#dirty thoughts are being fed

[honeyvenommusic]

.

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

��There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ O2.10 - (hsr) Blade ~

Dom!reader x sub!blade - reader is gender neutral

Warning: yan!reader, NTR (?), fingering, pegging (I use dick), anal play, double penetration, marking, biting, hair pulling, sex toys, cumming untouched, teasing, dirty talk (?), bondage, dacryphilia, mind break, sub-space, obsessiveness (mention of wanting to lock him up etc.)

~ Word count: 6.8k ~

Nini!rant: I felt like a pervert writing this, also why the unnecessary drama?!

Kinktober list 2024

You really shouldn’t be mad. Of course, you were understanding and patient with him, damn it, you really were. Well, you out of everyone knew best what he was like. Cold, distant, and quiet, that icy demeanor of his wasn’t only for show. He didn’t like expressing his emotions too excessively or catching a lot of attention.

Also, work comes first, every time with no fail. Normally you didn’t mind it at all, because you adored him nonetheless. All of that wasn’t off-putting, it was what you loved about him. No matter how compliant you are with him, he’d still hurt you sometimes without noticing. You knew he never meant to do it on purpose, but you wished he was a little more considerate. If only he understood your perspective a little more. 

Today was different though, in the fact that you had enough. This time you were fed up with him, to the point you could feel your blood boil. For example, you reached out for his hand, obviously because you wanted to hold it. To your dismay, he immediately shook off your touch and avoided your eyes. Was it because Silver Wolf and Kafka were also there? Sure, He wasn’t one to enjoy showing public affection, yet his reaction was too much. If one didn’t know the whole truth they’d think he disliked you, you were a little offended by it.

On the same day but later, Kafka teased blade about how much you loved him since you always looked out for your dear partner. Instead of agreeing with her, maybe even complimenting you (not that you expected him to do so), he answered with, “I can only wait til the day we separate.”

It was an accident that you heard them, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But, what kind of answer is that?! Could this be his way of telling you he wants to break up? And the damn reason is what, because you like him too much? Your break up is not something he can decide. In the end, you couldn’t keep your frustrations and anger under control. Were you the only one who cherished this relationship?

You were understanding, really, but you had a limit as well.

Loud stomping sounds echoed through the halls, your presence was soon made known to everyone. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about being noisy right now. Without wasting any time, you walked over to him, just to grab his wrist and drag him along. One didn’t need to be a genius to guess you were furious, even someone with low emotional intelligence like him knew.

He decided it would be the smarter move to follow obediently. To be fair he always let you do whatever you wanted, because he didn’t want to hurt you. What if he pushed you away, causing you to trip because he couldn't control his strength? That man thought of his own power as something destructive and despicable, with the mindset that he was no better than a weapon.

Most of the time you were allowed to do whatever you wanted except spoiling him with affection in public.

Now that you thought about it, this was probably because he never expected your relationship to last, and he still doesn’t trust the fact that you won’t leave him or vanish out of thin air. How absurd, you wouldn't leave him even if he begs you to. Heck, not even death would be able to do you two apart. You were ready to become a parasite that lives inside him for the rest of his life, so you two won’t ever be separated. With that being said, how is he that stubborn with his mindset, still firmly believing that you would get sick of him one day.

What a naive thought. Yet that was just how Blade was, and it hurt you like a deep cut in your heart. Damn it, did he really have that little trust in you or in himself? Both options made your heart throb with sadness and sorrow. The previous anger subsided and bitterness filled your senses at the realisation. It was as if everything you thought you had built with him, achieved during all that time meant nothing. Like a fleeting memory, worth as much as a cloud in the sky. You couldn't wrap your head around how he can let you go so easily.

What to do, what to do... You’ve brought him to your room to nag him, but now you weren’t even angry anymore. Only staring at him with a familiar pity in your eyes. One that he has never seen on anyone's face when they interact with him except yours. Whenever you pulled that expression, Blade would ponder over what kind of thoughts were running through your head. Fury? Despair? Or emptiness? If only he could ease your burden and guilt only a little, he'd be willing to do whatever it takes. Maybe you two were never meant to be. Was there anything you could have done to prevent this outcome?

Blade too knew what got you acting up, he had a pretty accurate guess. You probably overheard his conversation with his fellow colleagues, which wasn’t meant for your ears. He wondered how much you heard, a glimmer of hope prayed that today will be the day you end things. He wanted you to break up with him first, so you can save more face and leave without regrets. Instead of keeping silent like always, he took the initiative this time. The boy took a deep breath first, then asked, “So you know?” Somehow it wasn’t akin to a question, more like a confirmation.

Anyone else would think he was being emotionless again, due to how he kept a nonchalant expression even during such situations. Or how his voice had that usual carefree undertone. Yet you knew. You were certain he was frustrated too. You knew him better than anyone, better than he himself. Every single one of his features, habits, and actions, you’ve got it all mesmerized and stuck in your head like a curse. If someone said he wasn’t expressive, you were ready to defend him like the best lawyer out there.

“I won’t break up with you.” You said immediately, getting straight to the point and making yourself clear. “I’d never do that, even if you don’t like me anymore.” Maybe you were a little clingy, or even possessive. Even so, you tried your best to accommodate your own desires to fit into his comfort zone. You've done so much for him, no one loves him more than you, so it’s fine to be egoistic right? “You should, I can’t return the things you give me.” He advised you, now acknowledging your efforts.

Bright red eyes reflecting the colors of a destructive fire stared right into yours, the flame was wild and uncontrolled like always. “You can’t decide that for me, I won't allow you to end our relationship so easily.” You stood by your point, not afraid to keep the eye contact with him. There was just no way you’d let him go, he needs you, and he loves you. Not to mention you do too, so what more did he need?

As if something inside you snapped, you asked him in an almost desperate tone, “What more conditions do I have to fulfil for you to stay? And who will comfort you if not me, who will care for your health if i’m not here?” Your voice was on the edge of breaking, it reflected your inner emotions very well. You couldn’t afford for him to leave. Blade sighed, he growled a little as he spoke, “it’s not about you, it’s me. I’m a sinner, and I still have a price to pay. I don't want to cling to the realm of the living any longer, I don’t deserve it, the only salvation I seek is death.”

You countered him almost immediately, speaking in a slightly more aggressive manner now, “I’m not dating you only because of you, I want it too. I don't care about your past or future destiny, I want to stay with you, in this fleeting moment, in this forsaken universe, and I don’t want anyone else.” Why were you this determined, that's so annoying. There were so many better candidates besides him, who aren’t condemned convicts and have brighter futures! Can’t you see he’s doing it for your sake? Slowly you were getting on his nerves.

A moment of silence broke out, both of you didn’t dare utter a single word. You didn’t want to break the ice first, and neither did he. After a good minute, you couldn’t stand it anymore, it was even more awkward just standing there glaring at each other. Which is why you walked up to him until you were right in front of the male, “answer me, and only this question with no strings attached. Do you- no, did you not like our relationship?”

The fury you previously held returned, now eating away at you even more viciously than before. Blade took his sweet time answering him, both of you knew the truth anyway. “I never said that,” the male those to stay as neutral as possible. To admit he actually wants to continue this path of hardship and suffering wouldn’t help him out of this situation. “I said answer my question only.” You reinforced your point, trying to pressure a response out of him.

He sighed, bawling his hands into fists as he replied, “I regret not being able to be the partner you wished for me to be.” Suddenly you grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly, “that’s not what I asked for!” Despite you sounding so angry you could explode at him, blade noticed the underlying fear and frustration in your voice. “What does my answer change? It doesn’t make me less unsuitable for you.”

“So what? Why can’t we stay together? It’s not like you are in prison! No— never mind, don’t answer me. I know you won’t change your opinion even if this continues.” You stopped squeezing his shoulders as if he would disappear if you didn’t, but you didn’t let go of him. Then you uttered under your breath, “I’ll have to make you stay in a different way then…”

He didn’t quite get what you meant by that, but he also didn’t get the chance to ask. Blade frowned at your ignorance. Don’t you know just how dangerous he is? How stupid does one have to be, to stay this close to someone bathing in blood like him? It’s not that he enjoyed arguing with you, all he wished for was your safety and happiness. He didn't think you could achieve that while being with him.

Every time he came back from a mission, the worried and bitter look on your face would hurt more than any wound he gets on the battlefield. That look you bore would follow him to his nightmares, ripping him off any shred of sleep he could have gotten. Your smile would also drop instantly whenever you saw blood dripping from his body, even if it wasn’t his. Isn’t this proof enough that you should leave? You were clearly scared of him.

At that moment, he lost himself in his thoughts, but you quickly snapped him out of it. All due to a rough push that caused him trip backward and crash onto your bed. He immediately tried to sit up because of his reflexes, since he can’t stay in a vulnerable position during battle for all too long. Though this time you were faster, trapping him between your arms without any exits. Blade stared up at you, his voice caught in his throat. Something about your vibe told him this was not normal, or at least not your gentle self he was used to.

With a cold commanding voice, you said, “strip, blade.” Your voice was so different. The tone was harsh and somewhat unsettling, he knew it wasn’t a suggestion but an order. Without questioning your actions too much, he followed your words as always. First his jacket, then his pants. Underneath his top, he wore nothing but bandages that were wrapped around his torso. Huge battle scars covered his body, proof of his countless fights and victories.

You stared at his scars very intensely. He almost thought you were thrown off by them or maybe even disturbed, if not for your next moves proving him wrong. Since you suddenly started groping his body, touching him all over with your hands. Chest, belly, and waist, all of it while not leaving a single spot untouched.

The face he pulled was almost funny. Poor boy looked so confused yet also slightly embarrassed, were you implying that you didn’t care about those hideous marks? As if you could read his mind, you commented, “your scars are nice, I like them.” He wasn’t ashamed of them, since they were his trophies, his achievements, yet calling them pretty was a white lie. At least that’s what he thought, until you changed his view on them.

To his surprise, you started kissing those scars and licking them, before you eventually left new marks behind. It ranged from bites to hickeys. Some spots were fortunate and only had red dots, other parts were less lucky and are now plagued with bruises. It almost looked like he just went to a battlefield with a beast.

Honestly? For someone who’s basically the definition of fighting, he had surprisingly delicate skin.

Despite how bold you seemed, making a move on him like that, you were actually struggling internally. What could you do to make him abandon those useless thoughts, to make him tied to you forever? It has to be something you haven’t tried yet, and it has to make him go crazy. Otherwise, you will end up in a situation like today again. Then a pretty unholy thought crossed your mind, one that made you smirk to yourself. If you made him into a sex-drunk slut, maybe he'd be dependent on you? Haha, what a joke. No way in hell that dumb idea could work. But... it wouldn't hurt to try…?

“Mhmm… uhnng- hah, haa…” In the meantime blade furrowed his brows, throwing a hand over his mouth to muffle his whimpers. You weren’t playing today, attacking his sensitive spot from the get-go. Fingertips brushed over his chest, all the way to his pelvis, stopping right above where he wanted you the most. “Tsk.” The now seemingly annoyed male clicked his tongue at your playful antics, avoiding eye contact due to his own embarrassment. How did things escalate to this anyway? Weren’t you two just arguing? Today was supposed to be the day he ended it all. Yet here he was, adding more sins to his record.

Just as he decided to indulge himself once more, you stopped. To his surprise you pulled away from him, standing up to grab some tools you’ll need for your plan, leaving him all alone on the bed. Well, this was awkward now. Him, sitting all nude on your mattress while you were fully dressed, fumbling with your drawer. Talk about ruining the mood, were you trying to tease him, or to torment him?

After a short while you came back holding a few toys as well as a bottle of lube. There were so many different things to choose from. Out of nowhere aa thought crossed his mind, could it be that you were going to use him as a stress relief? Somehow his cheeks flushed at the possibility, having you treat him like an object would be better than with care and adoration.

On your way back you noticed a certain crimson fabric lying around on the ground, hidden beneath all the other layers. It was the ribbon that was usually tied around his back. You picked it up with your free hand, or the hand with less stuff to carry, and then threw all of the tools onto the mattress. A fully developed blush covered his cheeks now, he was also fully erect.

What a naughty boy, all hard already with such a desperate look in his eyes. Did the sight of these toys finally ring a bell? You couldn’t mask your excitement behind an angry facade anymore. No matter how much he hurts you, everything is alright again the moment you remember just how gorgeous your pretty boy is. Are you too easy? Yes. Do you give a damn? Heck no.

“Stay still.” You told him as you held his wrists together, slowly binding them behind his back. To do that, you had to flip him over first. Now he was kneeling, holding his ass up high in the air. His muscles immediately tensed, not because of you tying him up, but due to the humiliation he felt in that moment. This position was really shameful, yet he couldn’t help but get excited.

Exposing himself like this, how it brought forth shameless memories. The rope you used was unexpectedly long, so you had to tie it into a bow for it to stay out of the way. It looked really adorable actually. Him, all vulnerable and at your mercy with no possibility to escape. Oh, how you wished you could just tie him up and never let him go. Sadly, he was too strong and would be able to break free from any kind of restraint. What a shame, wasn’t it?

You pressed down on his shoulder to make him arch his back further, earning a small gasp from the male. He couldn’t see or guess what you were doing since you were behind him, so he was being very cautious. Focussing on every rustle and movement he could sense, which also led to him being extra sensitive. Being on such high alert has its on advantages and weaknesses.

That was the reason why he twitched at every contact you created with him. Ever since he started seeing you, he has not only cursed his immortality but also his sensitivity which seems to multiply with each day he spends within your care. Did you feed him anything funny or how was it even possible?

You on the other hand were admiring his toned body, he looked like a sculpture with how perfect he was. Porcelain skin paired with the scars you have caressed already, hickeys and bites all over his frame as well as the faint blush clouding his face. The red ribbon wrapped around him like some accessories was a nice contrast to his pale complexion, or his back muscles that always make you go feral over him. This man was such a fine piece of art; does he really not know? Sometimes you wondered if he was just acting. It only he himself knew what a gem he was.

After finally snapping back to reality, you squeezed his butt cheek with one hand, spreading it slightly to reveal his pink hole. Then using the other hand to squish the bottle of lube, watching the contents drop and drip down his body. First his entrance, then his balls, all the way to his thighs. “Hnng- give me a head up next time..” The coldness of the liquid caught him a little off guard, earning you a yelp from the male. You didn’t even pay attention to his words, you were focused on how the lube slowly ran down his body.

This looked no different than an erotic game, everything was so perverted you almost felt shameful. He shivered a little due to the temperature of the lube was, still not used to it. Cut him some slack, alright? It was the total opposite of his burning hot skin after all. But his body temperature caused you worries as well, it was as if he had a fever. Head spinning while every inch of his body was on fire, heating up like never before.

You had to bite onto your own bottom lip to concentrate, whenever you were with him you got carried off so easily. Damn his pretty face. Really, you had to control yourself to not just force a dildo inside him here and now. Without any further delay, since your patience was on a thin line, you stuck one finger inside his ass, wriggling it around in circles.

“HmM-hngg.." A low hiss escaped him at the sudden intrusion, his rim clenched down onto you almost instantly. “Calm down, I’m preparing you for something way worse than this.” Did you really have to word it like that? This was only making him more nervous and excited. But he had to try to follow your request since it’s what you wanted from him. Even now he was acting on instincts, on the instincts you taught him, on how to be your good boy.

Blade took a few deep breaths until he inhaled and exhaled at a steady pace. After a good minute, he was ready to take more, which is why a second finger joined in soon. This time his reaction was a little less heretic. His shoulders still jumped upwards as well as him throwing his head back due to the sensations, yet that was it. You were able to split and fold him apart without any further troubles.

Eventually you changed the rubbing and trusting motions you previously used to scissoring ones, while watching him struggle not to break your restraints. What a good boy he was, only for you, the training payed off. How will you ever be able to find someone as adorable as him? His whines also picked up, and more lewd sounds of pleasure slipped from him. “Mhmm.. uhHH.!! Damn..it, haaAHH..." Gosh, he was too cute.

You swore listening to those blissful whimpers of his is erasing all your stress, as well as adding years to your lifespan. Gradually, your digits moved faster inside him, pressing against his spongy walls and making him gasp for air. You could feel his soft yet warm insides twitch around you, almost as if his body was begging for more. At this rate, he was going to cum before you get to the main part.

Which is why you stopped, pulling your fingers out of him. As soon as you took them out, his rim clenched around nothing and tensed up. A string of lube connected your fingertips with his hole, it stuck to both sides and refused to let loose. You reached for the bottle again, adding more lubricant to the already enormous amount. “HnnGh… y/n.” The way he moaned your name was so hot, he doesn’t even know just how much you adored him. Everything about him got you acting up like an animal.

Ahhh… That’s it, you couldn’t hold back anymore. On one hand, you wanted to tease him with a toy to the point he begs for you to fuck him, until he tells you how much he needs your dick. Then again you also want to pound into his puffy little hole til he’s a whiny, crying mess, who can’t stop sobbing about how amazing you feel. Until he tells you only yours can satisfy him. You wanted to make him into a slut so badly. What to do? Both options are nice, and they always give great results. Maybe first the toy, and if he begs enough the other choice? While you were still contemplating your choices, the boy distracted you.

“Hurry up.. uh-ugh... teasing me like this isn’t like you.” Blade complained, squinting his eyes while looking away. No way, he is begging you already, when all you’ve done was a little fingering? “Haha~ so needy today, aren’t you? You only show this side to me don’t you, Bladie?” You couldn't let such a fitting opportunity slip and had to tease him about it.

The blush on his face darkened again, his ears and shoulders had been infected too. Your question was met with a meek nod before silence occurred again. He only shows this side to you, only you and no one else. Heh. “My, since you like it so much.” You grabbed the silicon toy and pressed the tip against him, before slowly inserting it. Sharp gasps and groans can be heard from him, his hands clutched the sheets like his life depended on it.

“Wa-wait… y/n, y-y/n.?! It’s too su-sudden, mhmm, ah fuck..” The poor boy was gazing at you over his shoulder, his hands clenching the restrains with newfound despair. Was he really stretched enough to take something so big inside him? God.. the shame, curiosity and pleasure are mingling inside him, mixing together into a perfect blend. You always managed to make him excited and on edge, you made his life much more tolerable than before.

When the tip was inside him, he was already mewling and shaking. The deeper you penetrated him, the louder he became. At the point where you finally reach the half, he was already groaning and blabbering useless things, incoherent nonsense like, “ah, too-! MhHm, good?! oHH, ah, y/NNNnmm..!!” His moans were like blessings to your ears, the most beautiful singing that could put sirens to shame.

It didn’t take long before the entire thing was inside him, you prepared him a lot after all and you were quite generous with the lube. “Ah.. fuck, I- mhm, mo-more...” What a greedy boy, he just got what he wanted and he’s already craving more. You couldn’t help but giggle at that, cooing gently. “Shh, get used to this first.” After all that drama, you still tried to be gentle with him, to make him feel good and become dependent on you. Yet reality shows it backfired. Blade grinned a little, his feisty, kind of intimidating smirk. And it caught you off guard.

Out of nowhere, he mocked you in a snickering tone, “is- mhm, this all you’ve go-got?” He tried to taunt you, but still stumbled over his words a little. His stuttering was almost cute if it weren’t for the words he voiced out. “Huh?” You replied, seemingly annoyed now. “You said.. hah, that you’ll, ha-hnghhh… make me stay, so do- fuck..!! Do it.” What’s gotten into him, his mood just did a whole 180. Suddenly he turned into a brat? Oh how he has done it, he dug his own grave, you weren't going to be nice to such an annoying thing.

You grabbed his bottom and spread it with your hands, the dildo inserted into him was being pushed to one side. His eyes widened as if he was a deer caught in headlights, finally reaching the point of realising what he got himself into. He grit his teeth enough for you to hear, all while the ribbon started binding him to rip. Sweat was rolling down his forehead, his eyes exposed how much he loved every single second of this. Not long after, you lined your own length against him, slowly penetrating him. Now even you were amazed at how loose he was since he was able to fit two inside.

It was an act of impulse, to fill him up like that, though now you were getting into it. Just the thought of it was kind of hot, him, taking two dicks inside that adorable pink hole of his? “UgHH!! mhMM- gaAhHH!! AhHHH <3!! Too bi-big..!” Blade complained once again, his knuckles turned white with how he was clenching his fists. “Too much.., n-no!! Slower, my stomach feels so full..♡♡”

So now he’s whining about it being too much when he had been such a whore moments before, begging for more? Oh no, you weren’t going to stop now, not when he seemed to be enjoying himself so much. I mean, he was whimpering as tears collect in his eye sockets, marks from his nails forming on his palm due to the pure strength he was using. His hands weren’t on his back anymore, instead above his head and writhing away.

The way he squirmed and trashed around, desperately trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure and sensations, ahh you loved him so much! Then how about you comment on his poor, neglected cock? How it's twitching around all uselessly while dirtying your sheets? There were so many things you could do to him, and you had all the time in the world.

It took a little fighting, but you eventually bottomed out inside him. Finally fitting both of the lengthy dicks inside his soft, hot walls. “Haah, shit, you are too tight.” You growled, he didn’t know if it was a compliment or not. On the other hand there was no way you could move when he’s been stuffed full like this, the tight muscle was holding onto you for dear life. His rim squeezed you as if it would break if not. That’s when you heard sobs emerging from him, paired with the most erotic moans you’ve encountered ever.

“Oh-hmHhH!!! AhhHHhnn, fuck, fuck, fuuUckKK! Y/n, oh please..” A rough voice which used to be at least a few octaves deeper was now itching closer to the high-pitched singing of a mockingbird, alongside hiccups standing in his own way each time he opened his mouth. Simply heavenly, there were no words to describe this beautiful scenery in front of you.

And to think you were the cause of it, oh dear, he really wanted to seduce you, doesn't he?

If he really wanted to break up with you, he shouldn’t make such sounds! In the end, you had to wait quite a bit until he got somewhat used to it, so that you could move your hips slightly. Blade on the other side buried his face between your pillows, bawling his eyes out. It hurt, yet it felt so good it was mind breaking. Oh lord, he could feel himself getting stretched so much that it was almost scary.

“HnNGhh.. ahh-hic, y/n.. I feel so fu-full- damn it m’ gonna break if you continue!” Sweat rolled down his face, hair stuck to his body and his precum was everywhere. Thighs, shaft, and sheets, you name it. What a messy boy he was, so dirty, filthy and lovable. You stroked his back while he sobbed, rubbing his sacrum and spine causing him to shudder even more, just the lightest touches were enough to make him succumb to bliss and ecstasy that were otherworldly. Seriously, at this rate he was really going to break..!

Then you grabbed his hair and yanked on his locks, whispering in a soft tone again, “Bladie, you have to loosen up a little. I can barely fuck you.” “MhmMMM!! Do-don’t say it like that..! You’re embarrassing me!” Aha, so talking dirty can still earn you a loud groan from the boy, he was just as sensible as at the start of your session. If not, he only got more sensitive. You tamed him well.

The pain he felt was quickly converted into pleasure, confusing his body and tad bit. Don’t you know he’s trying his best? He’s never taken two at the same time, he could swear his butt was going to tear at any moment. Though all these tingles he felt with no end in sight, the way his nerves were being stimulated on a whole new level he couldn’t fathom, yea it was worth it.

This was pure paradise, the first paradise he got to savour. He could swear this was something normally only aeons could get to enjoy, that’s how exhilarating these emotions were. You noticed how he tried to take everything you gave him, to accommodate it and make it fit, but to no avail of course. In honour of his efforts, you added some more lube and pressed your dick deeper inside him. This time it reached his sweet spot, hitting his prostate with such accuracy it made him see the pearly gates. The boy couldn’t help but growl out loud again, “AaaAahHHH.. ♥︎♡!!! OoHh- mhMm, too deeeEEKK!!”

The way you stared at him got him breathless, it made him feel ashamed and humiliated. Letting you see all those despicable sides of him was too much, he only wanted to show you his best after all. “Do-don’t look at me.. so intensely.” Blade whined, nuzzling his face into the mattress. “Why not?” You asked him with a lewd grin, licking your lips as you admired how adorable he looked.

“I’m fi-filthy, and it’s humiliating…!” Now he’s suddenly being humble and self-conscious? When he was just teasing you moments ago? Your gaze changed into a sickly sweet one, loving, possessive even. “Don’t worry bladie, in my eyes, you are an angel.” Then you ran your fingertips over his skin again, before pulling them back to have a better grip on his body.

Every time you moved even the slightest bit, he’d let out the most intense and lewd noises ever, as if he copied them straight from a porno. The poor man was so ashamed, he didn’t know what to do. Everything you did to him felt just too damn good, he couldn’t keep himself under control. Now he was biting the soaked pillows in a pathetic attempt to muffle those sweet whimpers, shaking his ass due to his knees going weak under him. Your poor pillow.. it was wet with tears and drool, also a bit of sweat. Well, not that you even noticed.

"Fuck this is hot.” That was all you could think of in that situation. How could you think of anything but your dearest boyfriend after all? A wicked smile pestered your features while your eyes took in the view. If you had one wish, you’d wish time would stop at exactly this moment, you would have been so content. Gods, aeons, please, you needed this man so badly it was a curse. It was gnawing away at you from the inside!

The overflowing desire took over your rational mind, and you suddenly started pounding into him at a rough pace. All you wanted was more, more of him, more of his voice, more of this control you held over him. Now you were consumed by lust and greed huh? “AahHHGH?!? Y-y/nNN..! MhmMngHN...?!?” So unbelievably mean you were, rutting into him like he was some used, cheap-ass whore. As if he was nothing but your flashlight, your rag doll. He secretly loved it, but he would never tell you. Even if he was a dead men, he valued his dignity.

With one hand you grabbed his waist, with the other hand, you held the dildo to keep it in its rightful place, in case it slipped out. Damn it, you aren't leaving him any choices, are you? Not that he wanted to escape anyway. Once again your stunning little lover couldn't hold his tears back, sobbing in a meek voice about how you were too fast and too huge.

“Bi-biiiig… too mMHmm, biiiiiggg..!!” Choked out whines was all that filled the room, alongside his adorable mewling. Each time your hips snapped against his, you would create loud slapping noises that are being echoed through the room. His dick would also swing around and hit his tummy. This happened so often that strings of sticky precum connected his belly with the tip of his cock.

During your own excitement, you started babbling nonstop, repeating the same words over and over again. “Blade, fuuuck. I love you, I love you so much. Stay with me, don't leave. I love you.”

Somehow your hand found itself entangled in his long, dark blue hair again. Yanking on them like it was some makeshift leash, getting off to the sight of his pained face. How his eyes rolled back, tongue stuck out and body shaking like a weak, helpless animal. Would it be too mean and sadistic for you to say you took pleasure in him being vulnerable? He himself also couldn't form coherent sentences anymore, he has lost that skill for quite a while now. All Blade could do was scream out your name and beg for god-knows-what, while hoping you'll grant him some relief soon.

“Y/n, y/nnN! OohHH, ha-AhhNhhnN~!! Touch my di-dick too... please, oh ple-please~ mhmm...!” Right, there was still that useless yet cute little thing hanging between his legs. You hadn't touched it even once, hence why it was an angry shade of red and all swollen. Despite all that, nothing can beat how bruised up and abused his hole was. You weren’t as tender with him as you planned to, well, this was fine too.

“No way, I’m only going to fuck your pussy here.” As always, you just can't keep your mouth shut once you see his flustered and fucked out expressions, spewing one nonsense after another. "Ahh.. I'm clo-cloOohhsee <3, fuck me harder, please, y/n, please please please!!" Now he was over the moon, having already abandoned any shred of dignity he might have had beforehand.

The tears decorated his pretty face, trailing off his cheeks shone brightly. Every erotic word in the book could be heard coming from his lips, enticing you to give it your best to pound him until he gets drunk on the pleasure. He probably was already but wouldn’t hurt to keep going, right? It was also your initial plan anyway, if you hadn't lost yourself in his moans like that.

“It's alright, cum for me darling. I love you.” You reassured him, caressing his scalp now instead of tugging on it. After thinking about it for a few seconds… wouldn't this mean he is cumming untouched? This adorable but perverted bastard. Heh.

For Blade, these words of reassurance were all he needed to hear right now, that was enough to snap the final straw within him and make him finish all over the sheets. “Ah-aahHnnGHN uhNHMMM!!! Cumming- I’m cummingnnn!! <3~~!!” That was basically a scream, he was so loud, you were sure everyone on the spaceship must have heard him. All his comrades and subordinates. Somehow that made you very happy, now everyone will know your relationship is still healthy and you two have no plans of going separate ways. Not like you would have let him anyway.

If you didn't consider your bed defiled before, now you obviously do. A nice and huge load shoot out of his poor member, covering the area beneath him in white. The wet spots were overwhelming, it was so nasty that you couldn’t help but smile. As for blade, it would be an understatement to simply say he was exhausted. He was way more than just that. You basically fucked every sense of self he had out of him, turning his brain into mush that could only beg for more of your touch.

After receiving and having a taste of the Paradies on earth, he won't be able to turn back anymore. Everything was just to bind him to you forever. Well, this was fine too, if you execute everything in the right way, he won't be able to go a day without thinking about you ever again! (As if he wasn’t like that before already) His body will remember you and only you, until it can only be pleased by you. Even if you had to turn him into a cock hungry slut, you would gladly do it.

Come on, your obsession was justified! Just look at him, he's everything you ever wanted in a man, he was your only desire. Your world, your colours, your breath. If he isn’t with you, you’ll lose your mind. Then everything becomes to tasteless. What do they say again? Love changes a person.

His skin shone due to the thin layer of sweat covering his body, eyes still rolled into the back of his skull since his brain was still processing the sensations and pleasures up to this point. His orgasm and the aftermath made him so tired and battered, even after waiting for a good minute he couldn't calm down nor move a single muscle.

When you pulled out of him and took the toy out as well, his stretched entrance was gaping as if he wanted to be filled again. Then you untied his wrists, throwing the red ribbon onto the ground. Evidence of the binds and his struggles were left behind, pretty marks were around his tender wrist. You’ll need to apply some medicine later. How must he feel? Even you were a little shaken by all that tension, and you weren't even on the receiving end.

After giving him another minute to catch his breath, you deemed him conscious enough to understand your words. Without hesitation and a single ounce of shame, you whispered into his ear, "you are mine and I’m yours, bladie~ So please, stay with me, even after your immortality ends."

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze @sh1-n0bu

Nini!rant 2.0:

Being a yandere irl is not hot at all, it’s creepy as heck (but in fiction I’m down for a pathetic whimpy clumsy yandere)

Yandere is a word mixed from two different ones and ordinates from Japanese. The first is ‘yanderu’, which means “to be sick,” and the second is ‘deredere’, it means smt like “lovestruck” — so yandere just describes someone who’s sickly in love, or, loves someone to the point it’s sick.

Often times they are depicted in one way only. The typical, disgusting and intimidating ones. Kidnapping their darling while threatening/ killing anyone who comes to close to them, or the potential love rivals. Due to these rather… extrem methods, yandere’s are often depicted as doms. But yandere come in all flavours, they don’t have to be just dom.

To be obsessive in love can go both ways, to want to possess the person, or to want to worship the ground they walk on. Sometimes the person doesn’t even know they were a yandere, thinking what they did was alright. There are also yandere’s that love & hate their darling, which is an interesting dynamic?

[cryptfile]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ holy terrain!!!!!!, [ homelander x supe!reader ]

SUMMARY— based on a request aka when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy John’s comfort after feeling so numb.

WARNINGS — +18 minors dni, implied fem! reader, homelander is a warning himself, usual the boys content, mentions of murder, violence, reader matches homelander’s freak ngl, always wash your hands before fingering #PLEASE, blood kink at it's best, degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, porn without plot sort of?? lmao blame it on my hormones.

SIDE NOTES — hi there, this is a result of me going feral in this new season. English's not my first language, so please be kind, any mistake it's my own fault sorry in advance. Hate this mf but wont deny I wouldn't fuck him to calm him down. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me!

The smell is under your nose.

At first it didn’t bother you to feel the warmth of it, you’re not disgusted by blood. But it’s everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Sticking in your face, staining your damn suit, pooling beneath your feet.

You can feel your own breathing, yet, you're numb to everything else. The screams of terror and the sudden silence of the killing are now something similar as a long-time-ago memory, a distant thought you cannot bring yourself to care about.

And when you came out of the elevator, you don't care about the other people looking at you either. The Vought personal that were always running in the floor, Ashley, or fucking Noir at the matter thinking you're Carrie or something, no one dares to talk to you even when you’re a mere sidekick, too afraid of your explosive personality to even demand to know what happened.

It's almost like you asked for it, to be left alone, to not deal with anyone but your own judgment.

So when you cross the hallway to your dormitory dreaming about a warm shower, you don't expect to see him inside, your relationship with Homelander being too sporadic to even catalog it as one. Yet he's there like it's his house, and you're too tired to even ask why he's there in the first place.

"There you are," he says, but you hear his voice like he's talking miles away from you instead of the couch where he really is. "Something was telling me you were having a rough day."

"Don't remember anything about inviting you to my room" he doesn't care about your tone as he walks closer to you, usually, when he speaks, he only seem to listen to himself. "Didn’t give you a key."

He's oblivious at your words, instead, he seems to be too lost in his own way of seeing things, just waiting for you to say something similar to what you’ve already said in his mind. To admit something like you missed him all day long, that you've been thinking about him as much as he's thinking about you, to fed his ego like only you can do after only a few times of sharing intimacy.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe as he plants himself in front of you, blue eyes scanning your face as his fingers touched your hair, toying with the strands glued together with blood — Even if it’s gross, he don’t seemed moved by it, mainly, you think, because he’s been through the same too.

"Don't need a key to show up," he laughs like it's obvious, and you look at him like he's having a rougher time than you. "This is my building."

It's almost a reminder for you, that you're living under his roof and have a place on his team because he just wants to. Even when you always do the dirty job no one dares to do, if you save his ass more times you can count, he still remarks you’re living in his world.

