#i need to ponder my degree on the swing

[semikompetenz]

Universities should have playgrounds just like any other school.

[venushasvixens]

Chapter 23. Always Something There to Remind Me - Life is but a Dream ( Spike Spiegel x Reader)

Word Count: 3k 

Warnings: none 

[A/N] enjoy! 

Jo sat out in the dead bar, twirling her last drink for the night.

This wasn’t for courage or to soften the blow of the news. Yeah, she did loved the kid at one point. But sometimes you have to learn the consequences of your actions. Not only was it for the syndicate, but for herself. Leaving the system still alive was most frowned upon. The correct way to go out was death, honorable or not.

She still didn’t understand why she had to go.

She had everything here. She thought of (Y/n) as her own daughter. Teaching her the things she wished she was taught. Jo had never seen any patience or care in herself until she met the girl. Living her life in the fast lane, expanding her branches out to where she needed to plant herself. She built herself up, nurtured her business. One by one, her crew grew bigger.

Her cover as a bounty hunter came to a head, with a sought after criminal that was prowling in Yun. She needed something to eat before she did anything else. Someone told her a restaurant called “Lou’s Diner” had a good breakfast. Looking inside through the windows, she hissed. Never mind about having a break when this amount of bozos were in town.

Then she saw that little kid outside the diner, her eyes closed. She could see that ache on the girl’s face, the gaunt cheeks and tired eyes. Jo saw much of herself in the kid. It was almost like looking into the past. So she repeated a little tactic she tried on herself those many years before, when she looked the same.

Just observe. Take it all in. The possibilities of life were endless.

She swallowed, taking another sip to drink the memory down. That little girl was gone, and so was all care and love for (Y/n). Her abandonment was not forgivable in any means. It served as a lesson to all, to her own syndicate and others alike. Crossing their path had its consequences. Those may test their assumptions, but at a cost. Even if it was to pay with their life.

She heard the front door that was under constant watch swing open. Her second in command walked in, with their head down.

“Doll, is it done?” Jo raised her eyebrow. Her worries were so close to being gone, a thorn out of her side.

She looked up at Jo, and backed down. “Something happened.”

Jo immediately stood up, her body temperature rising in degrees. She shook her head, disappointed and furious, all waving together in a storm of emotions. Despite how she was feeling, Jo just smiled, her eyes blank. The poor girl just watched and shut her eyes, only imagining what was going to happen next.

“What did she do?”

- 

The last few days, you have been giving it some thought. Laying awake next to Spike, you began to ponder the possible outcomes after the most recent events. No matter what you did, you kept telling Spike you were sorry. He would kiss you or squeeze your hand lovingly.

Although you knew that you were forgiven, you still felt off. The guilt still eventually took you over, and you started to let your mind wander, which wasn’t all too good.

“Can I ask what all led up to you…storming the Red Dragon syndicate?” You asked one day as you and Spike sat on the deck. You both had been talking about it on and off at that point, and it just culminated in this question.

“I lost people who were very important to me. From what I understand, they put out an order that anyone that left or attempted to leave the syndicate was to be put to death. It was new management, of course.” He gave out a soft scoff. “Overall, my friends lost their lives. Someone that I lived for died in my arms. I honestly thought that was going to be it.”

“What was going to be it?”

“This life. It was like I woke up all of a sudden, which is why I did what I did.”

You nodded, resting your chin on his chest, observing Spike. “Did you feel better after you did?”

“At the time, no. But the more I look back at it, (y/n)…” He gazed down at you, then smiled. “Hell yeah.”

You gave a soft chuckle, kissing his cheek.

It gave you a bunch of ideas, unfortunately. One that involves what the syndicate was doing now. Probably looking for you. They wouldn’t waste too much time though, as a growing syndicate needed to keep on top of their game in the business world. Stupid as it sounded, but collecting taxes and making business deals seemed to be a new battlefield for Jo. You rolled your eyes and wanted to laugh at the thought.

But that would mean they would be distracted. Kinda.

Jet did tell you to brainstorm for evidence like any other case, and a backup plan as well. Hmm.

“Don’t tell me.” Spike said as you proposed your grand idea.

“Listen. It would make me feel a whole lot better now to see exactly how much they have amassed in their numbers just in case something happens.”

“Something is telling me that Jet has some part in this.” He grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

“It was sound advice, I may have taken some of it.”

“Some of it.” He repeated. “But tell me why do you want to do this?”

You sat next to Spike and gathered your words carefully. “I need to see what I’m up against. I want to make sure Lou is safe. That they won’t come after her or hurt her in any way. She’s all the family I really had from my past.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” He asked. “You do know that if you’re caught, there’s a possibility that the Bebop could not help you without going down with the ship.”

“You’re acting like you’re not the master of disguise, Spike.” Faye mumbled from the doorway. “I agree with (y/n). Sorta.”

“If I needed your input, I’d squeeze it out of you.” Spike shot out, much to Faye’s audible protest. “Is that why you asked me about the syndicate earlier?”

“No, now see, that was just me being curious.” You said, shrugging. “But…it’s a thought.”

“A crazy thought.” Faye pointed her spoon over to you. “But hey, if it brings you some clarity, by all means.”

“So what is it that we are going to do?” Spike said. He raised his eyebrows as he awaited your response. Maybe if you came up with a plausible reason and plan, it would make sense to him. It had to.

“Disguise ourselves, head to Yun and check it out.” You kept it sweet and simple. “We get in, and we get out. When we get back to the ship, we log in what we need in case of an attack and go from there.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Spike ended it off, closing his eyes. He gave a giant sigh, fluffing his hair and opening his eyes. “Alright. If that is the case, then we are going to have to go further to make ourselves more hidden.”

“You’re not going to get those fake glasses and mustaches from the costume store are you?” Faye laughed, twirling her spoon in her mug. “Imagine that. It would be worse if you really did get caught.”

In a fucked up way, you tried not to laugh as you saw the annoyed expression on Spike’s face. Unfortunately there was no wood in the Bebop that you could knock on, so you quieted yourself down.

“We’re taking your ship.” A smile planted itself on Spike’s face. You knew this one well, it was the one he used to tease and bother. The idea that he was about to piss on someone’s good day was the reason behind it, and it always got you. But the wrath of Faye was something you were not too keen on seeing.

“What?!” She yelled, throwing her hands on the kitchen table. “You’re joking me, there is no way you are taking my baby!”

