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dollfacefantasy · 1 month ago

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IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay. Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched. He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in.

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking.

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded.

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker.

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest).

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog.

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment.

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too.

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie.

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered.

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips.

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you.

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward.

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though.

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself.

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson smut #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc smut #batboys x reader #ch: jason todd 💌#ch: dick grayson 💌

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tojjist · 11 months ago

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NANAMI is 100% a spanker.

He loves your ass. He could just stare at you for hours on end, no matter what you’re wearing at the time. Be it a pencil skirt, yoga pants, sport shorts or a dress. He could just stand there and watch you move, glutes moving up and down, hips swaying. It makes him swoon.

And while he could stand and stare, he’d much rather feel it up against his palm. He’d slap your buttocks once he walks past you, soft and teasing. Depending on your response the situation elevates.

More times than not you find yourself sprawled out on his lap, his hands colliding with the skin multiple times over until he can feel it get warmer. His ears are immune to your cries,gasping at the force that comes with the loud clapping. Sometimes he’d stop to tease your clit gently, fingertips rubbing the bundle of nerves to hear a soft moan from you or have you tighten your shaking thighs over his palm. But it’s not too long before his hand is swinging in the air and against your reddened ass.

At some other occasions, he finds himself subconsciously feeling your ass in the morning. His large hands explore the soft flesh, squishing it tightly in his palm and giving it light slaps every so often.

GOJO, on the other hand, is a hair puller.

Honestly, there is no specific reason that he likes to pull your hair so much. Mostly he just likes the feeling of your hair filling into his fist, no matter the length of it, locks running between his fingers. It's an oddly satisfying to him .

He’s very random with it, too. Satoru would approach you while doing the dishes, one second his arms are wrapped lovingly around your waist, and the next his hand fists as much as it can of your hair and tugs at it “A-a- ah- Satoru– let go, seriously,” You’d grumble, face scrunched at the suddenness of it. “Mm, Gotta ask nicely, baby,” his hand continues to grab your hair tightly. Judging by the amused smirk on his face, he’s just messing around. Must get a kick out of it.

It’s another reason he loves seeing you on your knees before him. Your mouth consumes so much of his length, hands pumping whatever your mouth couldn’t fit in. All Satoru has to do is sit back, feel good, and pull at your hair. It’s easy control. And Satoru loves this control, as if steering your head however he likes. Not that your skilled mouth needs direction.

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orphicmusings · 14 days ago

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“give me ten minutes and a pillow for his hips”

18+ | MDNI

its not that viktor didn’t want to devour you. take you in the almost impossible positions he’d widen his eyes at reading about when he got bored in the library, attempting to anatomically sketch it out on a napkin to visualize how it would work hastily before anyone came in and caught him flipping through an erotic novel. and he would, through the pain, it would be so worth it— if not for your gentle consideration. the one thing sexier than your dazed face looking up at him, all heated cheeks and hooded eyes, was how perceptive you were— how well you knew him, how well you saw him. you were attuned to him now, an invisible string between you. a phenomenon he could never sit down and wrap his big head around, just how connected the two of you had become that you barely needed words to communicate sometimes. like, for example, an abrupt whine sneakily covered by the clearing of his throat.

you were both excited and apprehensive when he brought up wanting to be on top tonight. you knew he would be putting pressure on his bad leg and of course you brought it up, but the way his voice dipped in velvet and wrapped around you, the lyrical lilt in his accent becoming hushed and deeper as he detailed how he wanted you under him, he wanted to take you, claim you, devour you with no inhibitions. his silver tongue won against your worried left brain, twice technically, until you heard it— the slightest change of rhythm in the strum of your little connective string.

“viktor?” you lifted your head. “what was that?”

he took a deep breath and buried his head in the crook of your neck. “nothing, darling.” he punctuated his assurance was a distracting suckle on your skin. and god, you almost gave in again, almost, but you gently tilted his head up and looked into his darkened eyes. “didn’t sound like nothing.”

damn you and your perceptive skills. he loves them so much.

another deep breath leaves him, and before he could wave it off, you press him. “it’s your leg, isn’t it?” you ask, already knowing the answer, and he can’t lie to you.

“yes.” he breathed in surrender. “i’m sorry, my love i really wanted to-what are you doing?” he frowned, watching you roll out from under him and grab one of the pillows on his bed.

“armchair, now.” you pointed to the chair across the room, with the plush ottoman in front of it that you gifted him. he couldn’t help but let a smirk pull at the corners of his mouth.

“bossy.” yet, he obeyed and made his way over to you. you gave him the pillow, instructing him to put it under his hip as he sat down, making sure his leg was elevated on the ottoman. once you got him all situated, you didn’t even have time to ask if it felt better before he was grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you like a man starved. you melted into his touch, straddling him but careful not to apply too much pressure. “so fucking sweet.” he pants the praise huskily into your mouth. “too good to me.”

his hands traveled down your body to grip your hips, pulling you flush to him. you started grinding slowly, and he guided you, a shaky breath leaving your mouth before you even got to the main event. every noise from your mouth caused a shiver to run down his spine, striking him with irrational need— he didn’t care that the things he wanted to do to you would make him scream in pain, he felt that he would simply die if he couldn’t fuck you the way he pictured it in his head right now.

but then he looks at you, just as dazed and hungry on top of him as you were under him, and a smile creeps up on him. it doesn’t matter if he were to throw you down and ravage you like a love interest in those books, or if you were softly bouncing on his length, burying your little sighs and whimpers into the crook of his neck, he’s still pleasing you. he’s still enough for you. he exhaled a smirk.

“none of that, darling.” he lifted your jaw to meet his eyes. “wanna see you and hear you. can you do that for me?” you nodded, struggling to keep your head up in the throes of pleasure, but having no trouble letting your mouth run wild with curses and praises and whines and whimpers. and it was all music to his ears. “that’s it, sweet girl.” his voice came ragged as he reached his long fingers to press on your clit. you all but screamed, tugging gently on the curls of the nape of his neck. he whined and threw his head back.

“am i hurting you?” you asked hoarsely, your hand hovering over his hair. he shook his head adamantly, taking your head and tangling it back in his hair himself. each thrust would earn a tug, and each tug would earn a pretty noise from him, causing another push to each of your edges.

“love you….” he whispered against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss against it as you both reached your peaks, breathing heavily against each other. “love you so much.”

#this is an unedited ramble #hope it suffices #i thought of all of this in the shower and typed it out as soon as i got out #my writing #viktor smut #arcane #viktor arcane smut #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane

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maythedreadwolftakeyou · 2 months ago

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Ranking the Veilguard companions Hookup Potential based on the kind of bed situation they have going on in the Lighthouse

(im in early act 2 so have no idea what further romance scenes are actually like, this is just jokin time without any romance spoilers. just pics of how their respective rooms in the lighthouse look and some basic characterization we know about them)

Taash: 8/10

In another game or the real world I would only rate this a 5 because they have no pillows or addition blankets. however they do have a real bedframe AND it's big enough for 2 which means the they are doing better than 90% of the rest of the Veilguard so this score gets boosted. And while there's not many blankets, there are plenty of braziers around the room to keep you warm, and Taash is probably their own miniature furnace to cuddle up to. Crucially, they also have a whole wheel of cheese next to the bed, which means you don't even have to leave the covers to get a snack after.

Lucanis: 1/10

Oh no. I'm not even going to comment on the pantry angle because everyone else asks him about that to begin with, so this is just about the bed. Unfortunately the bed is a cot made of uneven wooden planks with some blankets on top of it, and is only wide enough for 1. This is because Lucanis hates sleeping and doesn't want to do it, so the less tempting his bed is, the better for him. Unfortunately this means sleepover potential is dreadful and you will have to find alternate solutions. He does at least have another blanket to go over him and one that's presumably being used as a pillow, so, he gets a 1 instead of a 0, but I am still planning on gifting him coupons for a back massage for Satinalia.

Bellara: 4/10

This setup is perfectly fine for sleeping. It's the lighthouse standard little bed couch thing, has a mattress/cushion, is elevated off the floor, has a pillow, and she's got her blankets folded below. Perfectly serviceable for getting a good night's rest which we know Bellara is not because she forgot to sleep again. However, it's very much a one person sized setup. You might be able to cuddle for a while but if one of you unconsciously tries to roll over you are going right to the floor. Ouch.

Lace Harding: 5/10

You might be wondring "why is sleeping on the floor rated higher than bellara's" and the answer is because this means you are not rolling off the bed onto the floor. it's not going to be comfy but we are not ranking comfort here we're ranking sleepover potential. Harding has managed to make this space look homey and the canopy gives the illusion of being in a tent or canopy bed to help with that illusion. There are rugs down on the floor plus the blankets and pillows--we know Harding is used to sleeping on the ground due to her career as a scout, and I'm sure she can scrounge up more blankets to make the cushioning big enough for the both of you. Your back WILL hurt in the morning but you'll get to have a fun night first.

Neve: 3/10

Girl I know you can do better than this. Which means you're not trying to on purpose, so, live your life I guess. I will say this cot IS bounds nicer than Lucanis's--you can see its a stretched canvas or hide on a frame rather than wooden planks, so it will have a little more give. However they are not THAT much comfier which I know having slept on this modern equivalent many times. Neve also apparently has 0 pillows or blankets so you're out of luck there, as well as the problem of it only being wide enough for 1 again. This woman has too many other things going on to think about romance so your Rook is going to be the one improvising on that matter I think.

Davrin: 10/10

Now here is a man who has his life together. Double or queen size mattress, rustic bed frame he probably lovingly carved and assembled himself by hand, and not only are there sheets AND blankets AND pillows, they are are full on matching set and this knight in shining armor dutifully makes the bed every morning. There's also enough pillows for two! While the remains of a giant corpse is hanging above you all night, the spacing of the ribs still gives you lots of room above to manouver, so just don't worry about that. As a bonus you'll probably even have a baby griffon come to cuddle in the night which is such a cute thought we're going to ignore how much worse getting stepped on by a griffon foot would be than even the biggest fattest housecat trying to stand on your stomach at 4:30am. My one criticism of the setup here is that due to the bed's positioning if the person on the inside needs to get up in the night they'll have to awkwardly crawl over the person on the outside, however everyone else's bed situation is so dismal I'm not even going to subtract a point for that. Great work Davrin.

Emmrich: ???/10

Where... does this man sleep. Peepaw I KNOW you can't be sitting in that armchair all night you need your beauty rest!!! There are 0 beds or cots or floor blankets in this man's room. HOW am I supposed to break his pelvis if he has nowhere for us to lie down??? We can't risk that old man's spine on the cobblestone.

Wait... unless. No, surly not. I mean--jk. Unless...? 😳😳😳

is daddy necromancer gonna fuck me on the sacrifice slab... 😳😳😳🥵🥵🥵

Bonus:

Solas 11/10

does not matter where he actually slept bc once my inquisitor Gets Him again they WILL be fucking on top of the piano in front of the mural in his Yearning Room

#i know rook has their own couch thing however this post was funnier without it. also they have 0 pillows/blankets so a 5/10 also.#ramblings #dragon age: veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #dav shitposts #lucanis dellamorte #taash #lucanis #lace harding #harding #bellara #bellara lutare #neve #neve gallus #davrin #emmrich #emmrich volkarin #solas #solavellan #rook #full disclosure after i thought of this and took all these pics i Did get a cutscene where emmrich has a corpse on the table so. not a bed #but for a few days of running around i WAS like... i mean theres nowhere else... what if...#i still think itd be hot #jade plays dav #juniper aldwir #juniper rook #datv #veilguard #also plrease note i made this before i got taash’s Gender Quest… i edited the pronouns after #but the old reblogs that got popular still show ‘she’ sorry

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hexhomos · 2 months ago

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The jayce mel breakup scene was a long time coming and jayce was right (IMO)

What if i told you this entire conversation was not just about their situation but something else. What if told you this is all double-speak criticizing mel's type of self-lucrative governance where only the shiny pearls are elevated from the muck? Where only the prodigies are worth saving?

Why would you save just me? why wouldn't you want to save everyone? This is about the city. This is about her long comfortable reign and how she argues in S1 that Jayce needs to make concessions for corrupt politics, that he needs to mold himself in their image.

You focused on me because I could make you money (that you already HAD) while countless lay dead every day as a consequence of your lack of awareness, your aspirations of empire-metagaming. The richest woman in the city aiming to make herself richer; an impulse she inherited from her family that she reproduced as law. Ten years of this and she's just now waking up. SUCKS!

He's still an investment. He's still base value. This is him after seeing the heat-death of all that exists and realizing all the layers of compliance.

The actual physical pain cutting through. How Jayce starts to glitch out the closer she gets trying to explain how she simply couldn't see all that damage coming as a result of her billionaire machinations & he's once again assaulted by images of THE TOTAL APOCALYPSE that is to come if they just continue to play nice/do nothing to address the present. The way this is also Jayce speaking on Viktor's behalf, positing both of them as an unit when he had no voice against Mel before as a zaunite (see again the bomb scene in s1, Viktor's POV disregarded as Mel focuses on pushing Jayce towards power, the same way Ambessa was preparing Caitlyn to take over, the same patterns.)

Jayce shouldn't even have apologized for this shit he was right but this show hates to talk politics, all of the finale was avoiding the point. This was the bare minimum and ppl still got mad at him for saying it!

#arcane #arcane spoilers #jayce talis #jayce arcane #meta tag #viktor arcane #mel arcane #mel medarda #jayvik #vikjayce #league of legends #jayce league of legends #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #jayce lol #hexposts

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blissfullyecho · 2 months ago

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Become Your Dream Girl in 2025

Defining your dream girl persona

The first step into becoming your dream girl is to have a clear picture of her in your mind. Imagine her life in detail; her aesthetic, her habits, and even her energy. This is the time to get specific.

Visualization Exercise: Sit in a quiet space, close your eyes, and visualize your dream girl persona. How does she dress? What places does she visit? What are her priorities and goals? Let yourself feel her confidence, luxury, and elegance.

Create a Vision Board: Gather photos, quotes, fabrics, and colors that represent this version of you. A physical board can go in your room or closet. It can even be a mini collage you can put on your driver's side mirror in your car. The goal is to see your dream girl's life as real and achievable.

Setting New Year Goals

Your dream girl's life needs structure, so let's break down goals into categories and map out the steps to make it happen.

Categorize Your Goals: List your goals under personal growth, style & beauty, health & wellness, and career & financial. For example, under "Health & Wellness", you might set a goal to try Pilates or to cook more at home.

Monthly Check-Ins: As you go through the year, check in with your goals to celebrate your wins, and adjust as needed. This keeps your transformation on track.

Mindset Makeover

Confidence & Self-Worth

Your dream girl is confident, magnetic, and knows her worth. Let's build those habits and thoughts that help you embody that energy daily.

Positive Affirmations: Every time you look in the mirror, say things like "I am worth everything good that can happen to me" or any affirmation that you feel suits you best.

Confidence Rituals: Small, daily actions add up to huge shifts in confidence. Make it a habit to dress up on casual days, speak kindly to yourself, and embrace good posture.

Let Go of Insecurities: Identify any insecurities and practice reframing them. Instead of "I wish I was more confident", say "I am becoming more confident every day". Over time, you'll notice how these subtle shifts impact your self-worth.

Mindset for Success

Your dream girl is resilient and always growing, so let's make success part of your mindset.

Growth Mindset: View challenges as chances to learn, whether it's a career move, a new hobby, or even a social situation.

Visualizing Success: Each morning, spend a few minutes visualizing yourself living your dream life. This will keep you focused and motivated.

Morning & Evening Routines: Start each day with intention by setting small goals and expressing gratitude. At night, reflect on the day and celebrate your wins; even the small ones.

Social Life & Relationships

Social confidence comes from feeling at ease in your own skin.

Elegant Etiquette: Show appreciation with thank you notes, and make an effort to remember names. The vibe for 2025 is to go for traditional, rather than modern. Think classic early 1920's-1950's Hollywood.

Curate Your Circle: Surround yourself with supportive, inspiring friends who uplift you. Leave the ones who don't elevate themselves or try to keep you behind.

Networking Lifestyle: Turn social gatherings into chances to meet like-minded people and to elevate your circle.

(Dating) Standards First: Don't settle; know what you deserve in a partner and communicate it confidently.

(Dating) Playful Energy: Be confident, flirty, and assertive (with yourself, not them). Stay in your feminine energy and let them earn your time and attention.

(Dating) Relationship Goals: Keep dates special and playful. Dress up, go out, and enjoy yourself.

Finances & Career Goals

Your dream girl values luxury, but also financial security. Your career is part of your dream girl identity, so elevate it.