“I know,” you fight the need to roll your eyes to the back of your head while responding. It’s something you remind yourself sometimes, how most of them are just plain stupid, always treating you like you were no better than fucking Deep.

The stink under your nose is annoying and your skin feels sticky at the touch so you’re almost begging for just ten minutes of privacy.

“I just missed you” he says in a low voice, almost ashamed of admitting something he would never even dare to say out loud, a sudden verge of vulnerability, strange raw honesty as he looks at you. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

You know the only way of really control him, how to make him do exactly what you want to do, so you let him. Let him act all needy and weird cause you want John wrapped around your finger, unable to think on his own. You want him to believe, whole-heartedly, that in the end he’s the one coming up with the great ideas when it's you every single time.

You don’t find it cruel, he’s the same with you and he deserves it, so when Homelander bites his middle finger to grab the fabric of his gloves and pull it off, you let him touch you, treat you like this lost-dove-in-trouble he loves to see — “Had an awful day. Just wanted to see you,” like that. The correct combination of words and he looks like he got fucking shot by a celestial force, mesmerized. “Always missing you, babe.”

He’s sold by the moment, that tone you use, that little nickname that gets him, the sound of your heartbeat slightly faster than before, not enough to catch you lying, but enough to show you’re indeed, happy to see him as well.

He's pleased, so the next is unexpected to say the least, and you hate every second of it when he carries you like you two are married or something similar, sitting in the sofa with you on his lap.

“What are you-”

He shushes you, and you cannot finish what you’re saying when he pulls you to his chest, the fabric of his suit against your cheek as he, weirdly enough, hugged you close, the sound of his heartbeat instead, loud against your ear as you can feel him breathing beneath you, an steady rhythm as the silence filled the room. It's weird sometimes, to think he's human as well before the compound V.

“Comforting you,” he says in a low voice. His bare hand now grabbing your tight enough to bury his fingers in the covered skin, squeezing it lightly as first, nothing you cannot control. And it's beyond doubt what he truly wants, the way his nose inhales the scent of your body like it's fuel, the blood mixing with your fragrance — "M' here now."

He likes it almost more than his own smell. Almost is the key, cause he cannot help but wish you'd stink like him after waking up next to him that very same day. The thought wakes something new in the alleged superhero, something that stings in his stomach, plaguing his mind with the thought of getting all that he wants, to mark you as his property as he has done before.

He cannot get enough. Of course he can't, he's used to have it all now, to never ask but take. That's why he bites your shoulder, why he didn't mind getting his hands dirty with you and your sticky suit, why he's not grossed out by anything, but instead, turned on by how much you needed him.

But in reality it's the other way around, cause Homelander's the one that pulls you closer, that kisses you like you're something heavenly, just like he is. He's not gentle, yet he knows you like it that way, that you're into that rough force he's used to and would kill any normal person in result.

"Who let you go on that mission on your own, huh?" He asks, concentrated in your suit, pulling it down slightly just to reveal the naked skin under the fabric, clean skin in contrast of all the red. "Seems like they all forgot we're supposed to work together."

You don't get why it feels so nice at first, why the hand on your hip moves through your body like you need some kind of reassurance after all you went through the day.

"I'm okay" you manage to say, the pure need to remind him you're good enough to make things on your own, some kind of memo that explains clearly that you want the same benefits he has. It's useless however, when he has you like that, making you tilt your head to the side, placing random bites in any sight of exposed flesh.

"You're hurt" he says, making you aware of your own body as he presses one hand against the injury on the side of your ribs. He's fucking sick for it, and it doesn't give you any time to react when his fingertips are pushing against the cut, your suit staining with your own blood as you mewl on top of him. "Clearly hurt."

He's drunk on depravity, lost on the face you make when the pain hits you all sudden, stealing the air from your lungs. He's suddenly hard beneath you and his hand's now rest on your hip making you move on top of him, hungry for anything he can get out of you, any little sound you make so focused on keeping quiet, trying so hard to not to fed on his bullshit.

The friction is unbearable, the fresh blood coming out of your now-opened wound, the slight force he uses to tear your suit apart like its nothing, giving him more space to work with as he seemed desperate to have you close. It takes you far from where you were first, the numb feeling that grew like a parasite your stomach swallowing it all, now instead, too sensitive to his touch.

Yes. You hate him for it, hate that it's too easy for him, the traumatized hero with too many issues, the world's strongest man that somehow manages to make a mess out of you just with something so simple as sitting on his lap.

He's so pleased when you moan, when you say his name and you forgot about mannerisms, he needs to pull out his other glove in response as his blonde hair falls over his face, throwing it to the floor as his bare hand is now able to rip apart your suit effortless. The warmth of his palm cups your now bare breast for him, and he leans into your chest, tongue flickering in circles over your nipple as you let out a strangled moan.

"Common, need you to use your words here," he demands for a moment, almost annoyed as you can see the traces of saliva that connected you to his mouth: Why does he look so good? Fucker. "Cause if you don’t stop me now I’ll reduce your suit to ashes.”

“Don’t care,” you know Ashley’s going to be pissed, yet it's not enough to say anything about it. "Fucking hate the suit anyway."

"Such a dirty mouth" you're tugging his hair, hand on your kneecap pulling it slightly to the side as he forces you to open your legs for him. "What can I do with you?"

There it is, the ripped sound of his hands tearing the rest of the fabric apart, the pliable desperation in his touch, grabbing, kissing, and palming the curves of your body as it's holy terrain, unstudied land. He's caught in the smell of your skin finally mixing with his, the way your hips grinded in need for a deeper contact.

He laughs at you, laughs at that sight of defeat when he finally slides the hand that was on your knee under the ripped leavings of your now-destroyed suit. Of course he fucking loves the way you're speechless all thanks to his efforts, that you're unable to keep still as you straddle him now confident he's not repulsed by your dirty nature.

"Did you get turned on by killing?" He asks, and you try to respond something like he's clearly dumb. "Been smelling you since you've got here. All wet, covered in blood."

He's far from lazering you, but you can feel the weight of his gaze almost trespassing you when his hand finally reaches that nice spot between your legs and feels your drenched underwear beneath his fingertips. He can feel it all, and you are aware of it.

He's driven by the sounds of your heartbeat, the way your skin glimmers with sweat, he knows you're enjoying every second of it, his fingertips fondling on top of the cloth moments before pulling it to side. The warm contact with your cunt is enough to make him lose it, enough to make him succumb beneath you as he explores the folds of your aching core, his other hand holding your hip just to keep you in place.

John seems to forget, always does. Cause his grip turns beyond bruising and you can hear the crack when he moves you against his hand, a new broken bone to added to the list as he's unaware to the sound it produces, the pain that makes you shake violently blending immediately with pleasure.

You can take it. You're tough and a big girl who's taken worse, so you don't whine about it knowing you must be healing already, instead, you let yourself be trapped in that haze he created, the sounds of your sex when he hits that very spot you overly-enjoy, digits slightly curving inside as he’s experiencing the velvety feeling of your walls colliding against his hand.

"That's it, keep the show for me.” He loves praising so much since you told him he’s doing good one time, he needs to do the same for you at the first chance he got while you offered yourself to him, riding his fingers. “Such a good slut.”

He’s concentrated in the way his fingers disappear inside of you, the intense smell of blood and sex that now fills the air as you moan out his name, the red droplets in your face much like freckles, far more wicked than pure marks on your skin.

“So nice, so warm,” he says to himself, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your chest as he marks your skin like you’re all his.

He’s sure he’s alleviating your problems, sure he’s making you feel so much better, thumb tracing circles in your swollen bud as he stole cries of pleasure from your parted lips.

You don’t let him know you’re close but he can sense it, the slight change in your breathing each time more erratic, your heartbeats quickening their pace as you got closer to the edge.

And when you really finish, when you’re done riding your high, you grab the remains of your teared suit and look at him with that damn smile he loves. You know he’s expecting to receive anything back, any favor you’re willing to give in return.

But instead, when you got off his lap, you just caress his cheek gently before saying — “See you later, John? Kind of busy now.”

my masterlist

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[heeseungsbm]

・₊✧ Kiss Me Thru The Phone‧₊˚☏♡₊˚

lee heeseung

₊˚⊹❥pairing❥: idol ! heeseung x female reader

₊୧ ‧₊❥summary❥: the hardest part of heeseung's job was being separated from you; it drove him physically insane. he was determined to find a way to satisfy his insatiable cravings—his intense desire for you, one way or the other.

❥ genre: smut with plot, fluffy ending :)

⊹₊ ⋆❥warnings❥: sexting, heeseung is very horny, phone sex, masturbation (male & female), dirty talk, edging, fingering (female), orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, nicknames (baby, good girl).

❥ heeseung’s dialogue is in pink.

:‧₊˚ ⋅❥wc❥: 7k.

thank God, the fate tour and its excessive, completely unnecessary extensions had finally come to an end. there wasn't enough of a word to describe how relieved heeseung felt to be done.

don't get him wrong, heeseung loved being an idol. he loved the rush of adrenaline he got from performing in sold out shows, and having hundreds of thousands of beautiful girls losing their composure over him was quite the ego boost.

but tour? uh uh. not heeseung's thing.

while it was an amazing experience in many ways, it had its dreadful downsides; the lack of sleep, the pounding headaches from jet lag, the body sores and bruises from practicing for hours and hours on end, leaving him with literally no energy for anything else. privacy was practically nonexistent, it'd become a distant memory. heeseung literally had no space to himself. everything was a group activity.

however, not seeing you for months was the worst, most agonizing part of it all. who would want to be away from their girlfriend for nearly half the year, and then the longest time they'd get to be with her was 2 weeks? sure you guys made it work, but that didn't make it any less torturous.

at the end of the day, when the arenas went empty and the stage lights grew dark, heeseung was a male with hormones. a man who got horny, just like any other. nothing could fulfill his desires the way you did, he absolutely hated not being able to have sex for long periods of time.

of course there were quick and easy alternatives he could've ran to, but unlike his members who had numerous one night stands and groups of girls signing NDAs to give them a good time in their hotel rooms, heeseung didn't care to fuck anyone who wasn't you. sex to him was intimate, an expression of his passion and devotion that he only took pleasure sharing with one person.

one person he was deeply in love with, which is you.

it was hell on earth having to bust a painfully quiet nut while his members slept in the same room as him, or having to sneak away and jerk off in the bathrooms. even in heeseung's sleep, his filth lived in his fantasies past his eyelids, it's all he could dream about.

sex, sex, and more sex.

every part of you—your lips, your voice, your scent, your body, your touch. it was like a drug to him, and your absence gave him the most excruciating withdrawal. he couldn't wait for the tour to end so he could finally be with you, even if it was just for a little.

he was sick and tired of cumming in his palm.

backstage, heeseung sat criss-cross applesauce on a chair, fidgeting anxiously and taking deep breaths to try to calm himself down. enhypen had just finished their last show in japan which he was more happy about, but the whole day thoughts of you ate at his brain like acid. his erection would not go down for the life of it, no matter how hard he tried.

he did push ups, played mobile games to try and distract himself, but nothing was working. he was so fucking horny that he couldn't think straight, and his body language spoke louder than words.

the more he fed the thought, the more he realized there was one thing he could do. heeseung kept an entire folder in his phone, loaded with your explicit photos & videos for when he desperately needed to get off. you are the only thing that made him incredibly hard, and the only thing that led him to actually finish. he had no interest in porn, it needed to be to you.

he was helpless and desperate, discreetly covering the unsettling sensitivity in his lap. his heart raced rapidly and he felt like all eyes were on him, focusing on the hardening feeling that he longed to ease. after what felt like hours of contemplation, he decided to surrender to it and text you, knowing you were the only person who could fix this.

maybe he could get something new from you to use, and hopefully find a place to use it.

hello lovebug

he texted you, the ding of your phone striking you confused as you applied soap onto your back. you rinsed off your hand and reached out of the shower curtain for your phone to see who it was.

no other than your boyfriend, of course.

oh hey, you're done for the day?

heeseung sat eagerly waiting for your response, his eyes glued to the screen. when your message came through quickly, he let out a sigh of relief, happy that the wait wasn't long.

thank fucking goodness i am😂

are you busy rn tho baby?

the bubbles indicating typing appeared, and after a few seconds your messages sent.

😂hope it went well

and kind of, in the shower

a sly smile spread across heeseung's face, flashbacks of your naked body gleaming with water running through his mind from when you last showered together.

oh wow

can you do me a favor?

his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he waited in anticipation.

sure what's up

you didn't even have a chance to place your phone back down before you heard another ding, he was replying unusually fast.

can you make me a video while you're in there?

your eyes widened at his text, a mix of surprise and intrigue coming over you at his request.

omg

ok, but what kind? lol

heeseung chewed his inner cheek at your question, thinking of what to say back. he knew exactly what he wanted to see, he just didn't want to come across as... obnoxious.

anything baby

just something to cum to, if that's okay with you?

typical heeseung, always asking for nudes. you didn't mind giving him what he wanted though, it gave you a sense of empowerment and validation to be able to fulfill his need for you with just the simple sight of your body.

you grabbed some more shower gel and squeezed a generous amount of the fruity substance onto your chest, rubbing the suds to create a lather. you posed as you took selfies with your tits in the frame, recording a couple clips for him seductively massaging your bubbly boobs, showing different angles to flaunt your soapy body. after picking the best ones, you pressed send and resumed your shower.

Attatchments: 5 Images, 2 Videos

enjoyyyyy😘😘😘

heeseung felt his phone buzz twice on his thigh as he impatiently shook it on the chair, sending a wave of butterflies straight to his tummy. he scanned his surroundings, and thankfully everyone was busy having their own conversations and doing their own things. but just to surely make sure nobody was looking, he covered the side of his phone screen with his hand as he opened your messages.

damn.

his face lit up at how much you'd spoiled him, gawking at your pretty face complimented by your wet hair, and your plump boobs covered in bubbles. he looked like a dumb dog, his eyes stuck and his lips parted, almost drooling as he watched how your hand fondled your tits.

you're so sexy

i wish i could fuck you right now

he could feel his face getting hot, his palms growing warm and sweaty. his dick pulsed in his pants, he needed to find somewhere to be alone, and soon. otherwise, he was going to cum in his pants.

"hyung, are you okay?" jake asked as he came up from behind, noticing the red flushing of his friend's cheeks and the jittering of his thigh.

heeseung flinched dramatically, nearly dropping his phone on the ground in the process. he quickly shut his phone off and placed it face down on the table, hoping to God that jake hadn't been standing there for long,

"you seem extra tense today," he teased, placing a hand on his elder's shoulder. "your cheeks are as red as a tomato."

"do not fucking touch me," heeseung hissed, removing jake's hand off his shoulder. he released the tension in his body by cracking his neck on both sides, then his knuckles one by one.

"sheesh. somebody needs their dick sucked.." jake joked, bursting into laughter at heeseung's uptight behavior.

well, he wasn't wrong. that's exactly what heeseung needed, actually.

"oh yeah, you wouldn't believe what happened to me earlier," jake exclaimed, his voice full of enthusiasm. "these two girls were hanging out in the lobby, and they would not leave me alone! until i let them give me a 2 for 1 special, if you know what i mean," he elbowed heeseung, a playful grin on his face. "never came so fast in my life. one was twisting with her hand, while the other was sucki—"

"will you shhhhh!" heeseung silenced jake, placing his hand over his mouth. he wanted to gag, he was disgusted by the thought of rotating between multiple girls for pleasure. "im on the phone with my mom, you freak," he quickly came up with a lie, removing his hand from jake's mouth. "do you know somewhere i could take the call, privately?"

jake chuckled, because obviously he wasn't a fucking dumbass. heeseung was the freak here.

"there should be an empty dressing room a few doors down from here. it's down the hall, the third silver door on the left," he said, pointing in the direction of the exit. "hope you and mom have fun," jake shot a wink, before scurrying off to continue flirting with backup dancers.

gosh, what a freak.

heeseung sighed in relief once jake left, thankful that his lie cut the conversation short. it was suffocating having to interact with anyone when thoughts of you would corrupt his mind, especially with someone as oversharing as jake. he got up from his chair and made his way out of the backstage area, squeezing between cameramen and staff, reciting the directions jake gave him in his head.

back at home, you finally finished your shower and skincare, moisturizing your body with butters to seal your routine. you threw on some pink lace panties and a soft silk robe heeseung bought you not too long ago and you entered the room you and heeseung shared, lighting a few vanilla-scented candles, casting a warm glow across the room and adding a gentle fragrance to the air. with the lights dimmed, you yawned in fatigue as you made your way to your queen-sized bed, diving into its cozy embrace. 

even with the room clean and your body refreshed from your shower, you couldn't shake the emptiness you felt without heeseung's presence. you missed the nights he would come to bed and shower your neck with kisses, how he'd hug you tight from behind until you fell asleep. your eyes fixated on his empty side of the bed, a pang of loneliness striking your chest. you moved closer to his pillows and clutched them tightly, as if they could somehow fill the void he left behind.

meanwhile, halfway across the globe, heeseung stood outside what he believed to be the place jake recommended. he frowned as he examined the blank door in front of him, how weird that it had no label, and not even a handle. but it was in fact, the only 'third silver door on the left'. with uncertainty he pushed it open, quietly creeping in and letting it close behind him.

empty dressing room? way to lie to a lie, jake.

heeseung stumbled through the crowded darkness, blindly swatting away at hangers of clothes as they grazed his face. he hugged his body with his sleeveless arms as the AC blasted painfully cold air, and to make his matters worse, there was no light switch. well, at least to his knowledge after feeling around for one. this was clearly not a dressing room, more like an ... abandoned closet.

with the help of his phone's flashlight, heeseung managed to make his way to the very back, the area thankfully warmer behind a rack of performance costumes. he could not believe he'd sunken this low; going all this way to masturbate in such an ominous room like this. but at the same time, anything would be better than walking around with the sexual urge that plagued him all day.

he resigned himself to sitting on the floor, sighing as he sank against the wall. he unlocked his phone and went to your messages, his thumb hovering over the screen as he checked to see if you replied to any of his previous texts. 

he scoffed in a bummer, no text back.

heeseung's mind started to race with possible explanations; maybe you were just asleep. or maybe you were flat out ignoring him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had gone too far with his request for nudes. but his desire for you consumed him, heeseung ached to hear your voice and feel closer to you, even if it meant connecting purely through the phone.

to tell the truth, he'd been fantasizing about having phone sex with you for as long as he could remember. he always craved the idea; how good it would feel to listen to you touch yourself while he did the same, how pretty you'd moan for him, how it wouldn't take long to make each other cum. he thought it was the least you two could do with the distance, he just never knew how to ask.

the need coursing through his body was intense, the only chance he'd have to make his fantasy a reality was now, alone in this closet. who knew how it was ever going to go, but it was worth a try. he began texting you again, in hopes of fast replies like before.

you were lying in bed on twitter, how coincidental that you were searching for a new fancam of heeseung, unaware that you had him on delivered. his flurry of new notifications put an end to your scrolling, literally making you freeze in place.

hey

are you still up baby?

please call me if you are

your heart began to pound out of your chest, your pupils dilating at the words "call me". it'd been roughly a month since you were able to, due to heeseung's hectic schedule and all the time zone differences. at least at the start of his career you two were able to text and facetime throughout the day, he even fell asleep on the phone with you every night. but now that enhypen's popularity was increasing rapidly, you and heeseung barely had any time to talk consistently.

like, ever.

after multiple sets of deep breaths and practicing how cutely you'd speak, you clicked his contact and looked away as you pressed call. you couldn't bear to look at the screen as the phone rang for what felt like eternity, your stomach cartwheeling as you waited for him to answer.

heeseung sat in the dark, his phone serving as his only source of light as he looked through his collection of you, trying to find whatever would help him get off the best. suddenly, his screen flashed and he squinted as it abruptly brightened up his face, following his loud ringtone.

shit, it was you.

with no hesitation, heeseung swiftly swiped the green button to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. he cleared his throat as the call began, with the biggest smile on his face.

"hey, baby," heeseung greeted you.

that sweet word, baby. it was like a warm hug and a loving kiss intertwined into one, it made your insides melt every time. "hello mr. celebrity," you playfully said back into the phone, curled up on his side of the bed. "what are you up to?"

heeseung laughed at your playfulness, your honeyed voice immediately sedating him. he'd missed it terribly. "nothing much, i've just been thinking about you. nothing new, right?"

he sounded so gentle and velvety, making you more shy than usual. to be fair that's how heeseung always made you feel, everything with him gave you first time nerves. "i've been thinking about you too, babe," you confessed.

"how are you feeling?" he asked you, his speech smooth. "it's late over there, isn't it? did you eat dinner yet?"

you sighed. "well i guess i'm okay, you know. just waiting for you to come home." you couldn't help your uncontrollable smile, you felt like a middle school girl on the phone with her crush. "and i had a chicken cesar salad for dinner, with a strawberry-banana smoothie."

"ahh. that's good baby, sounds yummy. we had really good catering today, i thought you would've liked it," heeseung happily shared with a smile. no matter where he was, there was always something that made him think of you, in some way shape or form. "i really wish you could've been here with me, y/n. all i am without you is stressed."

you pouted, also sad that you had to stay home. the plan was for you to come along with him, but the company didn't want to risk heeseung's personal life getting leaked to the public. you spoke back, "well, i'd imagine all the dancing you do helps relieve some of that stress? no?"

heeseung rotated his neck that was sore from performing, placing his hand on the nape of it. "well yes, but no... not enough." you could hear the distress in his voice as it rasped. "honestly, i'm feeling a bit crazy right now." 

dear God above please forgive me, you mentally implored as arousal began coiling within you. and how terrible, heeseung was simply just expressing himself. but damn did he sound good, his voice was deliciously hoarse. something about him sounded so captivatingly different, you just couldn't put your finger on it. whatever it was, you can't lie.. it had you squeezing your thighs together.

you spaced out as he kept talking, staring at the spinning ceiling fan above you. the line soon went silent thanks to your trance, causing heeseung to worry. "um, y/n... h–hello?"

"oh! im sorry," you quickly apologized, coming back to reality. you took your phone off your ear and put him on speaker mode, sitting more upright against the headboard of your bed. "im here, babe. you just... you sound really good."

heeseung smiled to himself, taking great pride in your compliment. "you like how i sound, huh?"

"mhm," you hum in agreement. "i missed your voice."

"i miss you, just.. everything about you." he sounded low and sultry, sending a chill down your spine. "i really wish i could touch you right now."

the corners of your lips curved into a smile at the thought of heeseung's perfect hands, how big they were compared to everything on your body. you missed his touch so badly. "i miss you so much more," you replied, filled with longing. "wish you could touch me too."

those words were just what heeseung wanted to hear, and he was trying so hard to not unzip his jeans and jerk off while you talked. he desperately wanted to tell you how hard you were making him, how bad he wanted to cum, how bad he wanted to listen to you fuck your fingers on the line. but he knew that needed to ease into it gradually, like a gentleman.

heeseung moved his hand underneath his sleeveless top to smooth it over his lower stomach, trying to relax. "you're in bed, right? what are you wearing?" he asked, hoping it was little to nothing.

it caught you off guard, wondering what he could possibly do with that information. "yeah, oh, uhhh... one of the robes you sent me for my birthday," you tell him, your fingers idly playing with the string of your robe.

"oh," he raised a brow, picturing your bare body in the silk. "so, nothing else? just the robe, baby?"

"well, if you're not counting underwear, then i guess.." you nonchalantly replied, looking at your nails.

"mmm, i really like that." heeseung bit his lip, thinking of all the pretty undergarments you'd wear to bed. the lace, cheeky underwear that you'd wear turned him on so much, he always insisted you kept them on while he fucked you. "they're pink, aren't they? your panties, i mean."

"mhmm, they are," you responded with a big smile, as he was surprisingly right. "wow, you know me so well."

"i do, don't i," he smirked. but his cocky smile deliberately faded as he remembered where he was, and how he didn't have much time. he had to get this whole thing over with before someone went looking for him, and found him. "i need to tell you something, baby. it's been on my mind for a while." 

"oh, um..." the suspenseful tone in his words scared you. it felt dramatic, like he was about to break up with you or something. "well go on, please." 

"well, there's really no other way to say this, so." heeseung began, his voice deepening lower than before. "i really miss having sex with you, y/n." he continued, little more confidence in his voice, "since we won't be able to see each other for a while, i was wondering if you'd be interested in trying something."

phew. why the hell was that so hard? he felt like a bulldozer had been lifted off his body.

the way heeseung spoke was rich and penetrating, his voice sending a pulsing feeling to your core, making you clench around nothing. "oh i—i miss it too," you agreed shyly, nearly spacing out again. your mind was flooding with the filthiest flashbacks of those unforgettable, sinful nights of that only the two of you knew about. "what did you want to try?" you asked him with a curious tilt of your head.

heeseung took a deep breath, hoping you'd welcome his proposal. "phone sex," he cleared his throat. "... what do you think of the idea?"

fuck he sounded so hot, goodness gracious. God help you again.

you didn't expect heeseung to ask you something like that, considering the fact that he'd never done anything like that in front of you before. yes, you guys had sex, and he clearly used his hand when he needed to. but you'd never self pleasured together before.

finally, you managed to find your voice after a long pause, your words coming out in a soft, shaky tone. "you... you want to try having it?" you asked, your fingers tracing the contour of your thigh to ease your nerves.

"i do, but what about you, baby? would you like to?" heeseung waited patiently, praying in his mind that you'd say yes. the denim of his jeans brutally outlined the shape of his cock, it was begging to be freed from his boxers.

"to be honest, im not sure how well i can do it," you vulnerably admitted. "it might not be as good as you're hoping for."

but the throbbing between your legs grew stronger as you considered his offer, your mind racing with indecision. heeseung clearly really wanted to try, and it couldn't hurt to experiment a little. you took a deep breath, the thought of pleasuring him outweighing your uncertainty. "since it's for you, we can try."

heeseung was beyond thrilled that you agreed, more than happy. but he knew you more than anyone, and he felt concern at the slight hesitation he could sense. he wanted to make sure you truly felt comfortable, it was important to him for both of you to enjoy it.

"don't feel nervous, i'll be here to guide you through it. you can trust me, okay?" he gently assured you, soft but somehow authoritative. "if at any point you don't like it just tell me, and we can stop."

you smiled at heeseung's reassurance, the nervousness immediately leaving your body at his consideration. "you're so sweet. don't worry, i want to. i trust you," you assured him. "we can start now, if that's what you wanted."

heeseung let out a sigh of relief, feeling calm after hearing your affirmation. "great," he replied, the corners of his lips curling slightly. "give me one second."

he unzipped his tight-fitting jeans, feeling a sense of freedom at finally being able to relax. he reached for his aching cock out of his Calvin Klein boxers, groaning as it sprung straight up and slapped his stomach. his precum spilled from his pink, cut tip, he gulped down a thick swallow of air as he spread the leakage across the head with his thumb. "are you comfortable?"

"mhmm," you hummed, pulling the covers over your lower body, seeking warmth and privacy even though there was no one to hide from.

"close your eyes for me baby, i want you to imagine me there from now on. just trust me, it'll feel better with them closed." heeseung wrestled the impulse to jerk his impressive length that stood proud in his lap, but he wanted to get you going first. "are they closed yet?" he asked you, closing his own.

you closed your eyes, the darkness making his voice seem even more seductive. "mhm, they're closed."

heeseung's breath hitched slightly at the sound of your compliance. "good, baby. i want you to focus on my voice, nothing else matters. okay?"

"okay," you tell him, your heart racing faster now, the intimacy of the moment heightened by your inability to see.

"touch your body for me," heeseung muttered huskily, authority in his voice. "you know where to touch first, right baby?"

"mhm, i think so." you gasped as you slipped your hands inside the silky fabric of your robe, your fingers trailing gently along the sensitive skin of your neck before moving to run along your collarbones, then downwards to gently caress your bare chest.

"where are you touching, love?" he sweetly asked.

"my tits," you responded, massaging your tender breasts and playing with your hardened nipples between your fingers.

"mmm, good girl. spread your legs for me," he lowly instructed, spitting a long glob of saliva onto his cock and smoothing it around the length as he felt it drip down, giving the shaft a firm hold with his fist. "move your hand to where you want me to touch you, baby."

your body responded to his commands like a puppet on a string, unable to resist his allure. you were on your back, slightly propped up by pillows as you opened your legs, wandering your hand down to land between your thighs. "okay, i did," you quietly replied.

"you want to touch it so bad, don't you baby?" heeseung taunted you, his teasing revealing your own longing to touch your sensitive flesh through the fabric. "wanna play with your pussy so bad for me."

"yes please," you begged him. "please let me."

"you can baby, you can touch for me." heeseung granted you permission, and he could already hear a change in your breathing, it became shaky within seconds.

you rubbed your covered pussy, pressing down right where your clit was swelling. your folds left a big puddle on the thin material, your underwear entirely soaked, absorbing all of your arousal. "heeseung," you softly moaned his name as you groped your wetness, "my panties, they're ruined."

heeseung threw his head back against the wall, the thought of your pussy being so wet that it seeped through your panties made his cock grow painfully harder, harder than it already was. it pulsed violently, throbbing as it cried to be stroked up and down. "you wanna be a good girl and touch your pussy for me?" he asked, his voice deep and saturated with his need to touch himself.

your voice cracked as you answered, "yes, want to touch so bad."

heeseung could cum off of how sweet and submissive you sounded right now alone. "go ahead and touch baby, tell me what you feel."

you slid your fingers underneath the damp fabric and massaged the surface of your folds, your stickiness glazing your fingertips. "im wet, i'm really wet."

"that's perfect, baby." his tongue darted out to wet his lips, visualizing running the head of his cock between the wet lips of your pussy. "touch your clit and play with it."

your body twitched as you began to toy at your sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing yourself like heeseung would with his perfect fingers. you took deep, trembling breaths against the mic of your phone, turning heeseung on so much on the other side.

he let out a sharp moan as he finally glided his hand up and down his wet dick, applying immense pressure to his sensitive tip. he didn't need lube, his precum and saliva were just enough. "can you hear it, baby? stroking my cock for you, just for you." he grunted, lowering his phone and bringing the mic near his hands, allowing you to hear every wet, sloppy sound of the friction.

you whined, rubbing delicate circles on your clit as you listened to the slipperiness of his cock. "shhh...it. f-fuck," your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip, in slight shame of cursing.

heeseung's fist rhythmically twisted around his cock, his chest rising and falling heavily with each lubricious stroke. his thigh muscles spasmed at the heavenly, warm sensation from his hand, his toes tingling in his shoes. it felt so fucking good to finally be able to jerk off. but still, nothing compared to how you felt. "put your fingers in your fucking pussy." he demanded it of you, more than ready to hear it.

with your imagination fixated on the thought of heeseung's cock in place of your fingers, you carefully teased your tight entrance, sticky and slick from how bad you wished he was home to fuck you. you hissed as you pushed one in, then another, deeply past your tight walls.

your soft moans let him know that your fingers were inside of you, and heeseung smiled to himself at your obedience. "i need you to talk to me, baby. does it feel good? feel good to finger your pussy for me?"

"feels s-so good," you trembled, spreading your legs further apart as you gradually slid your fingers in and out of your hole. your mouth hung open at the immense pleasure, it was blissful to finally have something penetrating you after so long—you hadn't touched yourself since he left for tour.

heeseung routinely licked his lips as he steadily stroked his cock, your whines and whimpers into the phone bringing him a different type of contentment. he wanted to hear more, he wanted to feel like he was there making you feel good. "moan for me some more, baby."

just the sound of his voice alone guiding you was stimulating, it was hypnotizing. you were completely under his spell, and in your current state, there was nothing you wouldn't do if he asked. you pumped your 2 fingers deeper, moving them in and out of your tightness with care as you let yourself get louder. "miss you, miss the way you fuck me," you whined, trying your best to sound as pornographic for him as possible. "im ... so tight," you squealed, searching and exploring for that sweet spot that he always reached.

"yeah?" heeseung jerked himself off with a more firm grip around his girth, attempting to mimic the tightness of your wet cunt. "tell me, tell me how tight you are for me."

"im so wet, and tight for you," you shakily moaned into the mic as you fingered your pussy, the squelching driving him crazy. "just for you, hee." you switched back and forth between fingering yourself and massaging your tits for more simulation, taking your fingers and spreading the wetness on your nipples, then fucking them back into your pussy.

"such a good girl. keep playing with your pussy for me baby, just like that." heeseung praised you as his adam's apple moved up and down in his throat, breathlessly talking you through your pleasure.

he took his lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it, his breathing growing increasingly heavier. his right hand weakly held his phone against his ear to hear you whilst he thrusted his hips upwards, fueling his desperate grinding into his left hand. he was still a little paranoid about someone coming in and busting him for doing something so immoral, so nasty, but he wanted to vocally please you the best he could. so, he didn't back any sound that came from his throat.

you could hear the ruffling of heeseung fucking up into his hand, it was so intense that you could've sworn you started to feel it. the vulgar profanity that left his lips made your pussy so wet and slick, you completely melted into the mattress at the sound of his filth against your ear.

you couldn't believe how quickly the phone call had changed within a matter of just 7 minutes, here you were playing your pussy on the phone while heeseung moaned like his life depended on it.

you physically couldn't stop, and neither could he on the other side. heeseung relished his salacious fantasy, his mind entirely fogged with lust for you. he never wanted it to end, because you sounded so good. it made his cock so fucking hard, how he was the only one who got to hear you this way; so cute, whiney and breathless, so desperate for him without his touch.

"oh my g—fuck me," you moaned, pumping your fingers faster into yourself. "you're gonna make me cum," you quivered as you pleaded for him, cream dripping from your hole and wetting your sheets.

heeseung let another warm pool of drool fall from his mouth onto his dick, reminiscing how moist and warm you felt in his head, his wet hand picking up the pace. he could feel it in his stomach; he was going to explode if he kept stroking himself at this speed. as torturous as it felt, he slowed down his hand's movements, choking on air as he occasionally let go of his cock to edge it and reserve the buildup.

you tortured your clit with the tips of your creamy fingers, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that a tear rolled down your cheek. "hee, i-i'm gonna cum," you faintly whimpered, your clit starting to feel too sensitive to touch.

