#have a lot of thoughts and feelings about her
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hees-mine · 3 days ago
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Birthday girl - L. Heeseung
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Pairing: heeseung X fem reader
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, multiple orgasms, cursing, stepcest, daddy kink, dirty talk, cheating.
Genre: 18+, stepcest.
Word count: 2k+
Decided to just post the full story here cause it got taken down on Patreon :/
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“Mom, just one, please. I promise it’ll only be one.” It was your 21st birthday, and you celebrated in the kitchen with your mom and your stepdad as you begged her to let you have your first shot on the day you officially turned 21.
“No, I never had a shot at 21,” she simply answers, turning away from you and putting away the leftover cake she had your stepdad buy from the store cause she apparently couldn’t be bothered to get one for you herself.
“Mom, come on, that’s not fair!” You whined. “I’m literally an adult,” you reasoned.
“And you’re literally under my roof,” she replies back nonchalantly like she always does. You hated it when she acted like this.
She would always hold things over your head: no sleepovers, no parties, no boyfriends, no nothing, and it’s not cause she was looking out for you. It’s cause she was jealous of you.
She always told you how she never got to have any of those things, and now you can’t shake the feeling that even though she never directly said it to you, you feel like she’s taking it out on her only daughter, which just isn’t fair.
“Dad!” You turned to heeseung your stepdad, looking for his approval, and he gave you the tiniest hint of a smile while folding his arms over his chest and resting against the kitchen counter.
You and your stepdad had a much better relationship than you and your mother, unlike her. He seemed to actually care about you, which is comical cause he wasn’t even your real dad, and he treated you better than your mom ever did.
He’d always vouch for you, defend you when arguments got too heated, and he never made you feel like you were always in the wrong, unlike your mother did.
His care for you did go a lot further than just how a stepdad would care for their stepchild because his hugs would last a couple of seconds too long. His kisses on the cheek were a little too affectionate, and he'd eye you when you wore revealing outfits a bit too much.
You didn't mind, though. You did it on purpose cause you liked the attention. He wasn't your real dad, and besides, you had met him so late in your life that you were already fully grown, and you didn't even see him as a father figure at all.
Dad never even crossed your mind when you thought about him. All you saw was a very attractive man, and you wondered how your strict, bitter mother landed a gem like him.
“You heard your mom.” he swipes the cake as your mom sets it in the fridge and licks the frosting off his fingertip, humming at the sweet taste. “Now go upstairs and get ready for bed, young lady.”
You rolled your eyes and did as he said. You thought he’d vouch for you this time, too, but apparently not.
Little did you know he had other plans up his sleeve. He only said no to you cause he was not about to start a fight with his wife over you taking one measly shot, especially since it was your birthday.
His wife always had a way of making things about her. Just cause she didn’t get a shot at 21. Why couldn’t you? If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his wife was jealous of her own daughter, and if he’s being honest, it was kinda getting on his nerves the way she’d bitch at you all the time for virtually nothing.
When he married her, she was not like that at all, but once he moved in and you all became family, the whole dynamic changed. She paid more attention to scolding you than him.
He wasn’t needy necessarily, but he did get lonely sometimes, especially in the bedroom, and heeseung noticed that you talked to him more than his own wife.
Which resulted in him developing maybe not a crush but a certain attraction to you, and to his luck, it was mutual between the two of you, considering all the shameless flirting you did back and forth.
At first, he felt a bit guilty, but with the way he was feeling in his marriage, he might as well have been single. He’s not excusing his actions, but he definitely doesn’t care or feel any shame in checking you out from head to toe on a daily basis.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spill his load in his palm once or twice at the thought of you.
How could he not when you’d purposefully bend over in front of him pretending that you dropped something or the way you’d push your chest against his whenever you’d hug?
You had already gotten ready for bed, sulking a bit as you leaned against the bed frame, scrolling on your phone.
Heeseung had joined his wife upstairs, lying next to her and sharing a quiet goodnight before they turned off the bedside lamps.
It was always like this: completely silent, no conversation, no talking about the day, no intimacy, absolutely nothing.
Even if he did try to talk, she’d always say she was stressed or tired.
Another one of the reasons Heeseung didn’t feel guilty for having feelings toward you was that you gave him the time of day.
He sighs putting his hands behind his head and staring at the celling finally after an hour passed his wife was fast asleep so he silently slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen where the cupboard was located pulling out a bottle of liquor one he bought expressly for you cause you had been going on all week about wanting to take a shot on your 21st.
He snuck over to your room, knocking on it softly, knowing you’d still be up. You were always up late.
You sighed and got out of bed tossing your blanket to the side and ripping open the door ready to be faced with your mom and some more of her shenanigans. “Wha-“ you stopped mid-way through, shocked to see that it was actually your stepdad instead, and you were pleasantly surprised to see he was in nothing but his underwear and a shirt.
“Hey,” he laughs softly, waving a bottle of liquor in your face along with two shot glasses.
“H-hi,” you smile upon seeing the bottle.
“Are you gonna let me in? Or are you gonna wait for your mom to catch us?” He smirks and you open the door further to let him in.
He bites his lip when you turn around to walk to your bed, eyeing the way those tight little sleep shorts hug your ass.
“I thought you said no?” You pressed your knees to your chest, patting a spot on the bed for him to sit.
He shrugs and takes a seat a little too close to you, but you don’t mind. “Thought I might break the rules a little bit. After all, you are the birthday girl.” he clicks his tongue and winks at you, placing the shot glasses on the nightstand, popping the cap off, and pouring you a drink and one for himself as well.
Feeling daring now that you two are finally alone, you decide to take things a little further than just your usual flirting. “Thanks, Daddy.” You bite your lip to hide your smile as he turns to you with a wide grin on his face.
“Of course, babydoll.” he lifts his hand up to stroke his thumb along your jaw. “Can’t have you going to bed mad at me now, can we?”
“No, Daddy,” you whisper, leaning into the warmth of his palm, and he could already feel himself twitching in his boxers, your skin so soft under his fingertips, so Inviting.
He hands you your shot and takes his, clanking your glasses together. “To the birthday girl,” you smiled shyly and downed the shot in one go.
Your face contorted from its strong taste, your tongue burning in the aftermath, but the aftertaste that was left in your mouth was enough for you to want another one.
He sees the mischievous glint in your eyes and pours you one more. “Only one more pretty girl,” he smiles, giving you one last shot, and you down it. Something about the way your throat bobs and your lips wrap around the rim of the cup makes his lower region feel warm.
“Happy birthday, baby girl.” he extends his hand to your thigh, rubbing his palm over it. Your legs relax under his touch, and you take your second shot before leaning back on the headboard, giving him more space to gently squeeze your thigh.
“Mmm,” you close your eyes as his other hand comes in contact with your right thigh, and now he’s kneading both with his strong hands going up higher and higher till his right thumb begins rubbing your clit over your shorts. “Daddy,” you whisper, rolling your hips against his fingers in desperation without an ounce of shame for being intimate with your mother’s husband.
His mouth parts open, shallow breaths escaping as he watches you succumb to pleasure. “That feels good, princess?” You nod, and he massages your clit some more, adding a bit of pressure as he circles the bud through your clothing. Your whole body heats up, and you can feel an orgasm building embarrassingly quickly inside you.
“Yes, please keep going,” you say breathlessly, your sensitive nipples hardening beneath your shirt, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you get closer.
“Gonna cum already, little one?” his words only push you closer, and he leans down to kiss your thigh. The softness of his lips tip you over the edge as you clamp around, nothing feeling your high being gently coaxed out of you.
“Oh god, Daddy, it feels so good.” You shudder and grip your bedsheets as your eyes roll to the back of your head.
He rubs you through it until you come down and catch your breath. “You did so well, baby. Keep this between you and me, okay, sweetheart?” You nod, and he kisses your thigh again before capping the liquor and getting ready to make his exit, that is, until you grip his wrist to stop him.
“More,” he can’t help but smile, and he can’t say he didn’t want to do more cause the hard-on in his boxers was in need of immediate attention, but he tries to use his better judgment and say no.
“We shouldn-“
“Please, I’m so wet for you been thinking about you every day since we moved in” The admission makes his heart rate pick up and his cock throb in his underwear, and he’s too weak to resist you because like you, he has also been waiting that long to have you.
He sighs, putting the alcohol back down on the nightstand. “Just this once,” he says as if that somehow makes it better. You both know no matter what, it’s wrong, but you couldn’t care less. You just wanted him, so you would take any opportunity that presented itself.
You nodded immediately, and he stood up, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down his hard cock, flopping out thick and veiny for your eyes to feast on. You feel drool pool in your mouth from the sight, and the little bead of precum dripping off his tip was just the cherry on top. You wanted to feel him on your tongue badly.
His clothing falls around his ankles, and he climbs on the bed, hovering above you, his breath heavy with anticipation.
He grabs your shorts using his toned bicep muscles to easily yank your shorts down all the way. “So pretty and wet for me” he eyes your slick pussy and grabs hold of his thick base, guiding his tip between your soaked folds.
His breath stutters as he moves his hips forward and back, coating his thick shaft in your arousal. “Fuck” he twitches in excitement. You feel so warm and wet, and he’s not even inside you yet.
“Daddy,” you whimper desperately, and he knows exactly what you want by the tone of your voice, so he doesn’t want to tease you any longer.
“Don’t worry, sweets. Daddy’s got you.” he guides your hands around his waist, and you dig into the flesh, making him hiss with pain and pleasure.
He nudged the head on your entrance and pulled back a thin, clear string of arousal connecting you and bringing you back together as he pushed the thick tip inside your warm walls.
You wince slightly from the feeling of him stretching you out. Just his tip felt like heaven already, and you couldn’t help the way you squeezed so tightly around him. “Daddy,” you moan out, throwing your head back into the pillows as you gasped for air.
“Shit, there you go,” he grits through his teeth. “Take it in, princess. Take it like daddy’s good little girl” Your walls tighten around his tip, sucking him in even deeper. “You feel so good squeezing on your daddy’s cock. Your little pussy is so wet and warm” his hot breath blows against your face from the close proximity.
Pushing up your shirt, he reveals your chest, his big veiny hands kneading on your soft breasts that you put on display for him so many times, and now he finally got to see them up close and feel them.
Felt so much better than his imagination could ever even think of.
“You’re so big, Daddy,” you breathe out, taking all that he’s giving you obediently or maybe not so obediently cause you couldn’t help but grind down on his dick, forcing him to go in deeper.
His breath gets caught in his throat as your hole swallows him up, and he can’t help but thrust faster, your slick hole getting creamier by the second. “Fuck” his eyes roll back in his head, and he sticks his dick in you even further, watching as your pretty little face contorted in so much pleasure from being filled by his inches. “You’re taking my cock so deep, pretty girl. I’m all the way inside,” he whines, feeling your tight entrance rubbing along his tip, and it sets him off quicker than he’d like to admit. “Daddy’s gonna cum baby”
“Yes, Daddy, please cum all over me” he cups your face holding onto your cheek as you look at him with big round pleading eyes. Your words make him thrust his hips faster, his clammy skin smacking against your own, only adding to the pleasure as he fucks into your silky cunt so deep that his tip bumps your cervix and your breast jiggle with every harsh rut of his hips.
Feeling his high approaching, he lowers his hand to fondle your delicate clit to bring you to the point of no return alongside him.
“Daddy, I’m cumming!” Your body tenses at his actions, your walls clamping down on him tightly as your cunt creams around his cock, the tightness of your pussy feeling heavenly on his throbbing dick.
He lets out a lewd moan and quickly pulls his dick out, hot spurts of cum shooting all over your lower stomach. “Oh fuck fuck” he curses, watching as his dick throbs and paints you in his milky white cum.
You’re both moaning in pleasure as he rubs his cock against your stomach, releasing every last drop of cum on your pretty smooth skin. You both pant heavily while he empties himself completely.
You can’t help but swipe your finger in the puddle of warm cum and hold it to your tongue, sucking off the sticky remnants of his orgasm and savoring his taste.
“Daddy’s good girl,” he smiles in satisfaction, bending down and giving you a short but deep kiss on the lips before he gets up, and you miss his warmth already as he slips back into his boxers.
You watch him disappear into the bathroom and come back with something to clean you up.
He does it ever so gently, eyes full of care and concern, and once he’s finished, he helps you into your clothes and tucks you in for the night. “Happy birthday, baby. Daddy loves you.” he pecked your forehead, your eyes feeling heavy after those two unbelievable orgasms he gave to you.
“Love you too daddy” he smiles softly and takes the liquor and shot glasses heading to the door he took one last look at you puckering his lips and making a kissing noise you giggle and hide your face with the covers before he leaves. “Night, birthday girl,” he whispers to you.
“Goodnight, Daddy,” that’s all you remember before your eyelids fall shut. There’s a faint, satisfied smile on your face as you slip into slumber. This was the best birthday ever, all thanks to your stepdad.
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darnell-la · 3 days ago
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FRIENDS & CUFFS
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summary: y/n has only been curious about Eddie’s handcuffs after they began dating. she wondered why he never used them on her, and at first, long told her she didn’t know anything about that life. she soon found out that Eddie had a lot to teach her.
warnings: quick friends to lovers storyline, making out, fem receiving oral from male, reader weakens after orgasm, slight innocent reader, drug dealer Eddie (not really mentioned), rough sex, bondage (Eddie’s handcuffs/chains), missionary, doggy, no protection, crying, whining, a lot of male noises, pet names, chocking, etc.
note: we haven’t done an Eddie Munson fan fiction in a while. we still love him, so, there will be more. more stranger things in general. you see what I did there? — nevermind.
———
Steve nearly asked Eddie every day since he graduated, when he was going to make a move on y/n. He hated watching the two drink and get close, yet never make a move.
When people would ask them if they were together, or assume, anyone could tell they the nervousness entered the room.
Not too long ago, y/n and Eddie finally made a move. It seemed so perfect how they both leaned in to feel each other’s lips.
“I think we should stop — You’re drunk, and it’s getting late,” Eddie whispered after y/n stopped fake fighting on top of him. “What if I won’t want to sleep just yet?” Y/n asked, a bit shy, but the alcohol in her body, helped her gain confidence.
“You’re drinks, princess, and I’m not. I don’t want you to regret this, and mess our friendship up,” Eddie said, really wanting to taste her, but she was afraid of showing what he’s been wanting to do with her.
“A kiss could never ruin our friendship, Eddie,” y/n said, slightly sounding desperate as her eyes could barely stay open. “Wanna do more than just kiss you, y/n,” Eddie admitted.
Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at what her best friend said. She thought she was the only one who wanted to experiment with him. She felt nasty, but now, she felt loose.
The two both crashed on each other’s lips, making g out rough but passionate. None of them have kissed like this before. They would’ve never mixed their saliva like this with anyone, but because it’s them, they wanted to do much more.
The night ended with y/n halfway passed out, and Eddie’s face resting on y/n’s thigh, dripping juice from y/n’s throbbing heat. “So good for me — I wanna get used to this,”
Now, the two are dating, happier than ever, but y/n has been curious lately. She didn’t pay much attention when they were just friends, but now that they’re dating, she thought about Eddie’s handcuffs.
Most partners would be jealous, but y/n? She was curious. She thought to herself plenty of times how he would use them on her, and why he hadn’t done it yet. They’ve only been sexual for a short time, but if he were kinky like that, why wouldn’t he mention it?
“You good, sweetheart?” Eddie asked after turning to his girlfriend who seemed to be daydreaming. “Yeah, I was just thinking,” y/n said, not knowing if she should bring this up as a conversation so soon her their relationship.
“What is it? What were you thinking about?” The metalhead asked as he leaned back on his bed, taking his eyes off the weed he was pre-rolling for his rich customers who couldn’t do it on their own.
“So, uh — I noticed the handcuffs, and I was curious,” y/n said as she stared at the cuffs that were basically chains, dangling from a hook in his wall. She knew that had to be for something sexual.
“Hey, y/n, look — I swear on my uncle, I’ve never used them in anyone, and never planned to. I just liked the thought of them near me. I’ve even thought about you in them,” Eddie spoke quietly, a bit embarrassed by his truth.
“Oh, wait, I wasn’t jealous or anything. I just was curious on why you didn’t use them on me yet,” y/n said, making Eddie's eyes widen. For the longest, he had thought y/n was innocent, and she was. She was just open-minded when it came to her boyfriend.
“You’re not ready for that, princess,” Eddie chuckled lightly. “Why not?” Y/n asked, a bit offended as she crossed her arms. “Being restrained means you can’t do anything. I don’t think that it’s a good idea to put you in something like that, knowing you’d wanna get out,”
“What do you mean, want to get out? I can take it,” y/n said, only making the man laugh. “You can’t even take me slow in doggy. What makes you think you can take me deep up front with your pretty hands cuffed?”
Eddie shifted in the bed to cup y/n’s chin, slightly teasing her because they both knew she wasn’t a taker. Especially with his length.
“I-I can take it — It’s not even that bad,” y/n said, making Eddie throw himself back onto his bed with a loud laugh, knowing his uncle wasn’t home to tell him to shut the hell up.
