

You turned around and began walking towards the thicket of trees and, to your utmost relief, you didn’t hear the sounds of the driver following.

It took you about a minute of walking through the forest to realise that Jungkook was, in fact, not at its very edge, which left you trekking deeper into the thicket of trees, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness. You could hear the occasional sound of a bird, that strange humm that always seemed to be present in the wilderness, and the skittering of small animals against fallen branches, but there was no sound of your own expert footsteps to your satisfaction. Jungkook wouldn’t be able to hear what was coming.

Once you’d created a considerable distance between yourself and the driver, to the point that you were certain he would no longer be able to catch sight of you, your innocent smile dropped, replaced immediately by a look of focus as you reached for the gun at your thigh.

Your gaze wasted no time in surveying the darkened wilderness around you, flickering down only briefly to double check the magazine once again. Your surroundings were still empty of human life, no signs of Jungkook anywhere near you for the time being. Your brows couldn’t help but furrow, wondering why he’d decided to go hiking to take one phone call, even if it was from Jimin.

You grabbed the silencer from your holster and began to screw it onto the barrel, strolling until you caught the faint sight of a dark silhouette in the distance. The sight had you crouching instantly, fingers still twisting the silencer into the barrel as you began inching closer to the figure, using the thick trunks of the trees to hide yourself from view. The closer you got, the more the silhouette began to shape into Jungkook, his black hair falling into his eyes as his gaze was directed downwards while one hand held his phone up to his ear.

You finally hid yourself behind a tree that was directly to his right, letting go of the now fully attached silencer to instead rest your finger against the trigger guard. You were close enough that you could hear his end of the conversation now, one that seemed to have just begun.

“All that just for me? I must say you flatter me, Jimin,” he said, voice cool and collected, but you could see the fist his other hand had become.

Something about Jimin got under Jungkook’s skin, that was clear enough to you by now. But you wondered, why? Jungkook seemed like a man that was unmoved by a challenge, enjoyed them even, according to your observations these past four days and also according to his reaction to your presence. And yet, small attacks and calls from Jimin were enough to move him? No… there was something deeper to this reaction, something personal between Jimin and Jungkook that you didn’t know about. Some sort of history perhaps?

“But to what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden gift?”

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts. It didn’t matter anymore. You were about to shoot Jungkook dead, making the answers to these questions useless for you. This little mission of yours was over.

You watched a squirrel scurry down the trunk of a tree to your left, the small animal cloaked in the shadows of the darkness. Eager to get this over with, you placed your hand on the top of the gun, slowly pulling the slide backwards. At the exact moment you heard a click sound from your gun, the squirrel crashed into a pile of leaves, muffling the racking of your slide. Still, your gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook’s expression just in case as both your hands went to hold the handle. His brows were furrowed, but his eyes were still turned downwards, giving the impression that perhaps Jimin had said something he wasn’t expecting.

Distantly you wondered what it could have been, but physically you brought your gun up from the side of the trunk, pushing the thought out of your mind.

You felt all thoughts flow out of your head like they always did whenever you were aiming, this time your barrel pointing straight in the direction of Jungkook’s temple. When you saw a lack of any reaction from him, you knew it was over.

Your finger finally pressed against the trigger.

Goodbye, Jungkook.

“You’re inviting me to the Park Territory?”

You froze, your finger stalling as it pushed the trigger by about a third of its pathway, the words making your eyes widen in surprise. It had to be a misunderstanding, your luck couldn’t be so good - or would it be bad in this case? - that Park Jimin was inviting Jeon Jungkook over to his territory?

You strained your ears, desperately trying to hear Jimin’s answer to the question. You even dangerously pushed your head forward a bit, risking being detected by Jungkook, but he was much too busy staring at the ground with slightly widened eyes to notice your form, clearly just as surprised as you.

You pulled back behind the trunk when you managed to make out a yes from Jimin’s end of the line, causing you to suck in a breath.

This changed things.

If Jungkook were to be killed in the Park Territory it wouldn’t just cause tensions between the northern territories, it would instantly cause all out war. Killing a leader while he was visiting another territory was a huge no no, no matter what region of the country you were from. It signified at least some form of ethics in a world that was so unethical, and surprisingly you’d never met a territory that didn’t honour that rule. To the point that when leaders broke that rule, it was instant chaos. All it would take was for Jungkook to die on Park soil for both the Jeons and Kims to retaliate with full force, no room for negotiations or apologies.