Budgeting: Set aside money for luxuries and self-investment, but keep savings in mind.

Multiple Income Streams: Consider side hustles that align with your lifestyle.

Savings Goals: Whether it's for a designer bag, a trip, or just building wealth, make sure your goals are concrete.

Luxury Workspace: Make your workspace a vibe with candles, flowers, and chic decor.

Network for Success: Connect with mentors and people who inspire you.

Grow with Intention: Set milestones in your career or business, and keep pushing for the next level.

Health & Wellness

Your body is the vessel of your dream girl, so let's treat it with love and care. Mental clarity and peace are essential for dream girl energy; so let's focus on overall wellness this year.

Exercise: Try Pilates or Barre classes for a toned, elegant look. If that's not your thing, find workouts that create your dream body.

Healthy Eating: Focus on whole foods, lots of veggies, and drink tons of water.

Weekly Reset: Plan a mini detox day where you relax, hydrate, and reset for the week.

Mindfulness Practice: Try a short meditation or breathing exercise every morning.

Stress Relief: Whether it's a quick walk, journaling, or a creative outlet, find a stress relief that's all you.

Boundaries: Say no when needed, and make sure your energy is protected.

Beauty & Style Upgrade

First, a dream girl has that glow, and it all starts with a skincare routine that feels luxurious. You also need to find a style that captures your dream girl vibe, and commit to curating it. Then, you need to develop habits that will help you better your appearance.

Simple Skincare Routine (For Starters): Start with a cleanser for your skin type, followed by a hydrating toner, a serum (like Vitamin C for brightness), moisturizer, and SPF.

Luxury Treatments: Invest in facials or try gentle at-home treatments like dermaplaning once a month for an extra glow.

Nightly Routine: Keep your skin hydrated at night with a heavier moisturizer or an overnight mask.

Personal Style Icons: Think of someone like Serena van der Woodsen from Gossip Girl or a high-fashion model off-duty.

Curating Your Wardrobe: Focus on high-quality staples in neutral tones, like blazers, silky blouses, and tailored bottoms. Invest in timeless pieces that make you feel like a billion dollars.

Signature Look: A dream girl has her thing, whether it's an accessory, a makeup look, or a scent. Find what makes you feel like you and stick with it.

Self-Care Rituals: Prioritize manicures and pedicures, hair masks, and bubble baths. Set aside time every week to pamper yourself.

Polished Look: Even on your most casual days, aim to look put together.

Signature Hair & Makeup: Pick a go-to glam look that embodies your dream girl; maybe that's glossy lips and loose waves (for example).

Lifestyle & Daily Habits

Your routine should feel luxurious yet practical, setting the tone for each day. Small daily habits can transform how you feel and present yourself.

Weekly Pamper Sessions: Set aside Sunday evenings for facials, skincare, and champagne baths! (Be careful and make sure you're of legal drinking age)

Journaling and Reflection: Each morning, write down 3 things you're grateful for and 3 intentions for the day.

Goal Reviews: Every Sunday, celebrate your wins and see if any goals need a refresh.

The Basic Routine: Make your bed, wake up early, and put on an outfit that feels like you.

Energy-Boosting Habits: A quick stretch, a healthy breakfast, and a moment of quiet can make a huge difference.

Wind-Down Ritual: At night, unwind with tea, a bubble bath, or a short meditation to recharge for tomorrow.

Indulge a Little: Get a weekly coffee treat or a luxurious candle that makes your space feel cozy.

Luxury Experiences: Plan for a special outing every month, like a fancy dinner or spa day.

Signature Scents and Cocktails: Find your go-to perfume and a signature drink like a dirty martini or a bubbly glass of champagne.

Conclusion:

Becoming your dream girl is a journey; one that's glamorous, fulfilling, and full of growth. Each step brings you closer to living the life you deserve.

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brunchable · 2 months ago

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𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 [ 3 ]

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Game of Cat and Mouse. Bucky being stubborn as shit. Summary: Things have turned awkward. You and Bucky hasn't spoken with each other for a few days now. But is the much needed space making things better or worse? A/N: Sorry this took so long lmao. My boy got sick and needed my undivided attention my poor baby but he's better now thank god. A/N: I honestly don't know how to top-up the previous parts but shit, I need them to connect to a deeper level first before jumping into full on smut okay? maybe in the next part. The song sums up the whole fic to be honest lol.

You’d become a master at memorizing Bucky’s schedule, knowing exactly when to leave your apartment to avoid any chance of running into him. But lately, it seemed like Bucky had developed the same strategy, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his presence around the building had become increasingly scarce. It was almost as if he was avoiding you instead.

Today, though, you decided to switch things up by taking the stairs. Sure, it was three flights down, but anything was better than the awkward tension of waiting for the elevator and possibly bumping into him. You clung to the faint hope that the odds would work in your favor, that the stairwell would be empty and uneventful.

But as you descended, the sound of footsteps echoed from below, growing louder with every step. Your stomach flipped, an irrational hope bubbling up before you could quash it. Maybe it’s not him, you thought, though deep down, you already knew better.

Rounding the corner, your heart sank and raced all at once. There he was—Bucky, just a few steps below you, pausing mid-step with his hand gripping the railing. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His expression shifted, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by something guarded, his jaw tightening as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh,” you breathed, your voice softer than you’d intended. “Hi.”

His lips pressed into a tight line before he offered a stiff nod. “Hey,” he replied, his voice low, carefully neutral.

You stared at each other for a beat too long, the air between you thick with unsaid words. He looked almost annoyed—not at you, but at the situation, as if running into you had thrown him off his game. And maybe it had, because for the first time, it wasn’t you avoiding him. It was him avoiding you.

“So…taking the stairs now?” His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed a hint of tension, a wall firmly in place.

You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “Yeah, um… decided to switch things up. Exercise, you know.”

He nodded once, his grip tightening briefly on the railing before loosening again. “Right. Exercise.”

Another awkward silence settled over you, the sound of distant voices from above faintly filling the void. You shifted on the step, clutching the railing a little too tightly, your mind scrambling for something to say—something that wouldn’t make things worse. But before you could speak, Bucky cleared his throat and took a step to the side, making way for you to pass.

“Alright,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll… see you around.”

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, hesitating for a moment before you stepped past him. “See you.”

As you descended the stairs, your pulse pounded in your ears, each step feeling heavier than the last. You risked a glance back, only to find him already climbing upward, his shoulders tense, his head down. The image lingered in your mind, the sight of him retreating, the weight of his silence pressing down on you like a stone.

You reached the bottom landing, gripping the railing as you let out a slow breath. Part of you wanted to turn around, to call after him. But the words stayed stuck in your throat, tangled up with your own doubts and fears.

If he didn’t want to talk, you wouldn’t force him. But that didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to bear.

× × × ×

You arrived at work, your mood sour and your thoughts tangled up in that awkward encounter with Bucky on the stairs. The usual morning chatter of the office greeted you. Trying to focus, you went to your desk, arranging your things in a futile attempt to bring some order to your day.

But then you heard them—Trish and Amy, huddled at the corner near the coffee machine, voices low but still clear enough to reach you.

“I just don’t get it,” Trish was saying. “It��s been days, and there’s still no new uploads from SergeantBarnes. Maybe he’s got a new project or something?”

“Or maybe he’s seeing someone?” Amy added with a conspiratorial tone. “I mean, think about it. He’s been off the grid lately. That’s got ‘new fling’ written all over it.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to block out their conversation. It was the last thing you wanted to hear today, and every word just stoked the frustration simmering inside you. You took a deep breath, attempting to rein in your annoyance, but they just kept going, their words grating at you.

“Honestly, it’s like he’s gone quiet for no reason,” Trish went on, sounding genuinely disappointed. “What am I supposed to watch while I’m waiting for Dan to finish his gaming marathons?”

“Is that all you two talk about?”

You couldn’t help it; something inside you snapped. Before you knew it, you turned around, your voice sharper than you intended.

Both Trish and Amy blinked in surprise, their expressions shifting from confusion to embarrassment. You continued, unable to stop yourself now that you’d started.

“You both have partners, for crying out loud. Do you really need to spend every second gossiping about some guy online?”

They exchanged glances, clearly taken aback. “Jeez, sorry,” Trish muttered, looking both defensive and a little hurt. “We didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“It is when we’re supposed to be working,” you replied, more irritated than you’d intended. “Maybe keep the fan talk out of the office? Or, I don’t know, find a hobby that doesn’t involve obsessing over someone else’s life?”

Silence fell as they looked at you, wide-eyed and a bit stunned. Realizing how harsh you’d sounded, you took a step back, immediately feeling a pang of regret. But the frustration from this morning was still fresh, and you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize just yet. Instead, you turned back to your desk, jaw clenched, hoping the tension in the office would dissipate as the day went on.

At the end of your shift, the weight of the day felt heavier than usual. The tension with Bucky hung over you like a cloud, lingering in your thoughts despite your best efforts to shake it off. It shouldn’t even be this deep—so why were you so affected? It’s just a casual thing, you reasoned with yourself. We’re barely even… whatever this is.

Yet, no matter how many times you told yourself to move on, the thought of Bucky—the way he’d looked at you, the frustration and hurt in his eyes—gnawed at you. You found yourself mentally bargaining, trying to find some middle ground, some way to keep your guard up but let him in a little, too. Maybe if I didn’t overthink it… if I just let it be whatever it is, I wouldn’t feel this way.

As you gathered your things, ready to head out, Trish and Amy approached with hesitant smiles.

“Hey, you okay?” Trish asked gently, her earlier excitement replaced with genuine concern.

You managed a small, apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry about this morning,” you said, glancing between them. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you both. Just… a rough few days.”

They nodded in understanding, exchanging a quick look before Trish turned back to you.

“No worries, but hey, if there’s something bothering you… maybe we can help? What do you say to grabbing some dinner with us? We can talk or not talk about it?”

Amy’s face lit up as she chimed in. “Yeah! You shouldn’t have to stew over whatever it is alone. Come on, let us treat you to some comfort food.”

Their unexpected warmth and support tugged at something in you, and you felt the weight on your shoulders ease just a little.

With a small smile, you nodded. “Sure, that sounds nice. Thanks, guys.”

They grinned, and without missing a beat, each linked an arm through yours on either side, leading you toward the door as if they were determined to help you shake off every ounce of stress you’d been carrying. As you walked together, their chatter filled the air, and you let yourself settle into the easy companionship, hoping that maybe tonight would give you the reset you needed.

× × × ×

Across town, Bucky was pouring everything he had into the punching bag in front of him, each hit landing with a force that reverberated through his whole body. The gym was nearly empty, giving him the space to unload, each punch fueled by the frustration and confusion that had been building inside him for days. His jaw was clenched, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he moved, his muscles tense and coiled with pent-up energy. The sharp sound of his fists colliding with the bag echoed through the room, filling the silence as he worked to dump every complicated thought he’d been grappling with.

He had no reason to be as affected as he was, but the whole situation with you had hit him harder than he expected. He’d thought he could brush it off, ignore the strange ache that crept up every time he thought about your last conversation, but it stuck with him.

After a final, powerful jab, Bucky took a step back, breathing heavily as he let his hands drop to his sides. His mind was still a storm of thoughts, the adrenaline from his workout doing little to clear his head.

When he wasn’t working off steam in the gym, Bucky’s day-to-day was far less chaotic than most people would assume. As an automotive engineer at Ford, he spent hours each day under the hood, designing, testing, and refining high-performance engines. His focus had always been on innovation, on precision, on building something that could withstand any test. It was work he loved—real work, with real meaning, where every bolt and every part had a purpose.

The other job, his work in front of the camera, was different. It was an outlet, a separate side of himself he’d chosen to explore. People saw it for what it was on the surface, but it never felt like the core of who he was. You, however, had somehow managed to blur the lines between the two worlds in a way that left him unsteady. And for the first time, he found himself wondering if keeping his other job had been the right one.

The memory of your face—surprised, hesitant, almost wounded—came rushing back to him, making his chest tighten with something more complicated than he was prepared to face.

Why did it matter so much? She’s just my neighbor, he thought.

He sighed, pressing his gloved fists to his forehead as he tried to shake off the ache that had settled there. For now, all he could do was keep hitting, keep moving, hoping that maybe, at some point, the weight of it would finally start to lighten.

Later that evening, Bucky found himself in his kitchen, mindlessly stirring a pot on the stove. The rhythmic motion and steady bubbling should have been enough to distract him, but his thoughts kept drifting—inevitably back to you.

He remembered the first time you’d crossed paths in the building, how you’d barely glanced at him as you carried a pile of boxes through the hallway. It had amused him, how determined you were to act unaffected, especially after that sudden recognition flashed in your eyes. That little double-take when you realized who he was had been priceless. He’d leaned into that reaction ever since, throwing little teases and comments just to see your reaction, to see the way your cheeks would flush or how your gaze would flit away, only to sneak back.

There was something refreshing about the way you seemed to care so little about the reputation attached to him—so different from others he’d met. And maybe that was why he couldn’t resist teasing you, why he went out of his way to bump into you, to throw in a bit of banter just to see if he could make you smile or throw him a comeback.

But he never expected it to go beyond that. He didn’t expect that somewhere along the line, those little interactions would turn into something he looked forward to. And now, somehow, it had gotten tangled up with feelings he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

Bucky stirred the pot a little too vigorously, and a few drops splashed over the edge, hissing as they hit the stovetop. His hand stilled as he sighed, feeling the frustration bubble up all over again. This is my fault, he thought, jaw clenching slightly. I shouldn’t have come onto her too strong.

He hadn’t realized he was stirring so absentmindedly until the pot suddenly began to overflow, the liquid spilling over the edge and sizzling against the hot burner. With a muttered curse, he quickly grabbed a towel, lifting the pot off the heat and wiping up the mess, the sharp smell of burnt food pulling him out of his thoughts.

As he turned off the stove, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to make things right with you.

× × × ×

After a long day, you found yourself standing outside Bucky’s door, nerves twisting in your stomach. Just apologize, you told yourself, trying to gather the courage. Get it over with and clear the air. But as you stared at the door, words rehearsed in your mind, you found yourself hesitating. You’d been standing there so long that you’d lost track of time, each second stretching as you cycled through a list of possible things to say, none of which seemed quite right.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock when a light, feminine laugh floated through the door, catching you off guard. You froze, your hand mid-air, as the laughter was followed by a familiar deep chuckle. Bucky’s.

"Alright, alright,” you heard him say, sounding more relaxed than you’d ever heard him with you. There was a warmth in his voice that sent a pang through your chest, the kind that came from comfort, closeness.

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you didn’t miss me,” the woman teased, her tone playful and affectionate. “I know you. You’re never this nice to anyone else.”

You swallowed, something tightening in your chest as you listened.

"Alright, guilty," Bucky’s voice softened, almost shy. "Guess you’ve always been a bit of a soft spot."

Your heart twisted, her words and his response echoing in your mind, each line pulling you deeper into a sense of unease. Soft spot? Nice to her in a way he wasn’t with anyone else?

Your mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion, and your cheeks heated as your throat tightened. You felt silly for standing there now, silly for even considering coming over to apologize. What were am I doing? Of course he's with someone.

Just then, you heard footsteps approaching the door, and panic flared. You turned, bolting toward your own apartment, fumbling with your keys as you heard Bucky’s door open behind you. Just as you managed to close your door, you caught a glimpse of him glancing down the hall, his gaze lingering on your door with a curious look.

Bucky’s sister, Becca, caught him glancing toward your door, she raised an eyebrow, nudging him with a knowing smile.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, a touch of teasing in her voice. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky gave his head a quick shake, trying to dismiss the worry that had settled there.

“Yeah, yeah… it’s nothing. Just thought I saw something,” he replied, though his gaze lingered a moment longer on your door before he finally turned back to Becca.

She didn’t look convinced. Folding her arms, she tilted her head, giving him a look that only an older sister could manage—the kind that saw right through any attempt to hide.

“Are you sure? You’ve seemed a little off tonight, Bucky. I don’t think it’s nothing.”

Bucky held up his hands defensively, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips as he tried to brush her off.

“Nothing! Really, it’s nothing. Now go home, seriously,” he insisted, ushering her toward the elevator with a slight push.

Becca rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it for a second.

“Right. Nothing,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she gave him a knowing look. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered, a bit more forcefully this time, though he couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Go on before you start reading my palm or something.”

Becca laughed, throwing her hands up in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” she said as she stepped into the elevator, though she gave him one last pointed look as the doors began to close. “But, Bucky? maybe figure out what you want before you drive yourself crazy over it.”

With that, the doors shut, leaving Bucky standing in the quiet hallway, he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he glanced back toward your door.