“What!? You’re mean as fuck, you know?” Y/n said as she kept her arms crossed. “Oh, really, baby? I’m sorry, it’s just — You’re a comedian,” Eddie kept laughing, only making y/n roll her eyes.
“C’mon, I’m just pullin’ your tit, baby,” Eddie leaned up to hug y/n, but she moved away. “Babe, don’t start this. I was just kidding,” Eddie tried hugging y/n again, but this time she pushed him away. Of course, not too hard. She was just being dramatic.
“And, that’s why we can’t do what you wanna do. You can’t even handle being picked on a little bit,” Eddie said as he pushed at y/n’s shoulder lightly, slightly feeling bad for what he did.
“Whatever, I’ll be fine,” y/n said, making y/n sigh as he rolled his eyes. “Fine — We can use em, but ion wanna hear none of that cryin', okay?” Eddie jumped off of the bed to get his handcuffs that had dust all over them.
“Really?” Y/n asked, a bit excited, but knowing she wouldn’t be too excited soon. “Ah huh, but only one rule,” Eddie said with a smirk as he untangled the chains. “Yeah?” Y/n innocently asked, not knowing how quick of a turn this would take.
“The only thing stopping me, is our safe word,” before y/n could agree with a smile, Eddie lunged at her, grabbing her quest roughly to cuff them as quick as possible.
“Hey,” y/n said with an eye roll, not knowing he’d get in the mood this fast. “Not a word from you, princess. Let’s see how good you think you can take it,” Eddie said as he placed the chains where they needed to be.
Seeing y/n in this sight, made him harder than he thought he could get. She was always beautiful, but seeing her innocent body slightly retrained, knowing she was actually ready for what was coming, made him want to burst then and there.
“Always thought about tying you up at school. I was a little perv-nerd when it came to you, princess. You always looked and smelled so good — Had to keep myself from throwing you in my van with your hands and legs tied,”
Eddie was in an emotion he couldn’t control. He was either not sure about putting his pretty girl through this, or he was getting too dark to the point he would black out and not remember anything he’d do to her tonight.
“Pretties thighs — Pretties body — Pretties fucking face,” Eddie slightly growled as he gripped y/n’s face. The younger girl whined with huge eyes, feeling her heat get wet.
“I know, baby — Hearts probably rising. Maybe a hint of fear, knowing you can’t get loose — Don’t worry. You know, I’ll take good care of you,”
Eddie quickly began tugging on y/n’s clothes until parts of her showed more than before. She had already had her night dress in, so exposing her bra-covered breast was easy.
“You sure you want this y/n because, fuck — I won’t be able to stop myself,” Eddie warned as he climbed on top of y/n, pulling her dress up as she slightly moved at his cold hands grazing her skin.
“U-Use me — Please,” y/n stuttered, not knowing if she should’ve said it. “What’s the safe word?” Eddie asked in a stern tone. “Red,” y/n said, feeling her heart raise. This was actually happening, and she only had to question him once.
“Good girl,” Eddie grunted as he reached into his jeans to pull himself out. “And, that’s the only thing I wanna hear from you tonight,” Eddie said as he pulled y/n’s panties to the side.
“I-I’ll try,” y/n spoke, making Eddie shake his head with a chuckle. “You’re always doing a terrible job. Just means I’ll have to start off rough,” before anything, Eddie doubly pushed through y/n’s walls, causing her to cry out in pain and pleasure.
“Yeah? You feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? I told you doggy would be the only position you could truly handle — This is next level,” Eddie couldn’t stop but grin down at the struggles woman.
“S-So much,” y/n whined low, only making Eddie shush her. “Nah uh, what did I say? Didn’t I say to keep that pretty mouth closed? Hm? — You’re the one who wanted this, so accept the journey,”
Eddie grabbed both sides of y/n’s waist before pushing down onto the mattress. Y/n knew he was positioning himself to fuck her rough. He’s never gone too rough, but she asked for it tonight.
“Hush it up, princess — You wanted it,” Eddie continued saying as he pounded down into y/n, going the deepest he could get at the start of his session. After being handcuffed, there would be no room for taking it slow.
“E-Eddie,” y/n cried out as she pulled one of her restraints. At times, she’d forget that she wouldn’t be able to get out. “Wanna break free? Keep trying, princess — Makes this so much hotter,” Eddie growled with a smile, looking down at the way y/n pulled on the chains.
“This is the tightest you’ve ever been — The way you’re soaking around me, only makes me closer,” Eddie felt himself twitch. He didn’t want to cum this quick, but it didn’t matter. He’s always been able to keep going.
“Eddie- Eddie, you — The condoms. You forgot the condoms,” y/n took forever to say what she was trying to say. “Oh, really? Guess that’s your luck, hm?” Eddie leaned in front of y/n’s face.
Deep down, Eddie felt bad for slipping into her without protection. He had completely forgotten, but he didn’t want to get out of character. He had to somehow make sure y/n was 100% with what was going on.
“Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me. Tell me!” Eddie slightly yelled as he snapped his hips, wanting to keep his work going. He could feel the way she fluttered around him. She was so close.
“Too much, Eds — I’m gonna cum,” y/n made the mistake of telling him how close she was. “And, you want me to stop? When you’re so close? C’mon,” Eddie leaned into y/n’s ear so she could hear his groans better.
The room was filled with wet slaps, whining, growling, and a bunch is cuss words from Eddie. He couldn’t keep himself together. This situation was too much for him. He was going to explode.
“E-Eddie, slow down — Please,” y/n tried begging the man, but he wouldn’t listen. Why would he? She hadn’t used the safe word yet. “Want me to slow down?” Eddie asked as he leaned up.
“Yes, yes,” y/n huffed, surprised he actually slowed down. She had thought he got soft, but little did she know, he was just getting a short break. “Want me to be nicer? Take it easy on you?” He asked as he softly placed his hands around her neck.
“Please-“ y/n was cut off by the grip of his hands. “Then you asked the wrong one to chain you up, sweetheart,” Eddie spat before he began slamming into her, making the young lady cry out instantly.
“E-Eds! C-Can’t anymore — I can’t!” Y/n kicked and arched her back, trying to control herself, but her cunt continued to squeeze around Eddie, only assuring him that he was doing exactly what she wanted. Using her.
“That’s it — Keep struggling — You’re going nowhere, and this isn’t even the beginning — I have so many loads I’ve been wanting to empty into you,” Eddie tightened his grip a bit more to hear her struggle for air.
For a second, Eddie thought he might have been going too far tonight. Quickly handcuffing her, saying mean things, pinning her down, and fucking get rougher than he’s ever done.
The only thing that helped him was her words. She never once came close to the word red. She would’ve said it by now, and she would never come to him later and say she was uncomfortable. Y/n wasn’t like that.
That’s how Eddie knew y/n probably enjoyed this more than him. She loved faking that she needed him to stop. He even saw a small pour from her when he slowed down a few minutes ago.
“C-Cumming — Cunming,” y/n’s body stiffened before she shook. “That’s it- That’s it — Fucking take it,” the older man growled as he pounded her, wanting her juice to splash anywhere it could.
“Ian stoppin’ either, baby — Told you to keep that fucking mouth shut, didn’t I?” Eddie asked, but y/n didn’t answer. Her eyes were landing everywhere but on him. She felt out of it already.
“Didn’t I!?” The man shouted as he shook y/n by her neck to catch her attention. “S-Sorry,” tears streamed from her eyes, upset at herself for not taking it like she swore she could.
Right as Eddie went to assure her that she was fine, she spoke, shocking him.
“I-I’ll be good, I promise. Please cum in me. D-Don’t pull out and punish me,” she cried. “I’ll do anything, Eds, just- Please, use me,”
“Jesus’s H. Christ,” Eddie huffed as he pulled out. He quickly turned his girlfriend around, knowing the chains were long enough for her to be comfortable. He took no time to push back in her, roughly, with a warning.
Y/n wanted to speak out loud to thank him, he she kept quiet. She wanted to be good like she promised.
“You’re just a slut, y/n — A dirty fucking slut, and I knew it from how you dressed at parties — You always got drunk before you sat on my lap, facing me- Dragging that pretty pussy across my clothes cock — Swore you even stained my jeans, once,”
Y/n whined, happy that he noticed his much she wanted him before they got together. Yeah, a bit of embarrassment was felt, but the thought of being caught was what made her close to another orgasm.
“You’re in for a ride with me, princess. Especially after I coat these walls,”
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covenofagatha · 24 hours ago
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But you're my stepmom! (Part 11)
A/N: oh my god guys I finally wrote the next part! Please like it lol. I did see this as the end of the story but I purposely kept it open so if I ever did want to write more I could
Special shoutout to @lunargrrrl because without you saying that you loved this story I probably wouldn't have even touched it for at least another month (I love your writing so much I would do anything for you)
Word count:
Warnings: oral sex, scissoring, little bit of angst?
Taglist: 3440
@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna (sorry if I forgot you or if I put you twice, I just copied and pasted the taglist from the part 10 and then whoever said they wanted to be on it recently)
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“Hey!” You call after your step-mom as she struts through the parking lot back to her car, never breaking a stride, leaving you to chase after. “Agatha, wait!” 
She doesn’t even turn around, just unlocks the door and slides in, and she’s turning on the car when you finally make it into the passenger seat. 
You’re a little out of breath, so you take a moment to compose yourself. Agatha is staring forward, hands gripped on the steering wheel. “What was that?” You’re finally able to ask. 
Her knuckles turn white but she doesn’t answer. She shifts into drive and pulls forward and you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched. 
“Agatha, will you please talk to me?” You’re begging at this point, you don’t know what else to do, because something is wrong. That wasn’t her plan. 
Although, neither was fucking you in the bathroom. 
Your body betrays you and the concern you’re supposed to be feeling right now and heats up at the memory. You can still feel her thrusting inside you, your hips hitting the cold sink top, her hand wound in your hair making you watch yourself get absolutely railed by her. 
Stop. 
You shake your head to clear your thoughts, to get your mind out of the gutter, and Agatha finally pulls into the driveway of her house. 
It’s a good sign she didn’t take you back to your mom’s house, you suppose. She slams the car door after she gets out and storms into the house, you following hot on her heels. 
Agatha goes right to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. She takes a long sip and a deep inhale, and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes, she finally looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. 
“I’m sorry I did that with you there,” she says and you almost laugh. Is that what she was upset about? 
You shake your head and steal the glass from her, taking a gulp and wincing at the bitter taste. Agatha raises an eyebrow at your blatant underage drinking in front of her, but says nothing. You swallow the wine hard and make a face. “Don’t be. It was kind of hot,” you admit, and she chuckles humorlessly. And then a thought dawns on you. “Wait, do you think he’s going to think something happened in the bathroom? Cause we both went, and then you came out and said you wanted a divorce.” 
There’s a glint in Agatha’s eye. “You really think he’s going to assume that I fucked my stepdaughter against the sink in a restaurant bathroom and then decided to break things off?” 
“Well…” You trail off, the leap to that conclusion seeming a bit implausible, especially for him. Your dad has a hard time focusing on things that aren’t himself. “Seems like we’re in the clear, at least.” 
Agatha snorts and drains the rest of the wine. There’s still something off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 
“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice softening. “I mean, are we okay? I know we said earlier that we didn’t know what this would mean for us –” 
She cuts you off by slamming the glass down on the countertop so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t break and then closes her eyes to take a deep breath. You freeze. “I’m sorry,” Agatha says eventually, but it’s unclear if she’s apologizing for the reaction or for something else. Maybe for the whole thing between you? 
There’s an uneasy feeling that starts to grow in your stomach. Is she going to break things off with you too? 
Not that there’s anything to break off, is there? It hasn’t even been that long since this thing started, but it’s been intense. More intense than anything you’ve ever felt. 
You know that it might kill you if she walks away now. 
“Do you not want this?” Your question is like a stab to your gut, you’ve never sounded smaller in your life, and your heart pounds heavily in your chest while you wait for an answer. You need to know.
Agatha’s hands fidget on the counter, it looks like she wants to pour herself another glass of wine, but she refrains. “We can talk about what happens next later,” she says levelly and walks away without another word. 
The pit in your stomach only grows. How did you go from being fucked by Agatha’s strap not even an hour ago to this cold distance between you? She had been so possessive, so inflamed by the thought that you would even entertain another woman. 
The sound of her footsteps recedes up the stairs. What does she expect you to do? She picked you up from your mom’s house, and you can’t exactly call her to come get you. 
So you go upstairs and find Agatha in her bedroom, swiping at her face while she’s throwing clothes into a suitcase. You momentarily lose your train of thought when she slides open a drawer and you see about a dozen sets of lacy lingerie. 
Agatha clears it out and dumps it into the suitcase. 
And then your brows furrow in confusion. “Wait, you’re moving out? Why not make my dad?” 
She looks at you like she didn’t even realize you had come in. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get an apartment closer to my job. Your dad can do whatever he wants with this place, he’s the one that wanted it in the first place.” 
“Oh. Okay,” you say, a little dumbfounded. Everything is happening so fast, completely spinning out of control, and you don’t know what to make of it. She spares you another glance before standing up and moving to clear out her nightstand. 
She takes out a vibrator and the rope she tied you up with just yesterday and places them on top of the lingerie. 
“At least we don’t have to worry about my dad catching us anymore, right?��� You try to joke, but definitely not the time or place.
Agatha stiffens. “Honey,” she starts, and you know you’re not going to like this. 
“No,” you interrupt. “You’re getting divorced. We don’t have to sneak around anymore, or at least not as much. I like you, Agatha, and I don’t know how you feel about me–” 
“I’m leaving your father because of you,” she snaps and it’s like you’ve been slapped in the face. A thick silence settles over the two of you and you can see how hard she’s clenching her jaw. 
“What?” You whisper. “He’s having an affair, I feel like that should be your main priority.” But your heart is beating fast and you feel like you’re getting close to getting something real from her. 
She rolls her eyes and faces you directly. “Obviously. But I was thinking about it before. He’s not the only one who’s been having an affair here.” Was she leaving him because it’s the right thing to do? Or–
“So…” The pieces are scrambling to connect in your mind. “You want to be with me?” 
Agatha scoffs like the idea is ridiculous. “Be with the eighteen year old about to go off to college and find plenty of girls her own age to fuck?” 
She’s insecure? You can tell Agatha doesn’t completely understand how she’s feeling either, you can see the storm brewing in her eyes. She’s conflicted, torn between her own feelings. 
You walk over to where she’s standing and put your hands on her shoulders. Agatha doesn’t even meet your eyes. But then you slide your hands down her arms, onto her hips, and sink down to your knees. 
Now she looks at you and swallows hard. You can see the effect you’re having on her, her blown out pupils, and it only spurs you on. 
Your fingers fiddle with the zipper on your pants, carefully watching her face for any sign of hesitation. You drag the zipper down slowly and she helps you take off her pants and steps out of them like she’s in a trance. She’s still wearing the strap-on, it still smells like you – fuck, don’t get distracted. 
You loosen the harness and slide that down her legs too before leaning in and nipping at her thigh. 
“Let me show you how much I don’t want someone my own age?” You offer, gazing at her through your eyelashes. 
Her hand tangles in your hair and you let out a quiet gasp. “Go ahead, babygirl,” she says in a low voice, the voice that always gets you going, and pushes your head in-between her legs. 
It’s a bit of an awkward position, with her standing above you, stance slightly widened with you on the ground in front of her, but you make it work. 
You flatten your tongue and lick through her folds, collecting her wetness and moaning at the taste. It’s something you’ll never get tired of. You think you could easily spend hours eating Agatha out, and that’s something you’d like to try if she lets you. 
When your tongue flicks against her clit, her hand tightens in your hair and she lets out a moan and you do it again, desperate to please, desperate to hear more sounds fall from her lips. She lets out a little gasp when you suck on her clit, and you do it harder. Agatha’s hips jerk and she tugs on your hair, causing you to moan against her pussy. 
“God, honey, right there,” she says hoarsely and you double-down on your efforts, rubbing your tongue up and down over her clit while maintaining eye contact. Her groan is deep and she keeps brushing away the hair that falls over your face so she can see you. 
Your hands trace her thighs, the front and the back, and you dig your nails into the skin, leaving crescent indentations. The muscles in her legs tighten and she tries to roll her hips against your face but the position you two are in makes that challenging. 
So she steps back, your tongue still moving instinctively even though her pussy is gone, and you whine her name. 
She smirks and runs a hand through her hair, collecting herself for a second. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy just wants to move to the bed.” 
Agatha walks to her bed, sits and leans back, spreading her legs for you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of her dripping cunt that was on your face not a minute earlier and you move to stand up, but she stops you. 
“Stay on your knees,” she orders and you clench around nothing. The carpet is rough on your skin, but you can feel yourself getting wetter from her intense but appreciative gaze as you practically crawl across the room for her. 
You finally get to her and you push open her legs even more, first deciding to kiss up the length of each inner thigh. She shakes beneath you, especially when you get close to the heat between them, and she gasps when you nip at the pale skin. And then you dive back into her pussy, thrusting your tongue inside her, and she’s able to grind much more on your face without fear of falling over when she’s sitting like this. 