And the best part was that, if Jungkook were to go, he would have to take you. Leaders always took their wives whenever they travelled or visited other territories to assert their power. If Jungkook ended up going to the Park Territory without you, he would give off the impression that he was scared he wouldn't be able to protect you should something go wrong, making him look weak. Mr. Perfect Image would never have that, especially in the face of the one person clearly trying to take over his territory.

Now it all depended on his answer.

Your handgun continued to stay pinned on Jungkook’s head, finger still pressing against the trigger as you watched him stare into the ground before him. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain, going over the advantages and disadvantages of his options while his lips were pressed into a firm line. Whether he survived or not tonight was all dependent on the answer he gave now.

You could feel your muscles tensing in anticipation, the natural sounds of the forest blurring into the background as you focused on the man before you.

Jungkook’s head suddenly lifted, staring straight ahead of him as the chaos of his thoughts seemed to subside. You automatically adjusted your aim, preparing yourself before he finally spoke.

“Fine.”

Your finger instantly lifted off the trigger to let it bounce back into place, pairing with the sound of Jungkook ending the phone call. Your arm dropped to your side as the realisation washed over you.

The decision had been made, you were going to visit the Parks.

But one thing had become more clear to you at this very moment. You had just given up a good opportunity to end this man, one that may not show itself again, which meant you could not let it be in vain. No matter what happened there, no matter how you had to do it, Jungkook was dying in the Park Territory. There was no room for failure now, only the end of what needed to be done.

You’d do anything to make sure of it.

A/N: Things are about to get very physical 😏 Also comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

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mullermilkshake · 7 days ago

Text

Two wrongs can make a right

Part 9 <- Part 10 -> Part 11

You're pissed... like really pissed.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - NSFW, pregnant reader, manipulation, Smut, p in v sex, vaginal sex, quickie, creampie, unprotected sex

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

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EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

“I can’t believe you, Jinwoo. I wanted to break it to her easily- why did you tell her like that?”

There was an easy explanation for this, and it wasn’t the truth. “She was going to find out through someone else, wouldn’t you rather we tell her and not beat around the bush?”

“You know how she feels about you, what you did wasn’t compassion, it was like you were rubbing it in her face.”

Because it was exactly that.

“It’s not the case at all, I just thought it was best to rip the band aid off. You and me are having these babies, and she’ll have to get used to it. But skirting around the subject won’t help any one.”

“Why do I not believe that?” You were more than just angry, you were furious. Even your foot tapped impatiently at him. “It just felt so nasty how you did-“

You stopped abruptly, hand straight to your mouth with all the paleness in your face. “How you did that, it’s-“ You tried again and failed, placing your hand over your stomach.

And then your ability triggered Eye’s handmaiden. It appeared in the corner, standing as it always did, arms out ready for spell casting. It fed you a spell with its aura, calming you down so that now you were standing straight.

“What is it?” He asked, rushing over to your side. “Is it the babies?”

“N-no…” You watched Eye’s handmaiden closely. “I just felt sick, I… I don’t anymore.”

Could it be the morning sickness the doctor and Hae-in talked about? “You’re getting morning sickness? That’s what it is.”

You wanted to say something but stopped yourself, shaking your head quicker than Jinwoo liked and pressed your hand flat to his chest to make space. “That doesn’t matter, I’m still pissed off at you. Don’t go pulling that again, because I don’t want drama. I’m stressed enough as it is, me and Hae-in both are.”

Jinwoo pushed back against you to get closer, he took you by the shoulders. “I’m not trying to stress anyone out, especially not you.”

“Then why did you do that?” You didn’t resist his touch.

He wanted to come clean, he really did. But telling you he loved you wasn’t the right time. He had an idea now of when he’d tell you and today wasn’t it.

“You’re having twins. Half of them are me, and half of them are you. Maybe I got a little excited now that it’s settling in, we finally did it, I got you pregnant when for a time, I wasn’t sure that I could. I kind of want to shout it from the rooftops and show the Chairman that he did wrong trying to rush us, it only hindered things.”