“Oh, but I am.” Spike replied slyly, chuckling. “You need to realize something. From what we understand, the syndicate is not aware of the infamous Faye Valentine on Bebop, only the other three. Your ship doesn’t exist. You don’t matter to them in the slightest, and that’s not meant to be a insult. Consider it a blessing.”

Still on her rant, Faye’s anger slowly began to seep back, and a bothersome annoyance returned. She upturned her nose, and pursed her lips. “And what do I get out of it?”

“Your life.”

“I’ll see if I can find something good for you to eat.” You replied, trying to play the peacemaker. “I’m going to see Lou. She’s going to want to spoil me, I know that.”

Faye peeked at you, twisting her head to the side. “Since you offered…I’ll accept. But if anything happens to my ship, I’m coming after both of you.”

“You can try.” Spike muttered.

“Understandable.” You smiled. It was settled. You were going home.

But it wasn’t exactly the homecoming you really hoped for. 

- 

You used to roam these streets. The light fixtures were still the same, the light bulbs a different color. The brick on the sidewalk hadn’t changed, but there were more trees, and more housing. Buildings scraped the dome of the settlement, a new one popped up on every corner. There were still the same characters that hung around, although a bit busier than they had been before. You did have to observe that there was an increase of people, very similar to that of Earth, but definitely not on the level of peace.

You honestly thought that was good, having more people in this town, since there was no one there when you were a kid. Maybe this place will pop up like all the other settlements on Mars did. Better opportunities for kids, for this community, without syndicate rule.

When you were a child, you swore that all life was brighter, more vivid. And now you understood just how dull some things came out to be.

“Anything pop out to you?” Spike asked. Wearing a trenchcoat and Jet’s fedora (Spike really didn’t want to wear it, but like Jet said, it “completed the disguise”), he sure blended in very well. Planted on his nose was his glasses, the little wiring around the ridges moving so often. You, on the other hand, wore one of Faye’s jackets and sunglasses, clad all in dark colors.

“Its bigger from what I remember.” You said, looking around. “A lot more stuff.”

“Just more for the syndicate to raid.” Spike added. “You think you’ll be okay?”

You reached out for his hand, grasping it. “Of course.” He gave a small squeeze, looking around the streets as you began your hunt.

“Sure you can see out of those things?”

“Wanna put them on and find out?”

This wasn’t like back on Earth, an easy walk in the park. No, this was enemy territory. Flashbacks of sneaking out and finding a good place to sleep and hide just to escape the chaos of the orphanage came running back to you. They weren't exactly the best, but the relief of being away felt so good.

You tried to snap out of it, reminiscing. “From what I see, we’re about to enter the main territory of the syndicate. Most days, you would see patrols. Complete bullshit, it was a level up from cleaners.”

“Geez, I remember those.” Spike added. “What made it worse was the enforcers just stayed on scene to tell us how much of a shit job we did and we’ll never amount to nothing. Crazy that the Red Dragon got done with anything with how much they bullshited us.”

“Not ours, they had to evacuate as soon as possible. Town was too small, so of course people were going to investigate.” You scoffed. “Nosy little bitches.”

You definitely weren't going to talk about the time you and your partner did have to “take care” of a nosy neighbor who just wouldn’t stop pestering about the loud bang that she heard. You had to let the cleaners know that there were two “situations” that had to be taken care of.

You and Spike walked in silence as he hummed softly. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Yeah?” You said, raising your eyebrows.

“How far were you up there?”

You already had something of this conversation with him, but it was kind of avoided. You both acknowledged that it was there, what your place was and what you did. But you were so afraid to say it again, like there was a knife to your throat.

“I skimmed the atmosphere.” You breathed. “Not to brag, but I was the best. I was the one that they asked for and I was the answer. Took me a minute to get where I was. Wasn’t easy.”  

“And what did that take?” Spike said.

“My smile and good looks.” You smiled sadly. “In terms of the syndicate, hard work and dedication did the trick. All of my charms came after, I happened to be a good girl.”

“With how cute you are, its easy to see that.” Spike took his hand and snaked it through the back of your hair, setting off your senses. He gave a small tug and returned his hand into his pocket. “Being good entailed hits and money?”

“Ding ding ding.” You said softly, eyeing Spike knowingly. He nodded at you. “My goodness, you know a lot about the syndicate. Makes me think you were almost in it.”

He hummed. “Did you catch them by surprise when you left?” Spike asked.

“Who wouldn’t be? I did let her know how I felt and I got a fistful of why I should be grateful.” You rubbed your cheek, remembering the sting against your cheekbone.

“I see.” He replied. He trailed his hand along that same cheek, your shoulders dropping slightly. The small touches that Spike gave you almost convinced you to turn right back around to the Bebop and forget this whole thing.

“It was something.” You finally said, wanting to hold his hand. “If we weren’t undercover, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you right now.”

“What do you think this was for?” His hand traced your shoulder, and down your arm. Even though he was a distance from you, his constant contact calmed you down more than anything.

As much as you wanted him to touch you even more, you couldn’t help but notice the group that were walking in your direction. Even in the dim lighting, you could see those familiar pins on their lapel, laughing and carrying themselves with confidence. You knew that walk, the high they were coming off of. One of them looked from each other and towards you and Spike.

Spike noticed, and took a sharp turn down an alley. He grabbed your shoulder, twisted you into his arm. “Oh, darling.” His voice echoed in the alley, deep and sultry.

“Yes, honey pie?” You said aloud, putting on an accent only heard in westerns. How quickly you adapted to what Spike was doing. An unspoken rule, a script to go along with. You walked along the pieces he was putting down.

“You just look so good, so gorgeous. It seems I can’t help myself but just..” Spike turned to you, leaning his head down. He took off his hat, tipping it in a way that obstructed the view of the passing syndicate girls. Although it was to save yourselves, the kiss given to you by Spike felt real.

His lips moved onto yours with intent, smiling slightly. You returned the favor, your hand placed softly onto his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips. He pulled back from you, his eyes soft as he took in your rosy cheeks and sappy grin.

“Hey there.”

“Hi.” That eased some tension.

He took down his hat and looked around the alleyway. You looked out from the alleyway, and could see the girls all the way down the sidewalk, far from where you and Spike were headed. You looked at him and gestured him out of the alleyway.