Later that night, Bucky found himself slumped on his couch, phone in hand as he stared at the search bar. He let out a huff, rolling his eyes at himself as he typed: signs you’re into someone.

The results loaded quickly, and he clicked the first article, skimming the list with a mixture of skepticism and, admittedly, nervous anticipation.

Sign #1: You can’t stop thinking about them.

He paused, frowning at the screen. “Okay, that’s… kind of obvious,” he muttered, mentally ticking off that box with a begrudging sigh.

Sign #2: You go out of your way to see them.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at his phone, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“That one’s just stupid. I mean, we live in the same building. I don’t go out of my—” He paused, remembering all the times he’d “accidentally” found himself in the hallway when you’d get back from work, or when he’d gone to the laundry room at oddly specific times. “Okay, fine. Maybe sometimes.”

He kept scrolling, and the list grew more absurd—do you get jealous when they talk about other people? Do you go out of your way to impress them? By the end of it, he’d mentally checked off nearly every box, his expression morphing into a blend of reluctant acceptance and amusement.

Bucky sighed, tossing his phone onto the couch beside him.

“What am I, sixteen?” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. Here he was, a grown man, looking up articles about crushes and ticking off boxes like he needed some random website to validate what he already knew.

But as he sat there, he realized it wasn’t the checklist itself—it was the fact that, for the first time in a long time, he felt like this. Like he actually cared about where things went, enough to drive him to ridiculous measures for some kind of clarity.

With a sigh, he leaned back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of realization settling in. Bucky stared at the ceiling for a few more moments, letting out a deep sigh before grabbing his phone again and pulling up his contacts. Scrolling down to “Steve,” he hesitated for a beat before tapping the call button.

It rang twice before his friend picked up with a cheerful, “Yellow?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, smiling anyway. “Hey, punk.”

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice was light, clearly amused. “What’s up? It’s been a while since you called just to say ‘hi.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I… actually had a question. Kind of. For… a friend.”

“Oh, a ‘friend,’ huh? Sure, I’m listening.” Steve chuckled on the other end, and Bucky could practically hear the grin in his voice.

Bucky cleared his throat, leaning back into the couch.

“Right. So, uh, hypothetically speaking… how do you know if, you know, if you’re into someone? Like, in a way that’s… not just friendly?” His words tumbled out, each one feeling more absurd than the last.

“Your ‘friend’ wants to know how to tell if they’ve got a crush, huh? Didn’t realize we were back in high school, Buck.” Steve snorted, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Bucky sighed, feeling his face heat up. “Look, if you’re gonna be annoying, I’ll just—”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry,” Steve said quickly, though he was still chuckling. “Okay, seriously. Well… I guess if your ‘friend’ can’t stop thinking about her, or if he finds himself looking for reasons to be around her, that’s usually a sign. Or if he’s, you know, protective, feels that weird jealousy thing… you know how it goes.”

Bucky was silent for a second, swallowing as he mentally ticked off each of Steve’s points. “Right. Yeah. Hypothetically, that makes sense,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“And,” Steve continued, now sounding suspiciously entertained, “if your ‘friend’ is calling up his actual best friend in the middle of the night to figure it out… well, that might be a bit of a giveaway, too.”

Bucky groaned, falling back into the couch with a scowl. “Alright, alright, I get it. Thanks, Steve.”

But Steve wasn’t finished. “Hey, Buck? If you’re asking for yourself—which we both know you are—maybe just tell her how you feel. You’re not as subtle as you think, and if she’s worth this much thought… she’s probably worth the risk, too.”

Bucky was quiet, swallowing the mix of nerves and excitement that Steve’s words stirred up. “…Yeah. Thanks, pal.”

× × × ×

The next morning, you were practically sprinting down the hall, head ducked and heart racing, when you heard him call out, “Hey! Y/N—wait up!”

You didn’t dare look back, only quickened your steps, praying he’d let it go. But his footsteps grew closer, and just as you reached the lobby, you felt a hand gently graze your shoulder.

With an awkward yelp, you dodged sideways, almost colliding with a potted plant as you called over your shoulder, “Sorry, Bucky—gotta go! Late for work!”

You bolted through the doors, ignoring the bewildered look he gave you as you disappeared into the morning rush.

You turned off your phone completely, just to avoid the constant notifications. His messages had started out simple—Hey, can we talk?—but quickly escalated. Each ding had become a taunt, a reminder that, even though he seemed persistent, there was no other reason to face him now. You left your phone off for nearly a full day, and by the time you turned it back on, there were over a dozen missed calls and messages waiting for you, each one a pinch of guilt you tried to ignore.

And just when you thought you’d mastered the art of dodging, fate had other plans.

Untik one bleary-eyed morning, as you rushed out of your apartment with a coffee in one hand and your bag slipping off the other shoulder, you came face-to-face with Bucky at the end of the hallway. There was no escape route this time; he was standing right in your path, his arms folded and an expression somewhere between concerned and utterly frustrated.

You tried to step to the left, but he mirrored you, stepping right into your path.

You shifted right, and he stepped left, blocking you again.

You both paused, sizing each other up. Then, in unison, you both moved left, only to collide shoulders. You exhaled in frustration, darting to the right, but he sidestepped with you again.

“Bucky, please,” you groaned, your patience wearing thin, feeling the minutes tick closer to being late. “I have to go.”

His eyes softened just a little, but he didn’t budge. “Not until you stop running away from me. Can we just talk?”

You scowled, giving him one last sidestep to the left, only to be blocked again. With a frustrated sigh, you finally did the only thing left: you placed both hands on his chest and gave him a firm push, slipping past him before he could react.

“I’m late,” you muttered, not looking back as you all but jogged down the hallway, leaving Bucky in the wake of your retreat, his gaze following you with an expression that told you he wasn’t giving up. Hell no.

× × × ×

Until one day, when you were in the middle of work, a receptionist from the ground floor called up to tell you that someone wanted to see you. Curiosity and irritation flared as you made your way down, a frown already forming on your face. And the second you spotted him—standing in the lobby, arms crossed, looking as frustrated as you’d ever seen him—you felt your heart drop.

You turned on your heel, muttering to yourself, “Unbelievable…” But before you could make it far, he called out.

“Y/N!” His voice echoed across the lobby, and you turned back with a glare.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bucky?” you hissed, stepping closer so your conversation stayed private, though part of you just wanted to get him out of the building before anyone noticed.

His jaw was set, his gaze determined. “Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Nothing should have happened between us. Let’s just… leave it at that.”

He frowned, visibly taken aback by your bluntness.

“How can you say that?” he demanded, his voice low but intense.

Your throat tightened, but you held your ground.

“I need to get back to work,” you said, not meeting his eyes. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you once again.

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly. “I’ll wait right here until you clock out if that’s what it takes. We’re going to talk, Y/N.”

You groaned, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Bucky, go home.”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he took a seat in one of the lobby chairs, crossing his arms and settling in as if he were prepared to stay all night. Despite the receptionist’s raised eyebrows and curious glances from passing employees, Bucky stayed put, a stubborn expression on his face that only grew more determined with each hour that passed.

Throughout the afternoon, you tried to focus on your work, but every so often, curiosity and frustration got the better of you. By mid-afternoon, you found yourself messaging the receptionist, unable to resist asking, “Is he still there?”

The reply was quick and confirmed what you feared: “He hasn’t moved. Just sitting there, staring at his phone.”

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt despite yourself. “Could you… maybe offer him a drink or something? He’s not going to leave, is he?”

The receptionist’s response was amused. “Already tried. Said he’s fine, but he appreciates it.”

The next day, he was there again, seated in the same chair, his arms crossed and his expression set like stone. This time, he came prepared—there was coffee waiting on the front desk with your name on it. When Trish and Amy teased you about the mysterious admirer, you convinced them to sneak out the back exit with you after work.

The day after that, he stepped it up. Roses. A beautiful arrangement of vibrant blooms appeared on your desk, the receptionist delivering them with a knowing smile. Your coworkers were relentless, whispering about your "secret boyfriend" and giving you sly grins every time they passed your desk. Again, you dodged them and Bucky, slipping out the back exit before he could catch you.

But no matter how much you avoided him, Bucky didn’t give up. Each morning, he was there, as stubborn as a mule—or more appropriately, as stubborn as Bucky Barnes. His persistence was unwavering, his resolve impossible to break.

Finally, on the fourth day, the receptionist herself came up to your floor, pulling you aside with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.

“Y/N,” she began, her tone friendly but firm, “you’ve got to talk to him.”

Your stomach twisted as you glanced at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection.

“Your man. He’s down there again. Same chair, same determined look. And he’s got flowers. Again.” She folded her arms, her expression softening slightly. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he’s been here every day for the past four days. He’s polite, patient, doesn’t bother anyone, but... it’s obvious he’s waiting for you.”

Your cheeks burned, and you felt the weight of her words settle over you. “He’s not my—”

“Y/N.” She cut you off, giving you a pointed look. “Just talk to him. If for no other reason than to put him out of his misery. I’ve worked here for five years, and I’ve never seen anyone that persistent. Trust me, most guys wouldn’t even wait an hour.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “He’s... complicated.”

The receptionist chuckled, shaking her head. “Aren’t they all? But the way he’s sitting down there, looking like a kicked puppy one minute and a stubborn bulldog the next? That’s not complicated. That’s someone who cares.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Don’t let something good slip away just because it’s messy.”

Her words lingered long after she walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway, your heart thundering in your chest. You peeked toward the elevator, debating whether you could sneak out through the back again. But deep down, you knew she was right.

Bucky was waiting. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your things, bracing yourself for what was bound to be another conversation you weren’t sure you were ready for.

× × × ×

You stepped into the lobby, your pulse quickened. There he was, sitting exactly where he’d planted himself hours ago, looking a little rumpled, maybe even tired, but every bit as determined as ever. His gaze lifted the moment you appeared, and for a second, his whole expression softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat. Relief, warmth, maybe even something more—it was all there, clear as day, and somehow it made this moment feel… different.

Bucky rose, a small, boyish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he approached. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, letting the silence between you speak. The noise of the lobby faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a quiet, invisible bubble.

You forced yourself to stay steady, trying to keep the upper hand. Arms crossed, you raised an eyebrow at him. “So… you camped out here all day?”

His smile turned a little sheepish, but there was no hint of apology in his tone.

“Told you I’d wait. Figured you’d come down eventually.” He took a half-step closer, his voice soft and warm, laced with that casual mischief that made it impossible not to smile.

You rolled your eyes, biting back the smile creeping up. “Could’ve just… I don’t know, texted? Called? Like a normal person?”

He tilted his head, his grin widening just enough to make your heart trip over itself.

“I tried that, remember? Didn’t seem to work on you.” He shrugged, completely unfazed. “So I figured I’d go old-school. Sometimes persistence pays off.”

“Persistence,” you muttered, pretending to sound exasperated. “You mean showing up uninvited?”

Before Bucky could answer, the unmistakable chatter of Trish and Amy echoed from the elevator behind you. Your heart jumped into your throat. Oh no. Absolutely not.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to Bucky, practically pressing yourself against him as you yanked your bag off your shoulder and lifted it up like a makeshift shield to block both of your faces.

Bucky froze, his body stiffening at your sudden proximity, but his expression quickly shifted to pure amusement. His lips twitched as he looked down at you, your bag wobbling precariously on the side of your faces.

“Um… what are you doing?” he whispered, his breath brushing against your forehead.

“Shhh!” you hissed, tilting the bag slightly to peek over it. Trish and Amy were slowly walking toward the front doors, their voices growing louder. “Just… don’t move. They can’t see me with you.”

“And why’s that?” Bucky asked, his voice low and teasing, though he didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned down a fraction, his face hovering closer to yours. “Afraid they’ll get the wrong idea?”

“No, I’m afraid they’ll get the right idea,” you snapped under your breath, glaring up at him.

His eyes sparkled, and his grin widened. “Oh, really? And what idea would that be, sweetheart?”

“Bucky,” you warned, the heat rising in your cheeks as you tilted your bag higher, completely covering his smirking face.

But Bucky didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he seemed more amused, his gaze dropping to your face like you were the most fascinating thing he laid eyes upon. His voice softened, the teasing edge replaced by something warmer.

“You know, you’re really bad at hiding.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

He chuckled, his chest vibrating lightly against you. “Not gonna lie, this might be the highlight of my day. You, using me as a human shield. Very flattering.”

“Oh shut up,” you whispered, but your voice wavered, betraying the way your pulse was racing.

Trish and Amy finally passed by, oblivious to the two of you tucked against the corner. You let out a breath of relief, slowly lowering your bag. But before you could step away, you realized how close you were—Bucky’s face mere inches from yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

His voice dropped, soft and almost reverent. “You can hide from them all you want. But you can’t keep hiding from me, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare back at him, caught in the pull of his gaze. The noise of the lobby faded again, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

“I told you,” he murmured, his tone steady but impossibly gentle. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

You tried to ignore the thrill of butterflies that his words sparked. “Like I said, there’s nothing to talk about, Bucky. We should just keep our distance from each other okay?”

He took a steadying breath, his brows drawing together, his voice losing that playful edge.

“How can you just decide that?” he asked, his tone almost pleading. “You don’t even know…”

You shifted, heart pounding. “Because I know you’re already seeing someone else. I don’t need to be another complication in your life.”

He blinked, visibly taken aback. And then, just as quickly, his face softened, an incredulous, almost disbelieving laugh escaping him.

“Seeing someone else? Where did you get that idea?”

Heat crept up your cheeks as you tried to hold your ground. “I—I heard her, okay? When I was at your door the other day. The laughing, the… the way you sounded with her…” You bit your lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“Oh.”

He let out another breathy laugh, shaking his head as if you’d just told him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“Y/N… that wasn’t a date. She’s not—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of exasperation and utter amusement. “She’s my sister.”

Your mouth dropped open, the realization hitting you like a freight train. “… what?”

“Yeah, my sister, Becca. She was just in town visiting.” He gave you a look of pure, amused disbelief, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “God, you really thought I was seeing someone?”

“Well, what else was I supposed to think?” you muttered, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Bucky’s smile softened, and he took another step closer, until there was hardly any space between you.

“You should’ve just asked,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “Instead of. . . I don’t know? Avoiding me like the plague?”

You tried to summon a retort, but your heart was racing, your thoughts jumbled by his proximity and the way his gaze seemed to hold you captive.

Bucky chuckled, the sound soft and full of affection as he reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“All this because of a misunderstanding?” His voice was low, his hand lingering, fingers brushing against your cheek. “I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out why you’re dead set on ignoring me.”

You managed to look up at him, heart pounding as you searched his eyes, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“So… you’re not seeing anyone?”

“There’s only one person I want to see,” he murmured, his hand dropping from your face and now brushing against your arm. “And I thought I’m making that pretty clear?”

Your mouth opened and closed then opened again, “Okay. . .”

“Okay. . .” Bucky chuckles and steps back, “Shall we. . . restart?”

A flicker of surprise crossed your face, and a warmth bloomed in your chest at his invitation. You’d spent so many days tangled in your own assumptions, convinced things between you were over before they even began, and here he was, offering an olive branch with that disarming smile.

“Restart?” you echoed, your heart skipping a beat as you met his gaze.

He nodded, his expression softening even more. “Yeah.”

You gave him a small, hesitant smile, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. “Yeah… I think I’d like that.”

Bucky’s grin widened, relief and something warmer sparking in his eyes. “Great. Let’s go home?”

“U-Uh, sure.”

× × × ×

The streets were alive with the hum of the city—cars rushing by, distant chatter from groups of people, and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. But despite the liveliness around you, there was an unspoken tension in the air.

You noticed the way women’s heads turned as you passed, their gazes lingering a little too long on Bucky. It didn’t help that he looked effortlessly handsome, his casual outfit somehow drawing more attention than it should have. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, but another part couldn’t blame them.

Bucky didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. His focus remained on you, his stride matching yours, though there was a slight hesitation in his step.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured, glancing up at him as you adjusted the bouquet in your arms.

He let out a soft hum, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Just thinking,” he said, his voice low.

“About?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly before he finally spoke. “About that night.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you instinctively looked away, focusing on the ground ahead of you.

“I thought we weren’t going to bring that up,” you said softly, your voice tinged with both unease and curiosity.

“We have to talk about it eventually,” he replied, his tone steady but gentle. “I don’t like leaving things unresolved, Y/N.”

When you finally reached the corner of your block, you slowed your steps. Bucky noticed, his own pace matching yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The two of you moved to the quieter steps of your building, sitting side by side. The soft hum of the city buzzed around you, but it felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely. Your bag rested on your lap, your face soft under the streetlights, but the tension in the air was anything but light.