Your stepmom rides your face and all you have to do is open your mouth and stick out your tongue and she does the rest; she drags her pussy all over, small huffs falling out of her mouth at the exertion. Agatha takes what she needs from you until you can feel her clenching and her hips start to falter – she’s getting closer. 
You slide your hands around the backs of her thighs and pull her even closer to you so you can take over, sucking roughly on her clit and then curling your tongue inside her and repeating, all while Agatha moans uncontrollably above you, her hips jerking with each touch to her clit. 
“Fuck, babygirl, right there,” she chokes out, you can feel her throbbing, feel her walls fluttering around your tongue, and you don’t change a thing about what you’re doing, keeping the same pace and speed to gradually build up her orgasm. You can feel her body getting tighter and tenser and you know she’s about to cum. 
You give her one last filthy lick up the length of her pussy and then suck on her clit harshly, and she cums all over your face, getting it absolutely soaked. 
As if you’d ever complain about that. Agatha looks so hot coming apart for you like that, and you can’t believe she’d ever think you’d rather have a college hook-up than her. 
It takes her a moment to recover, but when she tilts your chin up, you beam at her, and you can still see the heat in her eyes. 
And even though she just fucked you hard in the bathroom, you need more too. You surge up off your knees and almost knock her backwards with the force and capture her lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and lips. 
She groans at the taste of herself on you and you straddle her lap, pushing a thigh between hers so you’re both able to grind on each other while you kiss. Her hands hike up the dress you’re still wearing so she can cup your ass and guide you on her leg, pushing you down harder against her, and you have to break away from her mouth to moan. Your underwear is absolutely soaked and clinging to you, almost getting uncomfortable. 
Your fingers fumble with buttons on her silky button-down and eventually you get so exasperated that you just rip it, buttons flying everywhere around the room. Agatha chuckles in amusement and tugs on your underwear, and you reluctantly get off her for a second to take it off. 
But then you climb back on her, your lips finding hers again, and this time when her hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer, she does fall back with how hard you’re grinding and kissing. 
You don’t care. Instead, you get an idea. You’ve never tried it before, but it seems like this would be the perfect time to. 
Sitting back up, you ignore Agatha’s confused look and chew on your lip. She lets you angle one of her legs up and over your hip, while you put your other leg over hers. When your eyes flick back up to Agatha’s, you can see recognition on her face and she looks positively excited. 
And then with a deep breath, you lower yourself down and a gasp escapes your mouth when your cunt touches hers. 
“Fuck, honey,” Agatha says and you have to pause before you become overwhelmed with pleasure. 
You slowly roll your hips and you both moan. “Mommy,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” 
Her hands settle on your waist while you lean forward, bracketing her head with your arms, and she helps you move against her, your wetness mixing with hers and making it easy to slide against each other. 
“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you are,” Agatha murmurs, maybe more to herself than to you, but there’s no denying how much effect those words have on you. Your clit pulses and you keen, your movements becoming sloppy, but Agatha’s hips rise to meet yours and there’s an absolute mess between the two of you in no time. 
Your head drops down so you can pepper kisses against her chest and sternum, mouthing at her breasts through her lacy, gray bra. Agatha jerks beneath you, her clit stroking against yours and you pant hotly against her skin. 
“Mommy,” you whisper, your head starting to spin with how good it feels. Her wetness, being able to feel all of her so intimately, her ragged breathing, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest. You drag your tongue over the skin at her bra line and her back arches off the bed.
Your limbs are entangled and the movements become short ruts against each other, hands flying from cheeks to hips to breasts to thighs and you can feel the tension building in your stomach. Agatha is getting closer, too, she’s breathing into your open mouth and the only sounds in the room are the two of you moaning and the slickness of your wetness. 
“Fuck, right there,” Agatha says tightly, your clit finding hers, and the two of you grind just like that, the stimulation almost too good. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good.” 
Your hips stammer and she pulls you in for a kiss, strokes her tongue into your mouth, and you cum all over her pussy, the dam inside you exploding. Pleasure races through your veins and you think your mind goes blank for a second, absolutely no thoughts except for Agatha. 
She follows shortly after, her body twitching under yours and you can feel her orgasm as she rides it out against you. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever felt, and the embers of the heat inside your stomach flicker. 
You stay on top of her for a minute or two, just soaking in the feeling of her against you like that. 
And then Agatha stiffens. “I don’t know if your dad is coming home tonight, but we should probably get cleaned up.” You groan at her mentioning your dad right now, right after possibly the best sex you’ve had in your life, but she has a point. 
You get off her and find your underwear, sliding it back on and fixing your appearance in the mirror. Agatha gives you a wolfish grin and a low whistle at your reflection and you roll your eyes playfully. 
She pulls on an entirely new outfit, her pants strewn on the floor somewhere and her shirt completely ripped open, and then she washes off the strap in the sink and puts that in her suitcase, too. 
It’s as you’re following her downstairs, carrying the other suitcase she quickly packed in your hands, when your dad opens the front door, looking flustered. 
“Agatha, please, talk to me,” he begs when he sees the two of you, eyes darting in confusion between you, probably wondering what you’re doing. Your stepmom walks right past him, and you awkwardly follow. “Sweet pea,” he says, this time referring to you. “What is going on?” 
“I know you’ve been cheating,” Agatha says, pausing when she gets to the door to whirl back around to face him. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach and you almost laugh. “I’m getting a hotel tonight, and then I’ll look for an apartment. You can have everything in this house. I’ll be talking to my lawyer tomorrow.” 
It’s the quickest settlement you’ve ever seen. When your parents got divorced, they had gone back and forth for months, bickering over the smallest things like blankets and game boards. You couldn’t be more relieved that Agatha just wants a clean break and no hassle. 
She opens the door and walks out of it, you only two steps behind, and you close it after you’re both outside, ignoring your dad’s calls for you to come back. 
You both wordlessly walk to her car and she opens the trunk to put her suitcases in. She didn’t pack all of her stuff, she will still need to come back and get the rest of her clothes and whatnot, but it’s a good start. You’re more than willing to come back by yourself and get the rest of her belongings, too. 
Agatha gets into the driver’s seat and you slide into the passenger’s. It doesn’t seem to be a question that you’re coming with her. 
“I know you don’t really want to talk about what happens next for us,” you say quietly, needing to get some things off your chest. “We don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But just know that I’m not going to do what he did, or throw you away like that. I really like you, Agatha. And if it’s just like this for however long this lasts, I’m okay with that. I just want you.” 
Her eyes stay on the road and her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she won’t. 
But then her hand slips down across the center console and interlocks her fingers with yours and she squeezes. You can see the hint of a smile ghosting her face. 
You squeeze back. That’s all the answer you need. 
290 notes · View notes
owuwi · 1 day ago
Text
CAITLYN KIRAMMAN
NSFW ALPHABET.ᐟ
pairings: switch!caitlyn kiramman x afab!reader
warnings: nsfw, usage of strap, mentions of free use, sex positions, mentions pussy eating, mentions of overstimulating, mentions of sex toys, mentions of knife play and anal as a turn off
2.5k words
── requested ──
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
sosososo caring!
even if she's tired, she'll always get you whatever you need. she's the type of girl to place soft, slow kisses along every inch of your burning skin, not caring about the thin layer of sweat covering your body. her hands roam all over you in the gentlest manner, wanting you to feel as relaxed as possible. after doing all of this, she'll carry you bridal style and give you a bath — if you're too tired, she'll simply clean you up with a warm towel —.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
in her, it's her waist. have you seen it? you can basically grab it with only one hand! she knows it amplifies her good looks and will always wear certain clothes that emphasizes her curves.
on you, it's any plushy part. whether it's your thighs, your ass, your tummy, or your breasts. she loves holding onto your body and she loves feeling your flesh. her love for your body isn't always sexual, she feels pure adoration whenever she looks at you and she can't hide it.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
she never gets tired of seeing you cum.
no matter how many time's you've done it, seeing how your body reacts to such intense pleasure created by her is something that never fails to amaze her. she loves making you cum more than she can explain and will never get tired of experiencing your reactions, which often leads to her overstimulating you and constantly asking you for one more orgasm.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
this woman is a freak.
it's something she's not exactly proud of yet can't control. she's even a bit embarrassed because she never thought she'd ever act like this. when she first met you, she wasn't exactly experienced nor knew a lot of sexual stuff — she was quite awkward and let you had control almost every time — ,but that quickly changed once your relationship got more serious and as time passed.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
she definitely knows what she's doing.
she's a fast learner so it doesn't take her long to get to know your body — to figure out what you like and what you don't —, and she definitely takes advantage of her little skill. she knows how to get you dripping in a couple of seconds, she knows how to have you begging for her touch, and she definitely enjoys seeing you so desperate.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
doggy style or you riding her.
she loves the sight doggy style provides and it's a position where she has more control. her hands are always on your ass — constantly groping and slapping it — and she loves leaning down to press slow kisses all over your back — especially when she's fucking you rougher —.
she feels like a teenage boy whenever you're riding her; the most love-struck look plastered on her face as you bounce up and down her strap. she was definitely awkward the first time you did this, her hands basically glued besides her own legs as she watched you. she became more confident over time, soft palms roaming over every single inch of your body — her hips occasionally thrusting up to meet your movements —.
as for sub!cait, she loves when you drape her legs over your shoulders. it's a position which makes her lose all control and she's on your mercy, making her feel vulnerable — in a good way — and under your care.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
despite everything, she's still a silly little thing.
she cannot stop giggling when you start taking off her clothes or even when you're kissing, soft laughs constantly slipping past her lips. it's a reaction she's always had whenever she gets too excited so she can't really control it, yet she totally tries to be more serious at times — especially when she's the one in control —.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
her bush grows fast and it's thick — yet soft —.
she trims her bush whenever she can just because she finds it more comfortable, though she'll definitely let it grow a bit more if you ask her nicely. however there are obviously times where she's too busy to trim it.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
intimacy is always present in your relationship.
during sexual acts, she always wants you to feel and know how much she loves you. after being rough or kinkier on you, she doesn't waste any time to shower you in affection and murmuring how much she cares about you; how you're the best thing that's ever happened to her and how she can't bare the thought of losing you.
intimacy outside of sex is something she cherishes. she loves those warm, quiet little moments with you. she loves brushing her fingers along your body, tracing your curves while listening to your soft breathing. what she loves the most is listening to your heartbeat, especially after a shitty day. you're all she needs in her life and to feel better.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
she only does it when she's really stressed and busy.
on those times where she's not with you and she really needs to blow some steam, she slips her hand inside her pants and allows herself to get carried away. she doesn't do it often because she's grown accustomed to the pleasure only you can provide her, though she always thinks of you on those rare moments when she touches herself.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
free use and orgasm control.
she's a busy and stressed woman, often seeking relief after a rough day, and you're always her best solution. she mostly does this when she comes back home and she doesn't want to distract you from what you're doing — which is usually making her some dinner —, so she simply buries her face in the crook of your neck and allows her hands to roam all over your body. 'mhm... don't mind me..' those are the words she always murmurs as her hand slip inside your underwear, sliding up and down your slightly slick folds.
she loves having control over everything she possibly can, and that includes your pleasure. despite loving seeing you fall apart for her, there are other ways she enjoys breaking you. she's sneaky about it at first, not wanting you to see her real intentions, and it would be cute if it wasn't for how mean she gets. she won't let you cum no matter how much you beg or cry, she'll only give you what you crave after she feels she's had enough.
oh but if you try and control her orgasm, she'll immediately understand the torture she puts you through and claims she won't do it again — though that's a lie —.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
she doesn't really have a favorite place. as long as you two are comfortable, she'll fuck you anywhere. though the place she enjoys having sex the most is somewhere more private. she relishes in hearing you moan, in hearing how you scream her name while she makes you see stars, so doing it somewhere more public won't allow you to be loud.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
your reactions.
the way you react to her will never fail to get her going. she loves the way your body shivers under her fingertips, the way your skin heats up as she kisses her way down, the way you twitch as she makes contact with your drooling pussy, and she obviously can't forget about the way you moan. seeing the effect she has on you brings her such indescribable pleasure, normally resulting in her fucking you for hours — whether it's with her mouth, fingers, or strap —.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything that will hurt you + stuff you aren't into.
she cannot stand even the mere thought of you being in actual pain while being intimate, especially not pain she caused. despite her rough she can be, you're her whole life and she never wants you to be in any discomfort. she's not into hitting you, making you bleed, nor truly making you cry.
for sub!cait, she's not into anal. the idea turns her off and it's not something she's excited — willing — to try.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
she loves both giving and receiving.
this woman eats pussy like she's starving and never bothers to hide it. she knows how to use her mouth; dragging her tongue up and down your slick folds and toying with your red clit before sucking harshly — a combination of her saliva and your arousal dripping down her chin —. she takes pleasure in making you feel good, though there are times where all she needs is your head between her legs.
on those nights after she came home exhausted, all she needs is you. she's way too tired to pleasure you so she prefers you making her feel good.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
slow yet rough!
taking her time with you it's something she adores. she always makes sure every single inch of you is kissed and worshipped before finally fucking you. she keeps her pace slow but her thrusts are brutal; driving her strap so deep until it kisses your cervix. she snaps her hips against yours precisely, her moves calculated and made to turn you into a whining mess. if it was up to her, she'll fuck you like that every time, though she eventually increases her speed once you start begging her to do so.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
only on those moments where she's in a rush or you two don't have enough privacy. she's not a big fan because it doesn't allow her to explore your body but she doesn't hate quickies — she never hates having sex with you —. quickies are something you two mostly do in her office or before attending somewhere.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
for sure.
caitlyn loves trying new things and she's constantly showing you stuff she'd like to try; it'd be adorable how excited she gets if it weren't for the filthy stuff she shows you. it's not that your sex life is boring or anything like that — on the whole contrary, you two are young and full of energy — but she likes to experiment. her risks are meticulously planned, though. if you're fucking in a more public space and you think you two are going to get caught, you're wrong; she had already this whole meeting and made sure no one was going to be present — yet she would never tell you —.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
she cums way too fast whenever she's too excited/aroused but her stamina makes up for it. she can go for 4-5 rounds before taking a break, using that time to make sure you're okay and shower you with praises.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
just some straps and a vibrator.
she uses the vibrator on you but never makes you cum with it, quickly replacing her fingers or her mouth — wanting to feel you releasing under her proper touch —. she has two straps — a thick and long one and a smaller one — and she uses them on you and you use them on her.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
just a little bit.
it's usually something she does unconsciously when she makes you wait, soft murmurs of 'be patient', 'let me enjoy your body a bit more, love', 'so needy', leaving her lips as she explores your body and makes sure you're dripping for her. she doesn't do it on purpose because she knows you won't hesitate on giving her a taste of her own medicine the next time you're topping, and this woman can't handle teasing — she tries but she always fails to keep her composure —.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
she tries to control herself but always ends up failing.
she lets out soft sighs of pleasure at first, bitting down on her bottom lip or placing the back of her hand over her lips as a way of silencing the louder noises that threaten to slip out, though she can't hold back for much longer. eventually, those faint breaths turn into moans, not loud enough to alarm neighbors but louder than her previous sounds. she definitely gets more high-pitched and close to whining when she's about to orgasm, her sounds breathy and broken.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
doesn't matter how many times you two have done it, she still gets all giddy.
her hands get all shaky and sweaty, her lips formed into a dumb smile as she stares at you — revealing her tooth gap —, and her cheeks flushed with a pink hue. she secretly loves the effect you always have on her and it's something that'll never fail to amaze her; the ability you have to turn her into a mess.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
7.5 inch dark blue strap, i don't make the rules.
if we're talking about underwear, this woman wears the finest there is. she has the most beautiful, lace matching sets ever — almost all of them dark blue, of course, though she has some black ones — and also robes.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
high.
she's obsessed with you. one glance at your sweaty, burnt out body and she immediately wants to go for another round. if you're too tired or simply not in the mood for more, she holds onto the little self control she has left and forces herself to stop being a horny little bastard — prioritizing your boundaries —.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
it kinda depends on how spent she is.
if she's not so tired, she'll simply wrap her arms around you and pull your head against her chest; wanting you to fall asleep first before she eventually closes her eyes. if she is tired, she falls asleep pretty quickly. she'll keep you close to her body as she allows herself to relax, enjoying how the warmth of your body envelops her.
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blckbrrybasket · 3 days ago
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ᯓ★ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
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MDNI
SFW
- Lesbian (canon)
- Heavy metal is her favorite genre of music.
- Doesn’t have a hand towel in her bathroom. She shakes her hands to dry them and wipes them on her pants.
- Keeps her nails short and hates keeping them painted. She sees it as a waste of time since it chips so frequently.
- Has horrible long term memory but can remember the most random, specific memories or facts.
- Got hit by a motorcycle once and got into a fight with the driver.
- Would have had an emo phase when she was younger without knowing what being emo meant.
- Secretly not so secretly the biggest hater. Does gossip just in her own way of posing things as a fact.