After a comfortable silence, you and Spike were back out into the streets of Yun. You did look over your shoulder every minute though, the feeling of being followed and watched prevalent as you both traveled. For a split second, you felt your body fall back into a forgotten routine.

Those same steps replicated the present, and a confidence you killed so long ago was threatening to return. “This was my sector.” You whispered to Spike.

“You seem like you got a pep in your step.”

The more you traveled into the city, the darker it got. There was a sense of high danger. The buildings became taller, the streetlights unkept and beaming a sickly green light down onto the sidewalks. The night sky began to disappear as you looked up, seeing more carriers and commercial ships pass above your head.

Only a few minutes passed before you saw a familiar building. Tapping Spike on his shoulder and hiding behind a nearby corner, you gestured to the building.

“There it is.” You both looked up, an average building. The only notable feature of it was rounded wide doorways, and nothing more. It was just…a building.

“That's it?” He said. “I’m not one for looks, but I expected something else.”

“Wait.” You said, pulling Spike closer to you. “Just wait.”

Soon enough, you saw a black car pull up, with a pair stepping out. Their steps were light, graceful, bits of their soft voices could be heard from you and Spike were over the noise of passing cars and the night coming to life. You would’ve thought they were on a date, coming back home from an evening of drinks and conversation.

That was, until you saw the passenger side open, and a man in black stepped out as well. Gun on his hip and looking at his surroundings, he quickly ushered in the couple, the girl quickly pushing herself away from the man. Looking at her in disbelief, he threw down his hand and walked ahead of her into a nearby alleyway next to the building.

“What does that even mean?” Spike whispered.

“Scouting out.” You replied. “Night on the town, in disguise, just like us. Only they go in the front, to make it look more authentic. They go through the back, it raises eyebrows for the police.”

“All about appearance.” Spike concluded. “But that doesn’t show us much.”

“Well it does show that nothing has changed with how things are done.” You responded. “Same ol’ system. On the other side in that alley is their entrance. Only one for members, the one in the front is for business.”

“I remember you telling me.” Spike said. “Is there any other place you want to hit?”

You thought to yourself. “No, that’s all.”

Spike pushed back from the wall, nodding. “Well, we did our best.”

You sarcastically chuckled, tipping his hand further down and taking one look back at the building. Memories, good and bad, were from that place. But so much confusion and hurt still hung around. A familiar face popped out of the alley. Walking out with no care in the world, he quickly jumped into the car that was in the front and left.

“There’s somewhere else.”

You looked back at Spike, who had a blank expression telling you everything you needed to know.

“I’m right behind you.” He said.

[andrewuttaro]

The Trinity: a bridge

The first Sunday after Pentecost on the liturgical calendar is Trinity Sunday. After the end of the Easter season, standing at the beginning of the vast summer stretch of Ordinary time, this feast may seems irrelevant. Perhaps it feels as irrelevant as many theological debates us religious nuts allow ourselves to have in public places against better judgement. How practical can theologizing about the nature of God be?

The Trinity is the bridge between the practical and theological as I discovered.

Pentecost recalls the coming down of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles as fiery tongues. It is a typological callback to the Tower of Babel and the birthday of the Church. The doors then swing open and, as my own Parish’s Vicar preached, the Church goes public if you will. We may forget that the Holy Spirit is a person of the Trinity. It may be the person we think the least about, but it is indeed the person that moves every grace and motivates every prayer.

Pentecost is a practical solemnity, pointing us to a mission to evangelize the world, and Trinity Sunday might be considered the solemnity marking the divine reflection of that calling. The Holy Trinity, in its much theologized nature, is a meditation on what the calling is. God is, in his very being, a relationship of three persons.                         

Perhaps you can see it in my writing: I am treading lightly because on the theology side there are few topics more finely defined in what they are not: what we cannot say about them. Rightfully so, we are talking about God after all, but if you saw the image here below and turned and ran the other way you would be forgiven for thinking we’re descending into the irretrievably wonkish depths of theology.

Do not fear, we shall only wade into the shallows there. We’re building a bridge in this article. There are a dizzying amount of metaphors meant to explain the Trinity to some degree because it is inarguably a fundamental tenet of Christian faith. Missionaries ponder it. Ascetics devote themselves to it. Perhaps only the most contentious debates on Christology are as beguiling as the Trinity.

In religious studies Trinitarian belief is sometimes used to delineate if newer denominations have strayed from the most treasured beliefs of the faith explicit in the Nicene Creed. But the theologians, normally so precise in what they accept the homilists say about such nuanced matters, even they give us the most open ended proclamations most of us will ever hear from theologians:

If you think you understand the Trinity, the theologian tells the homilist, you don’t. Or, more sharply, if you think you understand the Trinity you must be misconceiving it.

Indeed the Trinity is a beautiful, unsolvable mystery for which faith is needed in. Even as I try to lay out the basics here now you would not be alone to see all these propositions as saying the same thing in different ways: how exhausting!

1.     The Trinity is not belief in three Gods.

2.     This one God exists in three persons.

3.     The three persons are not different parts of God, but rather fully and equally God.

4.     God is not one person with three roles.

5.     None of this is a contradiction because of the distinction between a person and essence.

I will pass on trying to describe the distinction between persons and essence. I am not quite educated enough to be so concise. However I do want to draw your attention to the rare thing these truths about the Trinity force us to do. We must define negatives not positives in these assertions: theologians prefer quite the opposite. They like to give detailed descriptions, not these pondering contemplations. Perhaps we might even say the average human being prefers to describe things as what they are and not what they are not.

And that, right there, is precisely it. That is where this discussion gets so very practical. We now cross the apex of the bridge: mystery. God is a mystery. While simultaneously being love, order, and truth, God is a mystery. Indeed, despite sin, we too as beings made in God’s image are complicated, even mysterious… even mysterious to ourselves. Why did I do that? Why do I want this? The way we exist in ourselves and in relation to others: these are not narrowly definable things. We are mysteries that cannot ever be fully solved. We are mysteries that need not to be solved because the unknowing is part of the spiritual majesty of the thing. Spiritual beings exist in a state of relational mystery.

As Pope Francis himself repeats “Reality is more important that ideas” (Pope Francis, Evangeii Gaudium, para. 231).

To be clear, we believe God acts: God reaches out to us in numerous ways both via institution and personal intuition. But always the spiritual mystery of ourselves, God, and our relationship with him must exist in this realm of active unknowing: faith if you will. As the great Thomas Merton once wrote: No man is an island. We need one another. But we do not capture one another. As much as my wife may love the creepy Netflix original “You”, she would also readily admit that Joe Goldberg is not a model for anything healthy, particularly love. Love does not capture: it exists in a state of mystery.