"cumming already, baby?" he let out a stifled moan, his primal desire for you to cum surging. "good girl, cum all over your fingers."

you'd never heard heeseung be this vocal, but you completely submerged in it, loving how careless and expressive he was being. it was a side of him you hadn't known before, and you couldn't get enough.

he mumbled profanity under his jagged breaths and begged you to cum for him, his fist fucking his hand with more force to the thought of being inside you. he could hear the speed of your fingers getting faster and faster, and all that mattered to him was that you were close to cumming—because he damn sure was.

heeseung panted, gripping himself tighter and stroking faster, so fast that his hand began to cramp. he furrowed his brows and his mouth fell wide, his nose scrunching as he felt his sweet release seconds away. "oh fuck... fuck y/n, i'm gonna cum, fuck! im—" his orgasm took over his entire body, spurts of his hot semen oozing out of his tip and dripping down his length, making a thick white mess all over his hand. he moaned in ecstasy as his cock relentlessly leaked, his abs clenching as his seed spilled onto his jeans.

it was disgusting.

you mouth salivated at the obscene sounds of heeseung reaching his peak of ecstasy, and it wasn't long before your own body succumbed to its own waves of pleasure, cumming with him at the same time. you shrieked as you uncontrollably squirted all over the bedsheets, leaving heeseung's side drenched with the liquids from your body. your legs shook violently and you could barely catch your breath, lost in the overtaking overstimulation.

heeseung was far from done, he absentmindedly pumped his cock in a slower, teasing rhythm, milking out his remaining ropes of cum to the sweet sounds of your climax. there was so much, it just kept coming and coming, and coming.

you knees so fell weak that you lost feeling in them. you gasped as you opened your eyes after seeing stars for so long, moaning with heeseung in unison as you both came down from your highs. you slowly removed your fingers out of your pussy, a string of milky wetness following as you brought them into your mouth, tasting the sinful mess you made.

"i j-just changed these sh-sheets," you stuttered as you caught your breath, still shaken from your orgasm. "i made such a mess."

heeseung also was still recovering from his intense release, his breathing heavy and rapid. he let out a long, satisfied sigh, his body relaxing and his cock falling soft as he basked in the afterglow of cumming so much. "let me see the mess you made, baby," he pleaded to see it, desperate for visual proof. "show me."

"you are so freaky," you jokingly snickered, a rasp in your voice from all of the high pitched moans that escaped your mouth. you snapped a picture of the icky mess of cum between your legs and sent it to him, closing and tying your robe back up after.

heeseung's jaw clenched as he opened the photo, his doe eyes round with awe. "woah... that's so hot." he couldn't help but run his tongue over his lips at your downward pov, the sight of the white, creamy essence on your pretty pussy making his cock twitch, despite it falling back tender. his mind raced with thoughts of you and what the two of you had just done together. "i really missed hearing you like that, you're so cute."

"oh stop," you blushed, your heart swelling with affection for him. it was reassuring to hear that he enjoyed how you sounded, you felt a bit better about your performance. "it wouldn't have been possible without you, though."

heeseung chuckled softly, a cocky grin gracing his features. hearing that from you gave him an ego boost. "it felt good, didn't it baby?" he asked, hoping you enjoyed it as much as he did. though he knew you did, there was no way you faked those noises.

"mhm, it felt really good, thanks to you." you nodded with a smile, reminiscing about it already. "i'm glad i tried something new with you."

he grabbed his softened cock that was still hot and sticky, putting it back into his boxers and zipping his jeans back up. "im glad i could help you, thank you for helping me." he mellowly replied, playing with the goopy aftermath of his own release between his fingers. "there's so much i want to do to you, baby. when i get back we'll make up for lost time, yeah?"

"yeah," you softly tell him, getting aroused all over again. you put your finger between your lips, gently nippling on it with your front teeth. a shiver ran down your spine, knowing full well how things tended to get when there was a gap of time in between seeing each other. you didn't know how much longer you could wait. you needed heeseung, you needed the real thing, your fingers could only go so far.

"okay, i have to go now. it's time for you to get some sleep anyways," heeseung said gently as he stood up from the closet floor, shivering from the pins and needles sensation in his legs from his seated climax. "i'll give you a call tomorrow. alright?"

you couldn't help but feel sad that he had to go, you wished he could stay on the phone forever. "okay," you doubtfully sighed, "i hope you know that i don't believe you."

heeseung chuckled into the phone, shaking his head at your insistence. "why? i will call you, you'll see."

you weren't completely reassured, your doubts still lingering. "you promise?"

heeseung's voice softened, his tone earnest. "i promise, baby."

"pinky promise?" you ask him, your voice getting sweeter.

"pinky, pinky, promise." he echoed into the speaker, making you giggle. "double pinky promise. now do you believe me?"

"you pinky promised, so i'll be waiting on it," you smiled, satisfied with his assurance. "goodnight, heeseung."

heeseung's heart wrenched at your words of goodbye. he missed you already, and he too didn't want to go, but he knew had to get back to where he was supposed to be. "goodnight baby, i love you."

"aww. i love you too bubbabear," you say back. "so much."

"but not more than i love you," heeseung's voice turned childish, "never ever."

you got out of bed, still damp between your legs, and the sheets beneath you soaking with your evidence of pleasure. "okay, you can hang up now."

"no, you hang up."

"no you hang up," you spat back.

"no, im not hanging up," heeseung argued with playful defiance, "so you can go ahead, hang up."

"whatever," you rolled your eyes, "just hang up."

"no, you."

"no, you."

heeseung laughed, he knew you'd go back and forth forever if you had the chance. "fine, i'll hang up. but only because i love you."

"oh but that sounds... manipulative?" you replied with sarcasm, "i love you too, by the way."

"sweet dreams," he wished you, before blowing a kiss into the mic. "give me a kiss back, baby," he cutely asked, waiting for you to reciprocate it. "kiss me through the phone."

"gosh, you are so corny," you complained, knowing you'll do it anyway. "wait! let's do it at the same time," you suggest.

"even better," heeseung agreed, full of excitement. "on three."

you counted to three together, both of you bringing your lips to the phone and kissing it, making a long mwah sound.

"aww, i love you," you gush at him one last time.

"you're so cute. i love you more," heeseung sweetly replied, before cutting the line.

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

♡ྀི hello my beautiful followers, its literally been a year since my last post, i'm terrified😅i feel like i lost my writer's spark but if this does well, i have plenty of filth in my drafts waiting to be posted!😟

[sushirrrry]

EXECUTIVE a harry styles one-shot smut blurb; 19.3k words cw: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dom/sub, breath play, dirty talk.

"If they want the fucking numbers, they've got to stop being pussies and give us the fucking reins. I'm not sitting around and waiting for their stock to crash and for their stupid, fucking minions to come back on me to tell me what I already knew and told them from the start—I'm not painted out to be the biggest fucking moron, that's for certain. It's either a deal or it isn't, plain and simple. If they don't want to have that fucking conversation, it's done. Fuck them and their stupid fucking counteroffer. It's a fucking slap in the face, and I'm not even entertaining the idea."

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear, clicking on End Call before he threw his phone over and onto the wooden desk that sat perpendicular to the vicious New York skyline. His heart raced as he shook his head.

An adrenaline junkie like him fed off of the conversations like these.

His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his eyes navigated towards the contractual wreckage of paperwork that had seemed to be forgone on his desk as he pushed some of it to the side. His elbows leaned on the desk; his hands tied together as he rested his lips again them in a precocious thought.

Running the company came with a sharp tongue and a knack for knowing when it was time to push back. Harry was a mogul in all of the sense of the word—his company had grown to a gargantuan size, which allowed his position within the business to skyrocket to a level that was so without fail that he couldn't believe it sometimes.

His mouth got the better of him; in some ways, it created the effervescence of attack. It was all that he could do to keep himself from picking the phone back up and telling them to shove it all back up their ass—he refrained for the time being, until he was pushed again.

But no one usually poked the bear unless they truly believed they had a chance in slaughtering them. Mr. Styles was far too confident in his work and his business to ever let that happen.

The bear's claws reacted too quickly for the barrel of the rifle to even face him.

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Styles?"

His eyes raised to the door that he hadn't seen opening before his lips parted just a bit to answer the woman questioning him. She wore a black skirt with tall, black boots that suited the length of her legs. Her top arranged in a bit of a messy manor, but it was almost as if she had styled it that way to add a bit of flare.

Her blazer hung a bit low—practically to the mid-length of the skirt that rode up her thighs, but he wouldn't have been caught dead staring. In public, anyway.

His eyes made their assessment of her quickly before returning to her naturally, raspberry lips that took up much of her lower face. The natural length of her smile was perfectly proportioned, not that he had spent much time thinking of it, of course.

Felicity—his assistant. The one with eyes the color of the ocean that he would vacation on in the Maldives; the most piercing, stunning blue. The quiet one, a bit shy in her reservations, almost like she was the smallest fish in the ocean made entirely of sharks. Her reservations to others seemed to aid in bulldozing over her confidence, but to Harry, it was an enticing spectacle of fantasy.

A fantasy he'd promise to never share with even his closest comrades, if an NDA wasn't in place, that is.

The dark brown locks settled against her back in heaps of loose, voluminous curls as she held tightly to the phone behind her fingers.

"Am I interrupting?" She asked, her question a bit hesitant as she didn't seem to move any further forward into the large space of his office.

"No—no, you're not," He told her, "Come in, Felicity, I need to use your brain for a moment."

"My brain?" She asked him, cocking her head a bit.

That was the thing about Felicity that almost made him foam at the mouth– her way of innocence and contemplation that allowed him to see his viewpoints from her standpoint.

Harry's company was outsourcing most of the global news which meant that he oversaw several departments within. His leadership was only as good as the recommendations and guidance that Felicity was able to provide him; her devil's advocacy, her interpretation of empathy, and being able to see how interactions happened without Harry present versus the other sense.

Felicity was a practical need in his company for various reasons, not one to just make his blood boil and frantically move around his veins every time he caught a whiff of the coconut lime scent that his mind had become familiar with.

She was a calmness to him in many ways, so her presence now settled his heartbeat from the previous conversation.

"That deal we're making this afternoon, I just got off the phone with Sadler and they're folding– they're becoming weak. And it's pissing my off. They're coming to me to help solve their issues, because they know I can do it. They're , but they know we'll do it. Which pisses me off because it makes us look weak if we just say yes."

Felicity blinked a few times as she watched Harry's reaction, her legs crossed at the feeling before she held her hands in front of her and nodded.

Harry sucked his lips into his mouth before he shook his head, a few of loose curls settled on his forehead as he pushed them back and Felicity wished that he hadn't.

"I think you're going to push them to do it without the counter," Felicity nodded. "From what I'm hearing, they're folding, and they can see that what we can provide is significant. Especially in terms of the election. We can do it– you can do it."

His eyes flew to her word change, noticing that her eyes had moved away from him. The subtle blush of pink ate away at her cheeks before Harry nodded in his own satisfaction.

"Enough about me," He shook his head, "What did you need, Felicity?"

Her eyes raised as it seemed she came back to conclusion about what she had been there for to begin with.

"Oh, I just talked with Nava at PLI and they wanted to express their gratitude towards you, because they said that you helped them with understanding the fundamentals of their offer and I thought it sounded like a for-sure deal– I just wanted you to know that Nava is a yes," She nodded and raised her brows again in remembrance, "Oh! And I'm also running to pick up some coffee and snacks before the board meeting. Flat white?"

Harry smirked at the praise from her, watching it leave her lips effortlessly. He nodded a few times at her question before he rose from his chair and grabbed the tie around his neck to loosen just a bit.

Harry grabbed the paperwork off of his desk before he moved towards the door and guided Felicity to follow. "Yes, please. A flat white with cinnamon, maybe a pump of caramel? What do you think?"

The words were like a question as Felicity walked next to him through the natural, brightly lit office. Her fingers tapped away at the device before she noticed the slight edge of the spicy cologne that wafted from his demeanor as he turned his head toward her.

"I'm not a huge fan of caramel," She stated a bit hesitantly as they stopped in front of one of the offices where Harry was about to go into a meeting.

He looked at Felicity as they stopped, his eyes moving up and down as he went from her lips to her eyes as if involved in a game of ping-pong.

"What do you like, then?" His words were soft, fluid.

Felicity swallowed as she shook her head a few times and nibbled on her lip. She hummed for a moment, "Um, I prefer vanilla."

The corner of Harry's lip moved upwards. "Make it a hot flat white with an extra shot of espresso, cinnamon, and a pump of vanilla, please."

Felicity wrote it down in her notes, but her fingers almost shook with adrenaline as she felt his gaze linger on her without her noticing before she nodded. "Great. I'll– uh, I'll leave now so I can be back in time to make sure you have what you need."

Her feet started to move away before she heard the booming sensation of her name. The way that her eyes fluttered back at him made Harry almost take a step backward.

"Uh," He felt speechless at the sudden look of her, "Please get whatever you need, too." He felt the professionalism start to creep its way back in. "Can't have you falling asleep on the job, you have notes to write."

Felicity bit the inside of her cheek before she nodded. "Yes, sir."

With that, Felicity turned her back and started to head down towards the elevators. Harry turned to make his way into the boardroom where he saw the table sitting and waiting for his arrival.

The hush that fell over the crowd made him shutter every time– the power he held echoed through his conscious at every moment it could.

He only smirked as he sat at the head of the table, pulling himself to sit up and lean on the table before he looked up to see the many eyes staring back at him.

"Shall we get to work then?"

__________________

"This coffee is fucking cold."

One of the board members pushed it away after taking a small sip, as Felicity had just sat it down in front of him.

It was an older gentleman– Hank– who had worked with the Styles family for many years and been able to help SCO with their major launches with other shareholders. His entitlement was present in the room, which pressed on her ego just a bit. Her head turned towards him as she shook hers.

A woman at the end of the time made a face as she looked at the side of the cup, "Ordered a fucking latte—they even messed it up and it's cold. The coffee shop is just down the block."

Felicity tucked some hair behind her ears as she shook her head in a bit of disbelief as she tried to find the receipt that the coffeehouse had given her. There wasn't any way that they gave her the wrong order, but she didn't know if there may have been a mix-up in who she gave the coffees to.

"T-That's impossible—I just order—" But she was cut off by the man who licked over his lips and held his hand up to stop her words from even echoing in the room at all.

"Just go get some hot coffee, would you?"

Felicity's eyes blazed around the room as she noticed that the others had practically ignored her efforts of the two full cardboard contents of coffee cups that she had practically run the streets of New York to pick up. Not only were they not even acknowledging her, but they were condescending in her efforts. Yes, she was an assistant—she wasn't their assistant. It wasn't her fault that she was one person, but she knew that she had to try harder to make the best impression that she could.

"Everyone just shut the fuck up and drink your coffees, would you? Our deadline is in six fucking hours. If you can't handle a little lukewarm coffee, get the fuck out of my office. I pay too much of your goddamn salaries for you to cry like a fucking baby."

Harry's eyes moved to the nervous-looking girl who stood by the door, along the edge of the buffet that held the rest of the coffee, donuts, and bagels that had practically been falling out of her arms when she arrived.

He couldn't tell—it may have been the lighting, but her eyes looked glassy as she tried to stand with her shoulders back. Harry caught her attention before she threw herself back together and walked over towards him, leaning down to where he sat at the table.

"I can run to go get something else, I don't think it would take too long, you know. Or I could order it to be delivered?" Felicity asked, a bit cautious, he could tell. But her piercing blue eyes were practically a shade of gray as he looked at them through her thick, tortoiseshell glasses that complimented the brightness of her eyes.

His eyes fell to the way that the chapstick she always applied gave her lips the most subtle peony color—so pink, but so natural. He thought that may be a better place for his eyes to land instead of directly into her eyes, but then he panicked for a moment and turned them back to her eyes.

"That's not necessary." Harry shook his head, answering for the individuals in the room. Even if they pushed their coffee aside, Harry would have never blamed it on Felicity for any failure—it wasn't her fault. He took a sip of his own; to his dismay, it was a bit cold, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

The stature of Felicity at the door made him take in a deep breath before he caught her attention, asking her to come towards him with just a look before she was practically on top of him. Her willingness to do as he said gave him a feeling of endorphins that were unlike any he had before.

Harry looked up at her from his seat, licking over his lips softly.

"Please make a reservation for two at The Malbec tonight at nine—whether or not these jackasses are going to be done working, I sure am, and I'm going to celebrate it. Add that I would like the executive seating and the Pauillac on the table, not chilled."

She nodded a few times at his requests, adding it into her notes on her phone before she looked back at him cautiously.

"Should I be arranging a car to pick someone up for you?" She asked. Her teeth scraping against her bottom lip as she waited for his response.

Harry shook his head back at her before filing through a few papers, "Not necessary today. Just make sure that you're not off the clock yet," He nods, "In case something doesn't go as planned."

Felicity nodded at the feeling of his eyes on hers before he turned to face the table before him.

"Someone get John on the phone," Harry ordered, his eyes going towards, "Hank. I want their numbers for the day and the plan for the fiscal year. I want to hear it from their lips, the spreadsheets don't mean shit if they're just going to lie to my face. Mary, contact PLI to get their rates."

Felicity had started to make her way towards the door, back towards her desk that sat in the main office towards Harry's own private one, before Harry called her back, "Felicity, sit in this meeting, will you? Grab your computer."

Her eyes narrowed at him in a bit of confusion before he stood up and grabbed a chair from the side of the room and pulled it to the spot next to where he was, at the head of the table.

Felicity did as he wished, leaving to grab her laptop and notebook essentials that she used to keep track of his days, his weeks. When she arrived back, she could feel a few eyes on her as they talked through the deal with John. The silence in the room as he spoke over the speaker was deafening before she sat down at the spot next to Harry.

His focus on the conversation made her attention turn towards him.

Working at SCO was one of Felicity's highest honors—she felt that her confidence was gained just by being in the room with some of these people. But, at the same time, she wondered at what point this would all get to her. She wasn't like this—she didn't have the same cutthroat mindset of tearing another down to get herself to another place.

In some respects, that's what was the balance between what Harry was and what he knew that he needed. He needed someone like Felicity to sit next to him—a calming sensation that he didn't ever notice until he would garner a sniff of the coconut shampoo that drifted from her silky chestnut hair.

It was sickening at times—the way he felt about her. When he was sitting next to her now, he watched as she let her fingers grace over the laptop keys, focused in on whatever task she was working on. His eyes moved away when he watched as her teeth loosened on her lower lip, letting the plumpness of it a drawback to a straightened line of her mouth.

He shifted in his seat as he felt himself get a sensation of pressure below the belt.

When he spoke, it was with a confidence that she couldn't seem to place. It was as if he could break and make with just words alone, a skill that he had to have been born with.

As they discussed the offers more in-depth, Felicity found herself distracted from her own work as she let her eyes gently maneuver back to where Harry sat at the end of the table. Her fingers practically stopped typing as she listened to the conversation and watched as his brain work in overtime.

It wasn't just impressive; it was extraordinary.

The narrowing of his brows, the calculated glance at the table as if he could cut through it with just his sight, the determined clench of his jaw.

"Don't fucking low-ball this," Harry practically snarled as he tapped the point of his pen to his notepad. "I know what's best for this company and we don't want people who underestimate the work and quality of our services. Globally, we're ahead of the entire market– we beat out every major network in significance. If you truly want to hand us a shitty number like that, you'll fucking fall. Your company will fail, and we will continue to sit right at the top as you lick the dirt off our shoes. It's not a competition; we've already won. So, do you want to win with us? That's the question here."

There's a slow chuckle on the phone, a bit of silence, too. Felicity looks up from her laptop to watch as a few members whisper to one another before hearing John on the other end.

"Listen, it's– we understand this. SCO is globally leading, but this is an election year– how are we supposed to gain traction when the news sources from SCO are against the current climate? We just don't see the same vision right now and we need to make sure our values are aligning– SCO may not be leading once the election happens."

Harry's eyes don't dim– Felicity watches as he turns different, his focus staying on the notepad under his fingers as he takes a beat before he stares at the phone in the middle of the table.

Her leg crosses under the table, gently caressing his unbeknownst to her. His eyes falter for once, as she retracts her position when she watches him crack for the first time. She noticed that he faltered but only a small huff of his breath before she bit her lip.

"We're a multi-billion-dollar company that focuses on the current political climate at hand since we completely understand the market, unlike someone who needs to be bought out to ensure that they don't sink. If you're just sitting in the open water, we will look the other way when a shark comes by," Harry shrugs, "I don't quite understand your vision of understanding moral compasses when you're sitting on significant lawsuits and company fouls that don't seem to benefit you right now or the lying, cheating words that come from your mouth."

Felicity's eyes flew up from her place at the table, watching as she saw everyone else's down. It was an unmistakable feeling of vigor that suddenly oozed from the place of Harry's seat. His demeanor was powerful, it was penetrable.

The quietness over the phone doesn't seem to faze anyone else, but Harry's eyebrow arches at the seconds that go by before he pops his tongue into the side of his mouth with a cheeky grin that was questioning on mad.

"Looks like they just got eaten by that fucking shark, huh." He says quietly before leaning over to press onto the conference room phone. He ended the call before he watched the room continue in silence.

Another woman, Laura, sitting at one of the sides spoke up as she held her phone in her hands.

"It looks like they're countering again." It was a bit quiet, almost like she didn't want the entire room to hear as she read on her phone before looking up at Harry, who held the emotion of a bear.

"Tell them they can choke on their own spit." He bites before Felicity cleared her throat.

His eyes immediately softened at the way that she interrupted, mostly because he was a bit confused by it.

"Mr. Styles," She pipped, "I—I, um, if I may." She chews on her lip a bit before she takes in a breath. "It sounds like they're needing a bit more leverage. Maybe a bit more face-to-face interaction that will cut and garner the deal. You're going to need more than John's input; he needs more intel from other aspects to understand what their losses look like."

Harry's eyes simply rest on Felicity as he leans back in the office chair, his legs crossed—a pursed pout on his lips as he nods at her words. A trickle of egotistical pride lies beneath his chest as he stares at her for a moment.

"Set the scene for me." He tells her, before watching Felicity take a deep breath. He watches her chest fall and rise and something about it sets him into high gear.

"Your family started this from scratch—this company is bigger than just the cash flow, and it's completely understood that it's worth billions, but they need to understand that there's a larger purpose for the work that they've put into it. They're not on the same business level that SCO is—it's apparent by the way that they throw around their value system. Meet with John outside of the office setting, get him where he can be able to see that you're serious without the psychological barrier of the phone—"

"That's fucking bullshit." Felicity hears from down the table, another man making a comment about her complete train of thought that. "You really think business is about emotion?"

Harry narrowed his brows, Felicity a bit surprised but not completely. Her head turning back towards her computer.

"You need to be thinking internally for what's best for us, not babying them to give us what we want. You know they're going to fall right into our hands, we don't need to get soft on them." Mary, a woman that Felicity generously thought would at least have an understanding of her interests, seemed to shame her more.

Harry pursed out his lips as he stares at the notepad in front of him. He pushed his hands against the table to rise from his seat before he's raised, watching silently as he eyes Felicity quickly before he starts to make his way out of the room. Before he does so, he turns his back and holds onto the door before he looks at Felicity directly.

"Felicity, please meet me in my office."

She swallows down the lump in her throat; cursing herself for even making a peep. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. Instead, she closed the laptop before she grabs the few belongings and makes her way out of the door.

Harry is steps ahead of her, not looking back, as they make their way to the office that sits in the north side of the larger office space.

When he walks in, he makes his way to his desk before leaning on it. Felicity walks in behind him, hesitating before

Harry notices that she hasn't fully made her way in yet.

"Come in," He tells her, "Take a seat."

Her words practically spilling out of her as soon as they reached the threshold of the door; there was nothing that she could say now that would make him keep her there, but she wanted to at least try.

"I-I know I overstepped my boundaries– I promise, I really do, I promise I will never do that again," She's holding the laptop against her chest, practically begging, "This is extremely unprofessional, but you need to know that I need this–"

"Do you know why you're still here, Felicity?" He asks, "Why you're still at SCO?"

His interrupted words make hers fall short as she stands at the door still. His arms are holding himself practically against the desk as he leans back against it.

Tears threaten her eyes as she tries to think of what she needs to pack from her desk quickly. This feels entirely too personal– he's firing her on the spot.

She shakes her head as she doesn't want to come up with an answer. Harry squints his eyes a bit as he notices the emotion that starts to creep on her face. All the sudden, he feels bad for what he's doing to her.

It feels a bit forward, maybe a bit out of his place. But he needs her to know exactly how he feels about her, and why the last assistants never stuck around.

He needs her to know that's she's different.

"It's because you're fucking smart," He tells her, "What you have, they lack. You have this– well, for lack of a better word, you're emotional. You can see beyond the bullshit and really down to the person." He points towards the area of the conference room that they just left.

"I'm not here to baby your ass or carry you through this job– you don't need this fucking job. You have so much more about you than being an assistant, okay? So, don't take what some fuckers in that office say about you and your ideas as gospel. They aren't getting it done, either– as you can see."

Felicity's demeanor loosens at his words; her knuckles along the laptop at her chest starts to loosen as she breathes in just a bit.

"I'm sorry–"

"Stop apologizing." He orders, "When you do that, all you're doing is making them right about you. They aren't."

There's a silence between them for a moment before Felicity nods a few times and bites at her lip. "You're right."

"Most of the time." He tells her, a smirk has replaced the seriousness of their conversation. "That's why I have this big office and a 300ft. yacht and they don't."

She follows with her own small, sided smirk, watching as he goes to move from his position.

"That sounded very cocky, I'm sorry." He laughed a little bit, lowering his head as he felt a bubble of laughter. Felicity followed behind, laughing a bit as she bit on her lower lip.

The tension had been cut; this overwhelming feeling of comfort had started to come across her, specifically when Harry looked back up at her and she could see the shining level of his green eyes and the deepening dimples crossing his face.

It wasn't an emotion she saw very often; it looked impossibly lovely on him.

"Stop saying sorry, remember?" She reminded him, a sheepish smile laying on her lips.

Harry moved his fists into his pockets as he started to walk a bit towards her.

It was then that Felicity recognized that his pure power and force was enough to knock her down to her knees. The way that he stood up, his suit tailored perfectly around his small hips and shoulders, she couldn't understand the feeling that had come over her suddenly.

Harry approached her, they were standing eye to eye as he searched between them both. He had been searching for something, surely, by the way his eyes moved between her own.

Felicity tipped her chin up a little bit; it was slight enough that they both noticed, but a sudden embarrassment crossed her thought at the way she had possibly invited a completely inappropriate behavior.

"Let's get back in there, yeah?" She clears her throat as she turned her head and body, moving back out towards the conference room.

Harry's fists tightened next to him at the way she moved away, and he couldn't help but shutter at what could have possibly happened moments ago.

He lowered his head before he shook it a few times, "Yes, of course," He confirmed, nodding at her, "I'll follow you back, I'm just going to," He felt himself getting hot which made him feel vulnerable to her stares. "I'll be in there in a moment."

Felicity turned, her hair falling over her shoulders before she nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

Before she was able to move out of the room, Harry caught her attention once again before he narrowed his eyes to her. "Can I—that reservation I asked you to schedule. Please move it to Friday night. Something's come up, actually."

Felicity made a motion to speak, but she didn't end up with any words. Instead, just nodding a few times, her eyes smiling back at him as she agreed to his request. "Sure, no problem."

Her smile had vanished from his view as she turned to walk back to the conference room.

When she noticed that she was out of sight, his eyes had widened just at the breath that he had been holding in. It didn't matter how big or important a meeting could be, Harry never got nervous. He was never worried about anything—he knew what he was getting himself into, and nothing scared him. There wasn't a reason to be.

Standing in front of Felicity was a feeling he had never imagined would give him a doubt; he never felt like he would be pushed away or turned away, and the feeling of dismissal was encapsulating, to say the least.

He pushed his hand into his hair as he went to sit in the chair that was pushed in behind his desk, swallowing the lump in his throat as he shook his head.

Never in a million years did he think that he would feel such a way—never like this.

"Let's get back to work, then."

_______________

It had been a few days since the encounter in his office. Harry had noticed that even the next morning, Felicity seemed to be in much better spirits. Her head was held high; her shoulders were sitting back, like she was prepared to keep her chin up for the day.

He could catch glimpses from his office, watching as she typed away or smiled down at her phone. A piece of him felt only the slightest bit of—he didn't know the feeling very well—jealous. He wanted to know more, wanted to understand what she could have been smiling at.

He knew that his job had been done a few days ago as he watched her spirits rise just at his words. Something about that feeling was missing now—he didn't understand what it was, but his ego may have been getting in the way just a bit.

Harry sat his pen down that he had been using to write out some tasks before he grabbed the pad of paper and started to make his way out of his office. The small desk that sat outside of his was taken by Felicity; a few photos and memorabilia sat to give her space a bit of light and personalization.

It didn't mimic Harry's own office very well, as his was kept more straightforward and narrower. There wasn't any photos or personalized mementos—just plain, really. But the photo of Felicity and another man caught his eye, something he had never really seen before. Something he never felt that he would have had to pay attention to, that is.

"That your boyfriend?" He felt himself saying, but an ultimate feeling of embarrassment rose as he watched Felicity look up at him quickly. It was clear that she hadn't really noticed him sneak up on her, and her hands flew to the phone on the desk before closing the screen promptly.

"Uh," She shook her head, "I—I mean, we've been talking a few months," She referenced to the phone before she looked back at Harry and noticed that there may have been a bit of miscommunication.

"Oh—uh, no, sorry," He shook his head, pointing to the photo that sat on her desk. "I was—that photo, I'd never seen that before."

Felicity turned her eyes towards the photo that sat on her desk in the black frame before letting out a breath of relief. "Oh! No, that's my brother." She laughed a little bit before she watched Harry reach out to grab the picture frame off her desk.

He studied it for a few seconds, letting his smile move up a bit before he sat it back down. "Yeah, you guys look alike. I just—it was new, so I didn't know."

Felicity bit on her lip before tucking her hair behind her ears, "No—yeah, I would make that assumption, too. It's fine, but yeah." She didn't know that he would notice that she set up the photo or not. She knew now that he paid attention; he had an attention to detail, it seemed.

The small moment gave Harry a bit of concern as he felt that there was some unresolved feeling between the two of them. He cleared his throat, holding the paper out before her as she piqued at the small task guide that Harry had been feverishly writing down.

"I have a few things that I need to get done today, if you don't mind." He had handed her the paper before her eyes ran over it a few times. "It's just a few little things, but I need to have a few suits dry-cleaned for our business summit on Monday in England—I'm flying out tomorrow morning on the jet, but we'll need to make sure that everything is taken care of for that. I believe you, myself, Laura, Hank, Daniel, and probably William will be there, so we'll need to make—"

"Excuse me, but," Felicity chuckled before shaking her head a few times. "Did you say me?"

Harry blinks a few times in confusion before he bites the inside of his cheek. Surely, she knew that she would be leaving in the morning– she had to have known that as his assistant, she would be most responsible for being on the trip.

"Uh, well," Harry blinked, "Yes, I mean. of course. You're the most vital person for the trip, really."

Felicity bit into her lip before she turned towards her notes, her eyes flickering over them as she realized she wouldn't need to send him a detailed email of their agenda– she'd be there to tell him in person. So, all this work—it didn't matter now.

"Right– yeah, of course. I'm stupid for not putting that together." She shook her head as she took in a sigh, crossing out a few notes on her pad. She turned her attention back to him before she cleared her throat. "What time should I be at the airport tomorrow, then?"

Harry bit his lip, shrugging as he felt the smile crossing his lips, "I don't know—you tell me. You're my assistant."

Felicity blinked at him a few times before laughing out a little bit, letting her head rest in her hands as she felt a bit ridiculous for feeling so caught off guard. "Right—right. I—yeah."

In the back of his head, there was a delicate feeling of intrigue that bit at the back of him. He squinted his eyes a bit as he settled against the edge of her desk. As he crossed his arms over his chest, he narrowed his attention down to Felicity until she looked up at him and felt the wandering look. All Felicity knew is that she didn't want to look at the way that his forearms protruded against the fabric of his pressed white button-down.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her, the smile on his lips tug briefly before he was letting it fully on display. "You seem a bit... caught up."

She blinked a few times, shaking her head as she looked at her computer screen. "I'm fine—yeah. I'm just—I was a bit caught up, I guess," She chewed on her lip as she realized that getting personal was just that. It was personal. She didn't want to bore him or let know too far in. Their relationship was strictly business; it seemed that she endeared him though.

Her eyes traveled back to him when he didn't seem to leave her alone and she noticed that she'd had another message.

"I'm just... the guy I've been seeing, well, on and off—he just asked me to dinner and he's picking me up from here tonight around five. We haven't seen each other in a while, he's a bit..." She bites her lip again as she tried to find the right word, "I don't hear from him often. But when we're together, everything is fine. So, I guess I just got a bit overwhelmed with it."

Harry pinches the inside of his bicep when she speaks, his smile fading just a bit. He didn't want her to notice that, though. He didn't know why, but it left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had been excited for someone who was making her wait. Instead, he shifted a bit on the desk as he cleared his own throat before speaking.

"That's—that's great," He tells her, watching as she smiles at his appreciation and acceptance, "Where is he taking you?"

"We're just going to this place off from fifth avenue, some place he said is nice. We're really just meeting for a beer or something." Felicity's eyes light up at the realization before she turns to face him a bit head on now, her chair swiveling around before she crosses her legs and faces him. "What about you, though? That reservation I made for you tonight—who are you meeting with?"