- Hated any type of schooling with a burning passion. Did not do well with the structure it demanded and most likely did not do any schooling after the required amount.
- Snores so loud like a dad and will wake herself up with her own snoring at times.
- Ungodly high tolerance for alcohol…we all see how frequently she drinks.
- Also has an amazing spice tolerance and can eat basically anything. Human vaccum!
- Loves reptiles
- Hates clowns
- Tries to shower often and hates when she’s working for long days without being able to go home to clean.
- She has never done taxes
- When Sevika was younger if she caused something to go wrong she would flee the scene and let someone else take the blame. She isn’t above doing it now.
- Likes being alone. Give her a cigar and some whiskey and she’s set to be alone for the rest of her life. She’s had enough human interaction for one lifetime.
- Honestly bad at handling criticism and tries to rationalize everything she does in her head.
- Gets offended when people incorrectly assume things about her.
- She is completely oblivious to anyone liking her romantically or showing interest in her. She isn’t very conscious of being romantic so it goes over her head if she isn’t actively deciphering if someone is flirting.
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SFW (serious)
- Hates hugs but will reluctantly give side hugs to someone very close to her.
- Sevika finds herself blaming Silco some nights and other nights she wants him to come back so she doesn’t have to deal with the chaos Zaun has fallen into.
- She has a love-hate relationship with her parents and ultimately wishes her childhood was better.
- Raised stray dogs on the streets as a kid because she thought of them like her.
- Has insane troubles trying to fall sleep.
- When she does eventually get to sleep she keeps a knife under her pillow. Do not wake her up unless you want to get hurt 😭
- Doesn’t verbally say i love you much. She prefers relationships where you both silently know how much you love each other.
- She can like physical touch at times and seek it out, but she doesn’t like it all the time. Sevika can love deeply, but she doesn’t do well with clingy people.
- She gets overwhelmed pretty easily. Though she doesn’t show it much on her face, it’s easy for her to feel suffocated by lots of things happening.
- She has to get used to cuddling and only cuddles with people she highly trusts where she doesn’t feel as if she is physically trapped.
- Would not be into toxic relationships. She hates situationships where she isn’t secure and/or doesn’t exactly know what she is with someone. Sevika needs something stable or she will not open up.
- Views her childhood self as a completely different person than herself. She mourns the kid who lost their happiness.
- Doesn’t fall in love easily because of the walls she has built up for years.
- Hates receiving help. Hates asking for it even more.
- Was called scrappy when younger and grew up to become ‘a scary lady’. When she’s able to settle down more she realizes how much she hates being stereotyped as this always angry and violent person.
- After becoming a councilor and being alone again years of pain came back. It took her a long time to work through all of it. She could be doing the most random thing and would burst into tears.
- When she hangs out around people she prefers to be in silence.
- Is hard of hearing after the amount of head trauma she has had. By the time she was in her late 50’s she lost complete hearing in one of her ears.
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NSFW
- Likes using her strap but prefers feeling you on her skin.
- Loves scissoring, but only does it on special occasions because hit makes her hips ache.
- Likes being bit (are we surprised?)
- Manhandler.
- Loves seeing you drip over her fingers, stretching you out is her favorite part because she always takes her time.
- Is a masochist, not so much a sadist. She sees enough people getting hurt every day by late season two she wouldn’t inflict pain on you in bed.
- Bush!!!! Loves bush, has a bush, wants a jungle.
- Prefers you dressed down. Never complains when you dress up but seeing you in every day clothes, her clothes, or pajamas is her favorite thing.
- It turns her on when you are at equal positions in your relationship instead of one being over the other, but doesn’t mind your subbing or domming more. switch sevika is real.
- PRAISES! Comes up compliments in bed that you didn’t even know she appreciated.
- Loves you dominating her. Giving up all the power she has to constantly hold it turns her brain to mush.
- Every time she is buried between your thighs she will massage them as she gives you head.
- Wears boy shorts underwear and briefs. Keeps them low cut to show her happy trail.
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marlovestrees · 3 days ago
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This feels a lot like when my big international engineering firm decided they were going to “make better use” of their offices in China and offshore a bunch of piping and civil design from Canada. It did not go well, because management just threw us all together, told us to make it work, and then lied to their higher ups that it was a roaring success.
No one in management took the time to train the other team, language was a barrier, there were cultural communication barriers that no one was available to explain to us, and the general directive given was to make it work because other teams in the company had had great success with this strategy.
Many of the Chinese engineers were used to having the construction team figure out details in the firld, but the economics we were dealing with meant that it was cheaper to design every detail in the office than it was to have the construction team figure it out. This meant that the designs we got from the Chinese team hadn’t thought through a lot of details that we considered crucial. They also weren’t familiar with designing for -40 C weather, which comes with some special complications like cracking and lots of thermal growth.
At the end of the day, the team in Canada ended up redoing pretty much everything. A year later I ran into one of the people who had been on the team that supposedly did really well, and asked her how they made the split team work.
She looked at me blankly and said, “We didn’t, it was a complete shitshow. Management came back to us and said that you guys had made it work really well.”
The big firm is still using overseas teams, and they must have improved. But last time I talked to a former coworker about what the experience is like now, it mostly sounded like they had gotten used to the issues, rather than resolving them.
Watching companies implement AI feels the same. In a couple years there will be smaller firms whose main sales pitch is that they have humans doing everything, and they won’t fuck up your project like those firms using AI. Just like how the company I moved to next went to all the big players and said, “Wow, they really screwed the pooch on those off-shore mixed teams! Did that actually save you money? All our team is in the same country, wouldn’t you rather have it done right the first time?”
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When I became freelance, one of my first marketing contracts was fixing my boss' blog posts and articles that he had 'written' with ChatGPT.
It was the single most soul-sucking task I have ever done in my life. I could have ghostwritten it for them faster than it took me to edit it.
ChatGPT would often hallucinate features of the product, and often required more fact-checking than the article was worth.
It is absolutely no surprise that 77% of employees report that AI has increased workloads and lowered productivity, while 96% of executives believe it has boosted it.
The reality is that it's only boosted the amount of work employees have to do which leads to increased burnout, stress and job dissatisfaction.
Source.
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P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?
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Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader
Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.
Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.
Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.
Mature content under the cut.
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'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 
'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 
Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 
'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 
'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 
'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 
'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 
'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 
'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 
'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 
'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 
'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 
'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 
'So?' 
'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 
'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 
'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 
'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 
To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 
Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 
So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 
You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 
'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 
And a switch flicks in your head. 
'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 
His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 
'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 
'You know Tara?' You nod. 
'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 
He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 
'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 
"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 
The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 
Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 
But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 
He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 
Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 
A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 
He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 
He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  
“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 
And then he presses record. 
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Previous - Next
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mosoderbergh · 1 day ago
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Emmrich and the good old fashioned body heat trope
Ok, there’a a thing about Rook and Emmrich pre-romance and the “caught in the cold” trope that is just beautiful to me. Because it would go a lot more innocently than with other pairings. Emmrich is far too much of a gentleman. But that’s what makes this so cute. Like… hear me out.
Emmrich knows the importance of keeping warm and the advantages of sharing body heat. He’s the sort of man who would read up on survival procedures before venturing out into extreme weather.
But surely, a shirt is thin enough to not significantly hinder the transmission of warmth. Surely he couldn’t be expected to strip entirely. He gets rid of some layers, but stays buttoned up to his neck. (Rook is shirtless the moment the words “it might be advisable to, well, huddle up” exit Emmrich’s mouth. They notice Emmrich spends the rest of the night holding intently focussed eye contact.) They cocoon themselves in blankets, sitting by the fire, shoulder to shoulder, backs leaning against insert obligatory cave/cliffside/tree trunk here. Emmrich has read just enough bodice rippers that an image comes, unbidden, to his mind. Of a broad-chested hero gallantly drawing the object of his desire into his muscled arms as they shiver and swoon. He is shocked at himself when he feels a blush creep up his neck. To even allow such a thought! This is nothing like that. A dashing hero may be present, yes, but they are caught in the cold with a colleague several decades their senior. There is nothing swoonworthy about it.
Emmrich files the thought away, and despite the awkward situation, the evening goes on… really rather pleasantly. They end up talking for a good long while. Rook opens up about their own upbringing and Emmrich elaborates on his. They share nostalgic memories. Emmrich recounts some shenanigans from his student days, and Rook can’t believe there’s a mischievous side to him (the mischievous side in question was called Johanna, but Emmrich doesn’t speak her name).
At some point, the comfortable silences stretch out longer and longer. Rook’s head rests on Emmrich’s shoulder. They aren’t quite asleep yet - when he reacts to the contact with an intake of breath, they draw back for a moment. But then, Emmrich leans in, just slightly. Just enough to let them know the touch is not unwelcome. The way Rook curls up at his side then makes Emmrich ache a little. As someone who is an authority figure to so many people (in a way that isolates him sometimes) this simple act of intimacy is precious to him. A show of trust on such a personal level. It takes him more courage than he’d like to admit to rest his cheek against Rook’s hair. The way Rook sighs contentedly gives him goosebumps. It’s been quite a while since Emmrich has shared a bed with anyone. And this is an unusual situation, but still… he can’t help but think how he has missed it. The companionship. The warmth. Sinking into sleep with the comfort of a friendly presence. The intoxicating closeness of someone who has found their way into his heart - this is another thought he tucks away neatly.
And because I can’t resist another trope, of COURSE they shift in their sleep. Emmrich wakes to find himself spooning Rook, with one hand resting on their stomach. They are soft there, and radiating heat. Emmrich thanks every deity he can recount that he tends to wake up early, because if he hadn’t been hard upon waking, the sensation of their body against his, their skin underneath his fingertips would have done the trick. He retreats discreetly to lie on his back. Only for Rook to shift and settle with their head on his chest, one leg draping over him, grazing his erection in the movement. Emmrich forgets to breathe.
He does wake them up, after he’s gotten a hold of himself somewhat. They untangle from him with a sleepy apology. And Emmrich, for a moment, wants nothing more than to stop them, or pull them back into an embrace, or…
He chastises himself for being a touch-starved old fool. Making so much out of nothing. But then Rook slides a hand up to squeeze his shoulder, and they smile at him brightly, beautifully, and ask him if he slept well. And it’s all he can do to swallow a rather wordy confession of his growing infatuation.
(The beauty of Emmrich, to me, is that he’s both a “I could out-sex any man in this room” kind of guy AND an “omg I can’t believe our hands touched” kind of guy. I love him.)
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afterglowkatie · 15 hours ago
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17 years old | a.p.
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alexia putellas x teen!reader | 1.3k | you make your senior debut for barcelona
ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pollito universe. i hope you enjoy it :)
Standing on the sideline, waiting for your number to be put up on the board, you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. You’d been ready for this day to come since you’d been invited to train with the first team. Though it still feels like time has gone by so quickly. It felt like just yesterday you were in the stands watching your mami on this very same pitch.
But that was four years ago now. Now you were older, your siblings were older, you weren’t that 13 year old watching her mami play. You were 17 now, about to step onto the same pitch that you had only dreamt about playing on. A world of responsibility was about to unfold the minute you stepped out, you weren’t just playing in the youth teams anymore, but about to play with the same players you’d grown to idolise.
It was a surreal feeling but one you were sure you were ready for. You’d watched your mami for years and everyone knows Alexia would’ve done everything she could to make sure you were as prepared, mentally and physically, as you could be for this moment. 
You knew you’d be making your debut in this match, despite having been on the matchday squad list for a fair few matches before this one. You also knew that your mami had been told as well, considering that you’d overheard her trying to get as many people as she could to come support you today. Your Tia Alba on the phone asking your mami what was so special about this match and then your mami’s hushed whispers were a dead giveaway to anyone who was overhearing.
The club saved Alexia’s number just for you, everyone knew you would definitely make your way through the teams to the first. There was never any doubt. Your passion for the game and your work ethic was identical to Alexia’s. There was a moment where you had second thoughts about taking the number eleven. But it was your mami’s legacy and you couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else wearing that number at this club.
Standing on the sideline, the number eleven with your name this time on your back, it didn’t feel as daunting as you always imagined it would. You were nervous, yes, but you knew no matter what happened today your mami was proud of you. Your family, your teammates, your mami’s teammates, the club, they were all already proud. Yes you had some big shoes to fill, you knew the expectations of the fans were going to be high, but you are a Putellas and you know you can do it.
You almost missed your number being shown on the board, being brought back to reality when arms were wrapped around you tightly, ‘Show them what you got kid. You’ve got this,’ Whispered in your ear during the embrace. A little nod of your head and a smile plastered across your face you ran onto the pitch. 
‘Pollito! Pollito!’ You didn’t need to look back at the stands to be able to hear Mapi’s voice over everyone else's.
‘Pollito, one day they’ll be chanting like that for you here,’ Mapi leaned over, pointing at the crowd that was chanting your mami’s name, ‘And I’ll be the first one,’ 
Coming on in the 80th minute, you really didn’t expect to be able to add a whole lot of importance to the match. You were just happy to be stepping onto the pitch, getting your first senior appearance. Though whoever was in charge of your script had other plans for you. Not many 17 year olds making their first appearance would have the confidence to take a shot like you did. 
Intercepting the ball midway between the half and 18 yard box, one quick glance up to see the keeper off their line and you didn’t take a second to think about taking the shot. Everything was a massive blur, your first touch was a goal and you hardly had any time to even think about it before you were being pulled into hugs and head pats by your teammates.Finishing the match with two goals in twelve minutes, a debut that no one was going to forget. 
‘Ale, watch out our little pollito already starting her goal count. Coming to take your top spot away from you if she keeps going like this,’ Mapi slung her arm around your shoulder bringing you in for a side hug. You laughed a little, shaking your head playfully. Your mami rolled her eyes. They’d all made their way down after the match, not wasting a second to come see you. You who was still in shock and not believing everything was real and ready to wake up realising it was all a dream. Eventually it would sink in.
‘You suck at celebrating,’ You laughed at your little brother, ‘All the time you seen me and my celebrations, I’d thought you’d learn a thing from me,’ Your brother was just like you and your mami, going through his own La Masia journey now, and you’d often found yourself practicing and playing football in the backyard together. You were both quite competitive with each other and Alexia has had to break up her fair share of fights and arguments between you both. But your closeness never faltered.
‘Hermano, you gotta teach me how you backflip,’ You smirked looking mostly at Alexia when you spoke to your brother within the group. You knew that if you even thought about trying something like that it would send your mami into a slight panic, the look in her eye now and the slight falter of her smile. You liked winding her up. A backflip celebration was definitely in your future, already planning it for a match you know your mami would be at.
‘Sí, celebrate in style pollito,’ Your tía Alba encouraging it, anything to annoy her sister
‘Eh, you’ll figure it out,’ Your mami pulled you in for a hug, you could see just how proud she was of you, ‘Maybe a less dangerous one, por favor,’ You laughed but made no effort to promise your mami that.
‘Hmm, I guess can’t have you growing more grey hairs,’ You playfully squinted while looking at your mami’s hair, Alexia gently slapping your hand away before you could point any out. 
‘If any, you lot are the reason for them,’ Alexia pointed towards the entire group that surrounded you. You all laughed, and somewhere during all the banter and the teasing you realised just how lucky you were. Seeing them all here together, you wouldn’t have made it this far without them.
Your mami turned you around so you were looking at her now front on, her hands gently holding the side of your head, ‘I’m so proud of you pollito,’ Words that you often heard from your mami but this time it felt different hearing it. A good kind of different. Alexia gave you a kiss on your forehead before, reluctantly, letting you go. Your mami still wishes you were that four year old who still fell over every time you tried to kick a ball, you grew too fast for her liking but she’s excited to watch your journey. She knows you’ll go far, mother’s intuition as she likes to tell you when you call her biased. 
Your little sister tugged at your shirt and you picked her up, she was small for her age so she still sat nicely on your hip just like she always has. You eventually broke away from your family, still holding your little sister while you went back to your teammates and went to some of the fans that were trying to get your attention.
Your mami watched from afar. Her little pollito wasn’t so little anymore, ‘The world is yours pollito,’
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mountainsandmayhem · 3 days ago
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BDSMaid - Chapter 9
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Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks.  Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics
My Masterlist || Series Masterlist
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TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak
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Eight Months Later
Joel
“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club. 
“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.
He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?
“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.
Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.
“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”
 Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen. 
The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.  
He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”
Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”
Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”
“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.
“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls. 
“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”
Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away. 
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Two and a half years later
You
You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.
The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over. 
“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.
“Where are you?” You ask.
“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll.  “I’m at a cabin.”
“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”
The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”
“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke. 
Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”
A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”
“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.
“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!” 
“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”
“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over. 
You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her. 
Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”
You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.
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Graduation Day
You
The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend. 
You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door. 
“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his. 
You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent. 
“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”
He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.
Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”
You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.” 
“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots. 
Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach? 
Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line. 
You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next. 
As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.  
You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.  
Joel.
You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party. 
“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?” 
The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?  
Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words. 
‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’
‘Just call me Joel.’
‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’
You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life. 
As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.