I think we are uniquely disposed to contemplating this truth in our day and age. So many of my peers keep religion at arms-length not because of any hurt or the many hurts religion has inflicted on people: no many of us in this materialist age just don’t want to be fools. We don’t want to get it wrong and there seems to be a lot more space for wrong in believing in a divine being than correctness. Yet these same friends readily acknowledge an intangible, more spiritual reality we may call vibes.

For my parent’s generation this is the old Donatist paradox. In a Church with such widespread abuse how can one trust a priest and, by extension, participate in the Church. The heresy of Donatism dealt precisely with this question and was answered in that the Holy Spirit, God the advocate, works through unholy people because the holiness of the Church is in its sacred contents, not the ministers who govern it. In both my generation and my parent’s generation the deeper concern is relationship: a relationship untainted by foolishness on the one hand and ignorance of abuse on the other.

The Trinity is our answer on both accounts. God himself is relationship. In that reality we may find the peace of a faithful humility and a discipleship that holds the Church accountable. If we know God is a relationship, then what relationship of peoples is not redeemable, not a potential site of healing grace?

Toward the beginning of this article I mentioned my Parish Vicar’s homily on Pentecost. To come full circle on this I want to share what my Parish Pastor’s homily on Trinity Sunday had to say. My pastor started by saying a parishioner challenged him on his usage of “she” and other feminine pronouns in describing the Holy Spirit. This detractor told him to go to the Catechism for his definitions of God as if they were a disappointed instructor from his seminary. My Pastor responded by reading those Catechism paragraphs and directing us to the mystery of God therein.

In his first weekend homily of Pride Month, my pastor bravely pointed out the mystery of God’s triune nature as a point of humbly remembering we cannot capture God or one another. We cannot tell each other to simply acquiesce to our earnest theologizing or rigid plans for a life well lived. The unknowing is the grace… that and the fact that the unknowing is a relationship too. A healthy relationship can figure a thing out without demanding a severe program from the other beings within it. There is grace here in the Trinity: there is a bridge of faith that ultimately enriches us by patient love.

The Trinity is a grace: a mysterious relationship. The trinity is a divine relationship. God is a relationship! Then we ought to recall the humbling truth this imparts when all theologizing ends and all that remains is God and us in some imperfect state of unknowing: we are all together if we have faith. We are all together because even God himself is a relationship. So too must we be in relationship with every other person made in God’s image. Division, the scattering of peoples even for justified reasons, does not accomplish the divine justice the trinity may bring to our lives.

There is a deeper relationship to explore here. Hopefully I can help you discover it. My book, “How to catch feelings for Jesus”, is available online through Wipf & Stock, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and everywhere books are sold online. Stay tuned to this blog for more content from the author... me. And I also encourage talking to me about what I write whether in the comment section, through a private message, or if you see me in person. Some things, especially God, are better understood with the help of others.

[kendrixtermina]

(Fear the Just, Fear the Merciful)

I pick up a book about how aging works,

or what can happen from various kinds of brain damage

sensously, I whisper to it:

"Tell me all the details of how & why I'm completely hopeless and doomed"

Even now, artifacts of consciousness show themselves as

looping meaningless phrases

I think I would much rather opt out of most this being

I hate that I just get like this sometimes,

entangled, yet then leaving you in wait for answer

but you wouldn’t wish to see what I am now:

For this is the basic proposition of my heart: I hate everything

I suppose I have a talent for it;

I exist as a pendulum swing to those who are such gifted, generous lovers,

because they loved so much I was the wretched casuality

of their being a friend to all and thus, to none

in this existence, already more than one third botched

the thing that I need does not exist

its not gonna romanticise itself

I don’t even care what I’ve done to me,

not anymore

I look at you, last glipmse of lovely,

khairosclerosis even in that moment:

you look just as I might imagine my future victim

maybe there are days on which I do, in fact,

want you to destroy me

yet there is only one me,

and if the destruction does not go exactly as I envision it,

that will be one hell of a waste -

no, even it might turn sour,

and id be bereft of one last beautiful fantasy,

last droplet of comfort

and then I will awaken and find the world again filled with

shaded foreign statue figures

which there can be no communication with

that I, in throes of fearful hope,

yearn to be overlooked by

struck by this flat, subjective sense of weakness

everything pointless. Futile. Sad. Godawfuldepressing.

No soul has ever truly touched another

they just don’t realize they’re guessing cause they’re good at it

cut basic trust with basic scepticism

you say that like its a bad thing,

but so I say I do not want your virtue

nothing is more frightful than the unrelenting just

forsooth!

forsaken

in this at least I keep a degree of freedom

mark myself from them, with bloody scar,

I don’t ever want my lot to depend on other people liking me

but being a soft hearted sucker sure makes life more interesting

and so I still wait,

waiting to move till nobody is looking

pondering if I should make a list of people to tell in case I die,

tidbits scattered in my adressbooks,

they never shall piece it together on their own.

Shall I ever say that a pain is over?

That I had not thought about it in years

It’s just one more music to fill the void.

Under the line, there remains the sum:

Im in such despair but I cant say it

They may have opinions,

if I did,

more blasted drivel of what they want for me to do

If there is to be a lesson to all this, let it be this:

It’s always the ones with the good intentions that you have to fear most of all.

For they have no shame, no restraint, and no mercy.

For what? If they be messengers of god.

And never mind your reality,.

Nope! Don't believe you!

They’ll just ignore the reality of what you say,

and substitute their own:

If I don't value what they value, I must clearly be miserable

I guess screaming in the void has become the lesser evil

sinking untouched, ever deep -

in oceans of mine own creation

your comforts are a blight to me, o hero

[alisface]

I haven't heard this question posed before but I have mused on something similar during my own transition.

I grew up and lived fairly isolated, at least by the time I started to notice gender. I lived in a forest and would go 2-3days at a time before maybe seeing someone for an hour, usually alot more. I was incredibly alone yet still came to ponder the questions: what is being trans, and should I transition?

Given who I am now I think my answer to that is pretty obvious, but I wanna rebook at my thinking at the time.