Harry's lip parted as he remembered the reservation.

He remembered the reservation he had moved to tonight, simply so that he could flesh out a few details with Felicity over a dinner with just the two of them. Of course, he hadn't mentioned it to her. It was stupid of him to think that she wouldn't be busy on a Friday evening, of course. He had wanted to talk to her about the upcoming week; maybe get a little more out of her if everything was off the record at a dinner that wasn't going on the company credit card, but his own personal dollar.

Harry shakes his head a bit before he scratches at the back of his head, "Uh, right. I—I might need to cancel that. I don't think that's going to happen anymore."

Felicity watches his expression before she seems to mimic with a bit of somber. "Oh. Sorry. Tough subject?"

When he pushed himself from her desk, he placed his hands in his pockets before he hung his head a little bit. It hadn't occurred to him that the disappointment had been a bit stronger than anticipated-- and it wasn't just because he always got what he wanted.

"Hm, something like that," He tried to explain before he changed the subject to get it off his mind, "But yeah. So, dry-cleaning and all that can be finished before the morning, yeah? If you have any questions about any of that, I'll be in my office. Meeting at one and then I'm going to leave here around five."

Giving him a warm smile, Felicity nodded her head at him, watching as he turned to his office.

Her attention fell back to her phone; falling back to the smile and giddiness that had been so rudely interrupted by a different kind of feeling—one that she wasn't so sure she was supposed to enjoy, in that way, anyways.

_______________

The black Suburban pulled up against the curb; Harry's phone against his ear as he moved towards the vehicle in a fluid motion.

A driver had opened the door before he crawled in the back seat. The call on the other end had been a business call that he was supposed to listen in on; he wasn't going to speak, just listen to the meeting of what was said. He decided it had been enough and clicked it to end before he looked up and out of the window.

His head turned towards the door before he watched Felicity standing at the curb. She looked uncomfortable as she stood and had her eyes searching for whatever it was that she was looking for.

It was a little bit past six then; the rest of the day was filled with a meeting or two before he really started to get more work, letting his head get wrapped up in taking calls and finishing off emails before he would be away from the office for a bit.

This was how they left each other on most days; his car pulled up, and he usually drove away before he could notice if she caught another ride or if she headed towards the subway. Her eyes were searching— almost like she had been waiting for something or someone but didn't want to seem disappointed. Harry could feel it in his chest—he could feel the way that she stood with her arms crossed over her chest in a bit of distress.

It had occurred to him then that Felicity had mentioned that she was supposed to be picked up around five—a full hour ago.

The rain had started just a bit, enough that she quickly looked to the sky for a moment as if to curse it.

He watched as her phone fumbled in her hands. A discerned look on her face made him halt the driver before they could start pulling away. Harry watched her, the knowing look on his face as he rolled down the window to call out towards her.

"Felicity," He stated, opening the door before he stepped out. "Come on, get in."

Her eyes looked to him, practically mortified. Her head started to shake a bit before he moved out of the car just enough that she noticed his offer was serious and that he wasn't moving. The door was open now as he stood outside of it and held it open for her.

"Let's go– it's raining." He said, squinting a bit as the rain started coming down a bit more.

It seriously took Harry a moment before he realized that it may take a bit more for Felicity to listen to him; her contemplation didn't last long as the rain started to hit the cement loudly—her papers and bag held over her head as she made her way towards the open door of the large vehicle.

Felicity's heels clicked against the sidewalk as she hurried into the back of the van, crawling across to the other side and trying to keep her skirt down as she realized he would be coming right behind her.

There was a brief pause of silence when the door shut behind Harry.

Once they were situated in the backseat, Harry looked at her for a moment as she seemed a bit out of sorts. Her eyes were on her phone as she cleared her throat.

Her eyes were narrowed down as she searched through some texts, a bit all over the place it seemed. Harry knew Felicity better than this, and her nerves were starting to overwhelm her hand, almost like she was completely unsure of what was happening right now.

"Do you just—do you mind dropping me off at fifth ave—" She had started, but he was already shaking his head.

"He's not showing up, so no. Peter, drop us at The Malbec."

Her head turned towards him at the bluntness of his tone and the way that he resisted her need. The way that he answered her was unlike he had ever spoken to her; that caught her off guard the most.

Felicity flipped through her texts once again before she scoffed out, "Harry, I have a date tonight. I'll just get a car from there—"

"No, you won't." He told her, before situating himself in the back. The way that her hair had a bit of windswept to it, the length of her lashes, the complete blush of her cheeks—it was all enough for him to generally bust at the seams.

Seeing her like that was a wake-up call as he looked away and tried his best to be a gentleman.

"I'm off the clock, so my duties are relinquished for the night." She told him sharply, giving herself a bit more voice before Harry really glared at her this time. He had never heard her speak to him in such a way, but something about it gave him a mouthful to bite from.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that, I'm your boss." He told her; his eyes seemingly turning a darker color the more she stared at him. It was enough for her to scoff and turn her head out of the window as they had started to drive up towards the restaurant that she refused to go to.

Harry spoke again, this time a bit softer. "It's just dinner. No work."

It takes a moment before Felicity leans into the window and lets her head rest against the glass. The feeling of the coolness takes over before she shuts her eyes for a moment. It doesn't feel like she wants to cry, but maybe there's a bit of emotion that she can't seem to let go of.

The disappointment aspect was never good to her; that was how this always worked. Something always disappointed her. There hadn't been a moment when she felt comfortable or safe—no, really, she just wandered around in this life with so much hope. So much hope and very little pride, now.

She lived for the hope of it all.

When they made their way to the restaurant, it had started to rain a little less. It was merely a sprinkle before Peter pulled off to the curb closest and the two of them were able to get out.

Felicity was instructed that she could leave her work items in the car, bringing only her purse as Harry followed behind her. When they walked into the restaurant, her eyes widened at how fancy it was—the dim lit lights were much brighter than the sky had been at this time of day, especially when the clouds rolled in.

The host was able to take them directly to their seats—the ones that Felicity had made the reservation for. It was an intimate seat; two chair and a small table that were seated close to the window, but enough away from everyone else.

The Paulliac was on the table as instructed; the host pulled the chair out for Felicity before she was able to take a seat. The only reason she would have ever been to a restaurant like this is for a work event. The host sat menus in front of them before giving them some space.

Harry pushed his sleeves up on his forearm; the littering of tattoos on him was endearing to Felicity's eye before she looked away at the attention she was drawing to them.

"Wine?" He asked her softly, taking the bottle from the table and holding it out in a means to offer her some. She had agreed, nodding a few times before looking at the menu and the items on it. Surely, she couldn't pronounce half of them before she looked up to see that Harry had been looking at her already and her cheeks grew rosier.

Felicity felt that there was a tenseness now, like she didn't have too much to say. She didn't want to say too much and bore him, she didn't want to not say a word and feel the awkwardness that seemed to linger as they sat longer.

"I mean, since we're here," Felicity grabbed the phone from her purse as she scrolled through it, pushing her hair out of her face to tame it a bit from the frizz that the rain caused, "So, just to recap some new additions to the calendar, you have a dental appointment next Monday, a meeting with PLI at 10—"

"You said you grew up in DC, didn't you?" Harry cuts her off, his question making her turn to look at him with a solid glance before she starts to nod a few times. It was a bit unwarranted, but she decided that she would settle into it.

Felicity doesn't know why his soft voice seems so foreign from the bitter sound of his usual bite.

"Y-Yes, yeah, I grew up in Northern Virginia, actually." She gives him a solid answer before she licks her lips. Her hand moves to grab the wine glass, taking a solid sip before she places it back into its spot on the white knit tablecloth.

Harry nods at her simple answer, not necessarily looking for anything else. His head was filled with the worked he had been processing through the week, and something about this felt... warranted. He wanted this to be normal; to feel like she could see him from a different perspective, maybe, without less fear in her eyes.

Something about her makes his blood boil with a derailment—it's almost like he can't seem to read her, which makes him angry and animalistic, almost. He doesn't know why but he feels a bit shy in her presence.

Her eyes read over the menu before she clicks her tongue, "Anything on here that you would recommend?"

"You have any food aversions?" He asks, pretending to look over the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order.

She shook her head, not really thinking of anything. She knew that there were foods she didn't particularly enjoy, but she knew that if something was going to be expensive, she would put that aside to at least try.

When the waiter came by, Harry took initiate to order for the table– the two of them. He ordered an entrée, three appetizers, and a spring salad. Felicity listened as he did so, knowing that he knew what he wanted and when he wanted it.

She couldn't relate to that; not these days, at least. She didn't know what she wanted, so she pretended not to think about it most days. Instead, she recognized that not putting the pressure on it made it feel like it was enough; she had to understand that she was okay to be a bit unsure at times.

The restaurant has a crowded chatter amongst the guests, but Harry can't help but pay attention to the silence of the table instead.

"So," He pulls at the tie around his neck just a bit as he leans towards her at the table. "I'm thinking of possible meeting with PLI, in person. Like you mentioned this week, at that meeting. Something about looking someone in the eye might be the best approach and making sure everything is clean."

His eyes lifted to meet hers, watching as she took another sip of the wine. Her eyes were placed now on her hands that laid in her lap.

"Thought this wasn't a work dinner." She mumbled out, but suddenly caught herself, "But yeah– yeah, I think that would be good."

Harry pressed his tongue into his cheek, tilting his head a little bit as he heard her questioned statement. His frustration at not being able to read her was posing a threat to his mood before he shrugged a little bit, "It doesn't have to be, but you are kind of quiet, and I feel like I made you uncomfortable in the car. Or something."

"I'm not uncomfortable," She lied, "I'm– I don't know. I'm just a bit thrown by the events of the evening, and I think men are kind of preposterous right now. Please don't take that personally, and really, no offense or anything."

Harry shrugged, his lips turning downwards as he contemplated the truth in her statement, "None taken. I may agree with you, but," He licked his lips, "Can we agree that women are sometimes a bit..."

As he hesitated for a moment, Felicity spoke instead. "I would suggest that you not finish that sentence, probably. It sounds like the beginning of an HR concern."

Harry lifts a brow in curiosity from her argument that seemingly pushed her a bit out of the boundaries, "You can speak, but I can't? Don't believe that's a fair view of how you think women should live in society, is it? You want fair treatment, so I'm going to be honest with you."

"I didn't limit you from speaking, I just suggested that you should not. You can definitely say whatever it is that you'd like to say to me, Mr. Styles." Felicity shook her head a bit, tucking her hair behind her ear. The way that she said his name always made him a bit woozy.

There was a moment when Harry wasn't completely sure that he didn't see the glimmer in her eye—that he didn't see a sparkle that may have been a fleeting moment, just a quick nod to him before it was gone forever, making him look mad for even thinking it in the first place.

"I will say it, then, if you're willing to listen," Harry told her, "I think that men and women aren't usually equal—nor should they be," He paused for a moment before he watched as her facial expression started to contour with a confusion so loud that he was certain the chefs in the back could hear. "I think that we live in a balancing act. For instance, the guy that you were looking to see—sure, he's probably an asshole, but you continued to want to see him. The pendulum works both ways. Maybe you shouldn't have wanted to meet up with him."

Felicity scoffed out a breath before she took a sip of the wine again—she could feel that there was a growing fuzziness that she wasn't able to keep up with. "Oh, you're giving me relationship advice now?"

The way that she bit when she had a bit of alcohol in her made Harry's eyes turn a darker shade of green that was unable to be noticed by the dimness of the restaurant that sat in. It was much more direct than she ever had been with him before; he wondered if this was how she was normally.

"I like to think I have your best interest in mind." He tells her with full honesty, feeling a bit bare with the truth laying flat on the table.

There is a moment that Felicity feels her heartstring tug, wondering if he meant it to hit her as specifically as it did. But she clears her throat when she watches the way that Harry refills the glass of red wi the out her asking for it, noticing that he fingers tremble when he grabs the bottle.

"I— I really do appreciate it, like, what you– I mean, you probably don't remember, but just this week with the whole coffee incident–"

Felicity is cut-off, by him, but she can see that the anger peculates off of him as he recalls the incident, "I hate that they think people are below them like that. It bothers the shit out of me," She can tell that the thought bothers him; his eyes narrow down as he takes a sip of his own wine, "Yes, it's your fucking job, but it's also not worth their time to be shitty to you for something you can't control. And you couldn't be nicer, grateful, kind—"

Harry's cut off by the food coming to the table. He shakes his head at the possible embarrassment he may encounter from the softness of rambling he had started to portray about some of her highest qualities.

The dinner that came out was exceptional— nothing less of what Felicity could have imagined. It was top-tier; the wine that was paired with it made her giggle a few times when Harry would go on rants about the way that he thought some of the companies ran. He would start the conversation with, 'off the record' and she would smile about how he could keep their conversations low.

It wasn't until she had told a soft-spoken jab about how she believed that he needed to stop hiring old, white men that she noticed that his dimples were parallel on either side of his face. They lit up his features, turning his eyes the color of a southern sky.

When they had finished, Harry took the check with ease and signed his name in capital letters, as if he wanted everyone to know that he had spent the amount of money at dinner that she spent in a month of rent.

Harry placed his hand on the small of her back as they maneuvered out to the car. The street was starting to become a bit crowded, especially at the door for the wait. Harry had texted his driver to make sure they could be picked up, which again, he made sure to open the door for her as they flew into the backseat.

Felicity told the driver where she needed to go; back to her apartment that sat on the upper West side of the city. It was close to Central Park; a few blocks away, she'd say.

There's a moment when Harry feels that he doesn't want the night to end. He surely doesn't want to watch her leave— that's for sure. The car ride is spent with him catching her glances as they watch the lights in the city pass by; the honking of the cars and the putter of rain starts to encapsulate the backseat.

"Is this good for drop off?" The driver asks, looking in the rearview mirror at Felicity before she nods, agreeing with a soft yes, and starts to collect her things. The items she had brought from work were still in their place.

Harry watched as she goes to speak, knowing that it was going to be a goodbye. He would surely see her in the morning, but he couldn't bare the idea of flying across the ocean, staring at her across the seat from himself, without any words left unspoken.

"Uh," He shifted a bit in the back of the car, Felicity could see that he was looking up towards the building that she called her own. "Do you actually mind if—uh, I really have to piss."

Her eyes widened a bit before she let her own lips widen into a smirk. "Oh— yeah, please."

It hadn't occurred to her until they were walking up the steps and into the building that she may have had some underwear on the floor and could potentially have a sink filled with dirty dishes— she couldn't quite remember.

But what she did know was that Harry was following in her steps as they climbed a few flights until they reached the third floor.

"Quite a workout, huh?" Harry puffed as they reached the front door to her specific apartment.

"Hm," She hummed, "Imagine having to move all of my furniture up here. I had to ask random men on the street to help me."

Felicity digs into her purse before she's able to find the keys to the front door.

"I don't want to be super nosy," He looked around the small vestibule that they were standing in while Felicity tried to find her keys—even though the purse she held was naturally quite small. "But is there any reason you live in a place that resembles a prison?"

Felicity chuckled out a laugh before she found the small keyring and tried to put it into the lock. Her hands were a bit unsteady—the wine was holding the buzz over her as she steadied her hands to unlock the small door.

"This is what livable looks like in New York," The door swung open; Felicity moved into the tiny apartment before placing her bag on the kitchen counter. "Maybe I need to have a discussion with my boss about a raise."

It wasn't the smallest apartment, but it was exactly what she needed. There was no storage space, but there was a separate room for each need—living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. She had a small working office in the corner by the balcony that she had been lucky enough to score from this specific unit.

Harry looked around the place, his eyes feasting on every detail. "That can probably be arranged if I can be certain that you won't get mugged getting into your front door."

He noticed how lived in it felt—the opposite of the cool, modern, high-end penthouse he would resort to later that evening. Everything was painted a different color of beige, keeping the lightness of the empty place very noticeable.

There were photos on the walls, painting and portraits, there were words that resembled some of her favorite music and books. It was colorful and there were plants that were seemingly a bit out of control.

"The bathroom is right there, by the way." Felicity pointed, before Harry turned towards the small room to his left.

"Thanks." He stated before he moved into it and shut the door behind him.

It was the same reaction he had to the living room and kitchen; his eyes narrowed in on the details of the shower curtain and the small bottles of serum that sat along her sink. The way that her toothbrush was bright pink, matching the towels that hung on the wall.

There were delicate parts of her that he was certain she wouldn't have told him about because she didn't think that it mattered. But in the long run, he liked the bits of color and the pieces of art that hung next to her sink.

It was a detail he hadn't really thought about of her before.

When he had come back, he stared at her position in front of the sink. Her sleeves were rolled up as she washed a few dishes that had been sitting there. Her heels has been removed, but the jacket and the short skirt still hung from her delicate frame as he watched the way that she focused on a task.

She noticed that he was looking at her now before she gave a small smile and felt that he wasn't in a hurry to leave.

"I would offer you something to drink—I mean, I would offer you anything, but I'm not really," She looked around the kitchen. "I have coffee and vodka. And not like," She scrunched her brows together as she looked in her fridge. "Not good vodka. You would look down on me if I served you this, kind of vodka."

Harry let his smile tilt up a bit as he meandered into the small space of the kitchen. If she was offering him anything—

"You really think I'm that much of a snob?" He smirked.

Felicity huffed a little bit as she turned her head towards him, "The wine we drank tonight was $600 a bottle."

He doesn't say anything for a moment before he tilts his head a bit and shrugs off the comment. He wonders if she thinks of him differently—not for being her boss, but for having a high taste. Possibly the earlier of the two, too.

"I grew up that way, I guess. It's hard to decipher what's normal." He tries to explain to her, which makes her look at him with a mockery of a face. Her eyes roll with a smile, and he gives her a look of disdain.

She goes to respond to him, but instead he moves his body practically over top of her back to grab the vodka that sits on the second shelf of the fridge. It's a bottle that cost Felicity about $12.75 just the other week, and it has a good amount still left in it. Harry holds the neck of it in his hands before he looks at it and sets it down on the counter.

"Lemons? Juice? Anything?" He asks; taking the liberty himself to look through one of the cabinets to try and find himself a glass. Felicity stays still for a moment before she's able to grasp the magnitude of the situation.

Her boss—Harry Styles, CEO, is standing in her kitchen and trying to make himself a cocktail with her $12.75 vodka that she had bought at the bodega just a few days prior. He's perusing through the cabinets—the few that she had—before he turns to her.

"Uh, I have a bar cart." She tells him solidly, before she moves her way into the living room where the car sat. Her head is feeling fuzzy, and she wonders if adding the vodka to it will make her completely lose all faith in herself. She has a feeling it will make her say something absolutely ridiculous, to him of all people.

Felicity grabs the shaker, two glasses, a lemon from one of the small bowls that she uses for décor but also for moments like this and makes her way to the kitchen where Harry has already taken the ice trays out. When he looks back up at her, he nods back to where she came from, her eyes following his gaze.

"Go sit on the couch, let me make you a drink." He tells her, "You had a long week."

"I'm going to be completely honest with you," She folds her hands together before he looks at her with a bit of a concerned look, "I don't know if I like the roles reversed like this."

He gives her a smug smile before he turns back to what he had been doing previously; now filling up the shaker with ice before he poured a few seconds worth of vodka into it.

"You think I'm a stuck-up prick," He tells her, "Let me show you that I'm not, will you?"

The statement that he left on his lips settled in the air between them; Felicity blew it away as she breathed outwards and just nodded in place. She suddenly became a bit meek before she made her way back to the sofa where she settled into the cloudy cushions, sitting with her legs underneath of her as she tried not to flash anything from her skirt. She heard Harry mixing the cocktails in the glass shaker, shortly before coming out with two glasses in his hands.

He hands over a glass that looks solemnly... clear. Maybe a bit too clear, but she felt satisfied to know that he was trying his best to make a spot in her world. She didn't have to climb to his level, he was trying to stay at hers.

"To..." He trailed off as he held his glass up to her. The small loveseat that they sat on felt incredibly intimate all the sudden.

"To... London?" Felicity stated, "To having to be up tomorrow at five, but continuing to drink even though we can get to London."

Harry laughed at her words before he clinked his glass against hers, "To London."

The way that his accent wrapped itself around certain words held her attention briefly before she was able to take a sip of the cocktail he prepared. Strong wasn't the word; overkill may have been more like it.

"Holy fuck," She coughed softly before she felt a sting in her eyes, "That's—please never go into bartending."

A subtle look of offense took over his face as he went to take a sip of his own before he widened his eyes at the flavor of it. "Oh, shit. Yeah, wow. That—that'll do some damage."

Felicity started to laugh at his own reaction before she sat the drink down on the coffee table and watched Harry do the same.

"So, to brief then," She stated, "I believe that it's still true that you're just a stuck-up snob who can't do anything on his own, including making a cocktail."

Harry stood up for a moment but took offense to her comment. He started to remove his jacket, which only intrigued her—it meant he was staying a while longer. "Hey, to my defense, your fridge is very, very sad. There was not much I could have done to make this better. If you're going to drink vodka, at least buy a decent brand."

Felicity tucked the hair behind her ear, "I'm here to make vodka Sprite's, okay? Not martinis," She leaned against the back of the sofa, "And there you go again with being the rich snob."

It was annoying to her that he had decided to roll up his sleeve, just enough on his forearm that she was able to see the tattoos that weren't seen very often. Seldom, really. In the office, she would notice that he would be focusing on something in his office, his sleeve rolled up a bit, but that was the extent of it.

It seemed there were many more up his arm than she had initially thought, but she knew that she would never see them all.

When he went to sit down, he went to move the throw pillow behind his arm, but as he did so, he noticed something black against the white couch cushion.

Immediately, his fingers flew to the item before he lifted the lace that held his attention quite mesmerizingly. Felicity gasped at the realization before she grabbed them from his hands, absolutely mortified didn't even cut it.

"I'm so embarrassed," She finally spoke, almost trying to blame the redness of her cheeks on the strong beverage he gave her. She knew that it was the inflammation of her dignity, not the vodka.

There wasn't a word spoken before she watched that his expression changed surprisingly. He took a long sip of the vodka drink before setting it back down.

But the smile that follows from the cocktail is all she needs to see before she can smile back.

"You continue to surprise me," His words were placed with a package of slurring vocab before he swallows back anything else he'd say out of pocket, "I'm going to be very honest that I didn't imagine you as— I mean, I never imagined you in lace."

"You say that like you imagined me in something else." The words that came from Felicity weren't her own—she didn't know why she said them, but his quick rebuttal shut her up completely.

"Silk, probably," He uses his finger to touch the rim of the rocks glass that he's holding, where the condensation made a drip over the dress pants that situation themselves over his thighs, so lucky. "Or—I mean, you could surprise me even more," He went quick after a moment.

Silence. Protruding silence that is viciously capturing them in this haze of only breath that either of them can hear. It's uninterrupted until Harry leans his head back and the creaking on the sofa fills Felicity's head, rather than the idea of what's to come.

She had felt it before; the warranted tension that Harry seemed to have over her. Maybe it was her fault for leaning into it, but sometimes, she just couldn't help it. The way that he found himself taken by her was just unspoken most of the time. She was surprised that he wouldn't have pulled anything at dinner, but she could fill in the blanks as she invited him up to her apartment.

It was inevitable, she thought.

She shouldn't have done that, but should not's were not what she was thinking about as she drowned herself in the alcoholic state of the sour vodka that wafted of lemon juice and baited words.

Instead, Felicity blinked a few times, watching as he stared at the ceiling. The blankness of the pure white ceiling seemed to keep him grounded before she watched his jaw tighten.

"You're full of surprises, a lot of mystery, you know?" Harry breathed out. The tie around his neck was getting tight, but he couldn't loosen it now—if he was being honest, it was adding to the pleasure of the moment. He wouldn't speak that out, but while the tightness caused a bit of discomfort, he thought of it in other instances. "I'm not sure I can keep up with it."

There was an unresolved tension in the words he spoke, maybe even a bit of slur in them before Felicity followed suit; her head resting practically next to his as she stared at the blank white ceiling that had very little to memorize or stare at.

"What fun is a mystery if it's solved?"

He wasn't sure if she saw—he wasn't sure if she saw the way that his eyes fluttered at the thought of uncovering every instance of mystery that she kept hidden away, in this small apartment. The air was starting to become lost on them, feeling like the oxygen was being pulled as he breathed. The shakiness of his breath was caught by her when she turned her head—she wished that she hadn't.

All she could process was the way that his eyes stared upwards, lips parted in an unsure manner before she watched his eyebrows knit in a deep thought that she couldn't seem to interpret. But this pique of interest held her as she kept her eyes on him—he could feel every deep breath that she tried to mask.

"I don't know if you knew this about me," He quietly stated, "But I really can't handle the unknown."

It was then that his head turned towards her; the distance between them was much shorter than he could have thought. He didn't notice until his eyes directly moved towards the way that her lips curved in the small bow, the one that he had known so well from the number of times that he couldn't keep his eyes from her. But this was different; this held much more tension that he couldn't believe.

This time he could smell the liquor that lingered on her lips that mixed so well with the cherry of the chapstick that he knew she applied generously. He would watch the way that it slid over the lips as he sat at his desk and wondered what was on her mind.

"You're very good at getting what you want," Felicity breathed, watching as he shut his eyes for a moment. It was as if with every word she spoke, he was closer and closer to the edge of something great.

Her eyes traveled to the way that his legs sat just open—they were just waiting for someone to notice. Felicity swallowed at the idea of sitting between them, on her knees. Sitting there with her eyes laying on him; he took notice of her tense shoulders and her harbored through before he sat up just a bit. He scooted himself back on the sofa—Felicity blinked at the way that he invited her with just the flicker of his eyes.

No words needed to be spoken when the look could speak for itself, but the way that he speaks breaks the barrier of silence.

"How good am I at getting what I want?"

The heavy eyes that she held were only staring at his lips and the way that he spoke—the flicker of his tongue over the satin maroon of his lips. She couldn't contain herself, because she knew that his aura was a force to be reckoned with. She had seen it up close and personal; she knew that everything that he did was because he was in it one hundred percent.

He didn't half-ass anything—not a report, not a phone call, not a meeting, not a thought.

Everything Harry did was with the full intensive purpose of being the only thing on someone's mind, body, and soul.

Felicity trembled in the spot next to him, but her legs urged to move themselves. Her brain wasn't moving as fast as her decisions; and in an instant, her knees lowered to the spot in front of him. Her hands settling on the thick of his thigh as she allowed her eyes to hold his. For a moment, hesitation crossed his face, but she could have mistaken it for vulnerability.

The way that he breathed outwards was enough to make her gain the strength of a thousand horses—the talk that he talked wasn't as strong now, she felt a sensibility of pure radiance from her actions.

"I'd say you're the best at it, really." She let her hands settle on his thighs, but she took them away so she could drop the blazer down her arms. The tight white t-shirt settled against her frame as he watched the way that she pushed her brunette locks from her shoulders.

But his being felt incredibly taken by the way that she slowly moved—she wanted to savor every moment of this, he could tell that she was being critical, slow, and putting together each piece of herself in front of him.

That's what he thought at least, until he recognized that there was a tremble in her hand when she went to grab at the belt buckle, he barred. His hand flew to hers when she touched it; almost annoyed at himself by the look of terror that he was faced with as he knew that she had felt pushed away at that.

Instead, he pulled at her to stand up in front of him, between his legs. She did so with ease but a bit of confusion laid on her face as she stood with her hands by her side, Harry's eyes dancing along the figure—the divots in her thighs, the way the skirt just held to her so beautifully.

He let out a whimpering sound before he let his hand fall to the tightness of the front of his pants. Instantly, the pleasure trigger was pulled, and he knew what he had gotten himself into now had to be completed. It had to—he never did anything half-assed.

"Go put your heels on," He instructed her, watching as she stared at him willingly.

"A please would be nice." She tutted back, letting her lip fall into the curve of a smile.

Instantly, she knew that this wasn't a game anymore—this wasn't a fun, hushed little game of pleasure with nobody watching. She knew that the way that his eyes changed at the blink of an eye, the way that his jaw tightened at the statement: and the clear smirk on her lips faded.

"I'm not asking you," He sat up a bit, "I'm telling you."

Felicity had been used to being spoken as such; her memory fading into a moment, but her barriers kept up as she understood that her body was reacting only to the way that the words flowed from his mouth. She knew there was safety in his tone, she could see it by the way that he had stared at her with these stolen glances all night.

Instead, she followed his direction, moving back towards the door until she placed the black heels onto her feet again. They hurt just a bit from wearing them all day, she had to admit. But they made her stand taller, firmer against the fake wood flooring of her apartment. She wondered why the downstairs neighbors would think, as it became later at night.

"Come here," He told her, holding her wrist when she got close enough. He pulled her back to the place in front of him. She stood taller now, his nose practically at her bellybutton as she watched the way that he pulled her close.

Now, his hands lay on the outside of her hips, the sides of her thighs. She shuddered at the feeling, knowing that this was the first time she had been touched by him in such a manner. The musky scent of teakwood and spice drifted from the curls that settled against his forehead, she was sure of it. She could feel the heat of his breath just above where she needed him most as she stood close to him, right between his legs as he sat on the sofa.

"Do you know how many times I've thought of you like this?" He practically choked on his words, quiet, "So fucking beautiful."

She breathed out a shaky breath, holding onto every ounce of madness that she had collected over the past few moments.

"How many?" She asked him. Harry stood up, letting her take a step back as she felt the prominence of him now-- how he was a bit taller, even with her heels on. Every part of her ached—so unfamiliar to her, this feeling of need and want. It was a sensation of desperation that she hadn't known before; her inner monologue was flooded with dangerous prose as she felt his fingers cradled onto her jaw.

"More times than I'd ever be able to count." He told her, his voice deep and sharp as he pushed his hips forward. She walked backward a few steps, he followed in her lead like a waltz before he pushed her pelvis into the wall, holding it there with his own.

"You're going to be my good girl tonight, aren't you, Felicity?" His words were practically a whimper as he let his lips slide along her own; the tremble of her quivering lips made him shake in his own anticipation. "You love to listen, hm? That's why you're always taking my orders and assisting me? Getting paid to do what I say?"

It was always obvious by the pink of her cheeks and the timid ways of her soul that Harry could see right through her. From the moment she arrived on the job to the way that she completed everything task with ease; every job, every plan he needed executed, she followed in righteous order.

It made him proud, to say the least. She ran the company better than he did most days, but she didn't get half the recognition.

Until now, surely.

Her eyes nearly roll back into her head at the foul play of his words; the way that his eyes follow down the path of her lips, his thumb mapping the path down her chin before he grabbed it between his thumb and index finger.

The villainous smirk on his lips can't be seen by how close they are now.

"Does saying 'Yes, Mr. Styles' make you wet, Miss Carter?"

The question rolled off his tongue as he watched her minuscule behaviors; the way that she practically shivered against the wall made his eyes move to the way that her knees bent in just a bit.

His mouth turned up to the side as he realized that his was right yet again.

Felicity groaned in the back of her throat as she let it tip against the wall. He was practically on top of her by the way that he stood, his knee was pushing her knees apart before she was able to protest any of it. Not that she would've; she knew that it was about to turn into an evening that she couldn't have truly imagined if you had asked her just hours before.

"You're getting shy on me, again?" He remarked, but this time, it was paired with some loose kisses along her neck as he used his hand to cradle her jaw enough that she was pressing into it with ease. "What happened to that smart mouth, hm?"

Felicity ached as she breathed—her body pressured against the wall was her own doing, practically to keep herself from overwhelming herself. If she leaned into him too much, she wouldn't be able to breathe at all.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." She bit her lip at the words coming off her tongue.

She could feel that the instant gratification that came from him was filtered through the stare that he barred towards her; the way that his nose brushed against the lobe of her ear as he practically fell into her graces with three simple words.

Harry groaned at the feeling of her pressed against him then; her brain sparked a few times, trying to remember how it felt before this. How reality felt. This wasn't reality in the slightest; this was a dream.

"Tell me," He urges her, "What was his name?"

She lets her eyes wash over his face as she notices that his strength and need have put him into a trance of pleasure and further need.

"Who?" She questions.

"The guy," He lets his lip gently caress right between her chin and lip. "The guy you were supposed to see tonight."

Felicity remembered how the evening was supposed to go—her interest completely lost in that game, when this one seemed a bit more daring and fun. It felt that she was seen here; like she had been stared at for quite some time, ogled, maybe.

"Uh, S-Sam." She choked out as she felt the way that his hand pinched at the small of her waist, almost like he was trying to make sure she didn't leave.

He hummed softly before he tipped her head back, the simple press of his nose moving her head against the wall. "Fucking loser."

Her mouth instantly felt his—a righteous moment of complete satisfaction bundled beneath her. It was the first time that his lips had laid into hers, moving gently against one another as they fit perfectly in sync. It wasn't too rough—just enough to know that she was in the hands of someone who knew what she was asking just by the way that his body moved. He could read her body and react to the fact that her chest may have been pressed against the wall a bit too much, so he pulled back to give her room to breathe.

The way that they flew through her bedroom door was just as shocking to her as it was to him; it made a much larger noise than she anticipated as they practically flew over the threshold and into the creamy white sheets of her—thankfully—made bed.

He landed on top of her in the heat of the moment. Their lips stayed attached through it all, almost like they were making up for all the lost time over the years. His tongue gently caressed over her top lip, which elicited quite a whine of surprise from her.

Her hands flew to his necktie, trying to loosen it before Harry grabbed her wrist—hard enough that she barked out a whimper.

"No," He told her sharply, watching as she hesitated underneath him. Now her hair was feathered out against the bedspread, her light eyes were catching every glimpse of her. After a moment, he looked at her softly, knowing that she didn't understand the game that he was about to play.

"We are going to play by my rules tonight," He told her, watching as she pushed herself up towards the headboard. He followed her lead, letting her hands rest on the back of his head as she tried to kiss every inch down her neck. "And I have a few notes you need to take, got it?"