You seemed to buy it for now, your expression though, not so much. “So, you’re telling me that you’re not freaking out about this, that you’re excited?”

“Uh…” Jinwoo rubbed the back of his neck with the sudden realisation that you must have been ready to slap him. “Well… I dunno, I just-“

You didn’t slap him, you didn’t scowl or grit your teeth, or just throw harsh language and scold him for it. No, you kissed him. Everything stopped, Jinwoo threw out everything from the air, anything unquestioned and hidden from your view so that he left nothing between you.

He pulled you into him, feeling his way over your waist and let your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers scrunching into his hair with a tug that sent him off. Jinwoo wanted you right here, right now, and pull everything from your bottom half and fuck you senseless over the bed and any other hard surface in the room.

But, he had two babies to think of now, and it wasn’t an option to be rough with you, not for a long while.

Would you even want to have sex, or was it the hormones just getting you hot and bothered? Because the way you kept yourself pressed against him gave him mixed signals. You were pissed off at him, yet grabbing onto any part of his body you could.

“The doctor said we can still have sex, right? I forgot.” You pulled away and slipped off your pretty red shirt, leaving your perfect breasts tucked away in your bra.

You still wanted to have sex even though you weren’t obligated to do so now that you were pregnant. That had to mean something. But it also begged the question of how much information you actually took from the doctor. It was one of the first things she spoke about. You could still have sex though with caution, because there were two babies and possible complications later down the line.

So Jinwoo had to be careful.

For now, he’d have to restrain himself until the babies were born. Simple enough despite his urges and yours, clearly. You were all over him, pawing at his shirt right over his head and stealing little nips down his chest where you could reach. All the signs told him you wanted it, and wanted it bad.

He stopped you right there, making a gap you fought with until you realised, your eyes wider than they should have been. “What- oh shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright, I want it too- we just need to be careful, because of the babies. But… if you still want to then-“

You did, you kissed him quick and held him near. Jinwoo took the initiative and lifted you up in his arms so that your legs wrapped around his waist. Any hard surface would do. Anything. No bed, no softness, just upright. He took you straight to the end-suite bathroom, holding you firm under your ass and swiping the products from the counter so that they clattered and cracked on the tile floor.

“Fuck me Jinwoo- I need it right now or I’ll burst.”

Pleading always got his cock hard and twitching. He grabbed at your remaining clothes and pulled your underwear off, pulling his pants down just below his ass and gripping his thighs for dear life. Jinwoo spat in his hand and ran the wet right to the base of his cock to make it glisten, ready and aching to get inside you. It had already done its job in knocking you up, but his leaking tip wanted more. It wanted to fill you up every day for the rest of Jinwoo’s life.

“Jinwoo.” Your sternness caught him off guard. “If you don’t put your cock inside me right now, you can finish yourself off.”

The doctor warned him about this, mood swings and sudden changes in scenarios he never took much notice of, until now. He couldn’t ram his cock inside you like you clearly wanted, he held himself back and slipped himself inside your dripping pussy as cautiously as he could. You still let out an aroused gasp and adjusted yourself on the counter, wrapping your legs around and gripped his ass towards you.

“The doctor said we have to be cautious, pulling me like that isn’t cautious-“

But the way you bit his bottom lip drove him insane, the way you watched him with hungry eyes sent him wild.

“You’re driving me crazy, you want to be cautious all the time for nine months?”

No, of course not.

And hearing such forward words drove him to go against his better judgement, though he never bit, regrettably.

“It’s what we need to do to make sure the babies are safe-“

“Please don’t talk about the babies right now while your balls deep, Jinwoo.” You had a point.

He wanted to say something, or agree with you that bringing up anything other than how good your pussy felt clenching around him. Nothing came out, it wasn’t justified when he did the opposite and slipped his tongue in your mouth. You responded in kind and kissed him back, more feverishly as though you were his lover that reciprocated and told him so everyday. You were yet to say it, Jinwoo knew eventually that you would admit it and give yourself to him.

For now, you accepted his cock with open arms and let him thrust you with some precision, yet tender loving care. Jinwoo wanted to please you in every way that you wanted, his compulsions also wanted you safe.

Still, for now, his urges got one up on the priority list. Only a fraction. A minute molecule.

But it still won.