What ultimately drove my decision to seek out hrt was a leap of faith backed by unrelenting need. I was alone and never cared about how others percieved me, I would care after starting but while making that choice at no point did how I look outside of the perspective of my eyes matter. I just needed to change, I craved and longed for it, I was prepared to take any route or make any sacrifice. All while isolated from perception already.

I think the question posed is flawed, at least in my case; "if you were alone on a desert island, and all your physical needs were met, would you still transition?" While you may technically be alive and sustained, I believe without it I would wither, because I did. What does it matter if there is food and water there if you are lacking the will to even bother eating. If there's something you constatly feel is wrong and can't change what is the point in continuing.

This isn't at all to say it was a feeling of wanting an end without it. It was a life where everything felt pointless for a reason that was beyond me. My point in all this being, I believe transition, atlest in part, is a physical need. My physical needs were barely being met, in spite of abundance until I started looking inward at myself and asking why I constantly feel off.

I love life now that I have, I loved it before to a degree but now it's in full swing. Transition didn't make my life worth living, it made my problems worth solving and gave me something to live for.

I belive in all situations, had I the option, in whatever way they came,

I would take it.

I saw a thought experiment recently, which essentially asked "if you were alone on a desert island, and all your physical needs were met, would you still transition?" I'm aware I'm probably super late to this question, apologies if this is overdone, but I wanted to ponder it anyway.

I think the answer for me is yes, but probably very differently. Some people might use this to say "oh you're not really trans if you say no" or something similar, but that's not true.

(Short disclaimer, everything I'm about to say is only my own personal experience with my own gender, everyone's transitions are different and your experience is just as valid as mine.)

For me, I think I would, but I would feel far less confident or happy in it. Yes, the desert island is devoid of social constructs and pressures, and allows you to truly be yourself with no filters, and for some people that might be better, even ideal. For me though, I think I would be very lonely.

Before anyone says "but this is a theoretical about your transition, not your social needs" I disagree. For me, the two are so intrinsically tied together that they can't be separated. I didn't just transition to a woman, I transitioned from a social outcast and total shut-in to a friend, a partner, and a sister. I barely even talked to my own siblings as a kid, and I often found myself with no friends at all. I had no relationships or partners, and I never sought one out. Now, I have dozens, people I can rely on, who can rely on me, and who I can call "friends". I have a girlfriend who I love with all my heart, and I know she loves me back.

No, my transition is not reliant on social pressures or norms. No, I don't need external validation in order to see myself as valuable or beautiful. No, I don't care what some online transphobe or chaser is going to think of me, or what "category" of gender someone might put me in at first glance. What I do care about is how those I love see me. I want to share this journey with people I care about. I don't want to do this alone, not just because I am vulnerable and need the help of others sometimes, but also because I want them to see the joy that I get from it. I want them to be able to look at me and see how much happier I have become. And I want them to be able to do the same, I want to witness their joy too. I want my happiness to be infectious, so I can use it to be better to others around me.

For me, being trans isn't just about transitioning. It's about being me, the most real and true version of me. And my friends are a part of me, so without them I could never be whole.

[chickenparm]

Knuckles and Knives (Silco/f!Reader)

this is my little celebration for 1500 followers. this writing on this one is unfettered chickenparm chaotic narrative, not the usual stuff i put out but with a bit more ✧spice✧. you'll see. there's some swear words and shenanigans mixed in with the meat of this spicy ball.

thank you @sweatandwoe for theorycrafting and betaing this buffoonery with me and helping brainstorm all the good parts. my love •́ε•̀٥

Silco/f!Reader 5,640 Words - NSFW Knife play, choking, Silco beating two(2) people up, rough-ish sex, P in V, the tiniest whiff of bloodplay

---

One of the best things about your career was the job security that came with it.

When you first joined on over a year ago, you hadn’t been particularly valuable - until you made yourself so. Now, you handled all of the money - counting, tracking, doling out bonuses and monthly salaries. Fighting Jinx over her allowance as dictated by your boss and winning the argument had really cemented your status here.

So you supposed you had that job security because it turned out you were the only one that could handle it to the degree that it needed to be handled. You were useful because of what you provided, and the amount of work you took on that used to fall on the shoulders of the man down the hallway - probably sitting in his office and trying to wind down after how long this night had been.

Your own shift was coming to a close, with the only duty you had left to perform being the one you always did on the 27th day of the month - getting Silco to sign off on the salaries of his employees that weren't paid per job. With the folder tucked under your arm, you locked up your office and grabbed your bag to leave after dropping the paperwork off.

Time is money to Silco, and you’d been given express permission to enter his office as needed. You hadn’t wanted to at first, citing his privacy and also joking about walking in on something you shouldn’t. At that point, you’d been rather new, and while you recognized now the look Silco had given you at that time was amusement, you’d been scared shitless for weeks after the fact.

But Silco had reminded you time and time again, and that’s why you didn’t knock. You didn’t even stop to ponder what the strange thudding sounds were that came from just beyond the door.

The hinges didn’t creak, so it swung open silently and gave you a bountiful view of Silco’s hands around a previous employee’s neck, one you recognize as Gregory. The poor sap has a gash on the side of his head as he is picked up from the floor - judging by position, he’d likely been slammed against the sharp corner of the desk by Silco himself.

With strength you didn’t think Silco possessed and an uncharacteristically loud shout that does something odd to your heart, Silco tossed him to the middle of the room and kicked him onto his back with a booted foot. The gold trim of his boot finds itself planted heel-first in the man’s abdomen with a sickening sound of air leaving lungs and Silco’s grunt.

Then he did it again, and again. And you watched unmoving and with bated breath, taking in the scene before you. Silco looked unhinged, with his hair falling out of place and his sleeves rolled up, blood already on his fists from whatever beating his victim had gotten before you came in. And then there was the spit, flying from his grit teeth with every kick.

There’s a viciousness that you’ve never seen before, completely unfettered and uncontrolled as his long limbs swing with every blow. Long fingers curled into fists, but they’re soon reaching down and wrapping around Greg’s neck once more as he picks him up to lean over and look the man in his swollen eyes.

Silco’s rage lulls for a second as his mismatched gaze flicks over the man’s face, watching lips and skin begin to turn blue from the denial of oxygen. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that Silco would hold Greg’s throat shut until the sun finished rising and the body had grown cold. With heaving breaths through his teeth, Silco’s shoulders rise and fall in a quick rhythm that you find yourself unconsciously matching with your own.