Bucky broke the silence first, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I’ve been wanting to say this for a while,” he started, his voice low but steady. “That night… I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself.”

You blinked, turning to him in surprise. “Mad at yourself?”

He nodded, his jaw clenching for a moment before he continued. “Yeah. I thought I’d scared you off, made you feel like I wasn’t taking you seriously. The last thing I ever wanted was for you to think I was just… using you.”

Your fingers tightened around the bouquet, the ache in his voice tugging at something deep in your chest.

“Bucky, it wasn’t just about you,” you admitted quietly. “It was me, too. I panicked. I wasn’t sure if I could handle…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Handle what your life looks like.”

His head tilted slightly, his blue eyes softening as he looked at you. “Because of my job,” he said gently, not as a question, but a statement.

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“It’s hard, Bucky. I hear my coworkers talking about you—about SergeantBarnes—all the time. They don’t know it’s you, but it’s constant. They treat you like… like you’re this fantasy, this unattainable thing. And it’s not just them. It’s everyone who sees you online, who only knows that part of you.”

He stayed silent, letting your words settle, his gaze never leaving your face.

“And then there’s me,” you continued, your voice wavering slightly. “I don’t want to be another name on a list or someone who gets overshadowed by… by the version of you that everyone else thinks they know.”

Bucky leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees as he turned his head to look at you. The streetlights cast a soft glow over his face, highlighting the sincerity in his expression.

“I get that,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “And I hate that you feel that way. But Y/N, you’re not another name on a list to me. You’re not someone who gets lost in all of that… noise.”

You held his gaze, the weight of his words settling in your chest. His patience today, his persistence—it wasn’t the action of someone who saw you as fleeting or inconsequential. It was the effort of someone who cared, deeply.

Bucky sighed softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I’ve kept my work and personal life separate for a reason. It’s always been easier to compartmentalize, to keep everything from bleeding into each other. But now? Now I realize that I didn’t think about what would happen if someone—if you—became significant to me.”

Your chest tightened, his words chipping away at the insecurities you’d been holding onto. “Bucky…”

Bucky turned toward you fully, his blue eyes locking onto yours, raw and unguarded in a way that made your heart ache.

“If I told you that I want to spend every day and night with you—not just because I like you, but because you’ve become the one constant person I can’t stop thinking about. If I told you that you’re my sanity when the world feels like chaos, my laughter, my desire, my comfort, my day and my night, my cold and heat—If I told you that, would you think that translates to only wanting you as ‘one of my girls’?”

Your breath caught, the raw honesty in his words shaking you. “Bucky…”

“I know my job makes things messy,” he continued, his voice quieter now, like he was almost ashamed. “But I get it—I get why it’s hard for you. I hate that it’s something that puts distance between us.”

He looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “If I could go back and change things, I would. I’d do whatever it takes to make this easier for you.”

Your throat tightened, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to speak.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to change who you are for me,” you said softly.

“It’s not about changing who I am,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s about making sure I don’t lose something.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, his hands fidgeting as he leaned back against the step, staring up at the night sky for a moment before turning his gaze back to you.

“I’m gonna be really honest with you, Y/N,” he started, his voice low, hesitant. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do about the… other stuff yet. It’s not as simple as just walking away. I’ve got contracts, commitments—it’s not something I can just drop overnight.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you nodded, appreciating his honesty even as the knot in your stomach grew.

"And that means... what exactly?" you asked, even though deep down, you already knew.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he let out an exasperated chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Do you really want me to say it? Do I have to say it?”

You didn’t flinch this time, your voice cutting through the tension with unsettling clarity. “It means you have to keep having sex with other porn stars… right?”

Bucky winced at the bluntness of your question, the words hitting him harder than he expected. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the ground as he wrestled with what felt like shame.

You sighed heavily, pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead as you shut your eyes tightly. Your mind was spinning, your emotions tangled in a knot you couldn’t untie. Out of all the men that could catch your interest, why did it have to be him?

“You are the most complicated guy I’ve ever met,” you said, letting out a short, humorless laugh that carried no amusement, only exhaustion. “Oh my gosh, I honestly don’t even know—” You paused, your voice faltering as you opened your eyes and looked at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “How would you make it easier for me, Bucky? How?”

Bucky swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his lips parted, his gaze flickering over your face. He was clearly thinking, his mind working furiously to find a solution, any solution.

"Do you… not like the idea of me with other women?" he asked tentatively, his tone cautious.

You snorted, narrowing your eyes at him. "That’s a stupid question, Bucky."

"Just say yes or no," he pressed, his gaze intent.

"Yes, I do not like the idea," you snapped, your tone sharp with irritation. "But I can’t prevent it, can I?"

Bucky took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he stared at you. Then, his next words came out carefully, almost testing the waters.

“What if. . .you do it with me?”

Your eyes widened, disbelief flooding your expression as his suggestion hung in the air.

Slowly, a startled laugh escaped your lips.

"Are you joking? You’re out of your mind if you think I’d showcase my body to the world like that!"

"I’m not saying you have to," he said quickly, his hands raising defensively. "I just thought… maybe it’d feel different. Less like I’m with strangers. Maybe it’d feel like I’m with you."

"Bucky," you said, your voice heavy with disbelief, "that’s not a solution. That’s… whatever that is, it’s insane."

His shoulders sagged slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the roots in frustration.

“I know it sounds insane,” he muttered, his tone rough. “But I’m trying to find a way to make this work. To make this easier for you.”

You shook your head, letting out a long breath. You stared at Bucky, your frustration and disbelief simmering just beneath the surface.

“Me… doing that with you? Just so I can handle this better?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know. But I hate the thought of you being upset every time I have to perform. And yeah, maybe it’s a selfish thought, but if it were with you… at least it’d feel real. Like it means something.”

You bit your lip, his words tugging at something inside you. But the idea of putting yourself in front of a camera, of having your body displayed for the world—it made your stomach churn. "Bucky, that’s not… I don’t know if I could ever do that. It’s not me. It’s not what I want people to see of me."

He nodded slowly, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I get that," he said softly. "But if it’s the only way to make this easier for you… I just thought—"

"You thought what?" you interrupted, cutting him off. "That I’d suddenly be okay with the idea of putting my body out there for millions of people to see? That I’d somehow be okay sharing you like that, even if it’s just on-screen?"

Bucky flinched at your tone, his jaw tightening. "I don’t want you to share me. I don’t want any of this to be a problem for us. But you don’t trust that I’m serious about you, and I’m just trying to find a way to show you."

You let out a shaky breath, your thoughts spinning. He wasn’t wrong—it was hard to trust, hard to believe that someone with a job like his could be serious about anyone, let alone you. But his suggestion… it wasn’t the answer. Was it?

For a moment, you considered something that had never crossed your mind before. The idea was ludicrous, insane even, but it lingered in the back of your thoughts like a whisper. Your lips parted hesitantly, the words tasting strange on your tongue as you said them.

"If I agreed… hypothetically," you started, your voice faltering slightly, "would I… would I have to show my face?"

Bucky blinked, taken aback by your question. For a moment, his expression softened, a mix of relief and regret washing over his face.

“It’s only a suggestion. . . you don’t have to do this, if you’re uncomfortable." he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I just… I threw it out there because I’m desperate to find a way to make this work.”

You exhaled, shaking your head.

“I don’t know. But the thought of you with someone else… it makes me sick. And now I feel like I’m stuck, like there’s no winning in this situation.”

Bucky studied you for a long moment, his blue eyes filled with understanding. You could see him weighing his next words carefully, as if they could tip the balance in either direction.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft yet steady. “You know what? Forget I said any of that,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s too much for tonight. For both of us.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. “Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, shaking his head. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to feel like this has to be some big, impossible decision right now. We’re both exhausted from this conversation, and I don’t want to mess it up any more than I already have.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, a mix of relief and guilt swirling in your chest. He was giving you an out, a way to step back from the overwhelming weight of it all, and you weren’t sure whether to thank him or cry.

“How about this,” Bucky said, leaning forward slightly, his tone softer now. “Let’s just… hit pause for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll do something normal. Something simple. Let’s go on a date—no heavy talks, no complicated feelings. Just us.”

Your eyes searched his, finding nothing but sincerity in his gaze. It wasn’t an easy fix, and it wouldn’t erase the doubts or the fears that still lingered between you. But it was a step forward, a way to reconnect without the weight of everything else pressing down on you both.

“A date?” you asked, your lips twitching into a hesitant smile.

“Yeah,” he said, his smile growing a little. “Somewhere fun, somewhere we can just… breathe. No drama, no cameras, just you and me.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You make it sound so easy.”

Bucky’s grin widened, and he shrugged, a teasing glint in his eye. “That’s because it can be. We don’t have to solve everything at once, Y/N. We just have to take it one step at a time.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension in your chest loosen ever so slightly.

“Alright,”you said, your voice steadying. “Tomorrow, we’ll go on a date.”

Bucky’s smile was warm and genuine, and for a moment, the weight of the evening lifted.

"Awesome," he said, standing up and offering you his hand. "Now, let me walk you up. Can’t let you carry bag on your own."

You laughed softly, taking his hand as he helped you to your feet. As the two of you walked back into your building, the night air seemed a little lighter. Although at the back of your thought, a question lingers. Should you agree to his suggestion?

tags: @bohoooitsme @barnescamboy @strangefunthornqueen @mayusenpai666 @seven0714

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@antiartemis @imagoddessinmystories @let-it-sn0o0ow @mostlymarvelgirl @crdgn

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pathologicalreid · 2 months ago

Text

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #margovember #kindergarten teacher!reader

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paarksunghoon · 3 months ago

Note

Please please sunghoon with a size kink please ugh I need him so bad

ngnnfngf. I’m crazy for him.

***

“Look at you,” Sunghoon coos when he hovers his naked body over yours. It makes you feel like he’s inspecting you, making you feel much smaller than you are but you can’t say you don’t love it. His hands push out to touch your soft breasts before dragging it down the side of your body, prying your legs open wider.

He takes ahold of his cock and spreads his precum onto himself, stroking with the flick of his wrist expertly. Sunghoon swipes the head with the pad of his thumb when he watches you constrict around nothing and lets a wad of spit fall from his mouth until it glistens over your folds.

Sunghoon looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He grabs the base of his cock until it situates on your pussy. The warmth of your skin makes Sunghoon feel like he might as well be set aflame. The skin on skin contact makes his shoulders feel weaker by the minute and it doesn’t help that you’re looking at him like he’s what you dream of.

“You have such a tiny pussy.” His cock jumps at the observation, tip nudging your clit softly. “I don’t know if I’ll fit.”

With his grip, Sunghoon glides his dick between your folds and pushes back enough just for the head to catch in your hole. He does it again and again until he throws his head back in pleasure, loving the way your wet sounds echo throughout the room.

Should he be doing this with you right now? Probably not. But you looked so good tonight that he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take you back to his hotel room when he saw you wearing that number he liked so much.

Even now, with your body underneath his, does Sunghoon think you look divine as ever. He pushes the head into you and uses his fingers to keep it there and watches your pussy envelope him with ease. He looks so big like this, even with just a little bit of himself inside of you.

“God, you’re so fucking tiny around me. How’s my cock gonna fuck you properly if you can’t even take my tip?”

His words make you gush arousal. Sunghoon stands higher on his knees and pushes another inch inside of you before he feels you clenching around him. His restraint flies out the window and he pushes the rest of his cock inside of you, savoring the intense moan that comes from deep within your body when he does so.

“I’ll make my cock fit into your pussy, baby. Don’t worry.”

It’s not enough for Sunghoon to be wrapped up in you. Instead, he thrusts hastily a few times before pulling you up off of the bed with his cock still inside you and pushes your hips against him with your legs dangling on either side of his body, enjoying the sound of your skin slapping against his. Sunghoon walks to where the large wall mirror is and fucks you right in front of him, watching as your back muscles tighten every time he impales you with his big, hard dick.

Sunghoon grips your ass for balance and digs his fingertips into your meaty flesh when you cling onto him. Seeing your size difference turns him on in ways he can’t describe, loving the way he overpowers you completely. You’re at his complete mercy with the way you’re clawing at his biceps and hanging onto him like you’re afraid he’ll drop you and stop fucking you. He has no intentions to quit right now.

He watches the way his balls constrict in the mirror every time you clench so hard that his cock nearly falls out of you. It’s so hot that Sunghoon moans right into your mouth when he kisses you, shoving his tongue against yours to elevate his orgasm. He feels you creaming around him already with the angle he’s holding you at and he’s sure your body has fallen limp from the pleasure and grip he has on you.

His legs start to burn after fucking you in this standing position for a while but it doesn’t deter him. Your body that barely covers his in the mirror aids his orgasm, pushing him across the finish line as he widens his stance and fucks into your pussy without any constraint.

He doesn’t stop thrusting even when his cum starts to ooze from between your bodies. It drips down to his thighs and he pushes his hips until his cock becomes soft. You move your head to kiss him, pulling his attention away from the mirror as your pillowy lips distract him from the sight before him.

When the two of you have caught your breath, Sunghoon looks back at the mirror and watches as he lifts your body off of his cock with ease. You wince at the loss and he kisses the corner of your mouth as if to sooth you from the lack of him in you.

“So good for me,” Sunghoon whispers against your mouth.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enha hard thoughts #enhypen hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enha x reader #kpop x reader #kpop smut #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #hard thought*#my writing*

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kithtaehyung · 4 months ago

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minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

There’s something to be said about the human gut.

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain.

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you?

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run?

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink.

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking.

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too.

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree.

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down.

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you!

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too?

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff.

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved.

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is.

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on?

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling.

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with.

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are.

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home.

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors.

Perfect.

“What.”

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.”

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?”

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket.

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends.

This is all too much.

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.”

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily?

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization.

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun.

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again.

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done.

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again.

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal.

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back.

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance?

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic.

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening.

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches.

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire.

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not.

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse.

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck.

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change.

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline.

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.”

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.”

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

Fuck. Yoongi’s right.

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.”

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls,

“Not interested.”

Oh. He’s…

Oh.

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial?

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie.

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.”

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core.

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom.

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not.

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room.

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on?

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here.

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot.

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light.

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish.

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use.

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld.

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead.

Uhh.

What.

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin.

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air.

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done.

Almost.

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing.

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state?

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.”

Again with that little slant.

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life.

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl.

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded.

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved?

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right…

Doesn’t matter.

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck.

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright.

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet.

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still.

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut.

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.”

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.”

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.”

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel.

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.”

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.”

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them.

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer.

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so.

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside.

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage.

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your—

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!”

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.”

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for?

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.”

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette.

And just like that, the conversation dies.

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible.

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly.

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead.

Your noodles.

You’re not hungry anymore.

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill.

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand.

A robed arm.

Your new utensils come back into view.

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there.

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes,

“Eat.”

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain?

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.”

“You are.”

“Not anymore.”

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.”

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.”

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.”

“I literally can’t—”

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.”

“What?”

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight.

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.”

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.”

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.”

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin.

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.”

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier.

Yoongi looks pissed as hell.

But he hasn’t moved.

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again.

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today.

Fuck, you wanna hurl.

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair.

“It’s better in the long run.”

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this.

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes.

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too.

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers.

“What were you looking for.”

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth.

“Did you find it.”

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?”

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?”

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought.

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.”

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.”

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion.

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl.

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat.

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure.

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out.

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home.

Yearning pierces right through your chest.

The elevator is right over there.

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No.

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too.

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase.

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep.

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety.

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room.

And your defense mechanism blares.

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why?

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too?

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay?

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.”

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?”

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.”

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.”

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes.

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.”

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms.

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest.

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs.

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.”

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.”

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine.

Well.

So much for leaving.

You may spend more time here than you thought.

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call.

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that.

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now.

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space.

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere.

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator.

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area.

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet.

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below.

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out.

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart.

That was so long ago.

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time.

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem.

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm.

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some.

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter.

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.”

“Do you even drink?”

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying.

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?”

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.”

“It’s usually silent, too.”

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.”

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.”

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”

He takes the offered can. “Mm.”

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present.

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs.

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se.

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day.

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.”

“Why not?”

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?”

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.”

Your look carries a slight pang.

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.”

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see.

But when it’s open, you freeze.

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New.

Wait.

These patterns.

These are il-don?

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless.

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.”

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?”

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.”

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?”

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.”

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter.

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.”

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?”

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?”

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?”

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.”

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.”

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself.

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear,

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe.

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…”

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.”

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now?

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.”

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away.

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose,

“I should’ve left you for dead.”