He fucked into you, lacking his fingers with yours and nipping up your neck in what was possibly the most sensual experience of his life to date. You were constantly topping each new moment just by being you.

And only you.

He loved you.

He really loved you.

I love her. I love her. I love her.

Each time his hips went flush against the plush of your thighs, he repeated that mantra in his mind, over and over. One day he’d say it out loud and one day you’d say it back. And when he came inside you much earlier than he wanted to, those three words almost slipped out. But what did, came as more of a surprise to Jinwoo than you it seemed.

“I think it’s time you meet my mom and sister."

Part 9 <- Part 10 -> Part 11

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974 @snowy-violet @sky2lar @starrynights23x @minh907

@yessirr7 @aussie-boys-wife @yihona-san06 @mashiromochi @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

@stormnightingale @johnnysactualgf @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @johnnysactualgf @notleclerc

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@chahaezii @athanasia10 @crutoyu @thetruepair @lostpsycho13

@dragoonsuki @sashagaming1012

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

#solo leveling smut #only i level up #jinwoo smut #jinwoo x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #jinwoo sung #minors dni #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo #solo leveling jinwoo #jinwoo #jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x you #solo leveling x reader #Jinwoo sung smut #solo leveling #sung jin woo

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becertainlust · 2 months ago

Note

Would you maybe do a katsuki x f.reader

Reader is a just like jade west from Victorious, still mean to katsuki just not nearly as bad to like izuku or anyone else. Hope this isn’t too specific! I never see many katsuki x mean girl type of fics ^_^

BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: You're known for being sharp-tongued, icy-eyed, and completely unimpressed with nearly everyone — Katsuki Bakugo included. But lately, you've been finding new ways to get under his skin…just for plot.

content: fluff

You lean back in your seat, tapping your pen against your lips like you're bored out of your mind. Bakugo’s walking past your desk — all scowl and smoke, as usual — when you strike.

“Wow,” you mutter just loud enough, “you made it through a whole lesson without yelling. What happened? Forget how to read again?”

Bakugo freezes mid-step, one eye twitching. Half the class goes quiet. Mina’s eyes go wide. Kirishima winces like he’s already bracing for the boom.

“The fuck you just say?” Bakugo growls, turning sharply to face you.

You slowly lower your pen and meet his gaze like it’s the dullest thing in the room.

“I’ve always got something to say. I just keep it simple for you so your little detonation-brain can keep up.”

There’s a flicker — barely a beat — before Bakugo lunges.

“You wanna run your mouth—?!”

"oh shit" Karishma muttered, and he is up in a flash, grabbing Bakugo’s arms, anchoring him in place like a pro. “Bro—bro, breathe! Not here!”

“Bakugo, stop,” Mina yells, planting herself between the two of you like a pink barricade. “Don’t blow up the desk! We just replaced that one from last week!” she whined, shaking her self up.

You’re still seated, unbothered, one eyebrow arched in quiet satisfaction and part disbelief in how he falls for it every time.

“Touchy. I forget how fragile you are sometimes my bad princess.”

“Prince-, The fuck—!!”

“No you're not" Kirishima grunts, holding him in a headlock now. “Dude, you can’t fight her in the classroom. Mr. Aizawa's gonna be pissed and its illegal or something!”

“Then take the fucking teacher's pet outside shitty hair!”

“I’d like to see you try,” you say coolly, finally rising from your chair. “All that bark, Bakugo, but the second someone talks back, you lose your damn mind. You sure you wanna be a hero? Or just a really loud toddler with a permit?”

“Oh my god,” Mina whispers

Bakugo is seething now. Jaw locked. Palms glowing. Kirishima is red in the face trying to keep him restrained. Aizawa hasn’t even looked up from his nap.

And you? You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and walk past him like he’s nothing but heat and noise.

“You can glare all you want, Katsuki Bakugo,” you whisper low enough for just him to hear. “But we both know you’d rather chase me than fight me.”

Then you’re gone.

And Bakugo’s about two seconds from detonation if Kirishima wasn’t literally dragging him toward the hallway.

“I swear to God,” he snarls, “one day I’m gonna wipe that smirk off her damn face—!”

“You’ve been saying that for months,” Mina mutters, deadpan. “Just kiss her or kill her already. We’re tired.”