Holy shit, are you into this? Your mind is racing, taking in the lines of Silco’s hunched position, the tendons in his hands straining as he methodically strangles the life out of Greg. There’s a vein on his temple that is stark against his skin, and you can’t stop your eyes from flicking to his forearms to look for more.

The papers crinkle from your suddenly-sweaty grip, and Silco’s eyes snap to you with wild fury - it’s almost like he doesn’t recognize you for a second before his bunched-up shoulders relax and he looks at you with nothing but shock. You know he has words on his tongue about you knocking, but they don’t make it past his lips before he remembers his standing rule of just-come-in.

The man hit the floor with a sickening thud of an already-injured skull, and Silco removed himself from his bent-over position to stand tall before you.

“Can I do something for you?”

There’s something he wants to say at the end of his sentence - you can see the way his lips move to form another word before he clamps them shut and looks at you with a raised brow. On the floor, the man groans, and you feel your heartbeat skip when you see the switch flip and Silco squats down and clocks Greg in one of his eyes with three sharp, precise punches that have the man falling suspiciously limp on the floor.

It worries you that you barely give a passing thought on if he’s dead or not. You're more concerned with how badly you want to lick the blood off of his wrists. Fuck, this is weird.

“Children have no manners these days when adults are speaking,” Silco’s voice holds humor that you don’t get to see often, made even more rare by the strange sharpness in his tone. He stands once more to his full height, shaking his hand out and you can’t help but follow the droplets of blood from his knuckles as they hit the floor.

“I uh… was just dropping off the numbers for this upcoming pay period - everything’s set aside and accounted-for, just needs your approval.”

Silco holds a waiting hand out, and you take two extra steps into the room to give him the folder. He doesn’t even look at it as he walks to the desk and sets it on the stack of papers that you know are his to-do work for the following day. There’s another satchel on the surface, one that you know he uses for spare money to keep in the desk.

You have but a second to react and catch it as the bag arcs through the air toward you. Holding the soft velvet to your chest, you look at Silco in confusion as he gestures with a lazy hand at the man on the floor, “Do me a favor and hire someone to clean this up tonight. The usual business is fine. Use the rest to get yourself something nice on the way home - you’ve more than earned it, my dear.”

As you watch his mouth make the motions of those last two words, you realize that’s what he’d originally intended to tack on at the end of his first sentence. Perhaps he was trying to soothe you after the brutal scene you’d just witnessed, but as you left the room with fast steps and avoided your usual end-of-the-evening conversation with Silco, you couldn’t help but look at yourself in a new light when you realize the burning feeling in your gut wasn’t fear or disgust… but arousal.

—

After going home and busting what may or may not have been the scaredest and horniest nut of your life, you cannot bring yourself to look Silco in the eye. You call in sick the next day, and then lock yourself in your office the one after. It hadn’t been a one-time event - sequestering yourself in your house left you with very little to do but find other ways to entertain yourself.

Ways that had you a bit sore on your walk to work this afternoon.

On your desk are the approved salaries, and you file that away for when employees start lurching their way into your office later that night to pick them up. The rest of the day is spent correlating expenses, setting aside money to pay the bills, and finishing more of your minor tasks before you set out to hand-deliver the payments for said invoices. It would get you out of your too-small office for a few hours, but that would come at the cost of stopping by Silco’s lair and letting him know you’d be leaving temporarily.

You shuddered at the thought, at remembering the way he’d grunted through his teeth as he kicked the ever-living shit out of that former employee. You didn’t know what Greg had done, and you likely wouldn’t find out, but Silco usually took decent care of his employees - more than could be said for the other Chem Barons or industry-owners in the Undercity.

If Silco was angry enough to likely kill him, then Greg must have really fumbled something big. Or betrayed him. Though, you had a feeling if it had been the latter, the man would have suffered quite a bit more. You felt a bit fucked up in the head when you realized you wanted to see that.

Silco’s office is quiet, but the thought of walking in on him taking his frustrations out physically has your cheeks burning again and your thoughts scattering like roaches when the lights turn on. You struggle to get yourself under control, and when your cheeks are only slightly-warm you knock on the door. There’s a long moment of silence and shuffling papers before Silco’s smooth voice calls for you to enter.

The first thing you notice are the blood droplets soaked into the floorboards, a harsh reminder of what you’d witnessed only days before. Your eyes are locked on to them, imagining the way he’d shaken his knuckles out - knuckles that were likely still bruised from his treatment. You chance a glance at Silco, taking in the way he’s sitting with his hands steepled on the desk in front of him.

Nonthreatening, and rather casual all things considered. It almost seems deliberate, as his usual posture is one that commands obedience and respect. This is purposefully open and relaxed, like he’s trying to soothe you for some reason. You look at his knuckles, noting that there was a pretty purple color blooming across them that was already beginning to yellow at the edges.

You wished you hadn’t called in yesterday, if only to see them fresh.

“I ah… Just wanted to let you know I’m headed out to make the rounds and clear up the debts for the month.”

Silco regards you for a moment - you can’t look at him directly, you can’t see his expression, and you know he notices it. He doesn’t answer at first, doesn’t really move at all as you focus on the way his fingers tighten together. The bruises look even more stark against his skin as his knuckles turn white. You feel a stress headache coming on.

“Look at me.”

You can’t, or rather you don’t particularly want to, otherwise you’ll give yourself away. But you’re nothing if not a good employee - an obedient employee - so you lift your gaze along his exposed wrists and forearms, the burgundy fabric of his shirt, the line of his neck, and then to Silco’s face where you feel your throat go painfully dry.

He’s looking at you, and there’s actual, genuine concern in his eyes. You don’t know how to react, except for an unsettling feeling in your stomach that makes you want to vomit. You doubted Silco wanted to pay for another clean-up job, so you forced yourself to swallow the feeling down.

His undamaged brow is raised in an unspoken question, but you have no clue what he’s trying to ask so you just stay silent, waiting for him to elaborate. You don’t have to wait long, and you regret your patience with a deep, monolithic sincerity.

“Something’s wrong with you.”

“No, there’s nothing-”

“Don’t lie, you’re terrible at it.”

Silco’s interjection stops your mind in its tracks, and you struggle to find words to cover your ass, because you’ve been found out. There’s no way you’re getting out of this unscathed. You should have known your absence would catch his attention in some way - you’re punctual and your attendance is exemplary. A poorly thought-out series of events that culminated in you standing in front of Silco’s desk and somehow simultaneously shaking in your boots and soaking your underwear with arousal.