Wait.

Stop.

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever.

And it is frightening.

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.”

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist.

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.”

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually.

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you.

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power?

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk.

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can.

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it.

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.”

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged.

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes,

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.”

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning.

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it.

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same.

So you quell that monster pacing in your core.

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be.

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.”

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin.

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.”

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend,

“This world has already tried enough.”

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again.

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn.

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it.

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more.

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else.

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations.

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.”

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip.

And you freeze.

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate.

But fuck, you kinda want to.

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed.

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…”

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to.

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.”

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest,

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong?

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore.

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.”

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone.

Oh. You’re going home.

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short.

What was that? What was any of that?

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over.

…But do you want it to be?

Yes.

Of course you do.

Clouds let moonlight shine again.

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real.

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane.

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging.

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out.

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed?

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets.

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes.

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams.

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own.

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion.

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air.

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out.

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too?

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness.

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start.

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do.

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows.

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity.

For nothing.

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all.

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal.

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder.

Fuck everything.

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.”

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares.

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#PART TWO IS HEREEE #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #*latest #ryenwrites #minted #*ryenfictalk #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: murder

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gangplanksorenji · 4 months ago

Text

Magnitude

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon x Male Reader ft. ITZY’s Yeji

Word Count: 13,912

A/N: Hallo again Orenjideul! I don't know what or who possessed me to write this yet here we are. Thanks to @kooyabooya for betareading and the insights! Enjoy reading and hope you like this one! god this is the longest i've ever written i would need some nice hibernative lobotomy right after.

A sequel to Pulchritude

---------------------

“Wait, this feels good—what’s happening?”

You’re in this lucid state, feeling everything is written to your own fate—you have the pen, writing your own story onto your own book yet this one feels different, and it’s more than this reality.

You break into this trance, cracking the code and guess what, the culprit was just a meter away, and down to your southern peripherals.

A faint blur distracts you from your drowsy state, far from regaining the peak state of your senses as you involuntarily call her name and hear her little chuckle. You wouldn’t expect waking up to such a delightful sight and moreover, making yourself closer to the edge.

“Hope you didn’t mind this—sorry for waking you up…” Yeji’s gaze shoots a primal instinct up in your spine, an instinct somewhat close to arousal as you quickly regain your senses to assess the situation that’s been happening.

“Hah—you’re clearly in need, Yeji.” Your voice feels raspy that usual and it’s no surprise. She smiles while still maintaining her eye contact, knowing that there’s no world she wouldn’t agree with.

You’re in a vulnerable state, laying down as she audaciously coursed its way towards your nether region and it was clear what her need is. You could only succumb onto the pleasure she brings in every flick, twist and inevitable kiss. Her mouth never fails to amaze you and with such overwhelming factors with her expertise, it didn’t become long before your hands found the ginger blur and surprisingly, she stopped you from a leverage that just made everything fall down into utter deprivation.

It is the best of both worlds: shooting up gratification up your spine and inability to handle the situation better through a defenseless state, her body poised to assert control over you.

“No—not now—” Yeji’s hands were fast enough to stop you, and you could only utter a symphony of moans, mouth slightly agape as she continued her prowess. “—relax and let me do the work for you.”

Those words latched with lust and it illuminates on those very eyes of hers. You know this will be a long day full of secrets and surprises and for sure, it will be.

---

It’s probably the addiction that settles within her, unable to make herself deprived from the taste of you and you just succumb to her control, feeling every nerve in you invigorated with her pleasurable maw.

She takes it all and it earns a moan coming out of you, Yeji gleefully taking it as a signal to even elevate the experience and god, she doesn’t disappoint. She glides her mouth all throughout your length, glistening it with her spit and slobbering over it like it’s her last meal. There’s something about the way her pace compliments her techniques—not too fast, not too slow and focusing on how you derive pleasure, not hers.

You’d never get tired of this.

“God—fuck, that’s great Yeji…” You moan and she takes it as a compliment, dancing her tongue all over that insatiable muscle, never withdrawing and ultimately pleasing.

You run your hands throughout her ginger hair, opting for leverage for her immaculate display of talent as she pulls up another trick that makes you weak—fondling those balls dying for a release.

She releases, and drives her attention onto those, suckling each one as she strokes your cock, making it hardly stiff and it throbs with the cool air the room permeates. You uncontrollably elicit streams of groans and pleas, calling out her name as the pleasure is stimulating you up to your limit and thankfully, you’re able to cope and fight.

“I’d need to start off the day with one hell of a breakfast.” You heard it loud and clear, and she’s not going to play, making up for the sluggishness she's shown earlier, taking you hard and fast and that was your breaking point.

You can’t even acknowledge everything she probably said as your sensitivity increases, feeling her simple touch could break you at any given moment. Her rapidly bobbing picture falls a little blur to you, just totally focused on succumbing onto the pleasure and you fall down deeper into the abyss, her in full control.

She looks at you, seeing your eyes closed, mouth able to just repeatedly groan makes her smile evidently even with your length fully plunged inside her tight throat. Her hands work like magic, around your spit-sheathed length, putting you up in a spell where you’ll ascend in no time and you can’t fathom how she’s great at everything like this—it’s heavenly sinful and rightfully wrong, because you could just feel her mouth parting away from your head and you don’t want it to end like that.

You surely hit the jackpot meeting a girl like Yeji, perfect in every inch and ultimately talented in various ways, mostly regarding the intimate scope of things but you could just assume there’s more to know about this girl.

She gives you another chaste kiss, making you shudder in response as she utters a proposition you can’t properly decide, and it’s not helpful with the way her hands glide with such a moderate pace and the constant fondling of those balls that’s needing to be drained.

“I have options for you—thinking really opportunistically here, y’know?” Yeji’s elbows rested onto the mattress, laying onto her stomach as she didn’t stop her strokes, eyes gazed onto yours as she demanded an answer. “Would you want me to finish you, right down my throat or… ride you until you spill everything inside me—your choice.”

You’d die for a woman like her riding you like it’s her last, feeling that weight on her slam against you as she does all the work but you can’t miss out of that heavenly mouth of hers—she possibly have sucked you for god knows how long but it’s your drug that you can’t get enough.

Even with a clouded mind, the verdict was clearly decided without any hesitation.

Partly missing out of her expected tarnation with her walls clenching around you for like the third time, you utters words that seals the deal. “Your mouth, Yeji—can’t get enough of it.”

It was crystal clear and she didn’t waste time parting her lips against your swollen head again, clearly hungry for your taste as she enthusiastically thrusted herself with a pace unparalleled than before, full on the throttle. Her hands rests onto your thighs, a leverage for a greater velocity she’s evidently consistent of, not turning back as she knows how you’re getting closer to the promised land.

“Such t-talent you have there, Yeji—fuck!” And it was predominantly factual, your compliments simply fueling her for more as she works both her hands to stimulate whatever she can—those aching balls, ticklish touches and her tongue dancing around was a great element of utter gratification.

You melt under her touch, completely indulged to the pleasure as her eyes widen, feeling your persistent throbs a sign of your nearing orgasm and she doubles her efforts, hollowing her cheeks to emit a vacuum that elevates the pressure, driving you onto the edge with pace. With her commendable performance breaking your reservoir loose, you call out her name and this time, it’s different and it’s primal call for your utter need.

“Yeji—Yeji, I can’t t-take it any longer…” She knows this and she utilizes your exasperated state in bliss, not even responding to your words as she plunges her mouth deeper, nose flushed onto your abdomen as you groan beautifully. The signal was a carnal call of delight, releasing every spurt down her walls as she gags repeatedly because of it, fighting the urge to withdraw but was unsuccessful in the end. She chokes a little, coughing a little of your cum before her fingers catch it, not wasting a single drop and tasting it with a face so sullied it makes it even harder.

Her idyllic visage showing her ultimate work being a complete mess wins it all, and her day has never been better and it’s just the start of it.

“Thanks for the ‘breakfast’ you gave me—its taste never fails…” Of course it never does, fingers licking signifying utter satisfaction on Yeji’s end.

You know she swallowed it all, like the good girl that she has been all throughout the time you’ve met her. She continued cleaning you off, tongue swirling in every centimeter aiming to tidy the mess she made as her constant slurps derives the sultriest moans in you. The sensitivity is on the roof as her touch is kryptonite and with your softening cock, she knows her business is now over and let the both of you appreciate each other’s beauty for another time.

“You’re crazy at that, Yeji.”

Yeji chuckles, smiling sincerely enough to make you in awe as her crescent-like eyes accentuates her striking and beautiful face. “I just can’t help it—I already missed the taste of your cock.”

You shake your head and laughed a little, her words making you feel butterflies as the feeling are mutual, but you needed to really start the day in an acceptable fashion and can’t stay all day fucking each other’s brains out.

“You know what, Yeji? Let’s actually get some real breakfast.”

“Yeah, you’re right…” She stands up, and away from the bed as you follow, raising your shorts up as the both of you get yourselves ready for another day, sun greeting you out as it shines once you open the window.

You never thought this would be such a riled-up start, yet you won’t complain if it’s the Hwang Yeji that greets you, the first thing your eyes would see.

---

It was surely such an exhilarating way to kick off your day, commencing her with the sloppiest morning blowjob (maybe minus the morning, it’s actually the sloppiest she’s ever been, and even your whole life) and a delectable breakfast, and it’s worth remembering as she earned her place. Hence the invigorating and promising fragments of an experience meet the inevitable obstacles, your own endeavors and your mind going in circles around it and it’s time to kill the cat for that curiosity, as they say.

You just end up on her balcony, frantically uncomfortable about the fact that she’s still not texting you—you’d say you overthink too much, but it’s a natural state of mind when it comes to being cognizant.

“Come on, come on—pick up the damn phone…” You let out breaths of impatience, tapping your foot as the constant ringing of the phone in your ear puts you in an anxious situation.

You can’t possibly wait for more hours until it’s the afternoon or whenever the sun sets because of anticipation and desperation. You walk around in circles around Yeji’s balcony as the constant ringing still lingers onto your eardrums and eventually, it ends up not in your favor.

“Why won’t she just answer my goddamn call—”

“Hey!” Yeji gleefully calls you behind the sliding door, slightly ajar as she seems worried with your agitated demeanor. “You should probably just give up on who you’re calling to—it’s been like seven minutes?”

“Yeji, this one is important.” Your voice is stern and composed but it wouldn’t break her thoughts of interrupting you.

“More important than me?” You heard her loud and clear, merely a meter away from her and that tone just exudes the spell you can’t quite fight: submission and breaking your temptation.

As much as it hurts to say that both sides are as important as it is, your soft side tends to prevail, sugarcoating a response that wouldn’t hurt her. “Both are, Yeji but like, now is not the ti—”

She closes the door gently, then inches closer towards you with a reassuring stare and caresses onto your shoulder “Come on—don’t stress yourself that much…” She then motioned herself onto your back as your eyes followed her movements, gazed fixated onto hers as her mouth inches near to your earlobe, whispering words of abstaining yourself to further tension. “Because you know what can happen if you are overdoing yourself too much and it won’t be great for you.”

She has a valid point and you’re in this state of recollection with her words of wisdom. Her slight massages on your back with her hands eases up the built-up pressure you’ve had since minutes ago and with a quick conclusion, you know she is right. “Yeah, hah… you’re right—I’m just—I just want to know what’s up with her.”

“Her?” Yeji’s seductiveness quickly fades from a piqued expression, curious about who you are calling and who she is. “Who’s her? Is it your girlfriend? Oh fuck—I’m sor—”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” You stop Yeji with your reassuring tone, gesturing to calm her down and there’s nothing to worry about. Such a roller coaster of events unshackled within seconds and with the tables being turned, you can’t help but feel to let off a little chuckle, and it’s even ignited with Yeji’s furrowed eyebrows and worried face of hers. “It’s really hard to explain, y’know? But just don’t worry that much about her, okay?”

“Yeah, okay… Also—” She nods before that, then Yeji’s countenance shifted onto an evident curiosity, feeling that her nerves are connecting the dots too well. “Was she the girl I saw you with at the bar yesterday?”

You almost forgot that you would totally steal glances with her at that time, luckily all being unnoticed by Chaewon (if she even cared if you caught glances with her coquette nature yesterday). You’re impressed with her adaptability to assume things that’s almost right, and there’s nothing to lie about with the given skill of hers.

“Yeah, she’s her. It’s nothing much though—we’re literally just friends.” It's a double-edged lie that you’d live with anyday, mostly on these times without a favorable conclusion to enclose onto a selected status. Like you said, her role in your life is pretty complicated in ways you can’t even explain and you won’t make yourself a burden to dissect every detail to Yeji.

Even if you had the chance, you won’t really bother to.

You dismissed the current topic and just continued to admire her pulchritude. Your stare could melt her as she smiles with a genuine lace of joy, then kissing the nape of your neck as she opens up about an experience. “Yeah, okay—I’m sorry though ‘cause like, you’re too hot to the point that I can’t resist you.”

Looking over your shoulder, her siren eyes probably does wonders over you and with that stare, you just can’t help but do the same. “The feelings are mutual, Yeji.”

You then face her and cupped her cheeks, initiating a torrid kiss that was fueling your desires over her, and they won once again. She quickly reciprocates and deepened the kiss, feeling such entanglement that yearns for need and gives out such pleasure. Your hands involuntarily seeks its way onto her waist, and her hands onto the back of your head, feeling the tension growing before pulling out of her embrace, breaking the trance which earns a definite whine escaping her lips.

“Why’d you pull out?”

“Sorry, Yeji—” As much as it hurts to stop, you would want to as there are more endeavors important than this, and you’ll hope she understands it. “—I’ll meet someone this afternoon and I gotta go home and get myself ready.”

Yeji lets out a sigh, her hot breath brushing on your nostrils as she meets you eyes one more time, glowing with sincerity and understanding about the possible situation. “I don’t need to bother you for more time then…”

You smile, relieved she won’t bear much of a nuisance to make you expound your reasonings. “Sorry again, Yeji—I’ll call you whenever all of this is over.”

Yeji paints a sly smile, the latter sending her limbics into delight and anticipation, knowing that you’ll be connected with hers as soon as you can. “Yeah, sure—just don’t stress that much, hm?”

It’s perplexing with such a thoughtful development over the span of hours since you met her, maybe of the reasons rewarding enough to be cherished or the intimate inkling deepening within the second. You fix your jacket, nodding reassuringly as you waved goodbye and mouthing the words See you soon before you close the sliding door.

As you were leaving her room and out of her place, you can’t help but think of what you’ve done with her yesterday and earlier this morning. With an emotion unparalleled from ever before, you let out little laughs and words of still and evident bewilderment.

“She’s insatiable, it’s crazy.”

---

Thankfully, there wasn’t anything distracting you while driving your way home, not even the fact of a mental battle on keeping both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road while a slobbering mess is between your legs (this was supposed to happen and this was just a delusional imaginative outcome, but to your defense, you weren’t ready for such a risk costing more than what you could fathom).

Preparing yourself for what’s bound to come, you take some time to reflect on what you’ve been into—a mess worth indulging in, barely able to clean it up since the second it was ruined. As you were spraying that strong-scented perfume up the collar of your polo, your attention was diverted onto the buzz of your phone which to no surprise, is her.

kim_chaewon at 1:57 - “Meet me at the hotel where I told you to go and say the room number I told you to go, under my name, to the concierge. 4 PM, sharp and don’t you dare be late.”

Glad you have enough time for preparation but deep inside, you’re a bit conflicted on why she would send such vague details and tell them late. Well, it’s maybe of the twists and games she loves to play against you, and you won’t be surprised if she does call you and say something stupid—

“Ah shit—” Chaewon is calling you, and you knew this was going to be part of a well-written plan of hers. You know how things can boil down into the toxic pit of selfishness and need, and you can’t quite escape her leash because of you being the puppet under her string and it’s incredibly unhealthy—you want her, no, you fucking like her and her attitude wouldn’t stop you from proving her why you’re worth something more than what she’s used to see.

“You better stop calling on times like that—you know I’m still on my beauty slumber, tch.” Chaewon’s irk laced within her voice through the phone is evident and it was nothing less than expected. You gulp nervously as she lets her temper out within the phone and knowing it’s becoming too annoying, you wouldn’t sip your mouth and let her be as commanding as she is.

“Chaewon, I just wanted to ask you about it!” You raise your voice, fed up as Chaewon falls silent. You count to three, then swallow, feeling the instant regret with what you’ve done. “God, I’m sorry but you can’t keep me hanging on a thread like that.”