Later in the day the bell rung, signaling the end of lunch and the start of quirk eval period. You and the girls followed suite onto the dirt field. The crunch of dirt under your boots putting a small smile on your face.

The dirt field, alive with energy—early birds stretching, testing their quirks, and waiting for Aizawa to give instructions. You roll your shoulders, eyes flicking toward the equipment set up: weight racks, agility poles, a long track. Another day, another evaluation.

“Alright, listen up,” Aizawa’s voice cuts through the chatter, rough as ever. “We’re doing individual quirk assessment today. Focus on efficiency, control, and execution. You screw up and damage the equipment? You’re writing me a ten-page report on why you shouldn’t be expelled.”

Murmurs ripple through the class. Kaminari groans. You smirk.

Aizawa continues, “First up—”

“Let me go against her.”

The whole field goes still.

You don’t even have to turn to know who said it.

“Bakugo,” Aizawa sighs, rubbing his temples. “It’s not a sparring session.”

“I don’t care,” Bakugo snaps, rolling his shoulders. “She’s been running her damn mouth all day. Let’s see if she can back it up.”

The way everyone is suddenly paying very close attention is amusing. Mina looks between you and Bakugo like she’s watching the finale of her favorite soap opera. Kaminari’s muttering bets under his breath. Even Todoroki looks vaguely interested.

You finally look at Bakugo, tilting your head. “Aw, is this about earlier? You’re not still mad, are you?”

His eye twitches. “Shut up and fight me.”

Aizawa groans. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” But then he waves a hand. “Fine. Since you two wanna make a show of it—one-on-one quirk assessment. First to land a solid hit wins. Don’t make me regret this.”

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

a/n: If i messed up your request I will pray for the god of thunder to strike me.

#bakugou katsuki #boku no hero x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #mha fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki

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nerdallwritey · 11 months ago

Text

Just to Ruin Me

Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”

Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.

Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood.

This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-

Astarion whacked you in the face.

Your eyes shot open.

“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings.

It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn.

At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact.

Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…

No.

No, that wasn’t your fight.

But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-

Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling.

Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.

How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear.

That… would not be pleasant.

You shifted to sit up and look around.

Ow.

A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.

No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.

Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.

Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on!

You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering.

You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.

“Astarion,” you sang quietly.

Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?

You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”

Nothing.

Okay fine.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.

“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you.

You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”

You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”

“So you assaulted me?”

“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”

“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead.

You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”

Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”

“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him.

He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”

You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”

“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”

You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”

Astarion pursed his lips.

“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”

A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”

You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”

“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”

You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”

He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,’ from what I recall.”

You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap.

He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?

When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”

You giggled. “What?”

“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“Wait, no-”

You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”

He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.”

You shrugged, pleased with yourself.

“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”

“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.

Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”

The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably.

“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck.

You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”

Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back.

“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”

He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”

“I just thought of something,” you said.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.

“Can I borrow your fangs?”

“My-?” His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.

“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure.

“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.

“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.

“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked.

“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.

“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

You smiled at him. “Yes.”

He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do.

Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion.

“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”

After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.

“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”

You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”

Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.

His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”

“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder.

You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it.

“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.

You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening.

Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh.

“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”

You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.

“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair.

“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.

“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?”

You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.

Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix.

You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.

Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more.

“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.

“More of a question, really,” he clarified.

You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally.

“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.

It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.

When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face.

“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”

Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”

You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap.

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”

“I did not!” You protested.

“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”

You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”

Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.

The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink.

“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.

“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help.

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants.

“Sorry,” you said.

Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”

You held up your hands innocently.

He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.

“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”

You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?

Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.

“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.

“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.

“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.

“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”

“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.

You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.

Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee.

He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.”

You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next.

“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly.

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.”

You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him.

He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”

You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder.

“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.”

Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”

You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”

“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”

“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”

Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.”

You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”

“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.”

Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.

Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky.

“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”

Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”

Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”

“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke.

“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’”

You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.

“What a prick.”

He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”

“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”

The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”

You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.

“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”

“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.

Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.

You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”

You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield.

When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”

You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”

“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”

“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”

“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.

He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.

“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow.

“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”

That hurt.

You said as much. “Ouch.”

“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”

Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid.

“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”

You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.

“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”

A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.

He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”

“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.

Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”

“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”

He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on.