Felicity tried her best to stabilize her breath as she was given a moment away from their lips touching to catch it. She licked over her lips, feeling her heart pounding along her chest before she nodded against the bed and the linen comforter that laid underneath them.

Harry sat up, his hair a bit of a mess, the clothes on his body were practically ripped from the front where they had been neatly tucked. The growing need for her was obvious as he felt the tip of his cock struggling beneath the waistband of his belt. The friction made it quite hard to concentrate on what his plans had been, but he knew that he had to be firm with his requests.

"First," He instructed, "The safe word is poetry."

Felicity's eyes stared at him with quiet focus as she nodded a few times to try and understand that. She hadn't ever been with someone who needed to use a safe word in any sexual act, so she struggled to wrap her brain around what that could have possibly meant. But her actions continued to nod as she wrapped her arms around his biceps to try to bring him back to earth. The idea that he had to bring it up intrigued her.

"Second," He pulled at the necktie around his own before he loosened it enough to grab and throw off of his own neck. His hands moved to place it around her own, helping to move the hair from her neck so that it could rest comfortably around her own. "I like to use props. Are you okay with that?"

Felicity felt her heart beating steadily in her chest for a few seconds before she nodded her head. He watched the innocence completely take over her face as he smirked at the all-knowing tale of it.

"Third," He bit on his lip as he moved down to let their foreheads rest along each other, "I need to hear you—no nodding or shaking your head. Consent makes me feel good. And when I feel good," He kissed her once again, a quick one this time, before his voice quieted so that it was just between them. "You'll feel even better. Okay?"

Felicity breathed in a deep breath before she tried to use the voice that had been drifting away from her. She didn't feel in her body like an echo of a voice had started to take over instead of her words. But she let out a rasp of a word, "Okay."

Harry nodded a few times, knowing that with her eyes, he would be able to continue, but only if he was able to talk her through every part of it. He didn't know her experience level or what she was comfortable with, but he knew how to make pleasure the only thing that would be on her mind for weeks. Hopefully, it wouldn't be the last time he got the opportunity.

"This is—uh," She looked at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot for starting to speak before she shook her head, and watched Harry give her a look of confusion. "No, sorry. Nevermind."

"What is it?" He questioned, hoping that something he had said hadn't scared her away. She took in a breath as she thought about how the wording could anger him—maybe it would stop whatever was happening, which she didn't want to happen now that they were in the midst of it all.

"I—uh, I mean, like, are you okay with this?" She asked quietly before pushing up on her elbows. "I—do I have like, sign something?"

Harry raised in brows in a bit of a humorous way that only made her cheeks grow red with shame at her silly question—in all honesty, it wasn't silly, but Harry was giving her a hard time about it, anyway. He bit on his lip as he felt the smile that was threatening to overcome his entire face.

"Am I supposed to be worried that you're going to tell the Daily Mail that I have a huge cock?"

"Harry!" She covered her eyes, floating back onto the comforter, "Nevermind—maybe I'll tell them it's small, though, if you don't stop being mean. I'm just trying to protect you."

"Aw," He tutted, putting his thumb over her bottom lip, but his eyes had grown a bit darker—the way that they had been a bit earlier. It was almost an illicit reaction; the way that he spoke to her, was so filthy with each word spoken that made her melt into the bed. "Dare you to say that to my face when you're choking on it," He pressed his hips into hers then, knowing that she would react to it. Hers moved upwards into him, just as he had intended, "I'm not worried about an NDA in the slightest bit."

In a teasing manner, she scrunched her nose and playfully spat back, "What if I tried to steal all of your money?"

He pressed his hands next to her head on the bed, letting her eyes look directly into his as he spoke, hoping his voice didn't falter: "You can have it all. Take it."

Something about it should have made Felicity giggle—almost like they were joking around. But there was a way that his sincerity felt more like a proposition than a source to cut the tension of their achingly needing bodies against one another.

Her body seemed to enjoy the way that he stated the smooth words, as she let her hands fall into the brunette curls that settled on the back of his neck. It didn't take long for her to pull him closer, letting her lips graze over him in such a frustrating manner. She was completely built up, her could feel the way that her thighs trembled against him.

Pushing her legs open, Harry pushed the hem of her skirt up her hips so that he could find a home between them. In doing so, flashing the baby pink of her lace panties only let his blood flow faster and faster.

"I bet you've soaked those, hm?" He tuts, pressing his nose into her cheek ask he lets his hand knowingly move to the place he speaks of, knowing that he's right. Again. "Sam doesn't know what he's missing, does he?"

The teasing was becoming a bit too much for her—waiting for his fingers to move faster, she moved her hips a bit to try and get herself the pleasure she was trying to search so desperately for from him.

Harry notices the way that she tries to squirm, and he smirks at the reaction he's giving her; knowing that within every inch of her is building up a tension that will release. It will be like a dam that overflows—a satisfaction that will be so worthy of the cost of admission. He can't help but notice, can't help but watch her need.

He can't help but know that he's going to fuck her into an oblivion so dark, the stars will be lost in space. She doesn't know that yet.

Instead of being mean, he decides it might be better for him to give her what she needs—what she's been so kindly asking him for with her pretty hips and her pretty lips.

"On your knees," He tells her, watching as she moves underneath him. She wiggles around until she's on her stomach; the necktie gets him harder as he watches it dangle from her neck like the apple in Eden. Every part of him wants to take the bite—not yet, oh, not yet.

When she does this, her back arches upwards, and Harry's knees settle on the bed as he hovers above her and watches the way that she submits to him. Every word he says she listens—he can barely handle it anymore.

In an instant, his hands reached the bottom of her skirt, pushing it up to fully show the outline of her ass in the cheeky pink lace. It's always been known to him that she would wear something so pitifully scandalous under those black skirts, but he couldn't have imagined it would be like this.

Her pretty face has been folded into the creamy duvet, waiting for the touch of him to send her into an implosion.

All he wanted was to taste her—to make all of the thoughts he had prior feel like they were significant and they were able to be adhered to. He wanted to make her feel like she was the most special person on the planet; like she could feel every inch of him, and she would be thriving in that thought for the end of time.

This may be a one-time occurrence, and he wanted to marvel in it. He wanted her to enjoy what she didn't know could be.

Harry's hands pulled at the pink lace, wondering how lucky he was to be able to enjoy this sight—and what a sight. The wetness of her folds only made him salivate; made his hungry eye a darker shade of green before he dove his tongue directly into her, licking up the mess he had already made of her.

The soft whimpers turned into moans as she practically lurched forward—the initiation hardly bearable as she scrunched her eyes at the feeling of pleasure. The warmth and invite of his tongue pressed against her, lapping her up and into a pitiful puddle. When she felt the nudge of his finger, she gasped at the feeling of him; the duo of his tongue and finger sang together in harmony like a choir of angels.

"Oh, fuck," She quietly moaned out, holding herself on her elbows as she grabbed at her pillow for a bit of leverage. She felt him hum into her, his nose gently brushing against her as he pushed her ass up to get further towards her clit which hungered for his touch, as did his tongue.

The taste of her replenished him, making his heartbeat faster as he felt the stringent feeling of tightness along the dress pants that held him in. Without letting his tongue go without, he used his hand to swiftly throw the belt from the loops of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly and without another thought.

"Fuck, you taste like I thought you would. So fucking sweet." He stated, pushing her ass out of the way when he pulled back. He threw her down onto the bed so that she would be looking up at him. The girl was fully dressed still, just with her skirt pushed up—underwear a bit haphazardly thrown to the side. The rose-colored cheeks threw him as he used his hands to pull the skirt down her thighs.

"Get naked." He ordered, watching as Felicity's hands moved to throw the t-shirt from her body as he requested, leaving her in her panties and bra. Harry threw the white button-down of his from his chest; Felicity got a bit distracted by the way that the tattoos generously scattered over his body. She swallowed back her intimidation as she held herself up on her elbows.

In a swift motion, her panties and bra were thrown onto the ground, leaving her in just the necktie like Harry had ordered for her. She hadn't even quite noticed that he had been rid of his own clothes, her eyes wandering down but not wanting to stare as she noticed that the smirk on his face was ever present.

"Think it's still small?" He asked, with a chuckle as he pulled at her knees, moving her down towards him.

"Maybe smaller than I'm used to." She played back, biting her lip at the intrigue of how he'd react. His arms grabbed at her waist before he threw himself down onto the bed.

"Ride me, then. If you think you can take it as good as you say." His words spit out before Felicity could think too much. It had been a while she had been in this situation, with a guy in her place, at least. Her hand reached over to the nightstand to grab a condom, Harry nodding in appreciation for the gesture.

Her hunger and desire for this became a bit more active as she was now in the driver's seat, moving and manipulating her body to sit across his lap. If she would lie, she would say that it was smaller than average. But unfortunately, she was taught to always tell the truth.

It was much bigger—especially as he rubbed his hand down himself, a gasp of air baiting out of his lips before he looked up at her in a state that could only resemble pleasure.

Harry rolled the condom down his length, watching as she settled into his lap. Her legs settle on either side of him before he looks up at her. The blazing fuzziness of his mind from the liquor has started to cease and is replaced with a hunger of desire for the brunette instead.

"Pretty, pretty." He tells her, watching as she looks antsy enough to move, but he pulls her down to kiss her, anyways. It's a moment that he knows he's taking away from her, but he needs some form of interaction from her. A small detail of need that overcomes him.

His hands steady her hips above him, holding his cock up to her entrance before he watches her hips move down to encapsulate him all—her movements are slow as she throws her head back in an unsurmountable pleasure that she quite practically leans forward against him to catch herself from falling.

"Fuck," He grunts, shutting his eyes just at the way that the blood moves directly to his cock at the feeling of her wetness. She's completely drenched and open and ready which makes her so sensitive and barely capable of words at this point.

Her hands steady herself, holding onto his chest as he allows her to take the lead on what she needs. But he can tell from the look on her face that she's having quite a hard time collecting herself—almost like she's quite unsure of what to do with the power that he's given her to be on top. It's not him pitying her, but him wanting her to enjoy the experience.

So, maybe, in another life, this can happen again.

"Baby," He choked out, shaking his head at the way that he knew it was the wrong choice of words, "Felicity—let me," He grabbed the small of her waist as he sat up quickly. His arms pivoted them so that he could throw them back around on the bed. It wasn't to take anything away from her, but to give to her more than she was giving to herself.

"Let me do this, yeah?" He joked with her, letting his lips kiss along hers, biting and nipping and finding small ways of showing her that the softness of him was still there even in the darkened eyes and furious gasps.

His body readjusted, his hips pushing into her in a more fluid motion. This got her to gasp, a breathy one that he liked hearing—those were the ones that were out of pure pleasure and satisfaction; ones that he felt drunk on.

In a way, this felt a lot different than before. The overhead light of her bedroom was soft; there was a significant dimness to it. He wasn't sure if it was because the room was small, but it felt like there was a intimacy that he had been missing before. His eyes tilted upwards to the paintings and lines of movie quotes that lined along her bedroom wall. There were framed simply and held color and brightness to the space, which distracted him for only a moment before he was able to lay against her.

The necktie around her took his focus back.

"I'm going to play with you a bit, is that alright?" He asked her softly, biting at his lip before he found himself pressing into her hips. His hands grabbed at the necktie before letting them start to tighten it around her neck. " 'Member you words, hm?"

Felicity whimpered out at the coax; nodding her head, "Please—please."

Harry sat up at the request, happy that she was using her words in this sense. He readied himself; thinking of what he needed to think about to try to get himself to a different place. He didn't want to cum too quickly; his cock was barely holding on as it was. The friction of her sweet wetness was enough to make him fold again and again and again.

His fist moved to grip at the knot of the tie, pushing it upwards until it hit at her chin. She raised her head, almost to give way to the pressure that it held against her. She was only briefly capable of speaking a few words, but she was taken with pleasure at the way that her breathing was manipulated.

"Breath play," Harry practically reads her mind as his hip's diver deeper into her. The feeling of her legs at his ribs, practically around his body as he feels the back of her ankle into his back. "Your words, baby."

Felicity took a deep breath; Harry moved his hand so that she could take it in more. He wanted her to feel the wooziness, the daydream-like feeling of the high that it could bring her. He wanted this moment to be special, for her to remember that she was in the most requitting love affair. That she was taken care of, adored, seen.

At the end of the day, Harry wanted to make sure that her jaw was cradled, her lips were kissed, her eyes were stared into, and her breath was taken away.

His hips snapped further, her moan sounded like a small mew before he sat up a bit straighter, loosening his hand on the tie before he grabbed at both of her hips. His hand moved to maneuver over her clit, thumb drawing a star over top of it to which she squirmed in sensitivity. He smirked at the way that she held softly against him before he let a dribble of spit land directly on her, smearing the wetness to coat her.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He stated, the blown-out pupils of them both had them reeling—he noticed he had really neglected parts of her that he had wanted to remember, but he also knew that there was a significant need that they were both needing to fill. He knew that this was just inevitable fucking from weeks—months, really—of built-up tension that they both needed to get out of their system.

"I—I want more," She nodded, her voice quiet and barely above a mumble before their eyes made contact.

He felt that she was a bit, for lack of a better word, fucked. Her eyes were a bit droopy, she may have been trying to cover up how much she really drank, but her effervescent neediness was going to haunt him forever.

"I can give you more," He nodded, "I can give you so much fucking more." His hips snapped forward, again and again and again—her headboard hitting the wall every time he did so. Their breath heavy and their eyes connected as he did so.

"Such a pretty little fuck," He lifted her leg up from around his waist before he gave her knee a gentle kiss. "I'm so hard, fuck."

The fully natured nudity of their bodies was new for him—it was usually very quick, especially when they would come to his. But this was significantly more intimate; he wanted to spend this time with her. He liked that they decided to do it this way.

She could feel the tightening of the rubber band that was about to snap. It had been building with every swipe of his thumb, the way that his tongue had gently nudged at her clit; the way he had plunged forward with every deep thrust. She was impressed with the way that he moved her body to be able to hit at her spot every single time. He had studied her, watched what she did—how she reacted.

"I'm—fuck," He pulled himself forward, letting his head drop as he fell into her touch. This was new; her hands on his shoulders, the way that they moved into his hair and down his neck. "Poetry, okay?" He reminded her softly before he kissed her lips.

What happened after that could have been a blur—to Felicity, she wasn't entirely sure if she could remember it all. His hand gripped around the tie of her neck, pulling softly so she felt a dizzy sensation.

"Fuck—fuck, Harry, I'm cumming—fuck." Her teeth bit so sharply on her lip that she was afraid it might rupture the skin; the taste of blood would come soon afterwards, but her reality was set in the pleasure kingdom that Harry's hips created for her.

It was dizzying how he snapped his hips upwards, hitting her every single time. The pressure of his thumb over her clit sent her into an overdrive; letting her walls completely break, the dam overflowed, flooding. The orgasm over taking her sent him into a state of pure shock and adrenaline, snapping his hips a few more times before he felt the absolute relief.

Her eyes shut; Harry lurched forward as he fell into the grip of her hands. It was a feeling of falling that he genuinely believed were cloud-like.

For a moment, he wondered if they would ever slow their breathing down. He wondered if the sound of her heart beating against his was real-life or just a fantasy. It may have been an orgasmic-induced dream.

The puzzle piece form of the two of them let him settle nicely into her; his nose poked at the skin of her neck, which he may or may not have left a mark or two on.

In the solemness of the air, his breathing finally evened out.

___________

"Are we cleared for take-off, Mr. Styles?"

The noise jolts him a bit, he wouldn't lie.

Harry clears his throat as he opens his eyes which have been hidden by the sunglasses that have settled on his face. He readjusts in the seat before he looks around the small jet plane that had been chartered for their adventure.

It was early, approaching on seven in the morning. His sleep had been nonexistent until that small nap that he had gotten himself before being woken up by the pilot.

"Uh," He swallows, trying to make it seem that he was more awake than he was.

"I believe that we're all here." Laura states to the pilot before she gives him a tight smile. She returns to looking at her cellphone, lowering her hands into her lap as she continues to scroll through what's possibly an email.

Harry looks around the small jet, watching, searching... wondering.

He blinks a few times to try to imagine if there's a reality where what had occurred last night was working against him—he had hoped that she hadn't been scared off, that she hadn't run away at the idea of what this weekend could possibly hold.

Not that it was going to happen all the time, certainly not. But he wondered if there could be a next time—he wondered if she would have liked that. It turns out, with the no show to the work trip that she had been informed on that—

"I'm sorry."

The sweet tone of the voice carries through the plane before he turns his body in the single chair to look at where it had been coming from. Coming up the steps, being greeted by the stewardess, a smiling face that had her sunglasses pushed into her hair—a pair of black yoga pants and a t-shirt with a cardigan sweater overtop.

He watches as she takes her bag, feeling uncomfortable by the stewardess taking it from her before she gives her a tight smile and settles into walking towards the back. The plane isn't large, but it feels incredible big when he is waiting for her to approach him.

Their eyes meet and she gives him a tight smile before greeting the others on the plane. The seat directly in front of Harry isn't taken. Go figure. Her hands are full—holding her purse, a bag that most likely has something to eat for a breakfast, a coffee, and—

"Your dry-cleaning," Felicity handed the back to him before she took her seat that sat directly across from him in the small private jet that had seemingly felt much smaller as she took in how close he was to her now, "Mr. Styles."

The flicker of her eyes to his—the way that her hair had been blown dry, bouncing with curls, the freshness of her toned-down makeup to allow the texture of her skin to show with the subtlety of the glow.

Even in the early morning hours, even though he had just left her a few hours prior, even though they had both had less than a few good hours of sleep—she still looked like she was greeting him at heaven's pearly gates.

When the bag was unzipped to check that everything had been added, his eyes fell along the purple necktie that he had unnervingly left at the edge of her bed the night prior; he must had run out of the door of her apartment without it. His eyes glanced at the way that the small item drifted over the white button-down.

It was familiar, of course, because it had been the one that he was wearing yesterday when he had entered her apartment but left without it in his hands or around his neck. He cleared his throat at the sight, knowing that it was a nod to him and only him. When he sat them down across his lap, his eyes landed on her again—the casualty of her smirk was harrowing now.

"Mr. Styles, are we waiting on anyone else?" The pilot had come back towards the rows now, to ensure that everything would have been cleared for the take-off. Harry looked back at him, and shook his head without another doubt, but a solidly aching feeling in his chest as he barred the words back at him.

"No, I—I'm not waiting for anyone else, at least." He looked up at the girl in front of him, "I'm good."

The pilot got the plane ready for departure; Felicity stared at the window as she tried to take in the experience, knowing that the exhaustion that was starting to overcome her would be able to be given a final rest when she leaned against the window.

But, for the time being, she liked being able to rest in the light of Harry's stare as he couldn't take his eyes from her.

The plane, the job, the clothes, the dinner—none of it mattered when the view in front of him was something that money would never be able to buy.

____________________

hiiiii!!

happy tortured poets department day, here's a one-shot <3

just a little fun one hehe, almost 20k words is so much for me, so thank you for reading this!

love u as always

- emily

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Breakfast Time

My son’s stuck in a time loop again.

He thinks I don’t know, of course. He’s never told me that this happens to him (or that he can do this, possibly; I’m not sure which it is.) Maybe I’m a bad mother, if I haven’t proven myself worthy of that trust. But there is only so many times that one can watch their son trudge through a day with bored impatience, anticipating everything you say just a little too quickly and showing no surprise to even the most surprising event, and then come downstairs the next day disoriented but rejuvenated and with a new zest for life and a tendency to get blindsided by even the most predictable things, before one makes the obvious connection.

I don’t think he’s lived through this day too many times yet, because he’s not frustrated by my good morning joke but not surprised by the monster attack being announced on the news. He eats his toast makes polite conversation that sounds just a little too rote until his sister comes down, and he puts his toast down in that distinctive way that make her eyes widen in sudden realisation, a reaction I never would have noticed if I wasn’t looking for it. He told her about three time loops ago, I think, although it might’ve been earlier and I just never noticed the signal until then. I make sure to keep the smile on my face as I push a plate of toast towards her.

The thing on the news is some kind of flying beast, and my son’s eyes don’t leave the TV screen. I expect that calm, solid determination that I usually see in his expression on days like this, but instead he watches it only with a wary sort of calculation. I suppress a sigh – it looks like I won’t be remembering today, then.

The pair exchange glances and look to me. “Hey, mum, I figured we should go to school early. We’ve both got these big tests coming up and – ”

“Yes, fine, whatever. Go.” I know what you’re thinking – obviously they’re off to do something dangerous, and obviously they’re far too young for this sort of thing, and obviously I shouldn’t enable this, and I’m a terrible parent for letting them run off to maybe get themselves killed someday. But I put this to you:

How, exactly, do you expect me to stop them?

As my son heads for the door, though, I almost stop him. I consider, not for the first time, just telling him what I know, what I’ve figured out, and asking him to explain everything, to say where he’s going and what he plans to do about that thing and if his sister is involved and if they at least have help, to put my mind at ease. I don’t, though. Because, logically… I must have done that before, right? In at least one of the countless days that never happened. I must have gotten worried or angry or just fed up with this ridiculous charade and told him that he wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought he was. He has to know that I know, right? And yet, he still chooses to let it play out like this.

Or, perhaps, he told me once. That must have happened, right? I must have been there to help, to patch his wounds and dry his tears and listen to him confess his fears or his worries or his regrets about this big responsibility, about whatever he’s doing out there. He must have told me, at some point, at least once, in one of those nonexistent days. And afterwards, he chose not to tell the me that stuck around. Meaning that I must have given him some reason to keep this secret.

What did I do to him? What did I say to him? How bad a confidante must I have been, that he chooses instead to keep me in the dark?

They leave, they ‘go to school early’, and I start on the dishes. As I wash my daughter’s breakfast crumbs away, the plate slips from my fingers and shatters on the tiles at my feet. I sigh, and turn to get a broom.

Then stop. Pick up all the other dirty plates. And shatter them, one by one, on the tiles.

Then I leave the mess behind me, pull a full tub of rocky road ice cream out of the freezer, and resolve to spend the day eating junk and watching youtube videos. After all, it’s not like it’s going to matter tomorrow, right?

[mclacedes]

Let Them See (LH44)

a/n: writing angst wasn't helping my depressed ass at all so here's a smutty thought :)

summary: in which lewis has a controversially young girlfriend, who he suddenly isn't afraid of showing around

warnings: suggestive content, dirty talk, age gap, kind of sick, friends-to-lovers, secret relationship

WC: 1.9k

Everyone knew your relationship with Lewis was byword impulsive and complicated—not because you wanted it to be, but because of the circumstances you were in.

The 16-year age gap between you and Lewis didn’t sit well with everyone, making discretion your only option. You hid away together, sneaking around like teenagers, leaning on each other in any four-walled space. You lost count of how many times you and Lewis went to the rented villa on Lake Como, being able to take bites off each other everywhere possible.

You’d lost track of how many times you’d escaped to the rented villa on Lake Como, stealing moments to lose yourselves in each other.

And you liked it that way. The secrecy, the privacy—you’d been the one to insist on it.

You first met Lewis when you were 22, and he was 38. It was 2023, and your connection had been instant. You became best friends, growing closer with each passing day. On your 23rd birthday, he’d gifted you 23 of your favorite books, each one holding a handwritten note.

Now, at 24, with him at 40, the age gap felt striking, unavoidable. Yet, there was something about it that thrilled you, made your pulse race, your mind whirl, and your body ache with a want you couldn’t quite explain.

Now, it was all speculation for the fans and entertainment for the other drivers, who relished watching you and Lewis attempt to keep your composure in front of the cameras. Every stolen glance and lingering touch fed the rumors, the intrigue, the tension.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, you couldn’t care less about the cameras or what anyone thought.

It was December 7th, 2025—the night of the final race of the season. The night Lewis cemented his legacy, securing his eighth world championship and becoming the most decorated driver in Formula 1 history. The long-awaited eighth had finally arrived, and the weight of it, the joy of it, was almost too much to contain.

Everyone was at the afterparty—everyone except Charles, who had been Lewis’s fiercest competitor throughout the season. They’d gone head-to-head in countless races, but Charles ultimately finished third in the championship, with Lando getting closer and closer to the so-dreamed-of championship.

But in the end, only one person could take it home. And there happens to be only one GOAT. It had been Lewis’ from the very start.

The room was filled with those who weren’t envious but proud, celebrating his historic achievement. It was a night of laughter, toasts, and admiration for the man who had just become an eight-time world champion.

Lewis sat on a couch in the VIP section of the Abu Dhabi club, slowly breathing in the air of victory and sipping on the glass of champagne in his hand, its price not even a thought in his mind.

The air of victory didn’t reek of the podium’s champagne or the faint musk of the club, though. It smelled just like your Dior perfume, your vanilla soap and your vanilla shampoo.

Victory looked like the pretty girl sat on his thigh, bobbing her head to the sound of the all-too-loud music, sipping off her own glass of golden bubbly beverage.

“I think I’m getting too old for this,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your ear, his lips so close you could feel every word.

You chuckled, throwing your head back in that carefree way that always made him smile—it was one of the little things he thought was the cutest about you.

“Wanna leave already, Sir? We’re barely started partying,” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave, his words vibrating against your chest. “I’ve got far more interesting things waiting at home, Y/N. And trust me, we can party all night there too.”

The weight of his tone sends a shiver down your spine, warmth blooming low in your belly as the meaning behind his words settled in, making your pulse quicken.

Suddenly, you are too aware of how short your dress is and how his hand palms your thigh. You swallow hard, the music and chatter of the club fading into the background. His dark eyes are locked on yours, and the teasing curve of his lips only deepen your anticipation.

“Is that so?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, though you knew he could hear the challenge laced in your tone.

Lewis’s fingers traced idle circles on your thigh, his touch light yet deliberate. “You know it is,” he said, his grin growing darker, more possessive. “I’d even dare say… you like that idea, don’t you?”

“Outrageous!” you replied, flashing a mischievous smile, your teeth catching your bottom lip in a playful bite.

The warmth pooling in your belly grew as his hand slid up a fraction more, reaching the hem of your dress. His fingers toyed with the sequins, sending tiny sparks of sensation through your skin.

“Lewis…” you murmured, your tone caught between playful and cautious, though your smile faltered under his gaze. “We’re in public.”

His laughter rumbled low and deep, a sound that sent a shiver straight through you. “Then you’d better behave, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. His eyes never left yours, and his grin turned wicked as he added, “Because if you keep looking at me like that…” He let the words linger, charged and heavy with intent. “I might just have to take you right here.”

Your breath hitched, a mix of anticipation and adrenaline coursing through you as his words sank in. His hand lingered at the hem of your dress, just enough to tease, to test your resolve.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly, betraying your feigned confidence.

Lewis’s smirk deepened, his gaze never breaking from yours. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapping around you, “you’d not only let, you’d beg me to do so.”

Heat flushed through you, and you struggled to keep your composure under his piercing gaze. The music around you seemed to blur into white noise, the club melting away until it felt like it was just the two of you, locked in a silent battle of wills.

“Right… Then what if I told you I would absolutely love you to take me right here?” you said, batting your eyelashes as you looked into his soul through his eyes.

Lewis could feel his pants getting too tight around his crotch as you kept looking at him.

Lewis’s smirk grew even darker, the intensity in his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “Shit, love…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, rich and velvety, making a mess on your panties. “I have to remind you just how dangerous it is to play games you can’t win.”

The heat between you was palpable, a private flame burning brighter with every second. The noise of the club, the thrumming bass, the distant laughter—they all faded into oblivion. It was just him, just you, and the tension crackling like electricity in the air.

“Well, I’m not afraid of losing,” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Maybe I want to see just how far you’d go, Lewis.”

His grip on your thigh tightened, and his dark eyes dropped briefly to your lips, before returning to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He was holding on by a thread, and you could tell he was teetering between self-control and giving in.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his tone a warning laced with hunger.

You tilted your head, your confidence unwavering as you batted your lashes again. “Oh, except I do,” you replied softly, your voice dripping with challenge.

Lewis shifted in his seat, the tightness in his pants making his restraint all the more difficult. His jaw clenched briefly, his free hand resting on the back of your neck, his thumb grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt through you.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

But regret was the last thing on your mind. You leaned in, your breath warm against his cheek as you whispered, “Prove it.”

The heat between you was undeniable now, a private storm building despite the crowd around you. The world didn’t matter—the cameras, the whispers, the flashing lights. It was just him, just you, and the pull that neither of you could resist.

And as his lips brushed the shell of your ear again, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

He gently nudged you off his lap, rising to his feet. Taking your hand in his, he led you toward the exit. But just as you reached the door, a sudden burst of cheers echoed from the VIP bar.

Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Alex Albon were all staring at you two, grinning like they’d just caught wind of the hottest gossip in the room.

You smile, your cheeks flushing slightly, and bury your face in Lewis’ chest, hiding your laughter. He chuckles softly, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back. As you step away, you look up to find him casually flipping off his co-workers with a playful grin.

A mischievous spark ignites within you, and without missing a beat, you mirror his action, flipping them off with a smirk of your own.

Lewis catches your move, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches you mirror him. His eyes gleam with approval, his playful side clearly taking over.

“That’s my baby,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he steps closer, his arm brushing against your shoulders, wrapping around your neck possessively.

The group of drivers, now aware of your shared gesture, laughs and shakes their heads, but their amusement only fuels your defiance. The tension between you and Lewis grows electric even when you two stop flipping the guys off, the playful challenge still lingering in the air.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the flashing lights, the cameras capturing every second of your interaction. The bright flashes momentarily blind you, but it's the weight of their gaze on both of you that makes your pulse race. It’s as if the entire world is watching, amplifying everything—the chemistry, the defiance, the thrill of the moment.

“Lewis…” you murmur, your voice low and laced with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Lewis doesn’t flinch at the attention, his smirk only deepening as he locks eyes with you. “Let them see. Let them gossip,” he murmurs, his thumb slowly tracing circles on your skin. “We’ve got this.”

Your heart pounds faster, the electricity between you undeniable. You hold his gaze, a playful yet daring smile curling on your lips.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, his voice a quiet promise, a declaration of everything you both are, everything you’ve been in that moment.

And as the flashes of the cameras continue, you both walk hand in hand toward the door, leaving the noise, the chaos, the spotlight behind. All that matters now is the intoxicating pull between you two, and the freedom of knowing that whatever the world says, you’ve got each other.

The night belongs to you. And that’s more than enough.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Beetlejuice x AFAB!Reader || Drabble+Smut

Plot: You bet him he couldn't leave you alone (stop harassing you) for even one day, not realising that he would take winning s o seriously, but he's a stubborn old fuck so now its been weeks, and he still wont give in. And well... now you kinda miss him. Ironic, huh?

Warnings: Smut. Reader is DOWN BAD, FED UP AND WANTS THAT PERVERT DICK. A little daddy kink, panty stealing, creampie (WRAP IT BEFORE YA TAP IT. Especially with this guy 😅 We dunno what he has 😅), at points its even kinda f l u f f y?? I tried to connect with different facets of Beetlejuice 😅🤣 XD Unedited.

"Stay fucken still." That raspy voice sounding a hundred shades of pissed o f f creeping directly in your ear, as well as the boner you're sitting on, do absolutely the opposite to what he wants. They do not deescalate anything- in fact, you just feel even more turned on. Jesus christ, who knew it would only take 2 weeks no-contact for you to find him attractive.

But-- b o y, do you see it now.

Yeah he's mucky, but thats part of it?? The harsh mossy stubble and forearm hair (When he rolls up his sleeves), the deep greasy racoon bags around his dark beady eyes, the crazy hair that will not be tamed, everything. You know its kind of fucked up, but you have never wanted someone so bad. And if it weren't for that stupid bet 2 weeks ago-- you would have him! Goddamnit. You and your big mouth.

"Come on BJ," You urge softly, using the tip of your finger to guide his face towards you even as every muscle in his face fights to stay strong and remain stern- and most importantly, avoid looking at you. "Look at me." The ghost with the most hadn't looked at you since he accepted the bet, afraid of seeing you and immediately losing. Immediately being unable to keep his nasty eyes- hands- mouth, off of you.

He's been so strong. So boneheaded-ly strong.

Meanwhile you've been going crazy thinking about him stuffing you with his cock and then keeping your dirty underwear after.

Now sat atop his lap, face-forward, you intend to get him to look at you again and break his resolve. If it is the last thing you do tonight. Or for the week.

"I am lookin' at you." His face barely moves; the words coming out forced and humourless. No tone at all. But you can feel his cock painfully hard stretching the seam on his pants, and your underwear. Probably an embarrassing wet spot, too. "Whadaya mean."

You're so close he can surely feel your warm breath on his face. Giving his nose a cute little brush with your own, you feel his dick twitch in his black and white striped pants and a slow grin worms it way onto your lips. "No you're not... come on. Please, BJ?" With round eyes, you pout a little. "I miss you."

With that, he gives a frustrated and animated groan, and finally looks down from just past your head- to your eyes, causing a delighted smile to slip across your face. "Come on now baby- thats not fair at all. Come on."

You throw your arms around his neck as a familiarly slimy, hot, sex-crazed grin spreads across his grimy mouth. That wild look that apparently you love appearing in his eyes again, looking down at you- all over. Licking over your pretty willing body with just a look. "You didn't give me a choice!!"

"Hey, hey, hey- you bet me, sugar- "

"Hey. You gonna take your chance and fuck me, or not?"

He shrugs. "Well when you're right, you're right." Then he kisses you open-mouthed and all-tongue and just how you imagined he would kiss, and swallows any giggle you were going to give. Along with all your thoughts.

~

Neither of you can bring yourselves to perform any foreplay- even though you want to. Want to enjoy this; grind in his lap a while longer, feel his tongue in your cunt, tease him with your lips warm and tongue damp over the top of his pants- But you're more then wet enough already, the fabric of your underwear sticks to your pussy lips, and his obviously rock-hard boner fights to tear a hole in its confines. You'll have time for all that fun stuff later, anyway.