“What are you even trying to prove? I’ve already texted you about it, didn’t I?” It is true, but you’re trying to point out things that will probably develop her uphill and knowing her skull is as hard as titanium, your words aren’t able to penetrate through her brain to register and listen.

You can’t fathom why you liked her in the first place, feelings probably mutual as it was deemed to be such a wicked relationship that’s even confusing. She wasn’t yours, yet but it’s only a matter of time before a verdict comes up, marking Chaewon as your territory and yours only. The roads you’re tackling stresses you out, considering how you grew something with Yeji and how divergent these are, making you suffer yet your mind yearns for both of them, can’t quite compute and let go of the other.

You are the problem, but they’re a drug you can’t quite stop to take.

You fall silent and Chaewon asserts her dominative approach with your lack of response. “See? You should trust me sometimes; I wouldn’t fail you as much as you don’t fail me. See ya’ later, I’ll even make myself appear prettier than what you think…”

The latter is true—even if she doesn’t say so, her beauty is off the charts, alluring at its best—and somewhat, the former should be reconsidered for a while. Even with an unreadable mind that Chaewon possesses, it’s natural to be skeptical with her ways of controlling you (somewhat) but sometimes, you have to think optimistically and trust her. You’re just gaslighting yourself into thinking that she’s maybe right in every way, even if it means to dive you into a risk.

You faintly say your goodbyes as she hangs up immediately, letting out a breath as you’re punishing yourself for such a minimal act of regret. “Well, I shouldn’t have done that but this should be fine…”

As you should, it’s not a big deal on her end possibly and she’s not that kind of an immature, selfish woman that would take your little outbursts like something as a threat.

---

The staggering heights of the buildings around made such a metropolitan experience complete, and it’s even elevated with the luxurious ambiance the hotel exudes as you went inside it, the lobby doing wonders to enthrall its guests.

You wouldn’t really waste time being in awe with the glamorous chandelier or the exquisite art the tiles have because you have a goal in mind: meet her at the designated time, not a second off or sooner.

You roll off your sleeve, fixing yourself by a little as you advance towards the front desk, approaching the concierge as he meets you with a smile in which you subtly appreciate.

“Hello, excuse me—yeah. Room 018, for Ms. Kim Chae-won?”

His eyes widened, even enthusiastic as he was more eager to help you as soon as he heard the number of the room. “Oh yes sir, a presidential suite? I’ll just check the room again for further security and… may I get your name?”

You then say your name as you wait patiently, the concierge tapping onto the screen multiple times after he informs you that you’re now able to access the room.

“And you’re set, sir! Here’s the card and that will be on the 40th floor.”You then thank him as he gestures a bow, uttering the words Enjoy, sir as you take the elevator hurriedly, tapping the buttons and getting in it as soon as they open.

You’re not going to sugarcoat it—you’re nervous. Feeling it onto an extent underlying anticipation more than the deterioration of confidence. It was a natural instinct when discovering new heights, and you reassure yourself with that given fact within the second you’re a floor higher. It was quick, less than a minute since there wasn’t a stop and you could only sigh as the elevator dings and opens.

You traverse down the corridor as the signs help in which way the rooms are. Left then right, walk a couple of steps and there meets the lair of the vixen—the room where anything could possibly happen, every achievable outcome that could possibly come into life.

You knock at the door, signaling your presence as you unlock the door with the card the concierge gave you, and there she is, at the other end, in all black of an outfit, facing opposite from you as the dark bob accentuates elegance and sophistication, before spinning her chair and welcoming you.

Chaewon looks at the time on her phone, raising an eyebrow as she leisurely nodded. “Not too bad for you, hm? Take a seat, please.”

You then walked your way inside, aiming to sit on the couch as soon as she glared with a subtle gesture of her head, uttering something, “No, sit here—beside me.” Her index finger points onto the tall stool at the center table besides hers and you advance towards it, then facing her, your eyes scanning every inch of her impeccable features.

This kind of wardrobe is new to your eyes, and it’s a sight to see a refreshing set of fashion that was clearly unfamiliar at most times—you’d say she’ll almost let a skin on her exposed whenever she dresses up and will almost make herself look hotter than hell. You’re always vocal when complimenting her and you wouldn’t impede such flowery words from spilling out of your mouth. “God, Chaewon, this fit looks great on you—it truly is.”

She smiles with your words, you eyes telling the truth as she stares at them and of course, this is the best way to start the day with her. “Of course I do—” She proceeds to make a move, standing up, drawing herself closer to you as her eyes dart towards your chest and onto your eyes, letting you know how much she appreciates you being here even though it’s barely vocalized. “You look great too, honestly.”

Chaewon’s close—dangerously close, inches away as you drown onto those alluring eyes of hers, getting lost into the dark abyss it holds and your next move wasn’t surprising to say the least: your hands making its way towards the hem of her blazer, and onto her slender, tight waist as her hands stop you, lips parted as she shook her head lightly, enough to bring you the message. “Well, that’s reserved for later—”

“How so? We’re already here—”

She interrupts you with an audible shh, smirking enticingly as her disposition is clearly ambiguous, and you can’t quite tell where she’ll indulge you. “You’re still up to my test—we’re still not done and you’ll have your reward when you’ve proven yourself.”

“Prove myself? Aren’t those enough of a statement?” You’re in little disbelief, shaking your head as you feel your efforts yesterday weren't enough and she knows it.

Speaking of that, you should probably ask her about what you’ve done yesterday, assuming she might have eyes on you secretly that you weren’t aware of. You’re probably deluded to think about how she could do that to you but yet again, Chaewon’s that kind of girl.

Possibly set aside these thoughts and snap yourself into reality with her words. “I’ll just say it again—we’re still not done, am I right?”

You sigh, embracing defeat as her point is valid and true, and you won’t break the rules nor a promise between both parties. “You’re right, Chaewon, okay?”

“Of course I am.” Hubristically speaking, she knows she is right, even if you admit her confidence was doing the talking. She then distances herself from you, seating on her stool, picking some grapes for her plate as she munches on them, then inviting you to join her. “Help yourself here; grapes, juices, water or some biscuits—anything that can treat your hunger.”

You’re in little disbelief and hypocrisy, unsure on what she’s implying “What? I’m not that hungr—”

“Hey—” Chaewon shows a discontented demeanor, knowing lying through your teeth wouldn’t help you nor defend anything. “—if your stomach ain’t yearning, screaming for it to be fed then I wouldn’t say that otherwise.”

She draws the plate of grapes towards you with her hands, raising an eyebrow, signaling you to get some and help yourself. You wouldn't say another no because she knows you’ll be lying again, so you picked a couple and tossed one in your mouth, feeling the sour and sugary essence of the fruit revitalizing you, little by little.

“You’ll need energy for later—” Chaewon says, as she takes a sip from her glass full of some blueberry juice, looking at you with a seductive intent. “—and this—this will be a long day, for both of us.”

You’re clearly in the mood to set up a fire between the both of you, imagining the possible futures within both your accords—mostly Chaewon’s, but you won’t be bothered by that. “For now, you gotta help me shop for a—”

“Wait, Chaewon—” With all the introductory endeavors set for the both of you, you interrupt her with simple words that have been ringing in your brain since yesterday. “—may I ask you a question?”

Chaewon scoffs a breath, eyes interested with what you’re going to ask her. “Go on.”

“According to the text yesterday, how did you know?” It was straightforward, a little vague but she got what you’re asking her. It’s flummoxing knowing how she can act like a prophet but in reality, it wasn’t, and you’d like to know the reason behind such an act.

“Ahh—that?” She sips again, exhaling a fresh, fruity breath as her tone is more vibrant but still laced with her usual elegance. “Well, it’s a simple trick up my sleeve and I know you wouldn’t find suspicion through it.”

You scrunch your eyebrows by a little, a little confused on what she’s implying but you thought of a concept. “Did you just wait for me outside? What does this me—”

“Well, here’s the thing: I pretend to leave the bar and you didn't even notice if my figure was behind the door as soon as your eyes darted for someone. I watched from a distance, disguising myself against the flickering lights the stage provides and the dimness of the surroundings—” Chaewon leans into you, closer as your lips are inches against your ear. “—and I watched the both of you.” And then after that voice of her tickling you slightly, sending shivers down your spine, she leans onto her stool, but not enough for her to fall—just balanced.

“That’s all? Could never know you can be such a voyeur—”

“Not really and yes, I like watching people go all out while I just sit there and let them unveil their true nature. Well—” Chaewon clears her throat, fixing her blazer and she isn’t done, her doe eyes hypnotizing you, making you listen under her dulcet voice. “—I saw the way you talked to her, those subtle glances and fun between your words was enough to make a conclusion—you passed the test. As soon as the both of you got up to your seats, went up to the balcony with god knowing what you'll do to her—oh…” She gets up again from her seat, facing you closer with her head slightly raised and there her breath tingling against your lips, brushing against your nose. “I know exactly what you would be up to. I wouldn’t waste my precious time watching you even from afar and let yourself be redeemed with what you can do.”

Your eyes are just fixated towards her, earning a little gulp from your throat due to her intimidating demeanor. “You’ve impressed me ever so slightly… And let me ask a question in return.”

Still inches away from her, you would just embrace what she’ll ask as you’re not in any authority to decline what her lips may escape. “What is it?”

“Did you fuck her?”

A question enough to stun you, reek fear within your skin as you can’t decipher her—it’s your kryptonite: her nuanced emotions unable to make your wonders be applied in certain situations. Was this still part of a test? Did she read your brain easily to come up with an assumption too right? It is an aligned possibility, these questions will be answered by her, and it’s for you to embrace it.

“Fuck… her? Why would you think I f—”

“I asked you a question—” Chaewon sips another desirable amount of that liquid, before smashing the glass a little too hard on the marbled table that made you feel a little nervous. “—didn’t I?”

Yes. Chaewon asked a question and all you need to do is answer it, plain and simple. You can’t dodge the mere thought of detouring the topic or even at least acting oblivious—the little shivers on your bottom lip says otherwise, and the defensiveness of your tone doesn't help with your persuasion. “But h-how are you even sur—”

“Okay, you don’t need to tell me anything anymore and don’t worry—” Chaewon’s hands caresses your waist, feeling a little tingle up onto your groin as her touch enables you into a reassuring plane, fending off the stress out of your body as the latter words falls right onto your ears. “—I won’t even be mad if you did it because I know you did and god, she’s pretty and sexy. Sometimes, you gotta be studied, y’know?”

Chaewon is steps ahead of you, as lying was too obvious to be kept shackled. You’re still unsure, feeling a little tick in your brain saying that she’s maybe just playing games with you and her emotions aren’t as sincere as you thought it would be as soon as she said those words.

“You’re not mad? Or anything?”

Chaewon sighs, a stoic expression paints her face as you find her deceiving and confusing. “So you admit that you fucked her, hm?”

“I didn’t say that I—” Chaewon’s fed up with your lies and she had to do something if she wanted to make a word for herself. Shutting you up with her hand, your eyes widen as you try to writhe, but you know that’s putting a nail to your coffin, and just being immobilized is the way to brush this off. Her disappointed and infuriated stare towards you earns another struggling gulp from you, which she took it down as a sign of asserting her dominance.

“Another lie, I’ll make you see who the fuck I am.” It was churlish and candid, and you just nod in response, fearful that another volcano may spew out its anger. She smirks in total control, as she releases her hand onto your mouth and impressively, she returns onto her intimidatingly stoic and sophisticated demeanor, then continuing what you interrupted earlier. “Shall we explore and shop, hm? I’ll even treat you if you want…”

Of course, all you can do is nod and utter, “How could I resist that?” in which she likes and it’s genuine with her smile.

She’s right in every way—this day would be long for the both of you and you’re ready for what's about to come.

---

Expensive bags, new shoes, fashionable clothes, exquisite dinners and kilometer-long walks around the malls could never go wrong and all so right. It was a time well-spent between the both of you as it’s been a while since you’ve had some wholesome moments with her, even just in the slightest bits of it.

This was just the tip of the iceberg because she has more in store for you, and a great way to end the night is in another place where it concludes down into madness, and it’s just the best of both worlds.

“Really? In another club, Chaewon? We’ve been onto something like this yesterday…” You’re a bit disappointed it will all end up on this note, probably walking out with a drunk-dazed state and the absolute predicament: you having to carry Chaewon out because of such a drunken state you can’t tell.

Let’s just hope this thing of hers never meets that fate.

“Hey! It’s pretty great here honestly—I heard their snacks are top-tier, so I wanted to try it and let me tell you, yesterday was a bar, not that.” Chaewon corrects you and persuades you with all her might and you, a puppet, can merely do anything to reject her advances and honestly, she’s maybe up to something you can’t quite tell.

“Same thing, Chaewon—”

“Hey it’s not! Also—” Chaewon tiptoes a little, brushing her lips oh-so close onto your earlobes as her breath whispers, “—I wanted to try something, in correlation to my final verdict.”

Well, if this is what it takes to prove yourself, then maybe you just need to embrace it.just need to ride with her highs.

“Let’s get in—I already reserved a seat for us both.” You then follow Chaewon, showing an actual identification card to the bouncer and traversing towards the dim hallway where the fun begins, and it’s already lingering within your eardrums with the ebullient sounds of such music.

You anticipate with what she has in store, in full trust under her own accord as here it goes, an adventure of a lifetime.

---

You wouldn’t say an adventure, moreso, a memory but this one is audacious, risky and adventurous. Chaewon’s advancements towards elevating an experience is merely a branch in boredom, but rather, a connection towards amusement—her brain somewhat makes up such exhilarating events to be experienced, most likely in ways unorthodox to others.

The common noise didn’t get your sense preoccupied, taking onto the mouthwatering cheese-flavored nachos, crushing two pieces of it and licking your fingers due to its flavorful taste, then averting your eyes towards Chaewon as she calls your name. “What is it this time?”

“Enjoying the food, hm?”

“You know, Chaewon?” You fix your seat as the boisterous music distracts you slightly, a little bothered but that doesn’t faze the fact that she’s heard things right. “You’re right as I think about it—the food here is delicious. You seem to be enjoying your drink a lot, huh?”

Chaewon chuckles a little as she covers her mouth, flipping her hair as her features astound you, elegant even with her subtle actions. “Of course, a tangy and sweet cocktail could always go right—no doubts.” She then takes a hurried sip, the concoction hitting just right as she feels refreshed and satisfied. As the both of you are comfortable eating, a thought in your brain ignites, a shard from the earlier remarks that was left unattended until this very second.

“You said you wanted to try something, right, Chaewon?”

Her pupils dilate, lips slightly parted as she places down the glass down the table, and piques her total attention. “Oh well, about that…” She places down her purse on the table, crossing her legs as she shifts onto her smug behavior, confidence seeping out in every breath she exhales. “We gotta take this somewhere else—somewhere no one can see us.”

Those words alone were a fragment of utter lust and anticipation and you can’t miss that out. Her aphrodisiac tone was enough to invite, moreso her gestures that concluded the start of an act.

You smile, a slight one laced with expectations defying heights. “Lead the way then and I’ll show you something too.”

You’ll let her but you’d like to finish anything first so you’ll have enough energy left in the tank, if it goes the other way you’ll expect.

---

It’s probably the climax of the music that was faint on both your ears, the room sequestering the background noise enough to avert your attention towards her. You take a moment to scrutinize her features, every inch a candy to your own liking.

Your hands finally ran onto her waist, caressing it a little as you eye on her with such admiration. “This outfit is just too good for you, Chaewon.”

Chaewon chuckles, and the both of you meet eyes as she replies with your piece of a broken eulogy. “You’ve said it for like ten times—you really liked it, huh?”

You shook your head, letting her know there’s more for her to be aware of. “No, Chaewon—I fucking loved it—everything—I won’t shut up about this.”

“But you can make me.” Her breath shudders once you hold your other hand onto the hem of her pants, feeling the curve of her butt inviting you to fondle it deeper but you resist, just how she wanted for now.

“I’ve always wanted to say this for a long time now and for your final test…” Your eyes scintillate in lust and excitement, feeling her words will line up to the thoughts you’re thinking. “Break me.”

Break her.

Seven letters, two words, numerous implications that can underlie an ambiguous approach that could always defy expectations. Here’s the thoughts you managed to come up with: either she wants you to break her in half (metaphorically) with your cock or break her usual classy, sophisticated demeanor.

Both can be applied, and it’s up to your own accord since you know you’re in control right now, Chaewon slowly submitting to you.

And it wasn’t even a second before she couldn't resist herself—you’d just feel her swollen lips meeting yours, entangling into such fervor no one can match. The taste of her lips is succulent and you're addicted to it—the apple-flavored does wonders, but it’s mostly the fact about the delightful chemicals messing up with your brain, optimistic and yearning for more.