“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.

You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace.

His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”

Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”

You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?

Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.

Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”

“Then by all means.”

You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small.

“Do you… want to be with me?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”

“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you.

Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now.

“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”

Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.

“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”

You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek.

Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”

You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.

Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”

Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.

“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”

That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”

Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”

You humphed.

“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”

“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”

“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”

You exhaled and nodded for him to continue.

“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”

“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”

That made you smile softly.

He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out.

Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”

“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”

You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”

Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.”

You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.

“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”

You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.

“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”

You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”

Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”

You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”

Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”

“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”

Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.

“You said you wanted to be decapitated.”

“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow.

“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”

Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”

“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”

You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.

“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.

“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”

You pulled back and looked at him curiously.

Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.

“I did have a knife.”

You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards.

He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply.

“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”

You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right.

You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.

He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.”

You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.

He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”

“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again.

He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.

“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed.

He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.”

You pursed your lips, disappointed.

“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”

You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”

You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably.

“What is it, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.

You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”

You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”

Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”

You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”

You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side.

“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”

You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.

Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~

You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face.

You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead.

“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.

Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly.

You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly.

“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously.

He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.

“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.

“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.”

“They’re coming,” you hissed.

“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance.

“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline.

You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands.

“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed.

“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?”

“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”

“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”

“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you.

Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged.

“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look.

“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly.

You groaned and hid your face in your hands again.

“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly.

“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”

Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”

Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”

“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”

“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said.

“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.

“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”

Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”

“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He shrugged. “What?”

You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions.

“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”

“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”

“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms.

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.

“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly.

“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended.

“Like what you see?” Astarion teased.

“Astarion,” you scolded.

He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip.

You went red as you watched your companions track his hand.

“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious.

You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire.

“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”

“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.

“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.

“Oh my gods,” you groaned.

“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly.

Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both.

You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly.

“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.”

“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll.

“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.

You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said.

A small smile appeared on his face in return.

Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.

Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand.

Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?”

“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated.

“Gale…” you said sorrowfully.

“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”

Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered.

“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”

“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale.

“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.

“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby.

She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck.

“You’re happy?” She asked softly.

“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”

She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion.

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”

Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”

“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”

“I got it,” he said flatly.

“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”

“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly.

When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.

“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.

“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.

You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”

“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”

You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.”

It made you laugh. “Okay.”

You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on.

When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm.

Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.

“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”

“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard.

You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan.

Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”

“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows.

All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.

“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”

His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”

Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”

“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees.

You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”

“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.

“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly.

“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly.

You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”

“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

You snorted. “Bad.”

“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”

Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”

You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.

“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”

You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”

A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”

He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.

“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs.

A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.

Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”

“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.

He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt.

You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy.

“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”

You nodded, your eyes shut tight.

“Words, darling.”

“Another…” you said breathily.

“Another what?”

Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”

He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”

You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”

“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger.

You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”

“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again.

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed.

Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at him.

He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”

Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”

Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”

You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”

“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear.

“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”

“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax.

You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”

Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”

A relieved sigh escaped you.

“We could always work our way up-”

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly.

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“No, of course not-”

“But we can-”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.

“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”

You inhaled. “Yes.”

Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear.

“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”

“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass.

“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable.

“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.

He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”

“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile.

He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night.

You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.

He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard.

“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly.

“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat.

“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.

“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.

“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”

He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.”

He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed.

The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy.

Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state.

“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”

Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”

“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck.

“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”

“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin.

His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well.

“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.

“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.

“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing.

“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”

You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more.

“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you.

The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily.

“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm.

After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.

Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.”

You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.

“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth.

Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”

Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”

“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”

“And that’s important because-?”

“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”

“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes.

You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time.

Incredibly, you both looked presentable.

“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.

You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows.

“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”

“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back.

He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly.

You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.

Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”

“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“And second, multiple trips, darling.”

“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”

Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire.

“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments.

“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”

“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.

“What about it?”

“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased.

“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”

“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.

Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.

“Yeah, but you like being mushy.”

“I do not.”

“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.”

“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.

“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”

He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”

You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”

Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.

If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together.

You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.

Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire.

You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”

He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”

“I hope she kills you first.”

You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath.

And stepped into camp.

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