“Is it because of what you saw?”

You think about being cheeky, about saying you’ve seen a lot of things, but you know Silco well enough at this point that he’ll simply be more direct and you’ll be back at square one - and he’ll likely be pissed about it, too. Honesty toward him above all else was something he mentioned during a monologue you'd had to sit through some time ago. So, you shrug with one shoulder and reach one hand across your stomach to hold onto your forearm to hide the sudden trembling of your limbs.

“Yes and no.”

“That’s a vague answer, don’t play dumb, my dear.”

Those two words again. If Silco notices the way you immediately start to sweat, he graciously doesn’t bring attention to it. He only stares you down with a challenging tilt of his head. Almost in slow motion, like the swinging of a headsman’s axe, a strand of hair falls loose from where it had been perfectly coiffed with the rest. With every ounce of willpower and strength in your anxious body, and a desperate prayer to any deity that might be listening, you force your eyes to not gaze at it.

You needed to get the fuck out of here before you genuinely developed some sort of heart condition.

How did this come on so quickly? At the beginning of this week, Silco was just your boss that you sometimes had little banters with. He knew enough about you and vice-versa to be passing acquaintances, maybe even tentative friends. But up until you witnessed him beating the everliving shit out of Gregory, attraction hadn’t stirred beyond a subtle appreciation for his good looks.

And now here you were, throat jammed around the words he was waiting to hear, all because he’s tilted his head and called you out on your bullshit. You’d wasted precious seconds on your internal monologue, and he was likely getting impatient.

“Yes, it’s about that.”

Now he’s frowning at you, like your answer had actually bothered him in some way. There’s movement against his cheek, and you realize it’s his tongue working against it in thought. You remembered the flash of it when he’d opened his teeth to shout when he’d punched Gregory’s face in. Your mind gets trapped playing that vision over and over again, remembering it with sickening excitement, to the point that you nearly miss Silco’s next words.

“I forget that this is still new to you. I’m sorry that you had to see it - I’ll pay better attention so it doesn’t happen again.”

Panic strikes your heart, and then even more panic when you realize the initial panic is at the thought of never getting to see Silco in such an unhinged and feral state again - and as a result, you wind up giving him an answer so terrible that you can guarantee you’ll be cringing about it in your bed at night for years to come.

“N-No! I mean- It was fine. It’s very fine, Silco. Uh… sir.”

“It was fine?”

You think about walking into the river and drowning yourself as he looks at you with a deep, contemplative stare that you can swear is peeling back every flimsy layer of deception. Usually you wait for his dismissal, but for once you grow a pair and decide enough is enough.

“I-I’ve got to go before these businesses close. Have a good day, see you tomorrow!”

It’s a jumbled mess of words that barely pass your lips before the door is shutting behind you and you’re practically sprinting down the hall. You hadn’t seen Silco’s reaction and you sincerely did not want to - you’re not sure your weakened heart can take whatever he throws at you, especially when you’d practically given him the perfect reason to fire you for unprofessional conduct.

You finish the rounds quickly, and thank your forethought to bring your belongings with you so you could go home right away and take care of yourself in more ways than one.

—

Two blissfully uneventful days go by, and you cannot believe your luck when you manage to snake through both without a mention or reminder of your horrible, no good, extremely horny thoughts.

You dole out the salaries for the month, keep records of the bills you paid, balance the accounts and send out invoices of your own for the various businesses that pay for protection or operate from buildings that Silco owns. It’s mind-numbing, but you love it. It’s almost like retail therapy, but you’re buying things with Silco’s money that are practical and needed for his various businesses to run smoothly.

At the end of the day, you almost forget you were ever so egregiously horny about your boss in the first place - until you realize you’ve got paperwork that needs to be sent off to one of the Chem Barons and it needs Silco’s signature - and it needs to be sent out today. Grieving the loss of your sanity after such a short time of enjoying it, you gather the paperwork and make your walk to another awkward and stilted conversation with Silco.

The office door is once again shut, and having learned your lesson the first time on fucking around and finding out, you knock sharply and wait for him to call you in. There is a moment of hesitation before he does, and he does it using your name - he knows it’s you.

You open the door, step inside, and immediately wonder if you’ve got one foot in heaven and one foot in hell, because somehow this is your deepest fantasy and most heinous nightmare.

Silco’s got a man tied up, with a blackened eye and a swollen jaw, and- Gods, is that a knife? It is, you confirm, and your eye takes in the malicious gleam of the blade in Silco’s hand that’s pressed oh so delicately against the man’s neck as Silco holds his hair and cranes his head to the side.

You’re staring openly, and there’s a sly curve of amusement on Silco’s lips while you do it. Swallowing hard enough that you’re not entirely sure you haven’t sent your tongue straight down your gullet, you nearly-wheeze, “I’ll come back later.”

“There’s no need - Take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment, sweetheart.”

You give a passing thought to the suspicion that perhaps you really have died and now you’re in some sort of horny, sexually-frustrated purgatory that’s built solely to make you lust over a man you simultaneously cannot have and did not want up until a few days ago.

Silco pulls the knife from his guest’s neck just long enough to point the end of it at his couch - there’s throw pillows artfully placed and a glass of water sitting on a coaster with condensation dripping down the side. Something about this makes you feel like he was expecting you, and you can’t be arsed to think about it lest your brain turn to slime and slide out your ears.

You’re rigid on the couch, watching with eyes as wide as the moon itself as Silco turns back around and rolls both sleeves up with easy, practiced movements. There’s an edge to Silco’s voice as he speaks to the man in the chair, the knife pressed into the softest part of his neck beneath his jawline.

“I’m wondering what worth you can continue to provide if you cannot be bothered to do your job. I expected that shipment to make it through the gates yesterday, so tell me why it’s back in my store rooms downstairs.”

“Th-There’s a new assistant dockmaster, they d-don’t know how we operate-”

“And you didn’t think to educate them? That it was better to allow them to hinder my affairs without repercussions?”

“They’ll be gone, I swear it! M-Me and the boys, we’ll make him disappear-”

“See to it that he has an accident,” Silco emphasizes his words with a press of the knife, and your eyes eagerly follow the line of blood that wells up along the edge and travels down the blade. There’s no guard on the handle, and the redness slides unfettered onto Silco’s skin. Silco doesn’t even flinch from it as he finishes, “Or you’ll find yourself a widower.”