Her arms rest on your shoulders, as yours caresses her waist, feeling every inch of her porcelain skin and how smooth it is everytime you caress it. It was a little platonic at first, but when you reciprocated deeply, you know there’s more than that and she knows it.

It hurts, but she needs to pull out to catch her breath and to clear her headspace because this wasn’t part of her plan—it was evident she got carried away, her actions tell those otherwise.

“Why the fuck do you always kiss me so good?”

You laugh, an evident hubris on your face that she found slightly annoying but there’s nothing she can do. “Maybe I just can’t help it that I’m kissing the Kim Chaewon. ”

A name worth remembering, and you absolutely will as she’s a remarkable and paramount part of your life now.

“Shut up—can’t fucking wait to feel you inside me—” She’s impatient, vocally frustrated as you’re not fulfilling her desires. You always know how she always gets what she wants, having authority to make everyone her puppet but this time, the tables will be turned in your favor and you’d be smiling standing on your own ivory tower. “—what are you waiting for?”

“Patience, Chaewon—patience…”

“The hell do you mean patience—ow!” A harsh spank brings sting onto her, enough for her to feel and for anyone to hear but it’s muffled thanks to the clothing of her pants that you’re dying to undress. “Look at you—spanking me hard now, huh?”

“Yes.” You’re imperative and stern, gaining authority over her slowly as she’s starting to snap herself to reality. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to do so because I know you like this.”

You know she does, even loving it as it starts with her biting her lower lip with such a slap was enough for a conclusion.

“God, I always liked this, y’know?”

“Getting handled in a restroom?”

“Not exactly that—” She inches closer towards you again, looking from left to right as her actions draws attention for you to be all ears. “—it’s mostly the fun of a risk—risking to be caught while I get pounded into oblivion.”

You sigh, a sinister smile curling your lips as this fetish of hers is somewhat amusing, to say the least. “You wouldn’t mind getting caught? Let the world know how much of a slut you can be?”

Here’s the thing: you’re trying to prove a point here, risking a reputation for the people who don't know you is somewhat important in a way, knowing how privacy can still be important so you’re skeptical of the repercussions of her own lustful nature.

“Don’t worry—” She tilts her head slightly, flashing a genuine countenance which reassures you slightly even with your venomous words that unleashed your other corrupted side. “—all of these fall down into a clandestine ending—just the both of us, nobody else, just us.”

Well, you’re pliant under her spell and you’d like to make her taste with your own medicine yet with all of these, you’re easily persuaded by her. There’s no other way to start such a spectacular act with her words of a green light. “At least getting your cock wet would do such a wonderful thing, won’t it?”

You hitch a breath, agreeing on what she’s about to show as you trust her expertise. “Of course, now do your wonders, Chaewon.”

She pauses, raising an eyebrow as she is probably hesitant with your profounded commanding nature. Of course she’s not used to this, but you’ll love to make a blissful introduction that lets you know that you’re deserving.

“At least undress yourself for m—ow, ahh, what was that?” It wasn’t a spank this time, rather an aggressive grab onto her wrists, which caught her off-guard. She didn’t retaliate nor glare at you and it was surprising, since her expressions were far from what you expected: showing a faux class, eyes glistening in lust and fading of her so-called sophisticated demeanor.

“You do it, Chaewon, but not here…” You point to the vacant bathroom stall for further privacy, and as much as she doesn’t care about it, you wouldn’t agree to her terms and had no choice but to follow your own accord.

She looks onto her shoulder, smirking as she knows where this can end. “Want it tight and confined, huh?”

“Hah—of course—” It's probably your guilty pleasure, a thing that should be addressed more often with her as it has its own advantage in favor of you, and you’ll enlighten her about it. “—so it won’t be much of an effort to handle you.”

Chaewon’s apparent shock at your shift of attitude impresses her, and she can’t wait to see what you can show her. “Oho—then let's get started.”

---

It’s rightfully confined, still enough for the both of you to move and her dexterous hands never fails you, undressing the clothing hastily and onto the cold floor. As her hands traverse its way onto your boxers, she asks for a favor in which you find bold considering the given circumstances. “Please hold my purse—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No—you find a way.” She looks up, annoyed with your own authority and the tone that’s laced with it—like you said, you'll get her used to her own doing, her own medicine. She reaches down to the floor to place her purse, only for her wrist to get caught up at the last second, informing her own what she should follow. “You’ll warm up my cock while holding that, is it clear?”

She rolls her eyes, finally grasping the situation as you get up off her nerves yet you didn’t care, not when she wanted that beast inside you for god knows how long. “Fine, whatever you want—yes…”

With only a single defense ready to be worn out, you fix your posture and prepare yourself for the inevitable. The tent only grew larger as she caresses it with care, dainty fingers tracing the outline as you voice out your frustration immediately. “Fucking undress me, Chaewon.”

It’s probably the first she’s been treated like this and this wouldn’t be the last—you’ll let her know how you work your expertise, wonders in the highest of ceilings.

She complies, nodding as her hands yanks your boxers off and god, the sight—it’s possibly imprinted in her brain even though the mental image of your length is deeply buried within the depths of her mind.

You moan, the swollen head meeting the cool air permeating in every corner as her hands made your breath shudder in response. “Now suck it.”

You have the vaguest of clues to open up a reliable reasoning—how is she this obedient under your accord when her touch falls you weak on your knees? It’s contradictory and it’s wonderful, a sight worth remembering as your spell falls effective at her end, parting her lips onto your leaking head that would matter at any given moment.

It’s agonizing, torturous and whatever-the-fuck of an abundance of euphemisms you can come up with and it’s gratifying, up your deepest nerves. Her tongue darts and swirls around the mushroom tip, earning moans that you won’t bother shackling and with a given encouragement, she dives deeper as her pace is more evident. She’s talented and gifted, like what she always said between a sexual tension and she doesn’t lie—her lips enough can make a statement, what more about the set of lips—

That’s stored for later but for now, you need to savor the moment until it lasts.

A talented mouth paired with a dancing tongue is almost lethal, making you unable to think straight as she’s way ahead of your league—possibly in a good way, and you’d like to adapt with her skillful oral intermission.

Yeji and Chaewon could rival each other in terms of technique and pacing, and clearly, Chaewon’s sets of skills was far from the rest and it doesn’t help that she’s taking you deeper, spit covering all over your length as she pulls out, feeling the hint of repugnance that she most likely despises.

“God—fuck, it’s so messy—” Her hurried slurps marks her apparent modesty even in the engagement of such a sinful act and you didn’t care about it—as selfish as you sound, the pleasure your experience should come out in priority. “—you’re ruining my lipstick mar—gwah!”

It wasn’t a struggle fulfilling your desires, not when she’s talking as your cockhead rests between the muscle of her tongue—she gags a little with your profound harshness as she’s evidently caught off-guard with it. She glares and you don't care (again), not when she ups the ante, pace driven with unbridled lust and little-to-no care about the mess she makes.

“What a fucking mouth you have, Chae—” Grunts, moans and subsequent groans leaves your lips as the pace was just right, swirling her tongue as she thrusts herself deeper. The inevitable drool seeping out of her mouth and it dripping onto her pants is the cherry on top—her mouth is just heavenly and perfectly soiled, just how you liked it.

This wasn’t part of the show, on how messy she is—no, this was a pleasurable accident, clearly written thanks to your own accord. She locked her eyes on you, hollowing her cheeks, bobbing frantically and god, the sight is immaculately sinful as every second that passes feels surreal.

Possibly, you’re thinking selfishly right now and unable to register some sort of concern and why would you be? This is what she wanted anyways, and you won’t stop her until she’s an indistinguishable, sullied mess of a woman between your legs.

She grips your thigh harshly with her right hand, a leverage as she impale her throat with more of you throbbing length. She’s hungry and slobbering over it and the sight was enough for you to meet an unparalleled demise which you would love to happen in the latter stages. Her technique sets up the standard of a spectacular blowjob and you would reckon she’s the best of them all—she could totally rival Yeji, and your judgment couldn’t be reliable since it’s too biased with her mouth hugging your cock tightly.

She takes you in, whole, nose buried onto your abdomen as gags are apparent and to her own experience, she managed to tame it as she displayed her talent once more. Tears flow down her cheek with her own actions, ruining the makeup she probably spent an hour on but it didn’t matter because it’s gradually turning you on.

“God—f-fuck, that’s just great there, Chaewon.” Her patterns of pleasuring you are somewhat predictable and audacious, clearly deprived of your taste as she alternates from taking you all in and her oral expertise.

All great things must come to an inevitable end, despite how successful it became and you can feel it within you.

Chaewon releases her mouth out of your succulent cock, panting as her face is flushed red, the vicinity of her mouth a seeping mess that compliments her pretty visage. “Fuck—I can’t get enough of your cock, y’know that?” Of course it’s rhetorical as she repeatedly slurps on your shaft, standing up to the words she spilled.

As much as it hurts to put an end to this show of hers, it would be a great decision as you’re dying to live up to the main climax of events that would be surely worth both of your time.

Well, you guess she likes to dance while she party, but this would be the last dance for the day, for now.

“Chaewon…” You call out her name, falling deaf on her ears as the music of her slurps and slobbering outpowers it. You’d like to make her hear the message loud and coherently, clearing your throat and raising your voice. “Chaewon!”

Her pace gradually slows down, hindered with your voice as she pulls out and meets eyes with you again, back to her unbothered demeanor even though it’s all sullied with her spit and her makeup due to the tears she made. “Dying to fuck me, hm?”

“Get up.” Not even acknowledging her question, you’re straightforward with it, your words enough to build up an answer because she made you feel this way. “Hands against the wall, bend over and don't do anything stupid.”

She’s ready to comply even though there’s doubt permeating all over her—she hates being commanded yet this is her guilty pleasure and you’re glad being on the front row of such a rare find. Rhapsodies of anticipation glisten on her eyes as soon as you meet them into a distant contact, and you just know how much she’s liking this. You detest the confined spaces, the limited movement impossible to experiment on things but this an exhilarating challenge and you can’t wait to start it.

“That should be my line—ow!” Her voluptuous butt gets another spank in which she deeply appreciates despite her glare towards you as she looks back, onto her shoulder. You drool with a magnificent sight of her backside accentuated thanks to the tight, black pants she wore, caressing each side of each which earned a moan coming out of Chaewon’s mouth.

“Strip it out, p-please.” She’s pleading now, desperate for your touch and clearly breaking that class that’s in her. There’s no class in such a sinful circumstance, and Chaewon knows it well, not giving any fuck is she got to be the messiest she’s ever been.

You tease her, darting your fingers slowly to the edge of her ass, tugging the clothing that made her elicit a small whimper, and then teasing your index finger near her nether region. The heat it emanates makes your cock throb, imagining how spoiled she’s been under her garments.

She’s utterly frustrated, gritting her teeth and losing her patience by the second. “What the fuck are you doing—ow!”

“I’m in control here, Chaewon—” You lean on her after another spank, letting her know that all she needs to do is obey as she’s powerless against your own control. “—and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

Her breath quivers, a sigh right after as she’s enlightened enough to shut herself from complaints for the time being. “Okay, j-just fucking strip me please—god, please—ow!”

Another one, striking her twice as hard within your own volition—a choice to punish her repeated protests. She whimpers with your roughness, feeding pleasure through the pain and as much as you don’t want to agree with her, you need to have a sight of those delectable ass and thighs of hers that’s been dying to be touched by you (possibly).

Finding the zipper of her pants, she yelps with your cold touch meeting her skin and as much as she wants to help you, she rests her hands completely onto the wall because there’s nothing that she can do but to embrace the unstoppable force.

You could only think of the numerous complains she has on her mind right now, and you’re going to fuck it out of her—you live up to a promise, marking your words.

Finally, you peel the clothing off, smoothly undressing it and down to her ankles as you mentally drool over the meal that’s served in front of you.

Your fingers course its way onto her radiating heat, earning an inviting moan as she’s too easy to read now. “Fucking wet, huh? I knew you’d always be like this around me.”

Chaewon struggles a little due to the pleasure streaming down within her but manages to articulate words with even the hint of elegance and vulgarity. “Who wouldn’t be this fucking wet if it weren’t for that big dick of yours, hm?”

You feed your ego—she’s right, factual as it's evident whenever she sees your promised treasure being savored by her.

You peel off that black-laced thong of hers as the sight of something unexpected surprises you: you could see a black-colored buttplug buried into her ass, the crystalized tip just hanging out nicely and this sight just made everything worse for the better.

You push down onto it, slightly earning a guttural moan from her as the amalgamation of pain and pleasure mix harmoniously, derived and taken wholeheartedly. “Feeling kinky, huh, Chaewon?”

“You k-know me—ahh, fuck, that’s great!” You continue teasing her with the plug, and the other doing an exquisite job between her folds which just puts her in a position of no-return. Clearly there’s no return in her current state: desperate, horny and weak, something that no one could ever take a sight of except you—maybe, only you can make her shift into this kind of façade and it’s outstanding.

“Just put it in, please—ow! Hmph…” Her body fully recoils with your strike, feeling more of that pain because of her exposed white, pristine skin that you’ll love to spoil.

You would warn her but you know that she knows that she’s making these pleas and a disturbance to your authority intentionally to draw more spanks that just makes her folds wetter, and you can feel it with its constant squelches.

You can’t tease her long enough because of your growing deprivation and frustration on your side, so with a single hindrance towards a climactic turn, you open your lips to mutter a consent. “You ready, Chaewon?”

“Of course I’m fucking ready for you—ahh—ah, god, oh!” The green light was said sooner, and you waste no time with the given opportunity. Albeit, this wasn’t more of an opportunity, but rather a necessity as this was planned beforehand and there’s no surprise with that.

No surprises but you just had it earlier—what a woman you are Kim Chaewon.

You plunge it deeper, almost up to the hilt as you draw back and slam again, the sounds resonate around the stall which nobody would probably care about. You grip her hips, stabilizing control as you continue your pace. “Chae—this pussy is something else.”

She moans in response, unable to think coherently yet she manages to still come up on an articulate response. “It shouldn’t be surprising a-anymore—you always love the way my walls hug around that big cock of yours.”

It’s mesmerizing to say the least—her words feel like a switch in you, flicking and activating something when the time comes and you love every second of it. You continue your pace, ramping up as time ticks and so is your harshness. You tend to alternate between spanks and thrusts, making her clench tightly around you and wince in pain, biting her lower lip to fight the sudden surge of emotions.

Her repeated cries and encouragement go well together to cook up a fuel that’s raging you to display your fullest potential—each thrust makes her yelp and moan uncontrollably, concerned with the fact that someone may come in and suspect such an activity inside the restroom.

That didn’t stop you though, hammering her tight cunt like it’s your last and slapping those cheeks to ignite her masochistic side—you love the sight of a reddish mark imprinted on her skin, signifying your rapid harshness that will mark until the end of the day.

“Fuck me just like that—just—fucking—that, oh, oh!”

“Have I proven myself enough, Chaewon?” You need that answer out of her, let her know how worthy you are and how she can find nobody like you and possibly, you probably need to rail her harder than usual with a flabbergasting response.

“You haven’t make me cum yet—it’s n-not even close yet—”

“Then why are you leaking like a faucet right now? Care to explain?” She can’t grasp the fact that she’s head over heels on you right now, and her denial is soon going to punish her for the time being, but for now, barrage of spanks will do, resulting in a rosy-pink hue imprinted on her porcelain skin that favors up to her own liking.

She continued to moan with your repetitive thrusts, aiming to fuck that egotistic and hypocrisy out of her and let her mind think of you and you only—maybe it’s working, ever so slightly with the constant submission she’s indulging in. You grasp her hips hard enough to probably bruise her, gripping on it in every thrust you do as she orchestrates such a symphony of moans that fuels you to go further.

You’re remarkable with your performance, she knows it and with her defenses crumbling down one by one, she would voice how much she loves this.

“Your—cock, fuck! So good!”

It wasn’t surprising, to say the least. She’s borderline screaming at this point as you hammer your length in her, up to hilt. The blazer probably doesn’t help with your concurrent thrusts, an annoying bit to your end and knowing how much better the sight is with most of her skin exposed, you pull her and command her to undress it and off on the floor, if she doesn't care.

“But w-why? This blazer is expe—”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” You slap those red cheeks of hers, earning a whimper and a slight writhe on her end, whining about your wants and you’re utterly selfish to see more. She finds your hostile behavior attractive because deep inside, Chaewon waited for this for so long that she never would click her interests. “Fucking remove it—I want to see more of you.”