You barely have time to properly taste each other's tongues for the first time before his greedy fingers are digging under your skirt, underneath your underwear, and slipping easily right into you. Too easily, shit. He gives a filthy groan, getting 3 of his fingers good and drenched in your slick; feeling your pretty cunt squeeze 'em. "Fuck, honey, I think this is the best pussy I ever had."

Breathless, you give a giggle; forehead pressed into his shoulder at just the feeling of his fingers invading you; hips juttering slightly into is hand. "You haven't even had me yet."

"Lets fix that, then, shall we? Now."

Your fingers go down to the button on his pants and eagerly, with deft fingers, undo it. He's not wearing underpants, predictably, so you just have to reach in and carefully finagle his fat cock free. Then you swipe a finger over the insanely leaky tip for fun and watch his head fall back against the wall, listening to the wildly horny, gutteral groan come out of him at the feeling.

He clicks his fingers and your underwear disappears. You see it reappear in his hand a last time, just before he shoves it in his jacket pocket; flashing you a cheesy grin. "Souvenir."

When finally, finally you sink down on his gross cock you both let out sighs of utter satisfaction. 2 weeks was a hell of an edge.

You're almost happy to just sit there with him stretching you open, milking him with your pussy, but when he shifts his hips, just getting more comfortable and laying his hands on your hips, the movement sparks a change of mind. "BJ... " You wrap your legs more securely around him, around the back of the chair he's sat in, and lift your hands to grip the lapels on his jacket. Your eyes meet his very dark, lusty ones. Just watching you; a little scary and a little smug and a little pussy drunk. "... fuck me."

"P l e a s e?"

"Please, daddy."

His eyes roll into the back of his head and dramatically huffs, making you giggle. "Oh fuck, baby, you really know howta murder a guy." With all his strength, he pulls himself back together; straightening up again. "Alright, alright- hold on, daddy's gonna take you on a ride."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even make noise, you blink and you're in another position entirely. Off the chair now, you find yourself pressed against a nearby wall, your legs still wrapped around him and his cock still throbbing inside you.

While you're feeling dizzy from teleporting, Beetlejuice pulls almost all the way out of your messy cunt and thrusts all the way back in- hard. He does it again. Then the pace picks up and he's pounding you into the wall at an inhuman pace that has you hiding your face in his shoulder again and knotting your fingers tight in his greasy hair.

Your orgasm builds up at a record pace, due to all the build up. It would be embarrassing, if he wasn't fighting not to paint your insides already himself. "I gotta- I gotta be honest, sweetie, I- I don't think daddy's gonna last long in this cat. Not this time. The way you're suckin me in- Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck. Pullin' my hair- Damn, shit, Fuck!- " Finally, BJ mashes his groin against yours and holds himself there; cumming hard inside you.

That causes your orgasm, rolling your hips against him and riding it out, making him shudder out a sigh. A vulgar dopey grin flickers across his jawline and black teeth.

... After a few minutes of heavy breathing- you catching your breath, and him just 'livin in it', enjoying the feel of breather meat for a while longer, you finally pull yourself together and raise your head carefully off his chest. "Um... " Suddenly you feel awkward. But not uncomfortable. You give a small, tired smile. "I don't know what to say?"

"... " He ducks down and presses his forehead to yours, and you're fooled for just a moment that this might be a sweet moment. "Uh. How about 'you win the bet, handsome?'."

Quickly you swat him, laughing. "Oh- Never!"

[reidmotif]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Reader and Spencer are known to be a "tame" couple at work. They get fed up and decide to change how people see them.

Request: Reader and Spencer (in an established public relationship) where they don't do any PDA and you can hardly tell they're a couple. Reader and Spencer get offended, and decide to fool around to get caught.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, established relationship, semi-rough sex, dirty talk, heavy making-out, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

Word Count: 4.8k

Dating Spencer Reid, in a word, could honestly be described as a dream. 

When I’d started a career at the BAU, the last thing on my mind was dating, let alone dating my coworker, but Spencer Reid had subtly woven himself into the corners of my heart with his idiosyncrasies and musings, all without my awareness- and when he'd asked me out? Saying ‘yes’ was the easiest thing I’d ever done my entire life. 

He was ridiculously old-fashioned, and I loved it. He insisted on dinner dates and opening doors for me at any possible opportunity, and I was happy to let it happen. He was a gentleman at every turn, and made me feel special in ways no one had before. If I wasn’t already hopelessly infatuated with the man prior to our relationship, I certainly was now.

A year of dating, a year of loving Spencer Reid, and I honestly couldn’t see my life without him. We’d grown our lives around each other in little ways at first, and it resulted in us being tangled up in the sweetest way imaginable. 

And while my memory isn’t as capable as my boyfriend’s, I can recall in perfect clarity about how fucking good he is in bed. It shouldn’t have surprised me like it had the first time we had sex, but when he had me pinned down to his mattress, pounding into me unlike anyone before him, touching me whilst whispering dirty nothings in my ear, I knew I was a goner. It was simply another facet of Spencer Reid that further cemented my enduring captivation to the man. 

Of course, there were rules when it came to our relationship, considering that even for a blissfully happy couple, we still worked together. Spencer loved having his hands on me, whether it was innocent or not, but when it came to the BAU and public displays of affection, there was a mutual understanding between the two of us that some things were simply kept private. 

Which is why as we stood in the bullpen, side-by-side, we exchanged horrified looks when the surprise seminar that morning was about “inappropriate workplace relationships”. To our knowledge, we’d always kept the romance to a minimum in the office, stealing a kiss here and there when no one was around, or a squeeze of the hand, but nothing beyond that. However, as the moderator for the training began, we both sighed a breath of collective relief as she brought up some suspiciously specific scenarios, realizing today’s seminar was not in fact about us, but rather our coworkers, known for their raunchy telephone escapades, two of our coworkers who were most definitely not in a relationship. 

As we trickled out of the room, exchanging giggles about the very awkward display we were made to watch just now, a very mortified Penelope Garcia approached us.

“Who blabbed?” She asked, adorably frantic as Spencer and I simply smiled and shrugged. 

“Wasn’t us.” Spencer said, a bit and gesturing to me and him. He put his hand on my shoulder and I instantly felt relaxed with the comforting weight of him on me. I gave my own chuckle, naturally bringing my hand up to touch Spencer’s as I responded to Penelope. 

“I mean, you and Derek aren’t exactly quiet about what you do over the phone.” I said, a little mischievously. “I mean remember when Strauss picked up and-”  I started, only to be met with Penelope placing a distressed finger over my lips, hurrying to silence me before I finished my sentence. 

“Shh! I thought we promised to never speak of that godforsaken incident ever again!” Penelope whisper-shrieked, only to be met with my grin. 

“My bad.” I say, while trying to soothe Penelope. I then got a little serious, moving from Spencer’s subtle touch to get closer to her.  “It’s not that bad, Pen. I’m sure everyone will forget in due time.” I said, in my most assuring tone. Unfortunately, Penelope didn’t seem very swayed. 

Derek walked to where we were standing and chatting,  coming to protectively wrap his arm around a very miserable looking Penelope. 

“Did I just hear you say ‘it isn’t that bad’?” Derek said, using air quotes for his imitation of me, laughing as he pulled Penelope closer to him. He continued, “Because from where I was, you and boy genius looked pretty worried for a second.” 

Spencer answered a little defensively, “I mean, obviously.” He replied. “We’re the only ones in the BAU in a public relationship and it’s a surprise seminar on inappropriate relationships, why wouldn’t we think it’s about us?” He explained, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head a little. 

“Because you two don’t even look like a couple!” Penelope said, still sorrowful from her unexpected callout. “Of course it’d never be about you two!” 

“What?” I say, now matching Spencer’s defensive tone from before. “It totally could be about us! And we do look like a couple.” I say, crossing my arms and standing beside him now. 

“Sorry pretty girl.” Derek speaks up, “But Penelope is right. I don’t even think I’ve seen the two of you hold hands or kiss around any of us.” 

Spencer sputtered a little at that, “Obviously! We’re at the workplace!” He says, in a higher pitched tone, fortifying his stance against Derek’s allegations. "It's common to not show PDA in professional settings."

“True love waits for nothing, Einstein.” Derek teases, and then he laughs again. “Pipe down, Reid. I’m only joking.” Spencer seemed  to retract his opposing stance reluctantly, but then Derek added, “You and (Y/N) shouldn’t worry about being appropriate in the workplace, you know? You’re both more than proper when you're in or out of here.” He said, winking, speaking with a knowing tone. 

Spencer groaned at that, but before he could retort and deny Derek’s assessment of our relationship, Derek whisked Penelope away, presumably to console her further over today’s events, leaving me and Spencer just standing there. He looked a little on edge, and I placed a hand over his shoulder, squeezing it softly. I could instantly sense the words, on some level, had gotten to him, and wanted to nip his self-doubt and nervous spiral in the bud before it could even begin. 

“You know he was just joking, right?” I say, speaking gently. 

“I know.” Spencer responded, a little bitterly. “I just.” He stopped, taking a breath before continuing. “I just hate that’s how they see us, you know?” He says, frowning. 

“Well, trust me, Spence.” I say, in an attempt to cheer him up. “This relationship has been anything but proper from the moment we’ve been together.” I say this with a small smirk, hoping he’d catch onto the scandalous undertones of my words, which he did. 

He smiled a little, before murmuring, “Thanks.” I smiled back, and let my hand drop from his shoulder again. 

“C’mon, we got a case.” I say, and he dutifully followed me into the round-table room, the previous interaction with Derek seemingly wiped away from his mind for the rest of the day. 

It wasn’t until a few days later, in the comfort of Spencer’s apartment, (which was honestly ours, at this point) where he spoke up about the incident again. He was lazily playing with my hair as I was sprawled on his couch, my eyes closed with my head in his lap, a documentary of Spencer’s choosing playing in the background. Truthfully, I was more focused on his fingers lightly trailing over my scalp, the sensation lulling me into a state of deep relaxation and serenity, rather than the droning voice of the narrator, until his voice broke my thoughts. 

“I just don’t know why Derek would say that.” He remarked, out of nowhere. 

“Say what, baby?” I say, opening my eyes slightly. I tried to remember if we’d mentioned Derek at all tonight, and when my memory came up short, I squinted, trying to think, “What are we talking about, again?” I attempted to actually look at him from my lower angle, reading his expression for any clues. 

“You know.” He says, continuing to play with the silky strands of my loose hair, “The thing about us being a boring couple.” 

Memories of the interaction came to mind, and I nodded and let out a noise of realization. “Ah, yeah. From the sexual harassment seminar.” I closed my eyes again, and laid back in his lap. “What about it, love?” 

“It didn’t bother you?” Spencer commented, and I opened my eyes yet again, to see the face of a man who clearly hadn’t brushed off the comment like I thought he had, days ago. 

“I mean, not really, baby.” I say, carefully, trying to not offend him. “But it’s okay if you felt bothered- but I really do think Derek didn’t mean anything by it.” I say, moving out of his lap so I could better see his face. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He says, quirking his mouth to the side.  “I just hate that they think we’re boring or-” 

“Even though we both know we definitely aren’t?” I say, laughing a bit. 

“Exactly.” He responds, with a little bit of a smile. “I just wish we could somehow, I don’t know. Stick it to them? Does that sound petty?” He says, chuckling now, and rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. 

“Not at all.” I say, quickly. “But it’s not like we can just, you know, start sucking face in the bullpen.” I joke, with a giggle. 

“That we cannot.” He replies, his mood seemingly a little more uplifted from when we began our conversation. “Still.” He says, pursing his lips. 

An idea came to my mind, and I grinned a little at the thought of it. I wanted to make my boyfriend feel better, to let him know at the very least nothing about him bored me in the slightest. 

“Spence.. what if we did anyway?” I say, coming closer to him with an excited lilt in my words. 

“Make out in front of all of our colleagues?” Spencer replies, with a chuckle. “(Y/N), I love you, but no way.”  He says, immediately shutting me down, but I shook my head. 

“No, like more than that.” I respond, quickly, as the gears in my head begin to turn. “What if we like.. pretend to have sex in a closet, let them think they know what’s going on in there, and walk out, totally unscathed.” I continue, a playful glint in my eyes.

It sounded absolutely crazy, but I could tell he was definitely considering it, especially susceptible to an idea like this one after what had happened a few days ago. 

“But we wouldn’t actually be having sex- right?” Spencer says, cautiously. “Just… pretending?” He adds, adorably, biting his lip. 

“Yeah.” I respond, instantly, soothing his worries. “Trust me, having sex in a closet in a federal building seems like a pretty solid fantasy, but I’m okay with leaving that to our imaginations for now.” I say, smiling a little wildly. “So is that you agreeing to it?” I question, looking at him eagerly. 

“I guess it is.” He says, the look on his face now matching the enthusiasm on my own, and he leaned over to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I immediately melted into him, moving to straddle his lap, smiling into each press of his lips against mine. His hands went to my hips, a broken moan escaping him as I felt myself move against a fast-forming bulge underneath me. He breathlessly pulled back, licking his lips. 

“Mm." He said, breathing a little heavier now. "What would you say to a practice round for our pretend session tomorrow- you know, just to get it right?” He murmurs, feeling his cocky grin against my lips. 

“Do you even have to ask?” I retort, smirking. 

My words barely left my mouth before he flipped me onto the couch, leaving me giggling delightfully and sighing with pleasure, as I felt him start a trail of wet, hot kisses down my neck, eliciting soft moans and whimpers that only spurred him on to do more to me. 

I closed my eyes with a dazed grin on my face as he continued his actions, knowing he’d take care of me tonight.  Spencer Reid, without a doubt,  was definitely the best boyfriend I’d ever had. 

That morning in his apartment, Spencer was all smiles, even more touchy than he was normally if that was possible. He languidly wrapped his arms around my waist as I brushed my teeth, placing little kisses on the back of my neck as I tried not to laugh with toothpaste in my mouth.  

“Someone’s happy today.” I spoke, or at least attempted to speak, whilst he  attacked any exposed skin of mine with his soft lips. 

“Mm.” He grumbled deeply behind me, never once letting up on the task he’d delegated to himself: to somehow kiss every inch of my body before we even left the apartment.

“Maybe I’m excited about what we’ll be doing today.” He replies, clearly very satisfied with what we’d decided the previous night. 

There was a closet in Quantico, just off the hallways. It wasn’t an active hallway bustling with people, but oftentimes agents would come and go through there, and we both decided it provided just enough privacy so that people wouldn’t actually try to come into the closet- but open enough that at least one or two people were bound to hear us, and hopefully ease any concerns anyone had about Spencer and I being a “proper” couple. 

I giggled. “You know Spence.” I move away a little to spit my toothpaste out and rinse my mouth. “You’re a bit more of an exhibitionist than I pegged you for.” I said, a giggle in my voice. 

He wrapped me up in his arms, bringing me as close as he possibly could. “Sure I am.” He mumbled in a sarcastic tone, kissing the top of my head. 

I smile, speaking into his chest, trying to hold back my laughter.  “I don’t hear you denying it.”

“Shhh.” He said, before letting me go with a smile on his face. “We’re not even actually having sex in the closet. It doesn’t count.” He called out, biting his lip with a boyish smile, the type that made me want to jump his bones here and now.

“Whatever you say!” I respond, with a sing-song voice, flashing him a grin before going to get changed for work. 

Throughout the day, I could see Spencer just itching to carry out our plan. He kept making those eyes at me and I’d shake my head, silently communicating that now wasn’t the time. I could see him grumble and lean back in his desk chair, barely able to focus on his work. I giggled at the thought. My genius boyfriend, unable to do simple tasks because the idea of faking sex to get back at our coworkers rendered him stupid. 

As Emily would say, “An IQ of 187 slashed to 60.” 

Finally, after lunch, and less eyes were on either of us, I subtly caught his gaze, tilting my head in the general direction of the closet, and he nearly leapt from his seat. I silently thanked the Gods above that he didn’t draw anyone’s attention, what with how eager he was acting, as we quietly made our way towards the closet. As soon as we were out of the bullpen, and the long, empty hallways of the BAU, he laughed as he unexpectedly stole a long, passionate kiss from me, his lips pressing against mine insistently. I pulled away after a few seconds, thrilled. 

“What was that for?” I ask, with a dazed grin on my face as he continues to walk me to the place of our imminent rendezvous, nearly dragging me there by a firm grip of his hand in mine. 

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” Spencer retorts, smugly. 

“Oh, you can kiss her.” I responded eagerly. “I am not complaining whatsoever. Just curious." I said, squeezing his hand lovingly.

He quickly pressed his lips against mine one more, so quickly I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. "I'm just excited, I think." He responded. There was a puerile smile on his face, as he led me further and further away from any of our colleagues and towards our final destination. 

As he opened the closet door, he shot me one final look.

“You’re actually okay with this, right?” He asks, surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his previously excited nature. 

“Second thoughts?” I respond, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no.” He said, laughing. “I just want to be certain that you’re good with this.” He implores, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles absentmindedly. He gave a sigh, biting his lip.  “I know you’re doing this for me and I-” 

I immediately silence him through interruption. “Spencer. I want to do this.” I said, softly. “Please.” I add, conveying that while, yes, this was for him in some roundabout way, pretending like I wasn’t absolutely exhilarated at what we were about to do would be a gross misrepresentation of the situation. 

He seemed to relax at that, grinning a little bit. He let out a little breath of air. 

“Come on.” I urged. “Don’t you wanna make sure the team never calls us dull again?” I said, smirking and egging him on the best I could. 

He nearly shoved me into the closet as he opened the door, with a laugh. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He placed me in front of him, and we stood face to face in the cramped space. I could feel his breath on me, hear the beat of his heart and I knew that there was no part of me that was hesitant about this. On the other hand, Spencer seemed a bit.. confused. His smile faded, before he knit his eyebrows together. I watched him bite his lip, before pressing them together in a straight line. 

“How do you fake sex in a closet?” He paused. “Do we just.. moan?” He said, tentatively, looking to me for direction.

I decided to just go for it, giving an almost pornographic moan. “Oh, yeah! Right there, oh!-” 

He quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. “(Y/N), what the-” 

I removed his hand with a giggle. “Come on." I urged. "Be loud, it’s what’ll work.” I say, grinning, before letting out a higher pitched moan, attempting to recreate what I normally sounded like during sex. “Yes, Spencer! Please! Please!” I moaned, closing my eyes and really getting into what we were attempting to recreate. 

I could feel Spencer watching me, and heard him breathe before moaning out himself. “Yeah, you like that, you whore?” He groaned out, a little flatly, but groaned out convincingly, nonetheless and I could tell he was enjoying himself. 

“Yes! Yes!” I nearly screamed out. “Fuck, you feel so good.” I moaned, in an exaggerated manner. “More, please!” I said, trying to beg just as much as I did when Spencer was actually fucking me. 

We continued this back and forth for a minute or two, and I grinned internally. Anyone who happened to walk past the closet would’ve definitely heard our faked passion, and to be honest, I was into it. Having people know how well Spencer treated me, it made my heart jump, and I could feel myself clenching around nothing at the thought. My eyes were shut, as to immerse myself in the fantasy more, and my moans only got louder, pitchier, more desperate with every passing second. 

It wasn’t a few moments later that I realized that I was the only one making noise, Spencer going quiet, and I noticed the absence of his soft breathing that was there previously. I opened my eyes, to find an incredibly wide-eyed, embarrassed Spencer, looking right at me. 

“Shit, I’m sorry (Y/N).” He said, awkwardly shuffling. “I didn’t think- it’s just- your moans sound so good and-” 

I knit my brows in confusion at his words before my eyes trailed down, revealing the strained fabric of his slacks, his cock tenting inside them at an alarming rate. His eyes met mine as I scanned them back up to look at him, and he stifled a groan. “Fuck.” He murmured. 

“Look, you can just leave.” He said, a little defeated. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. I can't go out like this." He said this while already moving away from the door, motioning for me to leave. 

My lips parted as I shook my head. “No.” I whispered, stepping even closer. “Fuck me. Let me help you." I murmur, placing both my hands on his shoulders and rubbing them soothingly, before starting to kiss his neck sweetly, with feather-light touches.  

Spencer rolled his eyes. “(Y/N). Don’t tease me right now. Especially right now.” He whined out, craning his neck as I planted soft kisses on the skin. The rest of his body leaned into me, desperately seeking the relief my touch brought him. 

When I began sucking at a particularly sensitive spot of his, I earned a throaty moan from him, his head thrown back, and his hands grabbing my waist and pressing our bodies flush together. 

"I'm not teasing." I mumble against him. "I want you."

“Fuck. I’m serious. I’m this close to just-” He spoke, his voice low, but I didn’t want him to be logical about this. I wanted this now. I  interrupted his words with a deep, long kiss.

It seemed to work, his lips crashing into mine, over and over again, like this would be the last time we could ever savor the taste of the other again. As grabbed my face, lips moving ferociously over mine, his grip shifted so he could pin me up against the wall. I moaned into his mouth as his hands trailed down, squeezing the fat of my hip unexpectedly, and he used it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in, lazily exploring my mouth with his own. When we finally pulled back for air, I whispered against his lips. 

“Do it. Please.” I croaked, already grabbing the fabric of his shirt. “Please, fuck me Spencer. Use me. I need you right now.” I wanted to sound as desperate as I felt, the heat between my legs growing unbearable at this point, my clit already wildly throbbing with need. 

“We’re in a closet. Someone could catch us." He quietly groaned out, but I could see the restraint leaving his body with every moment he looked at me. He looked wrecked already, hair strown about messily, his lips red and swollen, chest moving up and down. The only sounds in the closet at this point were my pants and his heavy breathing to accompany it. He took another look at me, my eyes blown out and pleading for him, and it seemed like every barrier in his body suddenly broke.

With no warning,  he spun me around so my back would be towards him, pushing me up against the wall as he hurriedly worked away the button of my jeans.  I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter with anticipation, and when he worked my underwear down my legs, I could sense that I was already dripping, even though he'd barely touched me.  

He seemed to be doing the same undressing to himself, working at his slacks with his deft fingers, and I whimpered when I felt his heavy cock slot between me, the head of his tip running through my folds. I could feel how needy I was for him in this moment, and he seemed to enjoy the sight of my legs spreading just for him. He leaned over to let his finger trail over my slit, collecting some of my arousal on my finger. My thighs immediately quivered at the sensation, a loud moan escaping my lips. 

I felt him grab the back of my skull, forcing me to bare my face to hip. 

“Open.” He commanded, and my mouth hung open, almost as if I was under a spill. He roughly shoved his finger into my mouth, and I understood, closing my lips around them, swirling my tongue around his digits, praying that he’d fuck me soon. 

“Good girl.” He said, smoothly, and I nearly fell over from how weak he was rendering me, but a steady grip on my hair kept me upright. When his finger was sufficiently cleaned, he removed it and kissed me once more, smashing his lips aggresively into mine. I kissed him back, but in that moment, there was really only one thing I wanted. 

“Spencer, please.” I panted in between his never ending kisses. “I need you inside me.” I moaned, trying to convey the enormity of my desire for him. He chuckled at my pleads, pulling my hair so I’d be forced to look ahead of me instead. The anticipation absolutely killed me, and I brokenly moaned again, about to beg once more before he suddenly thrust into me, eliciting a yelp from my lips, which I immediately swallowed down as he began to jut his hips against mine. 

“That’s it. Go on, take it.” He whispered, roughly. “You were made for this, weren’t you?” He questioned, cruelly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He goaded, going harder and harder with every word he uttered to me in the closet, my desperate attempts to stop my whimpers not being received well by him. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He sneered, continuing to buck against me. “Didn’t you want the whole team to know what a whore you are for me?” 

I tried to keep my restraint, a low mewl escaping my lips, but that seemed to incentivize him to go even faster, the sounds of our skin slapping against each other filling the room, the smell of sex overtaking every one of my senses. 

“Come on, baby. I wanna hear you.” He then groaned once more, and I could feel how bad he wanted this, how badly he wanted me. The thought made me clench around him, which elicited another moan from his mouth. “I want everyone to hear you.” 

It was like a dam broke through me, and in an instant I was moaning, louder than I had that whole time in the closet, my noises marked by a carnal desire for this, for him. 

“Please, oh god. Spencer- I need to cum, please.” I begged, my mouth hanging open as he fucked me dumb. 

He chuckled at my loss of prudence, rewarding me accordingly. He moved his fingers down to where we were joined, beginning to rub fast, tight circles around my clit. 

“Go on, then.” He murmured. His hips never once wavered, and I could feel his grip on my hips, so tight I was sure there'd be bruises tomorrow. “Come for me.” 

I did, nearly toppling down as waves of my orgasm hit me, convulsing in his arms as I registered the feeling of him continuing to slam against me. I braced myself on the wall, letting him take me the way he wanted, and I could hear his broken moans and whimpers echo throughout the closet.

"Fuck. You're so good." He groaned out, and I let out a low whine at that, which transformed into a sob as he bottomed out in me, making me feel so full. In an instant, I could feel warmth flooding my deepest point, his hips beginning to slow down and still entirely. He pulled out of me, still panting. 

“Holy shit.” He murmured, still panting, watching as the evidence of what we’d just done dripped down my thigh. He helped me out of my bent over position as I smiled at him, dazed. 

“Holy shit, indeed.” My voice came out hoarse, scratched up from how loud I’d been screaming for him. 

“Remind me why we don’t do this again?” He said, grinning and breathless. 

“Something about professionalism?” I offered, still absolutely fucked out as I tried to regain some semblance in my appearance. One look at Spencer and I, and it wouldn’t take long to figure out exactly what we’d been doing. 

“Yeah, somehow after that, I don’t really care about professionalism.” He said, before pulling me into one last, idle kiss. He felt safe, and it felt so good to be with him like this. 

“Good.” I murmured, when our lips finally separated. “Because I don’t think I’d be able to survive if we only did this once.” I said, giggling. 

“Wanna go again?” He offered, raising an eyebrow and running a hand through his hair. 

Let’s just say that the closet became a frequent spot of ours after that. And with how loud I was screaming his name every single time? It’s safe to assume everyone else knew about it too. 

EDIT: read part 2 (where they get caught!) here!

sorry about the wait this time around! i try to keep my fics within a week of each other, but i've got some life commitments to attend to now. (unfortunate). i hope you guys enjoyed this though!! <3 likes, reblogs, comments, are all greatly appreciated. thank you for all your support<3

[ybklix]

marshmallow world

⭒˚‧ ✧ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader ☆ synopsis: a little lesson before christmas to continue your good girl streak and save yourself from the naughty list. ϑℓ genre ─ warnings: mdni, smut, tiny angst, daddy kink, dom!chan, jealousy & possessiveness, kinda toxic chan, spanking, slapping, dirty talk, pet names (some dreg), teasing, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie ׄ 　۪｡ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ word count: 7k

masterlist ♡ taglist

wen's note: mini winter/holiday special, i'm sooo back, winter's here, enjoy :3 edit: I was writing this before #those selfies, woofwoof, he fed my delusions more yasss, also my beloved friend said no more dirty sex and i came back w more dirty sex, sorry:( just dom chan brain rot rn, edit2: bro railway teaserrr anywaysss

Chan was the sweetest boyfriend of all, it was an absolute dream to have him, he was attentive, took care of you, spoiled you, knew the smallest detail about you, and always paid attention to you despite his demanding job in a very competitive and hard industry which he worked hard to get there, you knew his story and you both completed each other.

But he only had one tiny detail, not everything was perfect, he had a small flaw that you let it go of because everything good made up for it… but the big damn problem with Chan was always his jealousy and possessiveness. To be honest, jealousy was never something you liked, it seemed absurd, toxic, like the person distrusted you… but coming from someone like Chan, you couldn’t help that sometimes you liked it, only sometimes, because sometimes he was too serious about it and it annoyed you, and other times you got sexual pleasure, but no matter how long you had been dating him, you never knew what to expect because it was always the same: his obvious annoyed expression.

You arrived home, you and Chan had been living together for a long time, it was late and the snowstorm almost caught you on the road, slightly delaying you a little, torturing you every second you spent locked in that car with your own boyfriend… because you just had a very nice night… to suddenly be ruined by Chan’s clear and very expressive face of disgust and anger. The ride was tense, you knew something was wrong with him, but particularly tonight you didn’t have the energy to confront him, so you’d let him go to bed upset if that was the right thing to do.

It had been the ‘Christmas’/holiday event for Chan’s entertainment company, of which he worked as an excellent and well-respected producer. So far, so good, before leaving your home, Chan laughingly hurried you, sweetly, telling you that you would be late while you fixed your lipstick and put on perfume; you were wearing a very nice short red dress, Chan was dressed in his black suit that made him look dreamy. You arrived at the event, some knew who you were, some didn’t, but everyone knew that Chan had a girlfriend. You enjoyed a very good time, had dinner, and danced, and then slightly each of you started to radiate your own charisma, being friendly and socializing with more people… all good, until halfway through the night you made a friend, Seo Changbin, another producer of the company since Chan left your side for a second to talk to his social circle or even expanding it, Changbin didn’t leave your side the rest of the night, you got along well, you thought it was nice to meet a new person.

But as soon as Chan saw you there the trouble started. He couldn’t believe such an atrocity his eyes had to witness. His girl, his, his, his, you would always be his property; talking and laughing with another guy while you gently touched his shoulder and leaned your body towards him as you giggled.

You were about to let it go, not be blinded by his jealousy… but it all went to hell as soon as he saw Lee Minho approach you, your ex-boyfriend, a choreographer for the company. And then there you were, like a little slut —so he thought— in the middle of two men, smiling, not knowing their intentions.

But Chan could not change. He was like that because he wanted you all to himself. And you never stopped him.

You sighed, avoiding looking at Chan and leaving him behind, as you took off your heels and he closed the main door. You were physically exhausted, cold, and emotionally unprepared to be exhausted if you faced Chan.

You ignored him, sucking air between your teeth from the sudden cold that shivered your whole body and the first thing you did was turn on the heat in the entire house, you turned on the lights of the pine tree and your Christmas decoration pretending to be fine, still, you were not calm, you felt his heavy gaze on your back, his ponderous breathing, not a single word had been spoken since he told you in a stern tone, “We’re leaving now.” You were so sober, your muscles stiff, about to remember this whole tense night the next morning.

You were about to go upstairs, about to cry because you hated ignoring Chan, because your pride was so great, and all you wanted from him was to be around his arms, feeling his warmth as it snowed outside, but no, you had done nothing wrong but talk to men other than him. You hoped he would think and come to his senses so he could apologize in a few hours at dawn.

But it wasn’t like that, Chan had his jaw tense, he was not just annoyed, but furious for some particular reason. He took off his long coat and watched you walk through the house, while he was lighting it up as he went by, he had so much to tell you, but his intentions were a bit diverted as he watched you walk up four steps while he was still standing on the first floor and had a very nice view of your bare legs in that short dress, arousing another feeling other than anger. In the end it was him taking you home, to bed, where you lived together and shared, he calmed down a bit, but he was still upset and wanted to claim you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he mentioned, his voice low and commanding. “We need to talk.”

Your hand was resting gently on the stair railing. You froze at the sound of his gravelly voice, stopped your steps, and looked toward nothing in particular, just with your eyes straight ahead. He was upset, you knew it, you could hear it in every word he said that made your skin flinch. You stood there for a second, sighing softly, whether to just ignore him, continue up the stairs, or confess to him that you didn’t want to talk, either option had fatal consequences anyway.

“I’m talking to you, Y/n” he said again.

“There’s nothing to talk about today, Chan. I’m going to sleep” you replied, unwillingly, turning your back to him.

He ran his tongue across his mouth, annoyed and in disbelief that you responded to him such a thing, like a spoiled little brat, unwilling to even look him in the eye, those were not the manners he had taught you. He always taught you to be a good little girl for him.

“Well, you may not have anything to say but I do and I want you to listen to me properly” he spat annoyed, his ears red in anger and a tingle in his body at having to just watch your back silhouette, he hated that. “And look me in the eyes when I talk to you. Turn around and come over here. Now.”

What was once a pent-up sadness in your being, turned to anger. You took a breath, annoyed, you hated it when he spoke to you like that, demanding orders in a despot manner, without affection and knowing the undertone of the reason for his tone: once again a pathetic scene of jealousy, you were tired of them. And the worst thing was that you hated to listen to him in situations like that; you turned and watched him take off his black leather winter gloves and looked at him closely for the first time in the evening since he had spoken to you harshly. You could tell he was expressionless, his eyes relaxed, his mouth closed… but you knew him so fucking well, and watching him slide his gloves down his long fingers didn’t have the right to look that attractive. You stood half bravely in front of his commanding complexion illuminated by the hallway light. You looked into his eyes, into his dark, piercing gaze, just the way he wanted it.

He moved even closer to you, almost brushing against your face, and began to speak in a false soft, slow speech, as if you had to understand every word he said:

“You’re going to tell me exactly what you talked about with Seo Changbin and what had you so entertained for an hour and a half… and then you’re going to tell me why your bastard ex-boyfriend dared to approach you. I’m listening.”

You analyzed every part of his face, from his soft dark curly hair falling down his forehead, slightly parted, his sharp eyes, his nose tipped with a soft red from the cold weather, and his full pale pink lips. He was so cute, you loved him, but you missed a few hours ago when he was sweet Chan. You wanted to kiss him, to feel his soft cool lips, but he was just a jerk sometimes. So you let out a mocking, incredulous giggle right in front of his face as you backed up a step while rolling your eyes childishly annoyed. Chan wanted to give you a good spanking for your immature response.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe it. Are you listening to yourself? Why would I have to tell you every word I say to anyone whenever I meet someone new, huh?”

Chan was ready to calm down, but your mocking chuckle greatly upset him.

“Why would you keep it from me?”