 You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him. 
“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.   
“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”
He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start. 
Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”
You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”
“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face. 
You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”
Joel nods. “Okay.”
“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”
Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”
You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”
“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would. 
He showed up. 
“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.
“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.
You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.
“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.
“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”
He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”
Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same. 
He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.
“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours. 
“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.
“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious. 
“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”
“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”
“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd. 
You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.
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Joel
Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. 
He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends. 
Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far. 
Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.   
“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.
“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”
Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to. 
He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”
“Do you need to use your safeword?”
“No,” you respond with a pout. 
“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer. 
“Six,” you sob. 
He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”
You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.
“Do you want to come for me again?”
“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”
He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”
“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.
“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.” 
You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips. 
“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”
“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”
“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”
“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.
“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it. 
Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”
He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”
The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”
“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.” 
“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once. 
“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.
“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.
The End
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Coming Soon:
Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"
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Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!
Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.
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Hazbin Hotel Headcanons
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"We are Just Friends" "Just friends I thought I was your wife" Hazbin Men x Reader
Guess who's baaaaaack, it's ya fav writer Luna, whoot whoot
Lucifer
He was over the moon the first time someone mistook you two for a couple. He really thought it was his time to shine next to you, only for you to deny it right in front of him.
As the two of you grew closer and closer, the more 'friend' things you did, the more it looked like a 'couple' thing, from cuddling on the couch to holding hands at the mall.
When your actual friends started calling you a couple, he knew something was up. Not only do you tell your friends everything, but the giggles and pointing really laid it in for him that you may have some feelings.
By the time you were out in public again and you got called a couple he was quick to interject in the conversation to make sure it was clear that you two were actually a couple.
When you questioned him about it he was all smiles and giggles. It went a lil something like this:
You had pulled Lucifer from the man talking to you just moments ago. "Lucifer, what the heck? We aren't even dating."
He just smiled at you and shrugged, pulling you close to himself. "Well, to me, this looks like a date, a pretty person out and about with a pretty handsome devil."
You slapped his arm and rolled your eyes, trying to get the previous man's attention to let him know you were just friends. Then Lucifer chimed in, "Just friends, Y/N. You wound me. I thought I was your husband."
Needless to say, this whole interaction definitely helped you two confess your underlying feelings and start actually dating. So, there was a lot of good to come from some silly shenanigans.
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Adam
Initially, he was against anything tying you two together. I mean, come on, he is the first dick. After all, he can have anyone he wants. Until he started catching real feelings for you.
When it was mistaken that you two were a couple after he started falling for you, he would loudly proclaim he was your husband, and you would just laugh and giggle.
Sometimes, you would correct him, especially in front of the seraphim or executioners, that you were just friends, but Adam was always there to tell everyone he was your husband.
He only saw hope that you would drop the foolish idea that you weren't his when you blushed at him, grabbing your hand and telling a winner about how he married you not too long ago.
The last time that you tried to correct someone on your and Adam's relationship, it went a little like this:
You shook your head, giggling at Adam's antics, and looked at Sera. "We are not married, I have no ring, and I am single."
Adam gasped and summoned a hundred different rings. "That's okay bitch. I can fix that. Take your pick. I am the first man, after all."
You blushed and shook your head, telling Sera you were close friends. Her knowing eyes read you like a book on how much you wanted to be more. Then Adam jumped in. "Babes, we're just friends. Are you serious? I am your husband; just let it happen, please."
Shortly after this incident, Sera had a long talk with Adam about how he should ask to be your boyfriend first, then maybe move on up to husband status.
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Vox
He was content having you around, even if it stung every time you called him just your friend. He was happy he had a friend who genuinely cared.
He would, however, pout and give you too much space and distance when you would correct people that you were just friends. He wasn't petty, no, never. He just cared about you not being mistaken and not making you uncomfortable.
It was brought to his attention by the other Vees that you and he were uncharacteristically close for people deeming themselves "just friends." You two were glued to each other, giggling and bringing out your best selves.
When he realized this, he slowly stopped correcting people and would even butt in before you could correct them, just letting all of hell slowly think you and Vox were together.
The last time you ever corrected someone that you and Vox were just friends went a little like this:
You were watching one of Vox's live streams and saw an influx of messages asking where you were and when you two started dating. You sighed. "We are not dating. We are just friends!"
Vox short-circuited and turned to look at you. Quickly, he dragged you to his lap, setting you down and hugging you in front of everyone. "They are shy and don't want you all to know I am their husband."
You gasped and blushed brightly, trying to pry yourself out of Vox's grasp, but he held you tight and laughed with a big, bright smile.
Once the stream was over, a lengthy discussion ensued about the meanness of messing with one's emotions. Only then did you realize no feelings were messed with, and Vox was dead serious.
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Alastor
With Alastor, it was all on the flip side. He was adamant that you two were just friends—good, good friends. However, you always longed for more and were hurt when the words left his lips.
He somehow always managed to miss your pouts and groans whenever the situation seemed to care how it affected you when he harshly told the world that all you were was a friend.
You found it hard to believe that you two were just friends when you did so much together, more than he and Rosie. You were always in his studio, sitting right next to him as he required while drinking tea that he especially makes for you and no one else.
You finally caved in and spoke to Rosie about the mixed signals her best friend was giving you, only for her to reconfirm your suspicions that no one else entirely lived in Alastors heart like you did.
The last time you let him ever call you just friends went a little like this:
Rosie sat across from you two as Alastor made your tea, a knowing look on her face. Before she spoke, you knew she would make the comment you always dreamed about your and Alastor's relationship. Sure enough, Alastor was quick to respond, "Rosie, dear, we are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you?"
Alastor's crisp voice rang out, and you were distraught. However, you had other ideas. You gently touched Alastors hand and smiled at Rosie. "Oh, he is too shy to admit he has a partner now."
The blush that reached both of your faces was priceless as you two looked at one another, and Alastor froze, spilling tea everywhere.
After your tea party, you sat down in Alastor's recording studio to discuss the intricacies of your relationship. As soon as Alastor finally admitted to his feelings, it just so happened that he 'accidentally' broadcasted your confessions live for all to hear.
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mi55delulu · 2 days ago
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incoming longish review … sorry 😭🫶🏼
you know … it takes a real special person to pull off age gap fics and lovie, from the beginning i was so captivated by how you captured all the tension, yearning, and forbidden love. i’m being deadass, i was like rumpelstiltskin in shrek when he had his toes curling at the contract signing scene … iykyk. jungkook’s mannerisms? ended me. folded. i absolutely loved your portrayal of him!!
cuz wym … “what a beauty. you look very pretty.” UGH i would give him everything.
it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.
THE WINE ANALOGY HERE IS SO GOOD!!!!!!
your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.
something about your ocs (at least from what i’ve been able to read so far) is that you really capture the essence of their innocence and youth. it makes me nostalgic and so protective of them 🥺 esp this oc and how the fic ended. bc even if jk didn’t want to rob her of her youth, he did. and god, does it hurt.
like i said, it takes a real special person to pull off this sort of trope, but i expected no less from you. bc wow … amazing. i don’t read a lot of age gap fics bc if im being frank … it’s a pretty taboo topic in our society, yet this happens everyday to real people, right? i think it’s one thing to judge it based on what it is and then having the opportunity to build a world with characters and feelings around it. what an experience. thank you as always lovie!!
OLDER ⋆ 정국
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you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.
pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader
genre: smut, dilf au, best friend’s father
warnings: lower case intended, porn with some lots of plot, age gap (21 n 38), dom!jk, sub!reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayyy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, some angst hehe, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love
ratings: 18+ / mdi
word count: 18.2k
a/n: i kinda hate this it doesnt make sense anymore to me but when i realized i was already 12k words in so 😃 here you are! its also so hard to write smut for me because i get carried away but then it becomes too overwhelming Help. anyways. im back hey!!!!
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in the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. there’s something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. you bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.
but amid them, one stands out. it’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face, when you fixate on the image of the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.
it’s been a few months since that day— since areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.
you had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.
kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing areum with panic in your eyes, you tried to steady both her and yourself. in between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. her words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck, her body trembling.
it took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. divorce was imminent.
your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. you felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your friend still hiding in your chest.
even as her sobs echoed in your ears, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. mr. jeon is single.
you felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening them around areum harder to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.
since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at areum’s house. you’ve been doing your best to be the friend she needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness.
you’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of friends on lazy evenings. anything to keep her mind off the pain.
but each visit is an opportunity. a fleeting chance to see him. to study how he moves around the house with that quiet intensity of his, a presence able to fill every room like a calm, steady current.
you’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. the way his eyes soften when he looks at areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.
you wish you could help him too. in other ways. ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.
you can’t avoid it, though. you’ve witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.
you feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?
you know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.
“any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” he always asks, his gaze jumping between areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.
after your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. is your dick on the menu? perhaps?
and the man can cook. exceptionally well. he moves around the kitchen with an effortless grace, every movement purposeful, every dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.
while you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should, mesmerized by the way he chops vegetables or stirs a pot, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.
fuck. is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? with every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.
you want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. you tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.
there’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.
you feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.
even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins, a dark and forbidden feeling tumbling in your stomach.
you’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. you found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.
his eyes hazily followed your movements, his voice low and slightly slurred, “are you leaving already?”
hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.
he was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt falling sweetly on his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.
you shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “huh… yes. didn’t wanna be a bother.”
he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “oh, you’re not. i wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”
his words hung in the air, with sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. you simply laughed along, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.
to this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “care for a drink? you’re 21 now, right?”
you only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. the proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.
you were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. you took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. he smiled.
it was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of mr. jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.
his words tumbled out in a quiet, almost confessional tone. he spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with areum; 23 when they decided to marry.
his voice soft, but tinged with a sadness you hadn’t heard before, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.
then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. that he had you all figured out.
“when i look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “i feel like i get a bit of that youth back. you’re so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. i’m glad she has you. glad we have you.”
as he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. you were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.
that night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. it was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.
even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.
still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. it has awakened something in you, something stronger and far more dangerous than anything you’ve felt before.
you want to be there for him. help him through the doubts and regrets. be the youth he missed. take the weight off his shoulders. let him use you on that couch.
that feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek mercedes parked outside.
he honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. the sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.
it has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.
you’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.
the wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone.
the realization hits hard, and suddenly, the reality around you narrows. your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real.
you can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. and the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when areum nudges your shoulder.
you don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt.
you blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “dad asked you a question.”
your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. you’ve been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. the irony is almost too much.
your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “sorry, mr. jeon. i— um. i was distracted.”
he simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. his focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “it’s okay. i always tell you, just jeongguk is fine. i was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”
“oh. i—it went well! i guess i’m just tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. you just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.
“well, you can’t be!” it’s areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “you need to help me set up for tonight. then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. i’m so excited!”
right. the reason why you could finally see mr. jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s areum’s birthday.
the day feels significant in so many ways. you’re excited to witness your best friend turn a year older even after the hardships she’s been faced with. honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. and you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there’s going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. you’d say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of areum’s happiness.
but mostly, you feel guilty. because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.
you crave for the smallest moments. the brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. the way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.
even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. like you’ve been chosen. blessed by whatever god to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.
it should be enough. it really should. but you’re a sinner. you’re greedy, wanting more. always more.
that buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day. the hours are packed with frantic energy, as you and areum run around in anxious over-organization, only for her own panic to rub off on you, making your movements quick and precise, as if every step has to be executed flawlessly.
and with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. mr. jeon. his presence is overwhelming, even when he’s not around.
he helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. but then he disappears into his studio, retreating into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.
yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. his upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture.
you straighten your back, slow your steps, each action more deliberate, because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.
getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. you love these moments with her. shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.
but even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. it’s astonishing how easily areum has access to everything she wants. the power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy.
for her, money isn’t just something that buys things. it’s a silent force that shapes her world. she doesn’t have to worry about how much something costs or wonder if she’ll ever have enough. it’s as simple as snapping her fingers.
it must be nice to have that kind of life. to have someone like him in your corner, with wealth that seems to fall into place as easily as leaves from a tree. you don’t resent her for it, not really. but it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach.
where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.
when you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.
you’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, their soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. the setup looks like something out of a dream, and it pulls a small, unbidden smile to your face.
the quiet peace is interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.
you turn, following the noise, and there he is— jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard.
as he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. he’s uncharacteristically deliberate as he still lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.
you’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. the corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape, the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.
but now, under his gaze, you feel exposed, like he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. his eyes linger longer than usual, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.
you’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.
still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.
when his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and the smile that curves his lips is warm, but you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.
his voice is smoother than you’ve ever heard it, as if literal honey, sweet and rich, is dripping out from his pillowy lips, “what a beauty. you look very pretty.”
you weren’t expecting that. it steals the breath from your lungs. it’s not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses.
it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.
at this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities, each small sip burning your throat and making you grimace at the sensation. but you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. or maybe, mr. jeon is the inebriated one.
you don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “thanks.”
he hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. you let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. he resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.
the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. make small conversation about areum’s birthday. comment on his look, too. oh, you have a lot to say about it.
you can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. his hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks purposeful, perfectly intentional. his slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.
your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.
surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. the rich sound fills the air as he pours the red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.
he doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”
the way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, more confident. especially with the question thrown your way. teasing, almost belittling. you can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.
the question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “mh… you could say so.”
of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. mr. jeon is no boy— he’s a man. the kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. the kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, his wealth, his looks that stop you in your tracks.
but he’s in front of you. and he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.
it’s him you want to impress. you want to affect him the way he affects you, with effortless intensity. you want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.
you’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. he brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma.
there’s something so practiced, so sensual in the way he handles the glass, the liquid dancing with delicate precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. you can’t look away.
when he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. the moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.
his smile is soft, but there’s something unsettling in its honesty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
he mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”
the implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his adam’s apple bobbing with it. the whole time, his eyes never leave yours.
a thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. your mind spins with the unspoken tension, but he seems entirely comfortable with it. the only sound filling the space is the quiet hum of the house.
he places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.
his voice is inviting, even more than usual, “you want some?”
”is that wine?” you instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.
he hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully.
you briefly glance at the glass, “i’ve never had it.”
”try it, then.”
with a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. as it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you.
the gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. at least to your deranged fantasies.
there’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. you look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, his expression unreadable but heavy with implication.
without a word, you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around the stem. you bring it to your lips, your mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.
the wine hits your tongue— bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. you gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. your face scrunches involuntarily, a clear sign of distaste. the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.
he watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. when you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.
his tone laced with amusement, he asks, “like it?”
you shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.
his chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. swirling the wine gently, he muses, “i heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”
you groan lightly, slumping your shoulders, “ugh, i know.”
the endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. i’ll be around.”
just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. pretty face?
what just happened? you’re not sure, but you’ve definitely stepped into something dangerous, something you can’t quite shake.
it’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. the energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in.
it all contrasts sharply with the weight still hanging in your chest from your earlier encounter with mr. jeon. your eyes keep darting toward the house, toward where you know he is, even though the logical part of you tells you to stop.
you stand at the entrance to the garden for a moment, taking in the scene. the subtle smell of flowers mixes with the faint scent of food, and your best friend bounces around the space, radiant in her dress. you’re genuinely happy for her, honored to share this moment.
and with your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. your mind is elsewhere.
it’s only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. mainstream music plays in the background, and it inevitably involves everybody, as some classic party games become the main entertainment.
long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other never have i ever questions.
you can’t help the way you all still feel like teenagers deep down, and how you get foolishly excited whenever the topic gets hot, and hints at anything that is sex related.
childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.
“never have i ever been fingered.”
areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.
as expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. the few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.
sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip from your punch. you can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.
it’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. you pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. something you can relate to.
but of course, god is not on your side. the questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.
you can only sink further in your chair as everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen, refilling their cups.
beside you, areum buzzes with energy as every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.
never have i ever given head.
never have i ever been ate out.
never have i ever rode someone.
it’s undeniable, the way your skin heats up. with how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination.
you feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always mr. jeon.
if only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard.
you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.
jeongguk is hidden in the shadows, the darkness of the house swallowing him whole, with every light turned off. maybe that’s why neither you nor areum notice him.
you don’t see him. you don’t feel him. you’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.
jeongguk traces your every move with his intense gaze. he studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.
if you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately— the way the attention in the circle shifts toward you.
the glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. but then, in the eyes of a few, jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment.
it’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the way they exchange fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your unease and interpret it as something lesser. something they can pick apart.
his jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. it makes his hands twitch by his side. he stays rooted in place.
eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. it’s written on your face. or maybe, he got so used to studying you. it comes easy to him. knowing you,) follows.
it makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, the way the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.
“never have i ever… had sex.”
you feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. the rim hovers near your lips as you avoid every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.
a murmur ripples through the circle. you can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. it’s only later that you realize no one else drank. the question had been crafted specifically for you, a silent test.
lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “woah, i was getting worried for a second there, ___.”
you barely have time to react before areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “what’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”
“nothing, but—”
you’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. you cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, “i only took a small sip, though.”
the group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. you feel it— everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you’ve kept to yourself until now. so, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.
you clear your throat, straighten your back against your chair, your tone evasive, “i technically am not a virgin, but…”
the expectation drips from every person around you, their wide orbs trained on you, and for some reason you continue, gulping audibly before providing them with an explanation they don’t deserve, “when we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— god, this is embarrassing.”