Chaewon sighs between her moans, placing her purse down to the tank of the toilet as she struggles a little bit due to your recklessness. “F-Fuck—whatever you say…”

She’s swift with her movements, effortlessly removing the nuisance of clothing and off to the floor. You marvel with those sharp shoulders of hers as you latch onto the visible skin, peppering it with kisses as you hiss onto her ear, “This cunt of yours, Chaewon—is perfectly tight.”

She’ll never get tired of your addiction to her tightness, vocally or physically because it’s all that you’ve ever wanted. You continue with your pace, slick covering your whole length and some dripping onto the floor until something unforeseen meets the both of you, and it’s surely a humiliating experience being exposed as one.

The door creaks as the both of you hear multiple people laughing and singing along, and your reflexes work like a cat, quickly shutting up Chaewon’s mouth with your hands as you stop with your movements, burying your cock up to the hilt.

Chaewon’s eyes are wide, flushed as your sudden movements make her retaliate a little and let out muffled moans. Her frame reels within your control and you didn’t like this, not when you’re in the edge of risky predicament—they are just a step closer to unveil how much of a slut Chaewon is and how you’re completely wrecking her, and you’d love to make it just exclusive between the both of you, behind closed doors.

Luckily, the lock says ‘occupied’ as the penultimate defense against a force worth intimidating. You grit your teeth, leaning in to her ear as you jeer, “You fucking slut—this is what I’m fucking afraid of—you better shut your mouth and not do anything stupid.”

Chaewon would want to fight you, complain or hurt you just to get what she wants but probably, the switch inside her flickers, only nodding as she struggles to breathe with your hand still covering her mouth. You move your hips leisurely as Chaewon lets out another set of muffled moans, feeling your length inside is enough to meet her own breaking point and you’d love to restrain her sinful sounds between the both of you.

The ebullient sounds of the people inside the restroom sends your senses elevated, fully aware of how you can derive pleasure as silent as possible and you’re grateful that every noise reverberating around the vicinity of where you are at outpowers the sounds of sex happening inside this confined bathroom stall.

You’d never know such risk would make everything exhilarating.

“I may or may not like this place more now, Chaewon.” You whisper behind her ear with such unfathomable intent, ferocious about the situation as she desperately moves her hips in tandem with your slow thrusts, your hand handling her in place and making your hands as a makeshift cuff around her wrists.

You can feel her nostrils desperately blowing heat and air, aiming to get as much oxygen to release her emotions all throughout your manhandling. You wait for a bit as you stop, keeping your length buried inside her, observing the situation down to its last, minute details. They walked, laughed and seconds right after, the door creaked open and shut, releasing your grip on her mouth, Chaewon catching her breath as she gasped for air.

“Why—hah—why t-the fuck would you do that?” Chaewon angrily asks you, and you hold her in place with another slap on those reddened buttcheeks that just made her whine for the umpteenth time.

“Because I want to? And also—” You moderately fuck her, then leaned onto her delectable back, licking the sweat off and peppering it with kisses as her walls grew wetter, knowing that she would be close. “—you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”

Chaewon is silent but her moans, resonating as you didn’t like her inability to respond to you. “I asked you a question, didn’t I—”

“Yes! Yes, just—please, let me cum—”

You won’t stop her, not when you gradually thrusted deeper and hard, her velvety walls inviting you to do so as you can sense her nearing climax, giving everything you can within the last seconds and—

A blissful scream escapes her lips and god, this is a sight.

You pull out within the last second, only to see Chaewon spewing liquid after liquid, onto the floor, spoiling her pants a little and yours. It probably hit her like a train, feeling weaker as she pants in pleasure and sensitivity, her legs leaving her tight frame precarious yet your strength held her to stay still.

“Gosh—you fucked me so well, huh?” Her pride still ensues even in an post-orgasmic state, and you wouldn’t break a sweat getting it off on her with your cock completely ravaging her again as she continues her words. “Aren’t you dying to cum, too?”

Of course you are, and it’s clearly mutual and rhetorical, but you’ll let her know your own gravitas. “Of course I am but I want it somewhere else.”

It was left behind, completely forgotten but not this time, as your fingers went onto her glistening buttplug, pushing it down as her legs shuddered in response. You thrust the given material deeper as she winces in pain and moans with pleasure.

Chaewon knows the message well and it’s surely obvious—her little laugh of victory was enough of a statement, and you’ll live enough to fulfill that.

“Of course you always wanted to shove something deep in that hole—probably dreaming, drooling, manifesting—what words should I even u—ow, what the fuck?”

Her garrulous nature is a bug in your ear, clearly annoying yet you marvel with her ability to speak eloquently given the condition—maybe you haven’t fucked her enough to get her drunk with your cock and you can’t lie, she’s a tough woman to break.

As much as you don’t want her words to register through you, you can’t help but agree with her, reading you like a book and is aware of your eyes constantly eyeing her ass as you’re wrecking her folds into oblivion.

You carnally need her, primal instincts taking over you totally.

“Can you just shut your mouth for one second for fuck’s sake?”

“No. Why would I—ow!” Another is what she gets as you point out something straightforward, clearly yearning for more of her.

Your hands caress that bent plane of her body and then her scrumptious ass, uttering words that are ultimately ravenous. “Do you have any lube? I’m dying to fuck this tight ass of yours right now.”

You’re feral and she knows it all too well. She opens up her purse, and you’re shocked to see a small bottle that contains what you think is pivotal for the latter stages. Chaewon looks over your shoulder, handing you the bottle as you grab it swiftly and immediately avert your eyes onto that plugged puckered hole desperate for such intimate action.

It would be cruel to hand such deprivation towards her just to tease her waiting butt, not when you’re corrupted mentally to do such things no one else would think of.

And you give in, wanting the awaited climax to be worth a memory imprinted in you and hers.

Chaewon wiggles her ass, inviting you to do the unspeakable as you tell her you’re going to remove that plug, easing her anal muscles and there goes the main event. She whines, needy and compliant for you and knowing the methods of yours is empirically derived onto experience (mostly just observing her), you immediately get onto work.

You squeeze a reasonable amount onto your fingers, lathering it onto your entire length, not leaving a single inch untouched and her waiting hole, clenching as soon as you inserted your fingers in and permeating those walls with aiding lubrication.

Her moans are as pure as honey, sweet and tangy unlike her personality—a duality balancing her as a person and not going to lie, that dynamic is a guilty pleasure.

As you were about to insert your length, Chaewon uttered the words Stop as you ultimately did, piqued on what she had in mind and clearly in the mood to let this through.

“It’s getting uncomfortable here—want you to fuck me against the mirror—”

“Right outside this stall? What if someone barges in—” Interruptions, interruptions, interruptions. Of course, anything could be considered as a risk at this point as you feel your heart skip a beat, feeling this could be the worst and the best experience of your life—best of both worlds and utterly balanced, as someone may say.

“If you don’t want to, then I’ll call this as the end of a note.”

“Fuck no.” It was audacious coming from you as you don’t want this opportunity to be wasted, not when you’re just numerous steps ahead from your victory.

“Say it…” Chaewon’s voice is seductive and it’s making you pliant, akin to your nature earlier which made you think of a choice that’s obviously having an answer in her favor. “Say it to me…”

You lean and your words spit truth. “I’m going to fuck you against that mirror, gape this slutty, tight ass as I make you beg for more.”

Chaewon’s chuckle of triumph falls audible on your ears, and you’ll comply with her needs easily. “Good, now don’t get me waiting.”

---

It is euphoric to say the least, an ounce of energy equals surges of pleasure could never go wrong. This idea of hers can’t help just to aid you, making you even harder and your pace quickening as you pound her harsher against the sink.

You’d watch her expressions of lust any day, alongside her frame getting railed with a vision on both sides.

“God—I—your cock! Oh fuck!” This is just one of the sentences she utters that isn’t anywhere near being coherent, and thankfully you can listen to her moans instead of her bratty blabberings that result into nothingness. She wants you to be rough onto her puckered hole and you’re entitled to do so, simply because you can easily control her frame right now with your arms in authority onto hers.

You can sense her legs about to give out, enervated with your constant pounding that puts on a smile on your face, knowing your efforts are getting somewhere and she knows you’ll take advantage of this. The tightness of her snug hole provides is something remarkable—the way it hugs around your shaft hurts and wrings out pleasure, and it couldn’t be any better.

“So—fucking tight, Chae—god!”

“Stretch me out more, p-please—fuck me s-silly—ahh!” It revolves around those sets of words: continuous praises of her ass and your whole length inside it. You release your control of your arms onto her, now gripping her buttcheeks harshly enough for a leverage to opt for a better pace. You hiss as you withdraw and bury more, feeling that inevitable surge of gratification all over you as she aids you with her relaxation of her anal walls.

You don't care if someone barges in, not even thinking to lock the door and if that does happen, let them have a seat for what will be the greatest performance you’re about to execute.

You can feel that it’s easing up and with her green light, it won’t be a difficult decision to wreak havoc onto that excruciatingly tight yet pleasurable asshole.

“God, please—fuck me until I can’t w-walk—oh shit—fuck!”

She’s a mess in distress, totally within the submergence of your astounding prowess as you bring out an onslaught of thrust, still wincing with her tightness and that didn’t stop you. She cries for you, arms almost giving out with how she grips the sink and with this state of hers, it’s a must to take this mental picture, her expressions shown onto the mirror as a cherry on top.

You throb persistently in every thrust you do and she can feel you getting near but there are words that strokes your ego, making you hubristically out of anyone’s league, matched with hers.

“Gosh—hah—hah, I—oh, l-love your cock so much—holy shit, I’m gonna cum so hard!”

You spank and her walls restrict in regards to your own actions, making you groan with her unparalleled tightness that surely rivaled her pussy. “Cum all over the floor—I’ll help you out, Chae.”

Removing your grip onto her hips, you didn’t waste time rubbing her clit, even inserting fingers onto that sullied cunt of hers and you can feel how wet and near her anticipated orgasm is.

It wasn’t going to take longer than what you expected—clearly close and to the point of no-return, you thrust your fingers in tandem with your thrusts, earning a guttural moan (mostly a scream at this point) from Chaewon and there she goes, fully sent onto the state of a blissful trance.

She’s tighter than earlier and you can feel it, clenching repeatedly as she pants and catches her breath because of such stimulation. Picture this: Chaewon extending her weak arms onto the edge of the sink, both holes clenching as she chases her orgasm and another fountain of that colorless liquid spurts onto the floor. She squirm under her climax, legs relentlessly shaking as you hold her in place, continuous with the extension of her high as she lets out cry after cry for more but to no avail, not all things lasts forever.

She rode the high and recovered quickly, pleading you to continue ramming your length into her and to constantly be rough on her, knowing she could take it well. “Don’t s-stop fucking me—fuck me until you paint my insides white.”

She’s struggling for a bit, groaning as you never backed down nor increased this pace—it is just right, ultimately filling her up to the brim and mixing up her insides, as someone would say.

Your cock is persistently throbbing for god knows how long, dying for an euphoric release as sweat drips down on her back, opting to lick in an inch yourself closer to your own high (maybe some praise onto that skin of hers would elevate you into an heavenly ascension). Knowing how dangerously close you are, you become a primal instrument of lust, relentless and selfish with your movements as every oscillating movement sends the both of you into overdrive.

You didn’t utter a word yet an audible moan as you bury deep inside her, painting her inside white as she clench with the warmth it brings, a stream of subsequent saccharine moans leaving her lips as after you’ve spilled everything inside her, you pull out slowly and you’ve probably broke her.

The both of you exchanged breaths as you can see her snug hole drip some with your orgasm, completely lost in the trance as she snaps you back to reality, words invigorating you as a person and your senses.

“Oh s—shit… You’ve fucked me so well—” Chaewon’s legs shudders, sore from the fucking she took as she reaches for the buttplug and gave it to you. You know what to do with the plug you have in hand, inserting it inside her puckered hole that’s probably stretched out thanks to you, and she can’t help by gleefully smile, her blissful visage clearly a sunshine between the darkness you’ve unveiled and the dim lights the restroom provides.

“It would be a waste if I’ll just let your load drip on and spoil my pants, y’know?”

You’re mute and clearly exasperated, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall as Chaewon turns around, facing you as she’s evidently limp and your eyes quickly lock onto hers. “Got nothing to say?”

You part your lips, a breath escapes as you utter, “I never knew this idea would work—you’re crazy for this.”

Chaewon laughs as she lifts her pants up on her waist, wearing and then fixing her blazer as she faces you close, “Of course I am—now let me clean you off.”

She did her wonders and you let her take over. You’d mentally imprint this onto your brain (you’ve said this for like umpteenth times) and will never forget this moment.

But a single question arises in the midst of all of these highs: Did you earn your spot?

Only she can answer that but you’re confident you’ve passed, her holes clearly being spent locks the supposed deserving final decision.

—

It’s crazy how all of these events unfolded probably in less than a day, unable to fully register these and assess every detail because it felt surreal and too fast. You stand by it, feeling these were too good to be true but as much as you want to snap back to reality, you are walking down victorious, all within your hand’s reach and that’s all that matters.

It’s deep of a night, you’re just driving towards the hotel now after such an exhilarating day and your focus is averted onto two things: reminiscence and the road ahead.

You’re playing with the risk of death but that would be slimmer than zero—driving is just in your blood right now, and this wouldn’t be much of a sweat. Chaewon and you are in an awkward silence, looking at your peripherals to see her on her crossed legs, looking at the distance.

You’re utterly curious about her final conclusion and it’s looking like she won’t say anything so you’ll take matters into your own hands.

“Did I do well, Chaewon?”

She’s the one who’s dead silent—you know it felt ringing onto her eardrums, so when she hasn’t responded for at least five seconds you know she’s ignoring you.

“Hey, Chaewon—”

“What?” Her tone is raised up, sulking and sharp, oblivious to where her newly profound attitude is coming from. A speculation is probably because she’s incredibly tired and her usual grumpy attitude is now being a part of her mood swings. You can’t blame her if that’s the reason behind her demeanor—who wouldn’t be tired when you’ve walked for like kilometers, shopped and had the filthiest sex in a public environment known to man so you empathize.

Guess the speculation is deemed incorrect.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, I just hate how you fucked me so good earlier…” She’s brutally honest and upon that conclusion, you derived a concrete reasoning and that was the shattering of her ego.

“Well, thank you I guess—but how about—” Chaewon wails as you advance with your words and she knows she accepted defeat and handed the crown onto you—you clearly broke her apart, even got her real feeling hidden as she acts unorthodox to her natural self.

“Okay, you earned it! You did a great job with that, okay, happy?” Even though her words laces as a mock and truly insincere, you can tell she clearly enjoyed that session of yours and you don’t need to wring it out on her and would inadvertently tell how much she loved every second of that.

“Woah—Ms. Kim Chaewon is getting grumpy again, huh—ow!” She slapped your thigh as luckily, it wasn't enough for you to lose control on the wheel or something worse. You chuckle with her sulking attitude and you can’t help but find it adorable (even though she is) and even if it means to tease her rapidly.

“Yah, shut up! But honestly though…” Chaewon fixes herself, eyes onto you as she speaks up with sincerity and none of that bitchy attitude because she knows how you deserved it. “You clearly passed this test and it shows—I could never scream like that if it weren’t for that big dick of yours.”

She’s brutally honest and you love it, everything is factual and earns that little smile curling up on your lips. You smirk as your other hand finds itself towards her clothed thighs, caressing it and earning a yelp coming from her. Thankfully, she did acknowledge your actions, holding you hand as your hubris grows exponential by the second. “I’ll be grateful to fuck you that hard, anytime, anywhere.”

Chaewon’s mouth lets out a gasp, a little shocked by your latter words. “Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

You’re clear with your words and you’d let her know your commitment.

You traverse down the streets, swift with it as you stop once you get near the hotel the both of you are staying in possibly for a night or two, and she takes this opportunity to lock her gaze onto yours and it feels magnetic. Chaewon sighs deeply, and this time, with a smile imprinted on her lips and then the verdict comes after. “Well, I guess it’s official—you’re mine now.”

You don’t know where this will end and you’re playing a cat and mouse game here: what if Yeji knows about this? Regarding that, would you even confess if given the chance when Chaewon’s all over your place? Does Chaewon really consider the facts about yesterday’s circumstances and knows how this will play out?

Behind all of these questions, the truth is what follows: you’ve made this mess by yourself and you’d just know what the future may hold onto you—the angel and the devil clashing into you will tell the tales and build the roads you step on.

But right now, you’ll savor this euphoric night and it’s probably going to be better with her corresponding words sealing the final deal. “Welcome to our world—my world. We’ll have fun—so much fun...”

Fuck, what have you done, and not going to lie, you’re excited on what may happen next as this was just the tip of the iceberg—and this iceberg is a deep one, in all likelihood.

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