“Chan… because…” his gaze darkened, you looked him straight in the eyes, he hated you calling him Chan while arguing, he hated you calling him by his name while talking seriously without any affection, “I could have told you properly, we could have talked about this, telling you I met someone new on the way home, being us, but you always have to do the same old shit and come angrily towards m…”

“Watch your language and tone when you’re talking to me,” he interrupted you, domineering, clenching his teeth, almost piercing you with his gaze, leaving you speechless.

You swallowed dryly and looked at him again. You didn’t want to argue. Not tonight or tomorrow. Because his sister was coming to visit you tomorrow afternoon for the month of the holidays and you wanted to have more love than contempt for him now. You barely took the courage to speak up, to communicate and express everything, and if you were upset about it then it would be reflected in your speech… but him. Either you were leaving… or you were still there.

“Why?” you said calmer but still direct and sharp, still as if your body and mind obeyed him automatically, having a lot of impact on you, “Are you the only one who has the right to be angry now?”

He nodded softly, with a calm expression, leaving you like a small bomb about to explode. Why? You hated his level-headed expression, always being right apparently, always having the last word and winning the fight.

Your eyes glistened, stinging and burning with the sensation of hateful tears building up in your eyes and the painful knot stuck in your throat. You wanted to tell him so many things. He was the love of your life but you wanted to tell him to fuck off, to claim to him exactly the same things he was telling you. But you stopped, your heart raced and you took a deep breath. You were in an internal battle… thinking if this was a small fight, a small scene of jealousy, and if you continued you would make the problem bigger…. but it wasn’t the first time it had happened and you had no idea why this particular time it was weighing on you more than the other times. You hated not knowing how to decipher what this was all about.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

You just said that, tired, defeated, like someone helpless and abandoned, unwilling to sleep in the same bed with him if you were going to be like this, conflicted, tense, not getting his sweet kisses before bed and snuggling into his body. You’d rather sleep alone than coldly turn your back on him.

You turned, ready to go back upstairs when his hand stopped you by abruptly grabbing your wrist.

“You don’t have to sleep in the guest room when this is also your home and you have your room to sleep in, with me. We just need to talk. I know you and Changbin exchanged numbers, I want you to delete his contact, and block him, now.”

You watched him. You swallowed the lump in your throat and Chan tightened his grip on you.

“What? I won’t do it. Let go of me. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

That hurt. Chan thought you were taking it a little far, dragging it out, as he inwardly recanted after seeing your pretty, sweet face about to break down in tears. He just wanted you to know that you were his and no one else’s, that if another guy wants to be your friend then he must know him first and boy did he know Changbin, quite the playboy, womanizer, party boy, Chan was shocked that you got along with a guy like him. Chan just wanted to teach you a lesson tonight. But you had other ideas. You were including the emotional, he felt bad, but he couldn’t stop himself, if he was going to hurt you a little to let you know very well how much he loves you and cares about you, then he would make the sacrifice.

“Why do I have to do it, huh? Why always me? I never tell you anything when all those little doll idols would touch your arm and lean their skinny bodies towards you calling you their oppa or all that shit with their irritating voices while inviting you to their apartments right in front of me and expressing how muuuuuch they want to work with you again. You’re a fucking asshole” you snapped.

Chan released you and looked at you sternly for a few seconds. You frowned and looked at him with confusion as it seemed he was about to say or do something else and you felt a hint of curiosity to know what it was, but he just broke into a loud and mocking chuckle, changing his face to serious completely, narrowing his eyes and showing his teeth.

You were completely confused now. What had been so funny? Now you were annoyed to hear his mocking laughter. It was as if Chan was waiting for you to explode. His body relaxed and so did his mind, thinking you looked adorable when you were angry. When he finished laughing and only a smile remained on his face, you could notice the glow and tenderness in his gaze at the sight of you. You scoffed in disbelief, thinking he was a fucking lunatic, switching from one emotion to another.

Once again, you were about to walk away and leave him there, you were confused and slightly annoyed, but he stopped you again, taking a step towards you and putting his hands on your waist.

“Aw my love, did you always mean that? Complain about the other girls?” he spoke, cocky, and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Why didn’t you ever say anything, huh? Why… you’ve never claimed what’s yours…”

You shuddered. Because I’m not crazy and I don't distrust you. You thought but didn’t say it. His grip became harder and he pressed his body against yours, making you nervous in seconds, his hair was still soft despite the cold weather he was exposed to for a few moments, he still had his manly cologne and his body was warm, you adored being close to him. You didn’t respond, you stood transfixed in your place, uneasy but comfortable with his closeness. You wanted to know what he would say next… Chan whispered in your ear again, sultry voice, his cheek brushing against your skin.

“Because… I’m about to do so, claim what’s mine. Someone tonight spent the night showing you off, standing next to you… someone who wasn’t me and you? You stood by his side like a fucking obedient whore. Oh… you don’t know how fucking pissed off you’ve made me. Being such a bad girl for daddy.”

You were building your arousal slowly at every word that came out of his mouth, as if it was the most erotic and filthy thing, because Chan got you too worked up, his domineering build clinging to you and his rough voice whispering in your ear sent shivers down your spine. Until you heard that word, that word he likes to refer to himself in and he likes you to call him that from time to time during sex and you understood it all. All this time he wanted to play that. You thought that if he wanted to fuck, he should have told you from the beginning and he could have spared you all the drama and the series of disastrous emotions he put you through. You wanted to tell him to fuck off once again… but your heart was beating fast now for other intentions as you quickly thought of the beautiful, pleasurable sex your boyfriend gives you and that you adore so much… plus the possibility of a good fuck with some hateful, angry, after your little argument, shit, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Bad girls deserve their lesson. Come on, I’m going to give you your punishment in front of the Christmas tree so you can see the pretty lights while daddy teaches you how to be a good little girl again.”

Chan picked you up before you could respond or react, taking you by surprise.

“Cha-chan” you protested vaguely.

He led you into the main living room, just as he said, where you both decorated happily and sweetly days ago, putting the Christmas tree and the stockings with your initials hanging on the fireplace.

Chan left his gloves on the little table and took your bag on your shoulder to leave it there too.

“What did you just call me?” he said, serious as he pulled you down from his arms, raising his eyebrows as he looked at you testing you as if you had said something wrong and he was waiting for you to correct yourself.

You looked him in the eyes, he was getting more and more dauntingly close to you, you didn’t want to say it, it was so unnecessary… and so hot, Chan was particularly hotter when he got into that mode, so dominant as if something about it possessed him.

You opened your mouth, looking at him submissively. He thought you were about to give in and listen to him; however, you only provoked him more for fun.

“Chan.”

You noticed his eyes widen slightly, annoyed, surprised, you almost smiled, the corner of your lips quivering at the complicit and huge smile you want to put on your face, you know how very angry it makes him that you behave somewhat spoiled, but you know deep down how much he loves to correct you, how much he loves his dirty little game where you get uneasy and are hopeless until he fucks you dumb. You know exactly what was waiting for you and you were uncontrollably aroused under your calm demeanor and naughty look; your pussy was throbbing and tingling, you could feel the wetness in your folds, and the most pathetic thing was that you had provoked it on yourself… by thinking and thinking, by remembering exactly the precise measure of your boyfriend’s big cock tight and choking in your cunt. It was pathetic because Chan had done absolutely nothing but gently tease you with his words, calling you a bad girl and calling himself daddy. The good thing was that you were good at pretending, but as soon as he dared to undress you, to really touch you, he would find out how very wet you were for absolutely nothing. Just for being him, wearing his suit, and looking at you like helpless prey.

“You’re going to keep behaving like this, huh? Are you gonna be a difficult slut?” he mumbled, finally putting his hands on you, stealing your breath, “You really want to disobey Daddy and get your punishment, don’t you? I won’t be gentle at all, baby girl.”

You stood still, but excitedly restless, almost letting out a shuddering sigh as you felt his big hands on you. You were ready for him to touch you, to let you do with your body whatever he wanted, you needed him, you wanted him, and you were giving in completely. You watched him, your eyes shining straight up at him submissively, asking for action, passion, and sex, hungry for lust in the only great way that only Chan can achieve in you.

You half opened your mouth, softly sighing, it was getting harder and harder for you to breathe, your heart was pounding and your sensitive pussy wouldn’t leave you alone, everything was happening sizzling in slow motion; his heavy gaze on you and his slightly icy hands on your waist. Again, you wanted to kiss him.

But suddenly everything happened so fast, leaving you surprised and unable to react almost. Chan seemed to be acting slow, watching you with desire and teasing you with his closeness that he knew how much it drove you crazy… but suddenly, he nimbly slipped his hands under your dress, caressing your thighs briefly until he tugged at your safety shorts and panties, making you sigh and leaving you with the strange sensation of your pussy exposed, your warm folds and pussy lips abandoning the comfort of the fabric of your panties. Chan left your garments by your knees, looking almost humiliated the way they were merely there, your underwear stuck on your thighs. He smiled arrogantly, getting a small glimpse of the fabric of your wet panties. You watched his hands make the sudden movement, you were surprised to see his noticeably large bulge in his pants and then you saw him, confused and surprised, but excited, your clit throbbing as you discovered he was already getting hard too, just at the thought of the sexual act that awaited you and the tension that was building up.

“Are you going to undress yourself or shall I? Huh?” he tilted his face towards you, waiting for an answer, toying with you, “Are you going to cooperate with daddy? Because if I take it off, I’m going to rip that whole tiny red dress you’re wearing, you fucking whore.”

His words were harsh. You didn’t answer and just watched him with your heavy breathing. You were speechless, you were so aroused that if you started talking you would moan and begin to stutter, you didn’t want to look this helpless in front of him, at least not now. But deep down… you wanted him to be the one to take absolute control.

“You’re not going to answer? Are you going to remain like this? Fine” he sentenced somewhat annoyed.

He reached down on his knees to slide your shorts and panties off your legs, stood up again, and in quick, sharp movements he tried to remove your dress and finally got rid of your bra. You let him do it and in a few seconds you were completely naked in front of him, with your hardened nipples resenting a little change of weather, even so, it did not compare with the intense fire you had inside, you wanted to be touched and satisfied, you wanted pleasure in any way provided by your boyfriend.

Chan watched you for a few seconds, your frail body exposed and naked for him made to carry that bubbling sensation move through his crotch on his pumping erect rigid cock. He licked his lips, memorizing every part of your body, your coy movements as you pressed your legs together, which he knew was a habit of yours because you were so adorable and incredibly turned on that it was hard for you to control your very cute and needy pussy, he memorized how you bit your lip nervously and the shimmer in the eye shadow, your makeup intact, just before he’s about to ruin it, making you gasp and whimper.

He roughly grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly, forcing you to walk and taking you a few steps to the front of the couch. He stood in front of you, and for the first time that night, he gently touched your face in his hands, but then squeezed your cheeks as if he was enforcing authority by making you look at him.

“You’ve been a very very bad girl and you know the consequences for that” he whispered, released your face, sat down on the couch and ordered you roughly. “In four, now. Hands and knees on the floor and from now on I want you to respond to everything I tell you, understand?”

Chan ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, getting no response, he bent his body and reached up to your ass, quickly and unexpectedly giving it a hard spank, repeating, “I said, did you understand?”

His hand burned into your soft, unprepared skin, which finally, you fulfilled his fantasy, and yours, leaving your pride and games aside, as you responded between in a surprised gasp and needy tone:

“Yes, Daddy.”

That was music to Chan’s ears, a delight to all his senses, your adored voice, the one he loved so much, as sweet as honey and soft as velvet, submissively saying exactly what he wants to hear, your little mouth struggling against the obscenities by which you will be subjected... but nothing will compare to the sound of your skin breaking and your whimpering, combining with the squirt of her soaking wet pussy being used by him as he wished.

He leaned back against the coach quietly and you looked at him, his erection was bigger in his pants and all you could think about was how much you wanted to ride his cock, at your pace, lovingly, but you listened to him as you knew you were in for something else, you still would enjoyed it.

Your hands and knees on the floor. Your eyes to the Christmas tree—just as he said, and your body submissive and exposed for Chan. He bent down again, you almost recoiled at the sound of his body on the couch, moving closer to you. Chan caressed your exposed ass and ran his fingers gently across your pussy making you moan softly, you were again restless and aroused.

“My baby doll, you have a beautiful ass, too bad I’m going to leave it bruised.”

That said, you closed your eyes tightly and let out a groan of shock, almost like hiccups. Your first spanking. Hard, burning and rough. Chan continued mercilessly, keeping his word, hit after hit, echoing in the room your skin abused by his heavy hand. You arched your back, curled your toes and your hands clutched the floor as you whimpered and bit your lip in desperation seeking release, but you couldn’t help it, it was so dirty and painful but you loved it, you loved the sound of your ass being pounded and of the impact of his hand leaving your buttocks in searing pain.

“I want you to think about how bad you’ve been, little girl. About what you did that Daddy has to give you this punishment.”

“Yes, Daddy” you replied in a gasp.

You had done nothing wrong, but at this point you couldn’t reveal yourself or turn back time, you were surrendered and immersed in his lustful method of pleasure.

Your makeup began to smear, your eyes watered and just as you were painfully tired, he paused for a moment, finally turning his attention to your throbbing, wet sex. Chris’s cock twitched at the sensation of your pussy coating his fingers. He continued to caress your burning, red ass with one hand while teasing your entrance with the other, making a comment for it:

“Are you liking it, you fucking slut? Do you enjoy it when daddy puts you in your place and spanks you for your bad behavior? Look at that pretty pussy, god, you’re so soaking wet, making a mess for me.”

Another unexpected pair of spankings and his naughty fingers exploring your intimacy that altered every part of you.

You were obsessed with your boyfriend, both of you were of each other, which is why that detail led you to be in precisely the situation you were in now. You knew to perfection the shape, size and color of his fingers, long, pale with a pinkish undertone, veiny, you could visualize the obscene image of them caressing your soaked pussy, of the fingertips pinching your clit and rubbing wildly between your labia to be wrapped around them and, of his digits abusing your entrance, of getting lost in it leaving a mess every time he pushed them deeper and deeper into you.

He kept spanking you, playing with your entrance, going deeper and deeper into you and using your hole carelessly as if it were a toy. Once again he kept his word when he said he would not be gentle. You were a mess, you didn’t know what to concentrate on at all, you babbled and squealed daddy every time your ass hurt and you felt yourself dripping more and more on his fingers.

You were close, so close to reaching your orgasm that your entire lower body burned in sharp, intense pain, Chan gathered, from the irregularity and change of tone in your whimpers and your sweet, soft pussy muscles throbbing and tightening from an immediate release of your peak of sexual desire.

“Are you about to cum, princess? My baby girl wants to reach her orgasm?” he spoke with a certain teasing tone in his sentences.

You nodded, desperate. Tousling your hair, letting it fall over your face, humiliated and incredibly aroused, whimpering in pleasure and pain, losing all your pride as you clung to the cold floor as you responded:

“Yes-yes-yes-y, Daddy, I’m going to cum.”

He blurted out a chuckle, “Really? You’re going to cum while I pound your ass and treat your little pussy roughly? You like being treated like this?”

You whimpered, letting out a squeal as you received your last and most painful spanking, as Chan increased the speed of his fingers in your pussy, the obscene and humiliating sound of your fluids colliding with his digits being heard.

“Yes, Daddy, I-”

“You’re fucked up, baby girl” he mumbled, almost satisfied.

Satisfied to see your ass ruined and red and you still managed to squirm in pleasure.

But Chan stopped, right at the hottest and most exact moment, leaving you mad and in pieces.

“No…” you whispered, annoyed, crestfallen holding all the frustration and strength in your body.

“Well, you don’t deserve such a thing” he added, slapping your exposed vulva twice to which you squealed in surprise, “You don’t deserve to cum, not even if you beg for it you fucking whore. You’ll cum until I say so.”

Chan sighed audibly almost in a groan, getting up from the couch while you remained in the same position, feeling the real pain and burning in your buttocks now that Chan had removed his hands from there. It hurt so much, the tingling from the impact ran through your body that you even wanted to cry again, the worst thing was that even with that pain you couldn’t calm your intense desire to have him.

The next thing you heard was the sound of his clothes tugging, Chan taking off his suit jacket, he unbuttoned the first few of his shirt and the sound of a zipper pulling down and soft fabric falling gracefully rubbing something. You knew right away.

“Come here. I’ll let you get Daddy’s cock ready before I tear your fucking little cunt apart.”

You couldn’t move, your body hurt so much, still, with your own strength, you stood up, your ass red, your makeup smeared and your eyes teary. As soon as you turned around, he came back or to say:

“Get on your knees. You’re going to suck Daddy’s cock” you watched him, from his eyes, going down to meet his pressed cock in his boxers, in a bulge, hard and large. “I didn’t hear your answer.”

“Yes, Daddy!”

You almost responded immediately, almost shivering as if you were freezing to death but it was just the nature of your nervous and highly aroused body and mind, devoted and surrendered to him, making you get on your knees submissively in front of him, raising your gaze, your pain was hard to avoid, but so was your unsettling pleasure. Your hands were indecisive and restless, about to touch his stiff exposed erection that looked so tempting to your sore eyes. Chan was caressing his cock, so pumping, red, and stimulated, dripping in the pretty pink tip of his precum.

“Ah, ah, don't touch until I say so,” he warned you, his voice coming from deep inside him, sounding thicker, you knew he was extremely aroused at this point. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You obeyed him and he, so lost in pleasure took a step towards you, seeing you from above with every noticeable vein in his body exposed to view, his vein in his neck, from his big hands, from his cock...

Chan stroked his cock gently, masturbating it a little then put a part of his cock and glans on your warm tongue, rubbing himself on you.

“Ff-fuck, oh yeah, taste that fucking precum, baby” he moaned, watching you with pleasure, smiling slightly then closing his eyes and gently throwing his head back for a moment.

That had caused more pleasure in you than his fingers and spanking had caused in you before, you loved blowing Chan because you could hear him moaning and your mouth was busy with his big cock in it, it felt so good that just the feel of his soft glans on your tongue and his thick white droplets, you were again a sea of bliss on your bottom, shivering in despair.

“Now I want you to lick it, lick my cock up and down, just like that, yes-yes, use your hands, baby girl.”

You were so happy to hear such quiet commands as licking his cock and you enjoyed every second, you felt it first, your hand cupping a fist to stroke it better, every part of his texture and every single detailed feature, just for you.

“Ff-fuck.”

Chan was close, he had resisted orgasm hard giving his best effort, but the submissive sight of his little girl on her knees for him running her tongue over his big, stiff cock like it was candy didn’t help matters.

You licked his entire length, just as he gently commanded you, reveling in his pumping sex on your tongue and lips, wishing for a moment that he was naked too so you could see his wonderful figure at that angle you were.

“Put it in your mouth” he whined and you quickly did it, “oh yeah, bobbing your head all over daddy’s cock, just like that, mmm. Good girl.”

You put his cock in your mouth, wrapping it around your lips and finally feeling his throbbing sex inside your cavity. It felt so good to have him like this, pleasuring him as he moaned and bit his lip. You wanted to touch yourself as your pussy had a life of its own down there, so throbbing, dripping, and needy, but you knew that touching yourself would lead to no good if Chan found you out. He stroked your hair as you held his cock with your right hand while with your left, awkwardly and nervously you gently caressed his clean, smooth pubic area, his balls from time to time, and his pronounced pelvis rising towards his exercised abdomen.

You let yourself get a little carried away from the feel and taste of Chan that without thinking you slowly wanted his cock a little down your throat, you wanted the feel of his thick member fucking every part of you, but Chan delicately tightened his grip on your hair, pulling it back to pull his cock out of your mouth, leaving his member bouncing gently in the air and brushing against your lips, his erection wet and stimulated and you dripping in your saliva and his precum, confused, looking into his eyes.

However, the next thing you felt you didn’t expect it at all, his large hand slapping moderately hard on your cheek leaving it red and sore.

“I never said to use your throat, huh. Did you want daddy’s cock so bad? Stand up, you’re going to get it now.”

You were still in shock from the slap, but you obeyed as you understood that it would finally happen. Chan grabbed you roughly by your forearm, putting you on your back to him, he forced you to bend over, as you clumsily held onto the couch, as he had put his body behind you. Chan began rubbing his glans on your wet, swollen, juicy vulva, pleasuring himself on your labia before shallowly positioning the head of his cock at your entrance.

You wanted to scream for him to do it, you wanted him to fuck you from the first instant your panties began to get wet for him.

“There will be no safe word, I am going to fuck you hard to remind you that you are mine and you are going to take Daddy’s cock whole like the slut you behaved like tonight, got it?”

You were about to answer, but a squeal came out of you as you felt his pumping deep throbbing penetration piercing your insides. You whimpered between pleasure and pain, Chan was opening your entrance, and inside, your pussy always struggling to accommodate his well-endowed penis.

He began to fuck you while holding on to your hips and touching your very sensitive ass from time to time, he caressed your whole body, your back, and your tits while keeping a deep, fast, and tearing rhythm that left you breathless. You started to see blurred, you were lost, with your pussy choking his cock, about to cum again when he came out of you; he took your body with ease and held you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. Chan wanted to see your tired, frustrated face as you struggled with his big cock in your pussy.

He smiled at the sight of you, your cheeks red and a little of his precum at the corner of your lips, your eyes bright and your whole face begging for sex. He re-entered you, holding your body from your ass which you whimpered at your sensitivity. Chan controlled your body, dropping your body so that his cock slid into you, making you both whimper, he was big, he didn’t fit all the way in, and his cock squeezed at your entrance and pushed your cervix every time he did that.

He continued to control your body, causing you to be a mess in search of your ultimate release in an orgasm.

“Tell me that you’re mine” he started to babble.

The idea of just owning and having you quickly went to his head, of being him and only him the only one who has you screaming with pleasure, the only one who loves you and knows how you like it. Chan always fucks you sweet and slow, gentle, just because his cock is big at your entrance, but sometimes he does it hard when you ask him to, but now he was destroying you beautifully, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I’m yours, daddy, fuck-”you were speaking haltingly and breathlessly.

“Daddy, please” you whimpered, his cock was being too much for you.

“Daddy, please” he mimicked you mockingly making a high-pitched tone of voice with a smug smile, “Please what, don’t you like how all your little pussy is being taken by daddy?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes.

You finally felt it, your orgasm, so close and there was something you always wanted.

“Can I kiss you, Daddy?”

He smiled, “Do it, baby girl” he replied breathlessly.

You began to squirt his cock and part of his thighs and the rest fell to the floor, finally, you felt his lips and cautiously unbuttoned his shirt to feel and appreciate his exercised chest.

“Daddy, can I cum?”

“Fuck, baby girl, yes do it.”

You whimpered again, louder, hugged him, brushing your breasts on his pecs, feeling his soft hair and the scent of his perfume on his neck and you cum shuddered, wanting to release every muscle in your body, leaving you trembling and pleasurably agonized.

Chan enjoyed the disaster of your orgasm, sliding his cock inside you for a few more seconds until he hit your cervix with the spurt of his hot cum.

“Mmm” was all you could say as you caught your breath and felt his orgasm fill you completely still leaning on his shoulder near his neck.

Chan left you there, your body wracked and well satisfied, clinging to him.

He stroked your hair and whispered a sweet “I love you. Do you want to see the snow outside, princess?”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱

꒰ 𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @cherricola-star @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-ssne @oddracha ꒱

[sxcret-garden]

Ateez Reaction ღ When you take care of them after a long day

ღ Ateez all members x gn!reader ღ words: ~200-300 per member ღ genre & warnings: reaction, domestic fluff, comfort ღ reader: no descriptions of reader's body, no pronouns used

a/n: shout out to @desirehorizon for inspiring this!!!

Hongjoong:

now this guy here will overwork himself if he isn’t stopped, and fortunately the best way to stop him is to spoil him so well, he just can’t say no to some rest

so when he enters your apartment late at night as you’re about to go to sleep and he’s mumbling incoherent phrases to himself, still caught up in his own thoughts, you immediately know what to do

you greet him with a kiss, and when he quickly tries to pass you by, probably to do some more work until the morning hours, you hold onto his wrists tightly, not letting him go

“Baby, what is it?” he asks with a smile, but you can see the exhaustion behind his gaze

“Did you have dinner?” - the way he averts his gaze at your question tells you he did in fact not have dinner, and so you’re quick to sit him down at the table and make him something

even him whining about how you don’t have to do this doesn’t stop you, and once you’ve made sure he’s well fed you pull him along with you, over to the couch, where you two sit down side by side

you give him more kisses, running your hands through his hair and up and down his chest, and you mumble to him in between how he should go take a shower and then let you cuddle him to sleep

and at this point you’re making him feel so loved that he can’t bring himself to say no

he will still pout about it, acting like you’re being unfair, but eventually, once you two are snuggled up to each other in bed, he’ll whisper a barely audible “thank you” to you, and let himself drift off to sleep in the safety of your embrace

Seonghwa:

you come home late, having been out with some friends, when you’re surprised to see the light in the kitchen on

“I’m home!” you announce as you approach your boyfriend, who’s standing in front of the sink doing a huge pile of dishes with a serious expression on his face

“What’s up with you?” you ask, and upon getting a closer look when you come to a halt right by his side, you find the stress plastered all over his features

“Been a long day…” Seonghwa finally answers, no traces of his usual gentle tone that you adore so much

you’re not sure exactly what happened to him that day, but you do know that he badly needs some rest

so, without thinking much, you tell him to move aside and you take over washing the remainder of the dirty dishes yourself

he merely watches in confusion as you don’t let him help you, and when you tell him to go sit down somewhere he hesitates to leave

you finish up the dishes, and when you ask him whether he’s eaten you’re surprised to hear he hasn’t

so you offer to make him something, and now the guy is almost gaping at you as he sits there, watching you

needless to say he’s thankful when you prepare him a quick meal, and as he’s about to take the first bite you can see his features soften

“Thank you…” he finally says, and as you make sure to pamper him for the rest of the evening, he finally lets himself relax as he feels safe with you

Yunho:

he’s surprised to say the least when he comes home after an especially long day at work and he finds you waiting for him in front of a fully set table, his favourite dishes all spread out in front of his eyes

“Y/N… what is this?” he asks and gives you a tired laugh, but you just tell him to sit, saying you figured since he’d be coming home late today he must be hungry

he seems shy as he sits down, his eyes taking in all of the food laid out in front of him, and then eventually he gulps as his mouth starts to water

you think he looks really cute like this, yet you wish he didn’t have to work to the point he’s coming home this exhausted - and you know he’s more tired than he looks

“Thank you…” he says eventually and you two start eating, while he keeps stealing glances at you, and when his stares linger you call him out on it

“Sorry…” he mutters, his ears turning red, “I just feel taken care of… I’m thankful.”

and no matter how tired he is, he’ll insist on giving something back afterwards, even if it’s just in the form of some cuddles in front of the tv, with him letting you rest your head on his chest and holding you close

though as his eyelids start drooping, it turns into you giving him little kisses all over his face and eventually convincing him to go to sleep together

Yeosang:

he doesn’t even realize how much of a toll the last few weeks have taken on him

only when you await him with flowers, some good take out food and his favourite movie as he comes home at the end of yet another long day does he realize how long it’s been since he’s gotten some proper rest

and though he’s taken aback by the effort you made to grant him a few relaxing hours, he’s not one to refuse your care

gladly lets himself be spoiled a bit, genuinely enjoying the time spent with you, and after finishing the movie you two stay up just chatting until he’s too sleepy to focus on a proper conversation

“Let’s get you to bed,” you whisper as you’re sitting behind him on the couch, giving his shoulders a thorough massage and you can feel the way his body tries to succumb to the urge to sleep under your touch

“...mhm…” he merely mutters, only half awake at this point, but as soon as you get up to move to the bedroom he takes a hold of your hand

“I love you.” - the words are merely a whisper, and next thing you know he’s pulling you in so he could kiss you softly, conveying to you just how much he adores you

San:

it’s when he immediately spreads his arms to wordlessly ask you for a hug once he steps inside your home that you know he’s had a rough day

you can feel his weight leaning against your body when you wrap him into a comforting embrace, and eventually you have to remind him that he’s kinda heavy, or he probably wouldn’t have let go of you for another few hours

even then, he peels himself away from you very hesitantly, and you let out a soft laugh when you see the pout on his lips

“Wanna come cuddle on the couch and tell me about what happened?” you suggest, and who is he to say no to that?

though you end up mostly cuddling and not talking very much about his day

“It was just a lot… how was yours though?” he speaks so very softly as he asks that question, sleepily gazing up at your face in an attempt to pay attention to what you’re saying while you play with his hair

you can see in the way he looks at you alone how much he adores you, and how comfortable he feels in your presence

enjoys the way you baby him like this every once in a while, and will definitely not leave your side for the rest of the night

Mingi:

when he comes home that day he just sits down on the couch and immediately spaces out

you really don’t have to ask about it to know he had one hell of a day

you sit down next to him and pat your lap to invite him to use you as a pillow

Mingi sends you a weak smile and then immediately lets himself fall into your lap

you chuckle at his actions and then you watch as he begins to relax under your touch once you start running your fingers through his hair

you know he enjoys having his hair played with like this, so when he first closes his eyes you think it’s just because he finds your touches so comforting

however, eventually you notice how his breathing calms down and the tension leaves his shoulders fully, telling you that he quietly drifted off to sleep

you know that you can’t stay in this position forever though, plus he should really spend the night in bed and not on the couch

for now you enjoy the sight of your boyfriend sleeping peacefully in your lap, finding the occasional quiet snoring that escapes him cute, but after a while you decide to wake him up by softly shaking him by the shoulders and calling out to him

this guy is not fully here as he gets up, and so you make sure to hold onto him as you lead him to the bedroom just in case

there, he crawls into your arms immediately, wrapping his tightly around your waist, and sleepily asking for more head rubs, which you of course grant him, as he slowly enters dreamland once more

Wooyoung:

for the past few days you’ve seen this coming - you know how Wooyoung gets when everything’s a little too much at the moment: he bears it and pulls through

however, tonight he seems irritable when he comes home, and when he gives you a snarky answer when you ask him a simple question you can’t say you’re surprised, but it still startles you

he apologizes immediately, regret washing over him to the point he can’t look you in the eyes, but you’re quick to reassure him that you understand he’s just having a hard time right now

he does show some resistance when you try to convince him to just let you take care of him for the rest of the evening, but once you pull him towards the shower and help him undress his tired body just gives in

you help him wash up under the warm water, and when his back is facing you as you wash his hair for him, you can hear him letting out a big sigh, leaning into your touch

“Better?” you ask, scattering a few soft kisses across his back

“Better…” he mumbles, suddenly sounding very exhausted

you make sure he has a decent meal too, and that he’s in bed on time, and when you’re both all cuddled up under the blanket, he sleepily presses a kiss to your jaw and you hear him mumble a quiet “thank you, I love you”

Jongho:

you’re surprised when he walks inside your shared flat looking completely exhausted, and he can’t bring himself to give you more of a greeting than a mumbled “‘m back home.”

you know he’s had a long day, but you’ve never seen him this tired before

so when he walks straight towards the bedroom after kicking off his shoes, you follow suit, knocking on the door just in case and asking if he’s okay before you enter

you find him already curled up on top of the blanket, without even having changed his clothes and his back facing you, and at this point you’re starting to get a bit worried

so you ask again if he’s okay and if you can join him, and when you see him weakly nod and he mutters something about this day having almost killed him, you feel a sense of relief, as he really seems to have “just” had a bad day

so you lie down beside him, wrapping your arms around his figure from behind, and you offer to take care of him for the evening

but even when you ask if there’s anything he needs, anything he’d like you to do, he just shakes his head

instead, you feel him reaching for your hand that’s resting on his shoulder, grasping it tight, before he whispers,

“Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

however, he will let you spoil him a bit eventually - if he doesn’t simply fall asleep before that, that is

[lazy-gyu]

TAGS: NSFW , DOMINANT TOP READER , NON-HUMAN CHARACTER , SUBMISSIVE BOTTOM CHARACTER , MDNI

It was frustrating when you were running late for work and couldn't find a single pair of socks in your closet. Over the past few weeks, you've noticed some of your clothes going missing - at first just small things like dirty boxers and socks, but gradually larger items like shirts and pants. You searched everywhere - the laundry room, the hamper, behind your bedroom door, even under the bed. You emptied your entire closet, but still couldn't find anything. At this point, you were convinced a thief was targeting your wardrobe... but that didn't make sense. Your wallet was still on the coffee table, the fridge was fully stocked, and none of your furniture had disappeared

One random day, you noticed the basement door slightly opened. Curious, you headed downstairs and followed a trail of your missing clothes to a shocking sight - a naked creature with gray skin and empty, void-like eyes curled up amidst the garments. He was sobbing, legs spread as he desperately rubbed his dripping hole, trying to relieve himself. His delicate hands groped his fat nipples, turning them a deep pink from the lewd touches.

The creature nearly jumped when he saw you staring at him. Embarrassed, he used his hand to cover his slicked hole. "Don't... h-hurt me," he pleaded in a soft, trembling voice as he got on his knees and crawled towards you. You backed away, startled, but he gently grasped your hand. His legs shivered from the cold basement floor, making your heart race.

Looking up at you with loving, empty eyes, he trembled and bit his lip nervously. When you turned to leave, he thought you were abandoning him, throwing him away. But you returned with a blanket, wrapping around his shivering form and carrying him back to the living room. His hands clung to your clothes as he sniffed your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Gratefully, he babbled his thanks as you fed him human food and treated him kindly, he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, breathing heavily. Unable to contain himself any longer, he crawled into your lap, moaning and hugging you tightly. You gently stroke his head, causing him to purr and bask in your affection.

Your hands roamed his back, making him shiver and whine. Groping his plump ass, you spread his cheeks, eliciting a gasp as his nails dig into your skin. Realizing he may have hurt you, he loosen his grip, looking apologetic. You smiled reassuringly and asked him to hug you again, which he did eagerly.

Coiling your fingers, you began to play with his dripping wet pussy. His eyes widen in disbelief as your digits sank into his needy cunt. Overwhelmed with pleasure, he started grinding against your hand, desperate for more stimulation. Such a needy creature, craving to be mated and bred thoroughly.