“c’mon, tell us!”
you sigh, pressing forward with the humiliating truth, “he came, like, two seconds after. so, i felt nothing.”
the laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. you can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.
yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “that’s so sad, babe. we need to find you a real man.”
a strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within, and you quickly learn how the buzz spreading to your body after taking part in sharing one of your experiences awakens you significantly.
you don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “oh, i’ve been waiting for one in particular.”
you quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. their curiosity flares again, eyes wide with excitement as they beg for more details. who is it? tell us!
their voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.
but just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.
jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.
the intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, the air thick between you as time seems to slow.
he’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, the muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. there’s a quiet frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. but it’s more than that. there’s something stirred by your confession.
your inexperience. your innocence. the untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.
the truth is, he’s known for a long time. longer than he’d like to admit, really. but he’s never let himself feel it fully until now.
it wasn’t something that hit him all at once. no, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. he’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. you’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.
but he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with areum, how his heartbeat would quicken up when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.
he’d been good at keeping it under bay. but you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest. your fleeting glances, your breath hitching whenever he was near, your clothes putting you on display for him. it all made it harder.
even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.
and earlier, in the kitchen. he’s used to being in control, but the way you responded to his presence, to the compliment he gave you, had moved something deep inside him.
maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. how you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.
hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.
it’s like it all clicks into place for him. and for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.
jeongguk wants you.
he knows it’s wrong. so wrong. he’s never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.
it’s dangerous, the way these thoughts take hold of him now. maybe it’s the way you’ve changed lately, stepping into womanhood but still holding onto that wide-eyed innocence. or maybe it’s him. maybe he’s the one who’s changed, his resistance crumbling little by little.
he feels disgusting. selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.
but there’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just areum’s friend. that boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. he’s old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.
your eyes widen with terror, meeting jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. he wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate. it fills him with uncertainty, an unfamiliar feeling, one he rarely contends with.
the moment is abruptly interrupted when one of areum’s friends, an older guy she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.
you struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.
but it’s hard, you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “is it me?”
the people around you laugh, the sound light and carefree, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes— jeongguk notices.
and he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. his jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.
he can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.
the sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.
jeongguk steps out, his presence commanding, and your expression drops. areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. his eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.
still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher. it’s firm, heavy with a warning.
“areum,” he calls, his voice calm but edged, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
she’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.
but the voices of your friends rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing.
you sigh, and when you return to your slumped position on your chair, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.
jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. you hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind.
all you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.
you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. it sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else.
you wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled.
but instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.
when areum returns, she’s slightly slumped over, her energy deflated. behind her, mr. jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.
areum’s voice is low as she announces, “the party’s over, guys.”
the subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends try to protest, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. they then gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it.
once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.
jeongguk barely looks at you. his focus is elsewhere. on the mess, on areum, on anything but you.
as you bend down to gather some empty cups, you steal a look at him again. he’s helping clean up too, though his motions are deliberate and slow.
it’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.
until areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. she mumbles, blinking heavily. "’m so sleepy."
jeongguk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the still-messy garden, some leftover cups and plates scattered across the tables, and the chairs strewn about from the night's festivities.
he teases lightly, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "oh, really? you’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"
for a moment, the weight of his words hangs in the air. you and areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. the pause is brief, but it’s enough for tension to rise in your chest.
but then, jeongguk’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“just kidding,” he chuckles, his tone warm now, the joke clear. “go sleep, c’mon. it’s past your bedtime.”
areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. she mumbles into his chest, “i’m not a kid anymore, dad. i don’t have a bedtime.”
he chuckles with a lightness that was foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, his voice low and tender as he whispers, “whatever you say. happy birthday, reumie.”
it’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate, but the intimacy of it, the quiet affection between father and daughter, makes your heart clench.
you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from mr. jeon. he’s always been the composed, collected man in the background of areum’s life, but here, he’s just a father, brimming with love for his daughter.
you almost feel like an intruder witnessing such a private exchange, but you can’t pull your eyes away. every detail — his hand softly resting on her back, the delicate warmth in his eyes, the way his voice softened — it all paints a picture of a side of him you’ve rarely seen.
you want to be part of it, too. want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. that fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.
he doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. you’d gladly find a house in his brain, and you’d pay rent and everything.
when areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “you coming with me?”
you hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. you speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “i’ll be there in a minute. i wanna help clean up first.”
she just shrugs, already too tired to argue, and heads inside. jeongguk’s eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.
his lips part as if he wants to say something. maybe to insist that you shouldn’t stay, or that you should go inside too. but the words never come. instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.
now, it’s just the two of you.
the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. the subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.
you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to mr. jeon. to the protective edge in his tone earlier, to the way he’s been looking at you tonight.
but then, in your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.
before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.
“oops. careful, little one,” it’s jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.
your face flushes immediately, the heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck.
“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.
“it’s okay,” he instantly replies, his tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.
silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. you both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. his thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.
finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "thanks for making my daughter happy today. i really appreciate that. i appreciate you."
the words catch you off guard, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his voice, deeper, almost too revealing.
your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “oh. i—”
his voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “go sleep now. i’ll finish here.”
you want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — his dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.
there’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “if you need anything, you know where to find me. yeah?”
you swallow hard, nodding slowly. his gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. you stammer, “right. yes. i—i’ll… goodnight.”
“goodnight.”
it’s not exactly a good night for you. in a sense, maybe it is. you always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. but right now, it feels more than a little awkward.
worst timing ever. you’re lying next to areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.
at first, it’s soft, almost serene. you see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. the sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.
a weight presses down on your exposed thigh. the sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.
jeongguk’s hand. his left one. on the fourth finger, a gold ring.
when you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. his hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips.
but the softness of the look he gives you is replaced by something more dangerous, more daring. he bites his lip, and you see it.
a double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. your breath catches in your throat. you don’t just see it there.
on his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.
you remember them from old pictures areum showed you once. jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.
it must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.
his hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.
"you wanna take another bath?" his voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. he’s leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin.
your throat feels dry, your pulse quickens, and before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. his breath fans over your face, and suddenly, the sea behind you isn’t the only thing that feels like it's burning.
"come on. just you and me."
before you can even think to answer, your surroundings shift. the beach, once hazy and peaceful, morphs into something more private.
you’re no longer in the open air, but sitting at the border of his pool, both your feet grazing the warm water.
jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. when he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.
but he doesn’t look down just yet. he keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.
jeongguk leans closer to your ear, his lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “let me make you feel good.”
it’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first.
on your right, areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. you'll tease her about it in the morning.
but if the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt.
you have to get away from your best friend. need to get away from your brain, if possible. wash it all with a glass of cold water.
you make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin.
your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.
at first, you only hear it. faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.
you blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.
but as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. it’s not just your mind playing evil games, anymore.
it’s shushed moans, and eager whines. and they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined mr. jeon would sound like. in that situation.
having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.
your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.
you feel delirious. the small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.
nonetheless, he loves it. his mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.
he cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.
the sight of mr. jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. it takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.
you need to be there with him. you need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. his groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.
you’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.
you’re paralysed. in the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.
with the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.
you can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. when he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.
if you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.
“___? what are you doing up?” his voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.
still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “i— water. i wanted— there’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”
mr. jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. you follow hastily, careful not to trip.
there’s plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. he takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.
you take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.
when you put the still full glass down, he smirks. you see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “nightmare?”
the depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. you’re a mess just from the blurred sight of him. you shake your head, “more like… a weird dream.”
he smiles fondly, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.
he won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.
you’re in front of him, eyes full with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.
he’s a gone man.
his eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. but the outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.
you’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. just thin, loose pants covering his length.
you gulp, clenching around nothing. you feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.
he looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, “i’m sorry for… what you probably saw. should’ve closed the door.”
apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. as he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.
your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.
his face is stoic, staring at you intensely. he doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. but you feel him. if the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. he keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.
then, he speaks, his voice steady, “what are you doing.”
you’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you melt under it.
your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “wanna help you.”
he doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “you already did enough.”
your hand is still on his dick, unmoving. no one dares break the moment, though. if anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.
you get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “what were you thinking of? i’ll be that for you.”
immediately, his hand flies over yours. he doesn’t move it, just holds it still. the look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “stop this.”
the electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.
you don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.
“___. get up.” there’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.
you see it in his eyes. sense it in the tension of his muscles. he’s holding back. but you don’t want him to resist you.
“please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.
he groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.
“fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”
“you don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, “i want you.”
jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.
he wishes he could stop you. knows he should. but he can’t. he can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.
the way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.
mr. jeon is long. and thick. he’s veiny, and perfectly shaved. it looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.
he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.
his voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. don’t do it.”
any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him.
his breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.
he curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a god, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.
the reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. the yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.
he’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. he’s tired of fighting it.
jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce.
it’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.
you inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.
you tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.
he almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.
when you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.
you don’t want this moment to end. you don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. you’re on your knees for him to finally see you.
jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.
his voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. it’s soft, just like his voice, “come up here, angel.”
you want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. but you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. when the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.
with a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. but you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.
his hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.
if he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.
he lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. he wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.
when he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.
his words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “if i kiss you now, i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”
your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “please, kiss me.”
you barely manage to get the words out before jeongguk is all over you. he devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.
his fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.
your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. you feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.
he does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. it’s a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.
when he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.
the chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.
you quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. you only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.
but it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. the sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.
he makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.
“you had your fun, baby. now, you’re going to listen to me. hm?”
this time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. you’re hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.
but it’s not enough, and jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”use your words.”
”yes, mr. jeon.”
the way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.
your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. you need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”you’re such a bad girl. aren’t you?”
jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the chocked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.
but it only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”calling me that only because it gets you off. doesn’t it? you’re not so innocent after all, princess.”
he quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. but he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.
unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.
the access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “i’ll give you what you want. but you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”
you’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny yes. you’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?
the man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. and his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. you’re positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.
though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. you really want to be good for him. don’t want to disappoint him.
that’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. from the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.
you instantly wrap yourself around his thick fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.
with your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.
the sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “that’s right. suck on them like you would my cock.”
you hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. you think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.
the noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.
with his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.
the surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.
you feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.
the curse that follows is instant, “fuck. no panties?”
you’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.
tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.
he scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “it’s like you knew this would happen. you dirty, naughty girl. always giving me those eyes.”
it’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. you need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he softly strokes the spot he hit.
the hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.
he finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.
you inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.
you feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “you think i wouldn’t notice? you know how hard my cock gets everytime i see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? you’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”
then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.
you scream in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours.
he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “shh, princess. good baby, you’re doing perfect.”
the contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. you’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.
you shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “can’t— can’t do this.”
“you can baby, c’mon. you wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” his tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.
you nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.
“say it.”
“wanna be good— your good girl.”
he hums, “that’s right. i need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”
you choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you.
you throw your head backwards in search for more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “yes! want your dick.”
“i know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.
he’s ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.
you feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. one moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.
mr. jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. his large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.
the moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.
“shit. you’re so impatient, sugar. dripping around my fingers. wanna taste your sweet juice, can i?” it’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.
he purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.
your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “turn around, sweets.”
you do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to.
but you soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.
you don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. but finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.
especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. and i’m left to clean it up.”
you swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.
he only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. the hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, “i’ve thought about licking it up, you know? but then i always stopped myself, because i knew i’d get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”
you gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.
he finds your mouth with a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous.
he looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. he takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.
he presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “i knew you’d crumble soon. you little minx. going after your best friend’s dad. so naughty.”
your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.
the shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.
jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out.
he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you.
he’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.
you think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.
his own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.
you feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift up your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boobs, fondling them with care.
the deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.
it’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.
your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.
he pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.
when he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.
on the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it, when seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back.
next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.
his forehead is on yours when he breaks the kiss, his breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “did so good, pretty. came so hard all over me.”
your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.
you feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “wan’ you to fuck me.”
the hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.
“that what you want, baby?” your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels down to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.
he slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you off the counter effortlessly, and you squeeze your hold tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced.
the new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.
when he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. you’re sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.
your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides.
your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center.
but the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.
he smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.
your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his v line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole.
he teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. you arch your back, groaning.
“am i the real man you’ve been waiting for? you wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” his sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.
at your eagerness, he wastes no time. aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. the stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him.
he knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. but he’s the one that needs to be silenced.
the moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. his sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark.
you hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search for any kind of grounding you can find.
it’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.
he reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “shh, baby. i got you. let me make you feel good.”
the whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.
at this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be.
you’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.
it’s definitely real. jeongguk is fucking you. almost. not yet.
with the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “fuck me, please.”
one final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits.
he teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs.
but you can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. you buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.
he’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly hold you up as he begins fucking into you. with each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.
the two of you soon find out it’s impossible to be quiet. your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.
his own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.
your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t build to survive this kind of pleasure. it’s almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.
your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “that’s how you need to be fucked. that’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”
“mhm, fuck, yes!” it’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. you feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.
his palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “fuck. love your tits. fit just right in my hand. you were made for me, princess.”
your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.
“i’m not gonna last long, baby. this pussy’s too tight. trappin’ me inside it,” jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.
you wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “it’s yours, jeongguk. f—fucking yours. forever. ah— fuck.”
he hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “that’s it. my pussy to fuck, angel. mine to play with, mine to fill up.”
your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy.
the possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick.
he talks you through your abrupt orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.
he’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “fuck. aren’t you a naughty one, doll. you really want me to cum inside you? you want it, huh? i bet you do.”
your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts all into fucking your sensitive cunt.
he smirks wickedly, “you’d look so pretty. all stuffed. want me to fill up this tight pussy? want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”
you think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions.
he looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, his eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.
when he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin.
you gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you.
you both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.
he hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling not to fall.
but you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “now, you gonna clean this up for me. open your pretty mouth, baby.”
you don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he asks from you.
you engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.
he makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “mh, good girl. get them neat.”
when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange.
with a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “gonna clean you up, too.”
you gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. you only feel yourself becoming even wetter, if possible.
leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.
he moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “you did amazing, doll. made me cum so hard.”
you hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.
the warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. you prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.
you don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.
your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed—tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. and for a second, your heart clenches with dread. is he leaving?
but then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.
relief washes over you.
he handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. his fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.
you squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. his hands never leave you, securing you to him.
you settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.
for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. it feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him.
his deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. his chin rests on the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.
you press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. like you’ve always known this is where you should be.
your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. you feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.
but when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. his face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. he’s not relaxed like he was just moments ago. his gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought.
yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.
but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so.
you seek warmth, care. nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. love.
he once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. but now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.
he wants to give in. he wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. give you love.
but he can’t do that to you. can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.
he knows what comes next. love turns into suffering. it’s inevitable.
and could he survive seeing the look on areum’s face if she ever finds out? how would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? about how he truly wants to act upon his feelings?
the thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.
but why doesn’t he feel disgusted? why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? there’s only bliss. the sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.
he wishes he could be immature, for once. wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. that he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.
maybe then, you’d feel right in his arms, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.
“jeongguk? are you okay?”
your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. his eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.
he tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? yeah. i’m okay.”
of course, you don’t believe him. an ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down.
you don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the illusion a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.
you offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “you… you seem worried.”
“i’m not, baby. i’m just thinking.”
“about?”
“stuff.” his voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.
the distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.
your eyes jump all over his, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “you can tell me, you know. you can talk to me.”
one simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. it makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. that maybe, this can go well.
“i know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frames your cheeks sweetly. “let’s get you to bed now, hm?”
before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. you clutch onto him.
you feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “your bed?”
it breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone firm as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “no, baby. you gotta go back to areum’s room.”
“but— but… i wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.
he looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “we can’t, dove. you know we can’t.”
his words feel like a punch to the gut, and your voice hesitates. “we can’t?”
the silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. there’s no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.
at areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. he’s careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “go wash up. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“no…”
“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make this harder.”
you frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. his gaze is steady, resolute.
you want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated, but you still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “okay… can you kiss me?”
your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a shy smile making its way on your lips.
when he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.
you’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.
you go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “goodnight, ___.”
jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. you’re not even sure if you can define it as a smile.
it’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. he’s completely disconnected from you.
he retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. the door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.
you stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. the spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. the warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing.
you try to breathe, but the air feels sharp, your throat tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. it’s useless, though.
your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. you can’t go back. you can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.
you���d been so afraid this would happen. how could you have been so foolish? even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. a part of you always knew.
and yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. that you could be enough.
you’d have done anything to prove it to him. to show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. you still would. you’d give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. if he’d only look at you the way you want him to.
the full weight of your reality sinks in. in the end, none of it was truly real.
a sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. the sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. this house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the lie you let yourself fall into.
and you? you feel tainted, too.
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tthoroughfare · 3 days ago
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garden daisy (part 2) // ellie williams
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*・゜゚・* summary: ellie makes a new friend, and you feel all weird about it.
*・゜゚・* pairing: modern!ellie x reader
*・゜゚・* content: sfw
*・゜゚・* length: 1.6k
this is part two of this series! find part one here
okay so i feel like the way i've organized this series is kind of confusing as it started as a random blurb... technically part one is this blurb however the real story starts in the xmas fic! the blurb just kind of exists floating around somewhere before the events of that and sets up the dynamic. call it part 0.5 i guess. also i'm so sorry if ur name is haley it was genuinely the first name i thought of hahaha
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after christmas, once you’re all settled back into life at college, ellie gets a new job. it’s just a few shifts a week at a music store, but she seems to be enjoying it. you’re happy for her; it’s nice to see her getting out of the apartment more, doing something that allows her to be in her element.
but then she starts mentioning a girl she works with. like, a lot.
“dude, look at what haley sent me today, i was dying.”
“haley had, like, the coolest shirt on at work.”
“oh my god, so i found out haley likes comics, too.”
at first, it doesn’t really bother you. then, it’s a case of you trying not to let it bother you. why even should it? she’s allowed to make new friends; her life doesn’t revolve around you.
still, you don’t like the way your chest starts to twist every time she gets mentioned, every time you see ellie smiling at her phone. you can hear them on facetime frequently through the thin walls of your apartment, and you more often than not end up shoving your headphones in to drown it out.
they start spending time together outside of work, too. she mentions that they’re going to see an exhibit together on a shared day off, and it takes everything for you to look up from your laptop, give her a tight smile and utter, “cool.”
you can tell she’s a bit dispirited by your reaction, like she’s debating saying something. she leaves it, though, just nodding once and pursing her lips before walking away. you kick yourself for it immediately — wishing you’d tried harder to appear enthusiastic for her. you’re worried it could be the seed of a wedge being driven.
it’s not like she’s completely neglected your friendship. you live together. you see her every day. she still gently knocks at your ajar door, poking her head around and asking if you want to watch a movie with her. you make dinner together on friday nights, something you’d done since you moved out of the dorms and got a semi-decent place.
you’re just so used to it being the two of you. sure, you both have other friends, but you’re best friends. you can’t help but feel a little uneasy all of a sudden someone new is making their way up the ladder, ellie not having quite as much time for you anymore.
at least, that’s what you tell yourself the reason is. you know the real one.
you eventually meet the esteemed haley when she comes over to hang out, and to your petty dismay she well and truly lives up to the boasting. you’ve seen pictures of her (as in, you found her on instagram and stalked her at two in the morning), but she’s even prettier in person. she’s sweet, too, giving you a hug and saying how great it is to finally meet you. ellie talks about you all the time, apparently.
the evening’s spent with the tv on, a few drinks sipped. you’re on one side of the couch, ellie on the other, new friend in the middle. you hate how genuinely likeable she is; she goes out of her way to speak to you, asking you questions about yourself and chatting jovially when you find common ground. she’s cool, smart, witty — it’s impossible not to compare yourself, and feel subpar. like old news.
and you wish you weren’t, but you’re reading into every little thing. the way the two of them easily bounce off of each other’s jokes, the way you can see even where you’re from how ellie’s eyes light up when she looks at her. deciding three’s a crowd and you’re just hurting your own feelings, you call it pretty early.
when you stand after finishing your drink and announce that you’re going to bed, you note the way that ellie’s face drops. “oh… really?”
you scrunch your nose, trying to sound untroubled. “yeah, i’m kinda tired, so…”
“m’kay,” she replies, chewing slightly at the inside of her cheek. she knows you better than that. since you first met, you’ve never been ‘kinda tired’ by nine.
after a pause and a quick look back and forth between the two of you, haley gives you a smile, reiterating her earlier statement. “well, it was so nice to meet you, anyway.”
you return it, nodding. your eyes flit to ellie for a split-second. “yeah, you too. see you both later.”
with that, you place your glass in the sink across the room and head off down the hall.
you change and get ready for bed, although the plan was never to sleep. you’re nestled under a blanket, lights dim and a candle burning as you keep your eyes trained on the bullshit stream of youtube videos you’d put on. you’re not really paying attention, mind well and truly elsewhere; simultaneously feeling sorry for yourself, and like the most petty, mean person in the world.
you feel pathetic for wishing ellie’s new friend wasn’t so easy to get along with. she came off as a nice person, and not in a sickly, fabricated way. you could understand how she’d easily tugged ellie out of her shell. a part of yourself had been secretly hoping she was irritating, or bitchy, or weird towards you — you just wanted something to latch onto, something to validate all the uncomfortable emotions that had been swirling ever since she became prominent.
but there was nothing. now all you’re left with is a weird bitterness towards a perfectly normal, sweet girl, her only crime being fetching up a childish possessiveness within you.
you don’t even understand why you’re like this over her in particular; ellie was always an introvert, but it wasn’t like she was a complete recluse. she’d had a serious girlfriend in high school, seen a couple of girls your first year of college, and you don’t remember feeling anywhere near how you are right now. you just guessed you didn’t have as much understanding of how you looked at her back then, combined with the domesticity of now having your own real place luring you into a warped way of thinking.
you hear haley leave around an hour and a half after you’d taken yourself to bed, followed by ellie shuffling around the kitchen space. the tap runs and there are a few clinks as she washes then places the three glasses to dry, hitting the lights off. her room’s further down the hall from yours, and she hesitates as she’s making her way there.
a few light taps sound from the other side of the door. “you asleep?”
“… no,” you call out softly, watching as it cracks open and ellie picks her way in. wordlessly, she plops herself onto the bed next to you, arm behind her head. you shift away a little, offering her more room.
“what’re you watching?”
“uh…” grabbing the remote, you pause the video for a beat so the title shows. you’re not even sure; you’d just selected the first you saw, then let the rest autoplay. “… ‘six most disturbing forest encounters caught on camera’.”
she chuckles. “spooky.”
“eh… they’re all fake.” you look up at her, smiling a little.
“could’ve fooled me.”
“i’m sure,” you laugh lightly, feeling the need to turn away when she goes to meet your eyes.
it’s quiet for a while, but you can sense she wants to say something. it’s not like one of the times she waltzes into your room simply to hang out, sit at the side of one another peacefully.
“you okay?” she eventually asks gently, turning her head to regard you. you don’t meet it.
“yeah, i’m fine.”
“you sure? ‘cause… i don’t know. you seem a little…”
“i’m all good.” glancing up, you offer an unconvincing, flickery smile. “don’t worry.”
“… okay.”
you can tell it offers no comfort, but she doesn’t push it. just settles further into the bed, scratching at her chin.
her eyes dart from the tv screen to the wall, then back to you. “haley’s cool, right? guessed you guys would get along.”
“yeah, she seems nice.”
she’s really not being subtle; but then again, neither are you. you’d been perfectly friendly while you were all together, but the way you’d disappeared coupled with your increasingly half-hearted responses whenever she was brought up pointed elsewhere.
“seriously, what’s up?” she turns onto her side to face you, resting her head on her arm. “i don’t like this.”
you roll your eyes, sighing as you turn, mirroring her. “it’s stupid.”
“what’s stupid?”
your mind flashes with a million ways you can get an overview of your feelings out, without having to tell her the root cause. “i don’t know, i’m just… like, used to it being… y’know, me and you.”
she pulls a face, letting out a fond scoff and furrowing her brow. “what do you mean?”
a tiny groan sounds from your throat, fingertips rubbing at your eye. “i’m just being stupid. fuckin’ embarrassing.”
laughing quietly again, she narrows her eyes a little. “what, are you, like… jealous?”
“no, i just… i don’t know. ignore me.” you’re trying to ignore the way you can feel your cheeks heat up when she says that word. you’d known all along that’s what you were, but being confronted with it is a whole other sensation entirely.
she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps a small smirk on her face and looks down. “that is stupid.”
“right. thanks.”
“no, like…” subconsciously shuffling closer, her leg brushes yours. she quickly moves it. “dude, i can have other friends, but no-one’s gonna be you.”
you blink, thrown by her sincerity. you’d half-expected her to poke a little fun, call you a dumbass. she continues, your eyes meeting hers as she settles her head into the palm of her hand. “you’re always gonna be my best friend.”
yeah, i know, you think. that’s the problem.
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futfemfantasies · 2 days ago
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A wedding to remember ~ Steph Catley x reader
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Weddings in vineyards are always beautiful but it's something about the venue under the Australian sunset that makes it stand out. With fairy lights decorating the trees and rustic vibes from the wooden tables, Emily and Kat designed it perfectly. You watch the newlyweds have their first dance, a glass of champagne in hand, when you notice a familiar brunette join your other Matilda's teammates across the dance floor.
Steph has been in your life since you were teenagers. Growing closer when on camps together and sharing moments on and off the pitch. Between you both there has always been an unspoken connection that neither person wants to acknowledge. For many years now, there has been one complication for your friendship to progress further - Dean. You told yourself over and over again that there was no chance anything could happen. But Steph got engaged to Dean and you couldn't stand to see it so you move clubs to protect your feelings. Every camp for the national team you'd try to hide your feelings but many of your Matilda's teammates caught on quickly. Every time Steph glances your way, it becomes harder for you to keep those feelings settled.
The sun started to move behind the horizon and more people moved to the dance floor. You decided to stay back and watch, not really in a dancing mood. You heard heels click behind you and you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around and saw the woman taking over your thoughts since you arrived.
“Hey stranger,” She said softly.
“Hey,” you replied, trying not to appear nervous.
Steph smiled small, but warm. “You've been hiding over here all night.”
“Just enjoying the view.” you said, gesturing to the many trees in the vineyard.
Steph nodded, looking at the sunset and dimly lit trees before facing you again. “You've been radio silent lately, is everything okay?”
“Just a lot on my mind I guess.” you hesitated. Steph studied you, her expression unreadable.
“You know you can talk to me about anything?”
“I know.” you whisper before going to see your other Matilda's teammate.
Emily insisted that all the Matilda's are to go on the dance floor at least once during the night. Ellie dragged you on there, declaring you needed to ‘loosen up’. After pushing through the crowd, one of your favorite songs comes on. As you dance around with Ellie, she gives you a slight nod to look behind you. Steph was there with her hand outstretched, silently asking you to dance as the music got slower. You hesitate for a millisecond before taking Steph's hand. Time seemed to slow as Steph guided you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed your hand on her waist, trying to ignore all the feelings inside. Neither of you spoke for a while, just gently swaying with the soft melody, until Steph broke the silence.
“Dean and I broke up.” she said, voice quiet but steady.
You stopped in your tracks, looking Steph in the eyes. “what?”
“It's been coming for a while,” Steph admitted. “We both knew it wasn't working anymore,” Before you could respond she continued.
“I've been thinking a lot about what I want - about what makes me happy,” Her eyes met yours, hands tighten around your waist. “and it's you.”
Your breath hitched, as the weight of her words started to settle in. “Steph…”
“Follow me.”
Steph untangles from you and pushes her way through the crowd. You follow behind like a lost puppy until you get a little bit away from the reception. Steph pulls you in her arms and you search her face for any hint of doubt. There was only honesty and Hope.
“I've wanted to say this for so long,” you admit, as your voice trembled. “but I didn't think I could.”
Steph hold your face in one of her hands as she smiled, “well, now you can.”
With that, the distance between you became non-existent. the music Fading Into the background and all you can focus on is her. you both lean in and the wedding slowly forgotten as you two were caught up in each other.
The kiss under the stars changes everything. For the first time, the barriers between you and Steph crumble. As you pull back, your foreheads resting together, Steph smiles—a real, unforgettable smile that feels like home.
“We can’t keep this just for tonight,” she says softly.
You nod, your heart pounding. “I don’t want to.”
The rest of the wedding fades into a blur. You and Steph spend the next few days together, slipping away from the chaos to steal quiet moments just for yourselves. Long walks along the beach, lazy afternoons in the sun, and late-night conversations filled with laughter and shared memories remind you both of what you’ve always had—and what you could have.
As the offseason looms, you both return to Europe, reluctant to leave the bubble you’ve created but excited to see what the future holds. Steph heads back to London, while you return to Barcelona, the distance between you feeling more manageable now than ever before.
The transfer window is in full swing, and rumors are flying about player moves. You’ve kept your decision close to your chest, wanting to surprise Steph when the time is right. The deal with Arsenal has been finalised, and the announcement is just days away.
With the help of Caitlin and Katie, you arrange to meet Steph at one of your favorite coffee spots in London. She’s already seated at a corner table when you arrive, her face lighting up the moment she sees you.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she says, standing to hug you.
You grin, nerves bubbling under the surface. “I have a surprise.”
“Oh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as you both sit.
You slide an Arsenal scarf out of your bag and place it on the table between you. Steph stares at it for a moment, her eyes widening as realisation dawns.
“No way,” she says, her voice filled with disbelief and excitement.
“Way,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “The transfer is all finalised. I’m joining Arsenal next season.”
Steph laughs, leaning back in her chair as she takes it all in. “You’re serious?”
“Completely,” you say. “Thought it was time for a change—and maybe time to be closer to you.”
Her smile softens, and she reaches across the table to take your hand. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”
For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.
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witchthewriter · 2 days ago
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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: I know I've written about Daryl x reader in a relationship, but I'm rewatching The Walking Dead and UGH I love him...
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ
ISTP
Hufflepuff
Chaotic Good
Taurus Sun, Scorpio Moon, Aquarius Rising
𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿
・The perfect example of your marriage is that scene from Yellowstone at the bar. Here's the link. Warnings: Violence :)
・Yes, so you and Daryl have a very close relationship - it has taken you a long time to get to this point.
・But marriage meant you two would be staying together for life. And Daryl knew that. No one was taking you away from him.
・You two met at the very beginning; in the camp with Lori, Carl, Carol, Dale, Andrea, Shane, Glenn etc.
・You abhorred Merle and gave him as much as you could - cussing him out, calling out his actions etc. You were always right but Merle was Merle.
・And you grouped Daryl with his brother; although he didn't say much.
・When Merle wasn't around, you actually got the time to see Daryl differently.
・He was really growing on you.
・You had no idea that he was wrestling with certain feelings as well.
・Your relationship was ... a slowburn to say the least. But you always looked out for each other. Made sure one another had enough food and water.
・There developed a constant between the two of you. Where one went, the other wasn't far behind. Especially when the group would split up
・You always found your way back to each other
・And yet, neither of you could see how much the other cared. Even though the whole group - even the new members - could see it.
・Though he comes off as rough and gruff to most, Daryl would have a soft spot for you. You’d be the only one who gets to see his gentler, more vulnerable side.
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𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹
・Daryl was anxious all day, you even saw his hands shake before he saw it and shoved them in his pockets.
・You were worried; he never kept anything from you. Not even when you were just best friends.
・So you went to Carol, she shrugged her shoulders and gave you that knowing look. It calmed your own nerves down, because when Daryl is anxious; you are tenfhold.
・That night you were getting ready for watch, but a knock came at the door.
・It was Michonne.
"Hey, you wanna come in? I'm gonna start my shift soon but I can make us something tea?"
"It's okay, and don't worry about your shift; I have something for you to do."
"Oh okay, sure."
・You followed Michonne past the gardens, the crops and up to the doors of Alexandria and out into the nearby forest.
"We ugh, made sure the area was clear. You don't need to worry about a thing."
・She gave you one of her knowing smiles and you knew something was up...it made you nervous.
・Once Michonne disappeared, you heard the crunching of leaves.
・Quickly you whipped out your knife and swiped as you turned, only to be met by a large hand grabbing your arm.
"Thought I taught ya better than tha'" Daryl said, letting go of your arm and giving you a smile
"You did. I knew it was you. Heavy boots were giving me a heads up."
・It was then that you noticed his appearance; washed, with a clean black button up shirt, and a fresh pair of jeans.
・You quirked an eyebrow.
"What is this Dixon?"
Hesitating, Daryl rubbed the back of his neck with his calloused hand, eyes darting briefly to the ground before meeting yours.
“Been thinkin’,” he started, shifting his weight between one leg to the other. “’Bout us… and all the shit we've gone through...”
You stepped closer to him. Closing the gap. And your heart started pumping a whole lot faster.
"-You know I ain’t good with words,” he muttered in a low voice. “Specially ain’t good at all this… romantic stuff. But you—you’re the best thing...that has ever happened to me. Hell, you're the only thing that makes sense in this goddamn world.”
・Your cheeks started to redden but you let him talk
From his pocket, Daryl pulled out something small and clenched in his hand, his fingers trembling just slightly.
You let out a soft, "oh." Thinking this day would never come.
When he opened his hand, there it was—a simple, gold ring.
“I know it ain’t much,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It's perfect," the tears had started to fall now. You didn't even notice you had begun to cry.
Daryl sniffed, not realising he had shed a few tears as well. "...I just want you to know… you’re my family now. Always have been.”