As you finger his pussy, he can't help but hump your hand vigorously, his clit rubbing against your palm. You spanked his ass in warning, causing him to sob prettily against you. Gripping his face, you spat into his mouth, which he happily swallowed.

"Love... you... me love..." He whispered in your ear, voice trembling with emotion. "Love... me too," he repeated, gazing at you adoringly. You kissed his cheek tenderly, guiding his hips upward. Freeing your throbbing cock from your shorts, you positioned the tip at his soaked entrance. He gasped in delight as he felt your fat cockhead pressing against his folds.

Wrapping his arms around your neck, you slowly sink your shaft into his tight, wet heat. He wailed and arched his back, relishing the delicious stretch. "You want this, right?" you murmured in his ear. He nodded dumbly, grinding back against you.

"Oh... ah... mmm... fuck..." He moaned wantonly as he rode your cock like a bitch in heat. The burning sensation of being stretched by your thick member made his thighs quiver with excitement. Gripping the his hips, you pounded into his tight pussy with increasing intensity. He cried out in ecstasy, his walls clenching around your throbbing cock. You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure becoming too much to bear. You can feel your cock and balls getting wet because of his slick.

With a final, powerful thrust, you buried yourself deep inside his quivering cunt. He let out a high-pitched wail as you exploded, filling his womb with your hot, thick seed. His eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his life.

You collapsed onto the sofa, both of you panting and covered in sweat. He nuzzles against your chest, purring contentedly. His mind filled of you being his mate and him being your wife... He loves you so much so please breed him everyday ♡

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (1) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist

note: omg !!! written for the 1st part cos i need to set the MOOD. hope u guys love it <3 i'm super hungover and this fic idea helped me recover buwhauhaa. pls give this new bbydady couple lots of love !

warnings: rawdogging, dirty talk, impregnation kink, daddy kink, creampie !

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo @ddanasjk @luvismenu @remgeolli @parapiop7 @lil0u0 @crazyovayou @mggv97 @thvgukk @rpwprpwprpwprw

//

the sound of laughter and chatter spills into the hallway as you and hyemi hurry toward yoongi’s condo. as you balance a large steaming dishes in your arms, the tantalizing aroma of the main course wafts behind you two. 

“how much shit do you think they’re gonna give me for being 45 minutes late?” you ask, glancing sideways at hyemi.

she adjusts the way she holds the 2 bottles of wine to knock on the door. they clink together as she answers you; 

“they can eat shit,” hyemi laughs. “you know everyone starved themselves today for your food, right?”

just then, jin answers the door.

he greets you both, taking the meals from your arms. as you step inside, you hear everyones laughter and conversations clearer. nam joon’s earnest chatter with yoongi and hobi, jin calling taehyung to help him in the kitchen, and jungkook annoying jimin. 

yoongi’s condo is filled with balloons and decorations celebrating their clinic’s launch, and the scent of various appetizers danced in the air. everyone is sprawled around the spacious living room, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. everyone is in their own clothes and it feels strange to see them without their scrubs… not to mention; all together. 

it feels surreal to think they’re all celebrating the launch of their private clinic. 

the dream they had worked so hard to achieve.

the dream they deserve to have become a reality. 

“finally!” nam joon cries out. he makes his way to you two, greets you, and then pulls hyemi into a hug. they exchange a quick kiss before wrapping her in his arms and turning to you. “thought you were gonna bail on us.” 

you roll your eyes at him.

“how is it that you’re a doctor but always make it out like i’m busier than you?”

nam joon shrugs. “you’re a chef. that shits just as hard.”

“it’s not medical school,” you argue. “but i appreciate the recognition of my career choice… are you sucking up to me because you're hungry?” 

nam joon puts his hands up.

“you can’t be the chef of our friendgroup and expect us not take advantage of it.”

you share a look with hyemi.

“joon, i’m expecting full free health care from you as payment for all the times i’ve fed you. from all the times i’ve fed all of you—”

jimin and jungkook raise their beer cans at you. 

“yah! you’re the reason my body gets enough protein—”

as the group gathers around yoongi’s dining table, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement and camaraderie.

you’re in the kitchen, finishing the last touches on the meal you’ve prepared. you spent the entire day crafting this feast, and satisfaction blooms in your chest, especially with your final dish—a beautifully plated coq au vin, featuring tender chicken simmered in rich red wine, mushrooms, and pearl onions, all nestled together like a cozy family.

“dinner is served!” you announce.

as you approach the table, you scan for a seat or space for yourself. just as your gaze flits around, yoongi catches on and instantly stands up, his demeanor relaxed yet attentive. he gestures for you to take his seat.

“sit here. i’ll grab a chair from the living room,” he says, his voice calm and sure.

“it’s okay. i can—o-oh. wait—” you start, but before you can finish, yoongi is already striding toward the living room, his movements effortless. he returns, chair in hand, setting it down beside your spot and patting the seat next to him with a casual invitation.

your eyes meet for a moment, and the world around you fades as you hold his gaze, warmth blooming in your chest.

you smile and sit beside him.

“everything looks amazing, by the way,” yoongi leans in to whisper into your ear. “thank you for cooking for us tonight.”

he places his hand a little above your knee, a light touch that sends a thrill through you.

your heart skips for a moment, and just before it can race, he pulls his hand away.

“alright, everyone! before we dive in, let’s raise our glasses…” nam joon declares, lifting his glass of wine high. “here’s to our hard work and dedication. i can’t imagine being in this field of work without you guys… we did it! we have our own private practice. cheers!”

“cheers!” everyone echoes, their glasses clinking together.

as the group begins to serve themselves, you watch them dig into the coq au vin, anticipation swirling in your stomach. carefully, you observe their expressions transform after the first bite. jin and hobi’s eyes widen in delight, jungkook scrunches his face in exaggerated anger, while jimin and taehyung slump back in their chairs, clearly taken aback. hyemi and nam joon share a knowing look, and yoongi tilts his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

“holy shit, ___."

“you’ve outdone yourself.”

“i’m so glad i was skinny today… i have extra room in my pants to eat everything here,” jungkook moans. “fuck, ___. let me know when you wanna get married.”

everyone chokes on their food. from the corner of your eye, you watch for yoongi's reaction. he doesn't make a face or say anything. instead, he continues to eat and ignore jungkook's childish comment.

then, as you look away, you catch the way his grip tightens around his fork and knife.

puffing your cheeks, you turn your attention back to the group.

"marriage? you know i want a baby,” you huff, half-joking but with a hint of truth. "fuck, i want a baby so bad."

hyemi rolls her eyes. “we’ve been known.”

the baby fever you have is no secret to your friend group; it’s been a running joke since the beginning of time. with every glimpse of a baby in a stroller or at the mall, to the endless stream of baby videos shared in the group chat—everyone knows. the irony is that you’re simply too busy to have one. work takes most of your time, and you’re barely into dating, yet the baby fever lingers, woven into your very being. like how some people are just meant to be moms? that’s you.

everyone bursts into laughter, their playful jabs surrounding you like a warm blanket. everyone except for yoongi. he stays quiet, stealing a glance your way, a slight crease in his brow as he observes.

as you begin to eat, yoongi bumps shoulders with you, the casual touch sending a small jolt through your side.

“___,” he starts, his voice low and teasing. “i might have to request a cooking lesson. your food is too good.”

you bump shoulders back, a smirk playing on your lips. “don’t you cook?”

“not like this. not like you.”

you scoff lightly, shaking your head. “sure, i’ll accept your cooking lesson request… but only if you pay for the ingredients.”

he leans back in his chair, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.

then, he places his hand on your upper thigh again. this time, he squeezes it.

your heart begins to race.

yoongi’s soft gaze shifts toward you, the confident glint in his eyes paired with a playful smile.

“sure, ___. whatever you want.”

once dinner is finished and the dishes are cleared, everyone gathers around the living room. hobi puts on a movie, but the flickering screen fades into the background as everyone spreads out. jungkook is lounging on the couch, flanked by jimin and taehyung, who are playfully bickering. on the opposite end, nam joon and hyemi are cuddled together. meanwhile, hobi, jin, you, and yoongi are settled on the floor, engaged in a mindless card game. there's an easy banter flowing between you all.

“honestly, i don’t think i’ve fully processed it yet,” jungkook admits, scratching his head with a sheepish grin. “guys… we have our own fucking practice. we’re so adult.”

taehyung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back against the couch. “well, since we’re all adults now, let’s celebrate like we did back then—with something childish.”

jimin’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“oh, i know exactly where this is going.”

yoongi rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. he puts his cards down and turns to taehyung and jimin.

“you guys can’t seriously be suggesting truth or dare.”

suddenly, everyone sits up.

“why not?” hyemi teases, nudging namjoon. he sits up, suddenly interested. “awh, we used to play that all the time! let’s use a wine bottle for the questions and shots for the skipping.”

“yes, let’s do it!” taehyung chimes in, bouncing slightly in excitement. “might as well go all in.”

as the group settles into the idea, everyone sprawls on the living room floor, cushions scattered around them.

the movie playing in the background has been completely forgotten. you head to the kitchen to grab a wine bottle, along with a few shot glasses, and return to find your friends buzzing with anticipation.

with a grin, you place the bottle in the center of the circle, pouring shots for everyone as you settle next to jungkook and hyemi.

“whose going first?”

“i will,” nam joon says, and with a determined flick of his wrist, he spins the bottle. it lands on jungkook. with a playful grin, nam joon asks, “jungkook, truth or dare?”

“dare,” jungkook replies confidently, puffing out his chest.

“i dare you to text an ex and say you miss them.”

jungkook’s confidence wavers for a brief moment. his bravado fades. “t-truth! i pick truth—”

“boo!” everyone hollers, giving him a few playful hits.

defeated but laughing, he pulls out his phone and reluctantly types the message. as the sound of the text being sent echoes through the room, cheers erupt from his friends.

“who’d you text?” jimin asks, curiosity bubbling over.

“your mom,” jungkook quips with a smirk.

jin snorts before breaking into laughter. jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “you guys said you wanna be childish? fine by me!”

the game continues, laughter and playful banter filling the air. after a few more rounds, jimin finally gets a chance to spin the bottle, his excitement palpable.

it lands on yoongi.

jimin grins, the tension in the room shifting into something playful. “alright, yoongi, you’re up. truth or dare?”

“truth,” yoongi replies, his expression cool but his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“okay,” jimin says, his voice laced with mischief as he shoots a devilish glance around the room. “if you could sleep with anyone in the world with no consequences, who would it be?”

laughter erupts, mingling with the muffled sounds of the movie. yoongi holds jimin’s gaze for a moment, and you notice his eyes flicker to you, almost imperceptibly.

the moment is fleets but it's lingers in your heart the moment he looks away.

without a word, yoongi lifts his glass and takes a shot instead, opting for silence.

“shit…” taehyung gasps, breaking the tension. “is it me?”

as the laughter continues, you look forward and meet yoongi's eyes. he clears his throat and turns away. for a moment, you think;

shit.

it's me.

the night goes on with more playful dares and laughs, but as it winds down, everyone soon heads out the door. hyemi and nam joon hug you goodbye as you gather your cooking equipment. once they leave, yoongi walks into the kitchen, surprised to see you still there.

you two are alone. 

when you two are alone… things change. you aren’t sure how to describe the feeling or the exact shift in atmosphere… but it’s there. it happens and there’s always this lingering silence that suffocates you. it’s not uncomfortable, it’s rather… daring. 

though it’s unspoken, you two find difficulty in ignoring the loud bells. 

maybe it was the way yoongi’s gaze lingers on you when you aren’t looking. how he traces the curve of your smile and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. or how your eyes light up an entire city when someone compliments your food. 

truth be told, yoongi's crush on you is like a steady and familiar presence. something he could never quite shake.

not when you two first met.

not when you dated 3 guys in a row and got fucked over each time.

not when you go through baby fever so bad you cry about it like it’ll never happen to you. 

yoongi notices things about you that others don’t. like the way you chew your lip when you’re in deep thought or before you admit to something. how you have a specific laugh for different levels of things you find funny. 

whatever it is; it just remains as it is.

over the years of being friends with you, there were obvious times he thought about closing that space between you two… but something kept him from doing it. maybe it’s the group dynamic, or simply the fear that you didn’t feel the same.

“sorry, you must be tired. i’ll be out of here in a bit—”

“you’re still here?” yoongi teases. 

you roll your eyes at him. 

“unfortunately.” 

“no, no,” yoongi insists. “take your time. did you drive? or are hyemi and joon waiting for you downstairs?”

“i drove and picked up hyemi. she’s sleeping at joon’s tonight so they left.”

yoongi shifts closer to you, beginning to help you pack up. he looks through his cupboard and finds a bag for you to put all your containers in. when you finish packing up, he takes the bag and walks you to the door. 

“so… no answer to that truth question, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "didn't take you for a pussy."

yoongi chuckles softly, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes. “wouldn’t have been much of a game if i gave it away that easily."

“but that’s the literal point of playing truth or dare and choosing truth.”

he scoffs, “for a chef, you’re a big know-it-all… you know that?”

"come on, yoongi," you inch closer to him. “was it really taehyung?”

he pauses, unamused.

"you really want to know?"

you nod, curious but also feeling your heart pick up just a little. your cheeks might flush in a few seconds too.

yoongi leans in slightly. 

"fine. it was you."

your eyes widen, unsure how to react to his confession. it surprises you but it’s also such a weird feeling to get this confirmation… you feel warm inside.

you feel butterflies. 

attempting to keep your voice steady, you ask; "me?"

yoongi shrugs, keeping it casual though his steady and sincere gaze. "guess you just… crossed my mind. more than once. i don’t know. sorry if this makes you think of me differently—”

a beat. 

“no,” you blink. “i… if jimin had asked me the question i would’ve answered the same.”

yoongi tilts his head. 

“answered it like what?”

you chew your bottom lip. 

just as you gather the courage to make your confession, yoongi drops your things, steps towards you and places his arm around your waist. he doesn’t waste a second. 

he pulls you in—

yoongi kisses you for the first time. 

“holy fucking shit—” yoongi hisses in between your legs. “you taste so good, ___.”

you lift your head and watch him. 

yoongi’s head bobs up and down. you fight the urge to squeeze your legs together as you feel the texture of his tongue brush the insides of your fold. you feel him spit on your clit and suck on it. when he does this, it gives you no choice but to grab a handful of his hair. 

you moan. 

yoongi smirks, loving the way you’re reacting. you feed his ego more than he ever anticipated you to. it’s so special to him. 

as yoongi finishes eating you out, he shifts his body on top. softly, he runs the back of his hand from your waist to your ankles. he takes one of them and puts it over his shoulder. you shuffle, getting more comfortable in his bed.

“you’re really pretty,” he blurts. “i.. uh, i really like you in this position.” 

you blush, tightening your lips. 

“t-thanks,” you say a little awkwardly. there’s a silence between you two as the literal position begins to sink in your head. “are we g-going to…”

yoongi’s soft gaze cuts short. “oh. shit, yeah. sorry, you… you just distracted me.”

you can’t help but laugh. 

“you’re about to fuck me and you’re saying my face is distracting you?” 

he shrugs. 

“you have nice tits too.” 

he grabs them without warning. squeezing them, you laugh a little louder. then, he slaps them and a small gasp escapes your lips. 

“shit. let me get a condom—”

you shift and shake your head at him. you bite your bottom lip, you offer him a sincere look. 

“i… i don’t sleep with people that often. i know you’re a doctor and all but i—”

yoongi chuckles. 

“fuck, do you have an impregnation kink?” he pieces it all together. “i mean, no shit… and i’m okay with fucking you raw. i haven’t slept with anyone in like, 2 years—”

“what?” you ask in disbelief.

yoongi is hot. he's a fucking dermatology nurse practitioner too... he can cook and is gentle... not to mention, his dick is huge.

“too busy. too tired. too lazy.” 

you snicker at him. “really? you aren’t too tired right now.”

yoongi smiles cheekily before leaning in and kiss you. he kisses you deep, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. you suck it as he pulls away.

he rests his forehead against yours and hums, “can we have sex now?”

you laugh and hit his bare shoulders. 

he places himself back into his desired position and slides his cock in between your folds. he sinks it in a little, sending shivers down your spine. you feel how hard it is—how veiny and thick it feels against your skin. yoongi then sharply inhales as the sound of his dick slapping against your wet pussy echoes. 

“f-fuck.”

you let out a whimper and clenched your fist. “put it in. need you.”

your words are music to yoongi’s ears. 

he sinks himself inside you. your lips part as you adjust to the feeling of his dick entering inside. it’s big and girthy. the curves it has hits spots you didn’t know could hit. 

“oh m-my god,” you breathe. “y-yoongi… think y-you’re too big.”

“am i supposed to feel sorry for you?” he snarks. “come on, ___. you can take it.” 

you nod, gulping with determination. you shut your eyes, feeling him thrust in and out of you. he does so slowly but surely, making sure to push in every inch of his length. you wince a couple of times, feeling the burn. 

then, after a few more strokes… you feel it.

the pleasure. 

yoongi picks up the pace once he sees your begin to enjoy the feeling. he smirks, leaning down for another kiss. you kiss him back, passionately. when he pulls away, he cups your face with his hand and places his thumb in your mouth. 

you suck it. 

yoongi watches. 

he watches as you play with his thumb. licking it, sucking it, and swirling your tongue around it. he watches as your tits move to his thrusts. he watches as your eyes roll back. 

he loves it. 

the sight is beyond beautiful. 

it’s life changing to him. 

then, he shifts. he takes your leg down and fully sets himself on top of you. he fucks you faster, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms and legs around him as he digs himself deeper and deeper. he moans in your ear and it feels like with all the lewd sounds in your room—your pussy might explode. 

yoongi feels you tighten. 

his dick gets harder. 

“s-shit, ___… you’re so tight. you feel so good.”

his voice is low and drips with sin. 

just when he feels himself about to cum, he pulls out. 

you reposition yourself. 

this time, you spread your legs out like a v. yoongi plants his hands on either side of you. you reach over and put his dick inside. he bows his head low, biting your shoulder as he begins to fuck you. 

yoongi pounds you. 

like, to the point where you’re practically screaming. 

“o-oh! oh my god, y-yoongi. d-don’t stop. f-fuck, yes. yes, yes yes!” you chant. "fuck! ngghhh, i love your dick. mpffhh—oh god, oh god!"

again, it’s music to his ears. 

“i’m gonna cum—”

you reach down and pull his dick out. 

“w-what—”

you tug yoongi’s body down and roll over until you stradle him on top. as you sit on him, you quickly put his dick inside you. by now, yoongi’s climax has calmed. 

“can you cum inside me?” you ask, lacing your fingers together. 

you begin to grind on him. yoongi’s eyes flutter to watch the way your hips move against his stomach. he watches as you fuck yourself on him. 

“please, yoongi? i want a baby. remember?” 

yoongi nods. “i remember. fuck, you want my cum?”

batting your eyelashes at him, you pout. “mhm.. will you give me a baby? i want your cum. don’t you think i deserve it? see how good i’m fucking myself on you right now?”

“yes.”

“tell me i’m doing a good job, daddy.”

yoongi hisses. 

he doesn’t really give a fuck about the whole daddy kink thing… or the impregnation bullshit. people are into what they’re into. but for some reason… this drives him crazy. the way your tone is so soft and desperate, he thinks to himsef;

fuck.

i have to give it you.

you’re too pretty to say no to. 

“you’re doing so good, ___. fuck, i love how you fuck me.”

you place your hands on his chest and lean forward for stability. you bounce on his hard cock, making sure the sound of your ass hitting his abdomen is as loud as it can be. 

“do you like it when i fuck you like this?” you say, slightly panting. “you like it when i’m about to milk your cock? gonna make you cum. need it.” 

“mhm?” yoongi moans. “f-fuck, yeah. you need my cum? you need a baby so bad? you want my babies?”

you nod viciously. 

“yes, daddy. need every drop, yoongi. i'm gonna be mad at you if you let it spill out. need your babies.” 

with that, yoongi reaches over and grabs a handful of your ass. he helps you fuck him faster and faster. by now, you’re out of breath and yoongi can barely keep his eyes open. the pleasure is so vibrant. it’s sharp and so ready to be released. 

“f-fuck, ___. i’m actually gonna cum now. gonna pull out—”

you pout. 

“b-but i was serious,” you confess. “you can pull out… but just know; i don’t want you to.”

there’s a look in your eyes that tugs yoongi’s heart strings. he isn’t sure how to go about this. he’s never cum inside someone before… but this was you. 

you’re so special to him.

and you want it so bad… 

yoongi never thought he’d be this way. laying here with you on top of him, begging for his cum. without even trying, it’s like you make him question every decision and wall he puts up. it’s stupid, really—he knows he’s in control of his decisions here. no one is forcing anyone to do anything and you aren’t convincing him in a way where he’s uncomfortable. 

but it’s different. 

with you, it’s fucking different. 

you caught him off guard and the way you ask him for this makes everything feel so simple. 

perhaps its the way you offer him a gentle smile or the way he’s always known you’ve wanted a baby… and the opportunity to give that to you? even if it’s not for real and this is just an in-the-moment kind of thing… fuck, how could he deny you this? he can’t ignore it.

maybe he doesn’t want to.

his thoughts take him away for a second too long. your smile turns into a nod. just as you’re about to get off him, he grabs your waist and helps you fuck him fast. 

chasing the high, he groans as he reaches his climax. 

he tugs your body as close to him as possible. 

yoongi might have lost his mind because—

he folds. 

yoongi cums inside you. 

he cums so much that his creampie spills out. you giggle as you get off and lay down next to him. yoongi gets on his elbows and spreads your legs open. with soft touches, he takes his fingers and helps shove the spilling cum inside your pussy. 

you play with his hair as he does this. 

then, when he’s finished he moves back to lay beside you. 

a thick silence fills the space between you two. 

“i.. w-wow,” he stutters. “are you okay?”

you gulp.

“yeah… thank you for… u-uh… i don’t know if that was awkward for you but it really… i really… i liked it a lot. thank you.”

yoongi chuckles.

he shifts and fixes his sheets for you. he drapes his blanket over your body and adjusts the way you lay on his pillow. leaning in beside you, he kisses the top of your head and caresses your cheek. 

“i liked it too. besides,” he says softly. “what are friends for?”

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 2 - Broken

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

I'm sorry, part 2 got a little out of hand in length so I've decided to split it up into different chapters! There should only be one more part after this (maybe??!) Hope you enjoy! This is more of Bucky's POV and gives some more insight into what happened. Thanks for all your engagement with this series, as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! Unfortunately I no longer use taglists.

💔

Your phone sat on Bucky’s desk as he stared at it blankly. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, maybe that you’d call it, or it would magically reveal some sort of answers to the many questions he had. But it didn’t. It just laid there, about as useful as a rock. A ‘babe, how are you?! we need to hang out soon!’ notification from Natasha had lit up the screen an hour or so before, but otherwise it just continued to sit silently – an insulting prompt that mocked him with your absence, the clock on the screen taunting him with how late it had become.

He'd had a glance at the checking and credit card accounts he’d set up for you, but they hadn’t been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. None of your clothes had moved, your toiletries remained in the bathroom. You hadn’t even appeared to have taken any shoes with you. Natasha’s casual check-in text suggested your friends were unaware of what had happened. You’d just…vanished. A ghost in the night.

He felt nauseous, his gut churning. He’d tried to find the CCTV footage of you leaving, but the image was grainy – he could hardly make you out. The cameras had been acting up lately, he needed Steve to get them fixed. He kept thinking about you wandering out into the night by yourself, no money, no plan, how he’d forced you out into the cold. The one person he swore to protect, to keep safe.

His guilt was eating him alive.

But then he thought of the recording. Your voice so clear, laughing with the fed – mocking Bucky, calling him names and sneering at his gullibility. He could hardly believe it all at first. Not you? Not his doll, who had opened him up to love in ways he could have never imagined. Surely it couldn’t have been you, who had uprooted his life for the better, who had hit him like a whirlwind, changing his very being forever in all the best ways?

But he’d checked in with Banner who ran the tech and had confirmed you had been there. Your phone had pinged the cell tower in that exact spot they’d tracked the meeting point to. They’d even found a CCTV clip of you getting in a strange car that day, despite telling Bucky you were having Wanda over for a girl’s night. The audio was delivered by his own men, verified by their informant. The evidence was overwhelming.

‘It was so easy’ you had giggled cruelly on the clip, the words burned into his memory, ‘I just fluttered my eyelashes a few times and he was asking me to move in after a few weeks. I barely lifted a finger yet he swallowed everything I gave him and asked for more. Now I know how his whole operation works…but I need more time on the Stark deal. Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything after a few more ‘I love yous’ and dirty fucks. I promise...’

Of course he’d seen red. How could he not? He’d always been hot-tempered (passionate, his mother used to say), and the recording had destroyed his entire world in a matter of seconds. Aside from the betrayal, the pain, he felt humiliated. He’d finally been vulnerable with someone, shared intimacy in ways he’d never experienced with another person – only to find out it was all a lie. A trick. A joke. It affirmed his biggest fear – that he had been correct to build those walls, to protect himself from anyone who would use his feelings against him. Love could be exploited as a weakness, and he’d turned up to the fight unarmed.

In his mind, he’d not thrown you out – not sweet, beautiful you. Not you who held him close in your sleep and nuzzled into his chest, not you who traced his scars with her fingers and encouraged him to take off his prosthetic when you were intimate if he wished to. Not you, who stayed up late on his birthday just to present him with a homemade cake when he came home after an exhausting meeting – insisting he blew out the candles. Did she ever even exist? He’d always joked you were too good to be true. Now he’d accidentally manifested that into reality.

No. He’d thrown out her. The woman who had been gathering intel on him since the moment the two of you had met. The woman who exchanged kisses for information. The woman who had laughed about all of this as she gleefully ratted on him, delighting in her prowess over the foolish, lovesick mob boss she’d so easily toppled. The woman who’d callously worn the mask of someone who loved him. She was thrown out of his house, out of his embrace.

Unfortunately, the two versions of you were one and the same.

But at least he knew better, now. He’d go back to casual sex and pretty girls hanging off his arm. Easy. Fun. Uncomplicated. The walls would go back up and they wouldn’t come down again. Deep down he’d always known that men like him weren’t meant to be loved, that they weren’t worthy of genuine affection. Not all voids could be filled. People like you, or at least who he thought you were, were not for him. They deserved better. You’d always deserved better. He’d had a brief taste of happiness, but that was all he deserved. The universe would continue to punish him for his many bad deeds.

The only thing left to do was finally go to bed, but a solemn knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He could tell it was Steve. 

“Steve?” he called, checking his watch. It was late, he’d assumed his second in command had already gone home.

Steve entered looking sullen. He was tensely holding his phone, and someone appeared to be on FaceTime with him. He cautiously extended it to his long-time friend.

“I’m sorry, Buck”, he said gravely.

“Steve..what?” Bucky asked as he gingerly took the phone from him. Sam looked back at him from the small screen, his solemn expression mirroring Steve’s.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly in that same tone, filling Bucky with a sinking dread.

Something was very wrong here.

“What is it?” He fired angrily at Sam, “just spit it out…”

Sam flipped the camera around to face what looked like a heap of old rags on the ground. He appeared to be in a parking garage, surrounded by nothing but concrete and darkness. It was hard to make anything out.

“What am I looking at here?” Bucky squinted at the camera as he tried to focus the image. Steve silently observed over his shoulder.

“Tell him what you just told us,” came the sound of Sam’s furious voice off-camera.

Bucky watched with confusion at the screen as Sam's boot suddenly kicked out at the heap, and the heap moved.

And then he clicked.

The ‘heap’ was a man.

The man groaned and cried out as Bucky realised the ‘rags’ were ripped, bloody clothes. He rolled over in obvious pain as Sam manoeuvred the camera to get a better look. As the man turned over, Bucky recognised his face. 

It was one of his own. 

“Rumlow?” Bucky asked with confusion. 

Behind him, Steve moved closer and leaned forward to watch the screen. “Just watch, Buck” he said sombrely.  

Rumlow looked up at the phone, blearily staring into the lens as he squinted at the phone light. His face was bruised and bloodied. Someone had given him a good going over. 

“It was me. Alright? I did it,” Rumlow groaned.

“Did what?” Bucky sneered, still not entirely clear on where this was going – but already feeling his anger mounting.

Rumlow sighed heavily and Sam gave him another swift kick to the ribs to encourage him to continue. 

He moaned out in pain and closed his eyes. “Aaargh. Alright…I did it! I did it okay! I made the recording!” he spat.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as comprehension of the situation unfolding began to take hold. His fist tightened around the phone screen. “Which recording…Rumlow?” He asked, his voice sinisterly calm. 

Rumlow paused and spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Bucky recognised the look of fear building in the man’s eyes, he’d seen it many times before. Rumlow was stalling to delay the inevitable.

“Tell me!!” Bucky roared at the phone, holding it so tightly in his fist that the screen might crack.

He watched Rumlow wince as he turned away from the screen, dropping his head in defeat.

“Of your girl…talking to the police…it wasn’t her-uh-it wasn’t even real. I used AI. From…from recordings of her voice from old security footage…I’m sorry…I just-”

But Bucky was eerily composed. Rumlow took his silence as the cue to continue.

“I hacked into the security system and planted the clip of her getting in the car. And I stole her phone for a few hours when she was at the house with a friend, planting it at the meeting point then driving back with it. She didn’t even notice it was gone…I’m sorry I…”

Bucky cleared his throat. He tapped a single contemplative finger over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice void of emotion. 

Sam flipped the camera back to face himself. He looked grimly into the lens. “I’m sorry Buck…we had no idea…I caught him on the phone with the feds about the shipment – he thought I’d already left and-”

“Keep him warm,” Bucky interrupted, his voice cold like ice, “I have more urgent matters to attend to first, but I will deal with him”.

Sam merely nodded. Just as he cut the call, Bucky heard Rumlow wail and beg in the background. He’d be doing a lot more of that soon.

In a sudden fog of anger, Bucky pelted his phone hard against the wall. He roared with rage, lobbing his scotch glass at the window – shattering both. He flipped his desk, the chair, the bookcase – leaving a tsunami of destruction in his wake. Steve merely watched on, patiently. He knew Bucky needed to vent whichever way he could.

Eventually Bucky slowed, panting with exertion as he took a second to try and slick back his hair, now unkempt and messy from his outburst. He pulled back his shoulders as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’ll find her, Buck”, Steve told him unwaveringly. “She can’t have gone far on foot. Then you can explain everything and apologise”.

Bucky shook his head as he ran his hands through his hair. Toeing the pile of debris that now cluttered his office floor he sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t do it, Steve. And I didn’t believe her…”

“The recording was very convincing,” Steve clamped a sympathetic hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, “it sounded just like her – and had all of us fooled. Not to mention the phone location evidence…the CCTV of her leaving…before I came up here, Sam told me that this AI is brand new tech, far more advanced and convincing than what the masses have access to…”

Bucky bleakly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. She’s my girlfriend and I’m supposed to trust her. Believe her. When I heard her voice on that recording I just…”, he trailed off sadly, “…it tapped into my worst fears…”

Steve nodded sagely. “Let’s just find her first, and you can talk to her. And then we can deal with Rumlow”.

Bucky grimaced, “I knew he was a risk to take on…with our shared history in HYDRA’s organisation…but I never thought…”

“Let’s just find her for now,” Steve repeated, always calm in a crisis. He pulled out his phone, making calls to various members of their group, sending out texts and kicking off various communication chains. In mere minutes, they’d have entire squads of their men scouring the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Bucky stood amongst the wreckage – the room’s physical ruins a glaring reminder that this wasn’t the only mess he’d made tonight. He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket, opening his photo album as the pings and buzzes from Steve’s device filled the room. He flicked through the pictures of you: your face cheesily grinning at the camera, your lips sweetly planted on his cheek, a candid shot of you cooking in the kitchen – caught off-guard, your mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. You’d asked him to delete it as you thought you looked dumb, but he insisted he keep as he like the way your eyes sparkled in it. It was one of his favourites. Looking at the pictures helped him calm down, his breath evening as he remembered what was important here. He ran a finger over the image of your face, “I’m sorry, doll” he whispered, “I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix this…”

A couple of miles away, you slept deeply in the tear-stained hotel sheets – completely unaware of the organised efforts to track you down. You didn’t dream, you didn’t stir, you just slept - grateful to give yourself over to oblivion.

💔

There had only been a few places you could have gone on foot.

Bucky’s men had worked quickly despite the late hour. The local police force, already firmly in Bucky’s pocket, loaned him a few law enforcement bodies to assist with the search, no questions asked – as was standard. Sheriff Bodecker always played ball. They collected the CCTV from local businesses, doorbell cam footage from local residents (who weren’t particularly happy to be woken to do so, but didn’t have much choice), swept the area on foot and in vehicles. It was faintly possible you had hitchhiked and thumbed a ride into the city, but Bucky knew this wasn’t likely, so they put that option on the backburner – although it hadn’t been entirely ruled out.

The gas station staff hadn’t seen you, but their CCTV did catch a blurred figure passing in the road opposite the camera. A faint outline of your route started to emerge as the puzzle pieces came together. Eventually, Bucky was sent the security footage of you checking into the Holiday Inn. His heart pulled as he watched you looking lost at the reception desk – your eyes round like saucers as you produced crumpled dollar bills, head turning left to right as you surveyed your drab surroundings. He could only imagine how lost you must’ve felt, how hurt and betrayed. Exiled by the man you loved, you trusted, and having to hunker down in a shitty roadside hotel. Part of him was impressed by your ability to pick yourself up and keep going even in the toughest circumstances – it was one of the many reasons he loved you. But mainly, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he’d pushed you to this, that he’d failed you in so many ways.

Bucky inhaled deeply as he closed the hotel clip on his phone, nodding to his driver and stepping into the dark SUV.

I’m on my way, doll.