He held the ring out to you.
"I don't know how long we have in this world. But I know I wanna spend it with you."
There was a moment of silence. One you let hang in the air, not truly believing this was happening.
"So… what d’ya say?”
・The look on his face was pure and full of love.
"God I love you Daryl Dixon."
・Slipping the ring on your finger, you realised how comfortably it fit. You gave Daryl a knowing look and he gave you a sheepish one.
"...measured your finger when you were sleepin'...also had help from Carol..."
You couldn't help but laugh.
"You know I'm getting you one, right? I want everyone to know you're taken. That Daryl Dixon is mine."
"Wouldn't expect anything else."
・Then he kissed like it was your very first and last kiss.
The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever felt—raw, deep, and so full of emotion that it left you breathless. His lips claimed yours with an intense passion.
His hands trembled slightly, and cradled your face. Holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world; well, to him you were.
Pulling apart, he rested his forget against your own and whispered:
“Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”
In that moment, the world outside could have crumbled, and it wouldn’t have mattered. All that existed was you and him.
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𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹
・Being married to Daryl Dixon meant having someone completely and utterly loyal to you.
・He calls you his family; and when he does so, you know it comes from a place of deep sincerity and respect.
・Instead of grand romantic displays, Daryl shows his love in quiet ways, like fixing something for you, preparing food, or just staying by your side during tough times.
・Daryl would be the ultimate protector, keeping you safe at all costs.
・You have your own place together. Not too far from everyone but secluded enough that you feel independent
・A common part of your nightly routine is cuddling up together on the couch and eventually falling asleep. (Daryl already having locked all the doors and has weapons around the house - just in case. He's not leaving anything to chance.)
・You've both shared everything you know about survival with one another.
・One of your ideas was to make a book about it. How to survive in this mess of a world; Daryl has fully encouraged it. He said it would come in handy for the next generations...
・Daryl thrives in the quiet moments of your marriage—sitting together by a fire, riding his motorcycle with you behind him, working on something side by side in comfortable silence.
・He also has a way of surprising you with such tenderness. E.g., brushing hair from your face or resting his forehead against yours in silent appreciation.  
𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔
"Look at that stupid dumbass man, ha! Oh shit that's my dumbass-" (Daryl)
Short & bossy x Tall & follows them around
"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."
"Why Are You Babying Me?" (Daryl) x "'Cause I Know You Like It" (You)  
𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆
Forced Proximity
Strong Feelings (Thinking It's Hate - WRONG It's Love)
Enemies to Lovers  
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈
Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon
Into My Arms by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
One More Hour by Tame Impala
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terrestrialnoob · 1 day ago
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Danny was far to used to needles to flinch when Mr. Alfred stuck him. His stupid DNA wouldn’t stay in tact long enough for them to verify his story, so he suspected either this would knock him out and he will be taken back out to where they’d gotten him or they’re being nice and putting him out of his misery quickly. If it’s the former, then he’ll have to find another way to survive- or a nice place to die. He didn’t get a lot of time to wander around Gotham before going to the GCPD, but dying in his… original’s city would at least be thematically valid. That’s what Mr. Lancer said about Danny’s analysis of Hamlet, that his “unique interpretation was thematically valid”, meaning Danny was wrong but did the work and would get a passing grade for turning it in. At least keeping it together long enough to continue existing would be the last thing he failed to do and his teachers wouldn’t have to worry about grading his thrown-together-at-the-last-minute bullshit.
“So, basically, since the only way to get a good sample of your DNA is to stop it from degrading, this is going to be a kind of two in one solution.” The man – teen? Red Robin didn’t seem that much older than Danny but it felt wrong not to think of him as an adult or at least older. He was obviously more experienced, smarter than Danny, and had been chosen as one of Batman’s sidekicks. “If you’re B’s clone, this modified, uh, kinda virus type thing will infect your entire body and basically, like, re-instruct your DNA on what shape it’s supposed to be. You know, Batman shaped. If you’re not B’s clone, then it will... do nothing and we’ll have to come up with something else.”
Danny stared at him, then at the band-aid now on his arm where he’d just been injected. “What?”
“Yeah, it’ll probably take a few days to actually be sure it’s working and we might have to re-administer it depending on your immune system’s reaction. But, if you’re telling the truth, then we did it!” Red Robin gave a little celebratory jazz hands.
Danny stared at Red Robin, then at the band-aid again. Something dripped into his arm and Danny was suddenly aware that he was crying. He hurried to wipe his eyes with his hand, “I – sorry, I wasn’t – I wasn’t expecting…”
“It’s alright. This has been stressful for you.” Danny heard Batman say and someone managed to put a tissue in his hand to clean up his face.
“I’m not going to die.” Danny didn’t even realize he was talking.
It wasn’t loud and it wasn’t clear through his shaking breath, but Batman responded anyway. “You’re not going to die.”
Danny just kind of, curled up in himself, his face completely hidden behind his legs and arms, where the heroes of Gotham couldn’t see to hopefully save at least a little of his dignity. He wasn’t going to die, he was going to keep living. He didn’t know what to do now, but he was alive! He thought he could feel it already, that the aches and pains that had been slowly growing more intense over the past few months – his entire life – were fading. He could go back home to his friends at least, tell them the truth about why he’d left, let them know he wasn’t going to be more dead than he already was, give Jazz a hug and let her know her little brother wasn’t going anywhere. The Fentons – he could talk to them when he was ready.
It took him a few minutes to get back in control of himself, but once he was able to breath without shaking he looked up again. Red Robin and the guy who’d been with regular Robin where gone. Robin was still there, staring at him from across the room, and Batman was a few feet away, working on something else.
“Master Bruce,” Mr. Alfred said, but Danny was the only one who looked at him. “I’ve prepared a guest room.” The older man then turned to look at Danny. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Um, no?” Danny’s voice was hoarse from crying so much it made his face blush.
“I thought as such. If you’ll follow me, I’ve already prepared a small meal for you...” Mr. Alfred said with a small bow and then turned to almost fully face the back of Batman and spared a glance at Robin. “...all three of you, since the two of you left to meet with Commissioner Gordon before dinner was properly served.”
Danny cringed at having made them leave before they’d been able to eat dinner. He watched as Batman seemed to ignore Mr. Alfred, but Robin looked like he at least heard what was said.
“We’re going to-” Mr. Alfred cleared his throat making Batman stop and sigh, then he stood up from his amazing computer that Danny low key wanted to play with.
He slid the mask off his face. “We’ll be up, give us a minute to change.”
Danny tried not to stare at Batman’s bare face. He didn’t expect to see it, though he guessed he can understand why. It’d be Danny’s face eventually, but it still felt wrong. Danny was already being given so much trust; they’d brought him into their lair, weren’t being careful with names anymore, and now showing Danny this, letting him know Batman’s true identity, it was too much. But maybe- maybe Batman didn’t think the virus thing was going to work and Danny wasn’t going to live long enough to share it. Red Robin had said something like that. That they really weren’t sure their injection would work at all or that it might only work a little bit or maybe it reset the degeneration or something like that. That really made more sense than Batman trusting Danny this much. Still...
Danny followed Mr. Alfred to a small elevator that could hold two people comfortably, or four people uncomfortably. And Danny turned around to see Robin still directly glaring at him as the doors shut. There weren’t any buttons in the elevator, but it moved very fast and they were at the top in seconds. It opened to what looked to be an office with a big desk with a computer and bookshelves, but there were also two couches facing each other with a coffee table in the middle – so it was like an office slash meeting room.
Mr. Alfred stepped out in front of Danny and motioned for him to follow. “This way to the dining room, I’ll be sure to give you the full tour once everyone has had dinner.”
“You really don’t have to. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Danny said, following behind him and trying not to get distracted by where they were. It was a big house, much bigger than his home – than the house he grew up in. And the further they got, the more it looked like it might be somewhere close to what Vlad’s house was. Maybe not the Cheese Castle, but the “little” mansion he’d gotten in Amity Park.
“It’s not a waste of time.” Mr. Alfred said and they started down a big staircase. “I think it will be important for you to become familiar the manor and grounds. It’s quite easy for people to get lost here.”
Danny wanted to say it wouldn’t really matter, that he was only staying long enough to satisfy their observation of him- make sure their efforts didn't go to waste. But, the tour would mean that Danny would know where he was and wasn’t allowed to go and he’d be able to stay out of the way easier while he was there.
They soon entered a large room with a giant table in it. There were several plates set and several dishes. “I assumed you have the same allergies as Master Bruce, but are there any extra dietary needs you require? Master Damian is a vegetarian so there are already options for it.”
“Oh, no, I’ll eat whatever you give me.”
Mr. Alfred nodded and pulled out a chair for Danny. “There is roast chicken and baked marinated tofu, rosemary potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a wild rice salad with tomatoes, red onion, red bell pepper, pine nuts, and a honey-lemon dressing.”
“Thanks. This all looks great!”
“It does.” Batman said as he entered the room. He was wearing normal clothes now, just a black sweater and gray pants. Robin came in behind him, he was wearing a dark green long sleeve shirt and normal looking jeans.
Danny suddenly realized he was in the seat next to the head of the table and that was obviously where Batman sat down. Robin sat across from him, still glaring, but Danny was starting to think the other kid might just have resting bitch face and Danny would either just get used to it or see Robin so little it wouldn’t matter.
Danny must have sat frozen for a little too long there, because Mr. Alfred leaned over the table. “Here, I’ll get you started, but usually this is a serve yourself household so that everyone gets what they want and as much as they want without shame or embarrassment.”
Danny just nodded and let the man do as he pleased. It felt kind of weird, sitting at a table and eating with his… He wouldn’t have said family, but that is technically what they were, right? Danny literally had Batman’s DNA in him, and Robin had called the man Father with a capital F, so that kind of made them brothers? Cousins? Uncle and nephew? Or father and- Danny cut that line of thought and grabbed the nearest eating utensil to focus on eating instead.
“Holy shit, this is good.” Danny said before he realized he’d said it. He looked at Batman. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”
Batman shrugged it off with a smile, “It is good food. I often forget how spoiled I am with good food.”
Mr. Alfred hummed at that and, Danny felt more than saw, an exchange of looks between the two older men. Mr. Alfred probably deserved more appreciation for cooking like this and Batman didn’t think he needed to vocalize the appreciation, that it was simply understood he loved Mr. Alfred and all the work he did.
“So, you eat meat?” Robin asked. He seemed a little off-put by Danny taking some of the chicken after getting some of the tofu.
Danny shrugged. “I mean, I’ll eat anything that doesn’t attack me.”
Robin narrowed his eyes. “So should I attack you so you don’t eat me?”
“What? I’m not cannibal? What?” Danny said and looked between the other people in the room. Batman looked exasperated and Mr. Alfred looked half amused at Robin and half offended on Danny’s behalf.
“Then why do you need to specify that you prefer your food doesn’t attack you?”
“Because I... don’t most people prefer food that you don’t have to kill first?”
Robin gave him a sardonic look. “You have to kill all meat before you eat it.”
Danny shook his head, “No, I mean like – when you eat it. Like, you sit down to eat and then the hot dogs grow mouths and teeth and attack you so you have to kill it before you eat it.”
Robin’s glare turned into a shocked stare, and Batman and Mr. Alfred joined in staring at him. “What?”
“What do you mean “what?”?” Robin was annoyed at him. “Hot dogs do not come to life and attack people.”
Oh fuck. He’s ruined it. He doesn’t know what he’s ruined, but he’s too weird for The Batman. Danny started shoveling food into his mouth so he’d stop talking and freaking out Batman.
“How does that happen?” Batman asked and there goes Danny’s hope of being less weird.
Danny swallowed and waved his free hand around a little bit. “I – it’s just that my- the people I lived with before weren’t very good at keeping their specimens quarantined, and they also liked to experiment with food. So, just, sometimes the hot dogs or a turkey or other foods would just, come to life and we’d have to kill them.”
There was a beat of silence before Mr. Alfred asked, “And did you eat this experimental food?”
Danny half shrugged, “There wasn’t really anything else to eat, so yeah.”
Mr. Alfred hummed and it sounded like he might be worried. “I can assure you that nothing like that has ever happened here.”
“Oh. Okay. Cool.” Danny said and, again, tried to eat his way out of the conversation. But it was too awkward. “But, Mr. Alfred, your food is way better than any of that stuff.”
“I would hope so.” Mr. Alfred said. “And feel free to take as much as you want, we have plenty.”
Danny hadn’t even noticed he’d cleaned his plate already. He was about to refuse, but the look on Mr. Alfred’s face made it feel like it would insult the man if Danny didn’t get seconds. So he did.
“What are their names?” Batman suddenly asked.
Danny glanced at him. “Who’s names?”
“You’re… creators.”
The one question Danny hated above all others; ever since he was a little kid who realized that his parents were the town weirdos and that their status as the town weirdos had spread to Danny before he even knew how to walk. He felt the unfortunately familiar mix of the heat from embarrassment and cold from the rejection experience made him know was coming. He wanted to look anywhere but at someone. “Why do you want to know?”
“They made a clone of Father.” Robin said with disdain, and yeah, Danny should have known that. He knows how much it hurts to be cloned. “What if they try again?”
Danny tried to sound as matter of fact as possible. “The Fentons, Jack and Maddie. They’re married to each other. And yeah, they do want to try again, but they used up all their Batman DNA making me.”
“They want to make another one?” Robin was somehow even more annoyed.
“Well, I mean, their first one was such a failure…” Danny half mumbled then sighed and added. "It’s why they want to autopsy me. So they don’t make the same mistakes twice.”
Danny spared a glance. Now Batman was glaring and Danny couldn’t blame him. He doesn’t know how widespread the Fenton name is, but if anyone knows them, it’s not because of how caring, thoughtful, or altruistic they are. And here Danny was, his very existence a violation so deep he wouldn’t blame Batman if he kicked Danny out right that second.
So Danny decided to give the man the opportunity to do that. “How long is the observation?”
Batman’s face quickly changed from angry to confused, so Danny reiterated. “You know, for the kinda virus thing? How long do do you want me here under observation?”
Batman still looked a little confused but went along with the change in topic. “It should take somewhere between two days and two weeks to be certain of it’s effects.”
Danny nodded. “That’s the range they estimated it would have taken for me to completely destabilize, so I can go back once it’s confirmed.”
“Go back?” Batman seemed more confused.
And that made Danny confused. “It’s not like I can stay here forever.”
Batman frowned at that, but Robin spoke first. “You want to go back to the people who want to autopsy you?”
“It’s either them or that guy I told you about earlier.” Danny said and indicated to Batman cause he thinks Robin might have been too far away to hear that part in the cave. "And it's not like they actively try to kill me - I mean, well, usually anyway. It's more of a -if I just so happen to die- type thing."
“Why not stay here?” Batman asked.
Danny couldn’t help the look on his face. Stay here? With Batman? The man he’s been secretly measured against his whole life? The person he’s failed to be time and time again? Danny’s not sure he could take that. “No, you don’t want me here.”
“Should you let us decide that?” Batman gave Danny a pointed look.
Danny shouldn’t answer that. He knows they wont want him. No one wants him. Even Vlad; he doesn’t really want Danny, he wants Maddie’s Son, he wants to steal Jack’s Son, he wants The Other Halfa. Danny knows that he’s just going to burden Batman and his family and the other vigilantes. But he’s not going to say that. He knows better than to argue about where he belongs.
What are you? A ghost trying to fit in with humans or some creepy little boy with creepy little powers?
So Danny folded immediately. “Sorry, you’re right. You get to decide who does and doesn’t get to stay in your house.”
Danny was looking at his mostly empty plate and didn’t see that statement earn him a frown from everyone else in the room.
Danny sighed and glanced over to Mr. Alfred. “I know you said you wanted to show me around, but I’m really tired. Can I just go to bed?”
“Of course.” Mr. Alfred said and motioned for Danny to follow him.
Danny didn’t talk, though Mr. Alfred gave him general direction on how to get from the dining room to the bedrooms, pointed out whose rooms were whose, let Danny know he had an en suite and a dresser full of clothes the other boys didn’t wear anymore. Danny hadn’t realized that Batman had such a big family and he wondered how they would feel after learning that Danny existed. He doubted any of them would accept him. He could hope one of them might want to be his friend, but he knows who he is, what he is. He wont hold any of their feelings against them.
Gut Feeling
DPXDC
Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.
--
“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”
Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.
“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –
Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.
“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.
“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”
“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”
Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”
“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”
“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”
The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”
Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”
He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”
“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”
“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”
“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”
“Only Batman, no one else can help.”
“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”
“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”
“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”
“It’s personal.”
Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”
Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”
After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.
“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.
It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”
“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”
“Who?”
“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”
“Why?”
“Refuses to tell me.”
“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”
Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.
“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”
A beat of silence. “What?”
“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.
“And he wont say why he’s there?”
“No, and he demands to see you in person.”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”
Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”
“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.
The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.
Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”
“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”
“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.
All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”
The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”
Holy cow.
“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.
“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”
“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”
Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”
Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.
“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.
“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”
“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”
“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”
“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.
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