“I will, I swear it, I will!”

“Good, then we’re in agreement.”

And the knife is pulled away just long enough for Silco to curl his hand in a fist around the handle and crash his knuckles against the man’s nose. There’s a sickening crack, and you’re not sure if it’s the man’s face or your teeth under the pressure of your jaw grinding them together.

Silco’s got the man untied with no more than four quick slices of the knife, and he waves him off with a noncommittal gesture of the knife toward the door, “Hurry along, you’ve got work to do. I expect it to be done tonight.”

The man doesn’t hesitate, only stumbles to the door and leaves you in the room that is suddenly scorching hot. Is the oxygen suddenly gone? You’re finding it hard to breathe when Silco turns to look at you with expectant, knowing eyes. His knuckles will be bruised again, redness from the impact and the blood already staining his skin atop the greenish-yellow contusion that existed prior.

“You needed me for something, sweetheart?”

Hell yeah you did, but not in the ways he likely knew about or was expecting. Your hands are clasped together tightly in your lap, and you know damn well that your mouth is so dry that there’s no way you’ll be able to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. With a trembling hand, you reach out and snatch up the water to down it in one go.

Silco’s smiling, a sharp little thing that is just wide enough to show a flash of his teeth. You hate it, you decide that just now. It's both a blessing and a curse, and the latter is more prolific. It's not worth the trouble you've gotten yourself in.

“I uh… Actually, I don't remember anymore.”

A cop-out excuse, one that doesn’t fly in the slightest as Silco steps closer. The knife raises in the air, and with a quick downward swipe of his hand he’s got it embedded in the table in front of you - the handle still wobbles from the force, and you worry you’ve ruined your underwear in the short span of time you’ve allowed this man to work you up in arousal.

“Try to remember.”

“I think I should just go, honestly.”

Fuck it all, you’ll just forge his signature. It wouldn’t be the first time, and you’re kicking your own ass for not thinking of it sooner.

Silco steps over the table, leaving a boot print on its surface as he falls over the top of you and cages your body against the arm while supporting himself with those long fucking limbs of his. You remember hearing about a breed of goats that stiffen and faint when they’re exposed to too much excitement, and you wonder if you’re about to find a kinship with those animals as Silco looks at you like you’re something to eat.

“So soon?” His breath is hot on your face as he leans in - he smells like cigars and cognac and a little bit like the blood on his hands that’s undoubtedly staining his couch. One singular thought pings around in your head, spinning round and round like a broken record - you desperately want this man. If it wasn’t clear before, there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind now.

But this wasn’t a good idea, especially with how unruly your mind was getting at Silco’s proximity - perhaps he’d indulged a bit too much in his drink this evening, or maybe doing a bit of good old fashioned crime got him worked up. Your voice wasn’t cooperating as you tried to stammer out an excuse, a reason to get the hell out of this room where the walls were suddenly closing in a bit too quickly for your tastes.

Blindly but with the kind of precision that comes from knowing your surroundings intimately, Silco reaches back for the knife and dislodges it from the table with one tug. The metal is still gleaming despite the red stain on the blade, and Silco knows you’re staring at it unabashedly.

“Say the word, and I’ll give you everything you want, darling. Tell me what you came here looking for.”

“Y-You.”

“M-Me?” Silco mocks, and your breath is suddenly too-thick to speak with. One eyebrow raise is his encouragement, urging you to finish that thought. Maybe a bit stupidly, you fall for the bait and lift your chin.

“I came here for you.”

“Then don’t move.”

It’s quick, so fast you can’t even flinch before it’s already done and your shirt is wide open and the cups of your bra are suddenly loose with the band between having been cut cleanly. Like it’s an extension of himself - the movements so precise and calculated that the blade barely kisses your skin - Silco flicks your ruined clothes open to bare you to his eyes.

Heaven is what you’ve decided on. If Silco lays a hand on you, you’ll be convinced this is some kind of nirvana that you’ve reached. You’re still convinced you’re dead as Silco leans down, deliberately watching your expression as his tongue slips past his lips and swirls around one nipple, before taking it between his lips with a leisurely suck.

No, definitely alive, and definitely not dreaming. Against your control, one of your hands shoots to the back of his head to twist your fingers in his hair, encouraging the movement of his tongue against your skin - you don’t want it to stop, but you’re also thinking of other places that tongue could be put to use if you just had enough time.

The knife settles between your breasts - cold and menacing with just how close that razor-sharp edge was to your skin. But there isn’t a single worry in your mind, because after seeing how expertly he’d handled it, you trusted him with whatever he decided to do with it.

Silco pulls away from you with a wet pop, the sudden sharpness of the sensation making you whine - and Silco’s smiling again, his teeth looking extra-sharp as his eyes are hungry.

“Get your pants off, or you’ll be walking home tomorrow with your ass out.”

Tomorrow? You want to linger on that word, ask him what the hell that implies, but then the knife is grazing against your skin toward the band of your pants and you’re shimmying out of them faster than you’d ever done before. The blade taps against your hip bone as Silco hums with approval.

“Good girl.”

There’s a second where you feel weightless in the face of that two-word phrase. And then when you come back down to earth you realize that you are relentlessly aroused and already spreading your legs for your boss like one of the girls just down the street that Sevika liked to frequent. You’re startled as the knife is tossed to the floor carelessly, and Silco pushes away from you to sit upright and look at what you’re presenting to him.

“I suspected it, but you really are into this, aren’t you?”

“It’s as new for me as it is for you, honestly,” Your words are weak and barely hold any weight as his hands find your knees and spread you wider around his hips. Silco’s brow twitches upwards at your words, but he doesn’t make a comment on it as he takes in the way you’re already dripping onto the couch cushions.

“Silco,” You nearly whine, and he only gives you a hum for an answer as he glides his thumbs along the insides of your knees. It’s disarmingly soft, and you’re not sure how to take this weird trichotomy of cutting your clothes off with a knife, implying you’re staying the night, and then gently caressing your skin.

But you don’t hate it. You absolutely do-the-fuck-not.

“Yes, my dear, use your words. Your unwillingness to ask for things is what’s gotten us into this mess in the first place.”

You’re fairly certain the only mess in this entire room is what is happening under his sharp gaze, but you do as he asks and barely whisper, “I want you. I need you.”

Silco barely gets two buttons unfastened on his pants before he’s yanking them down his hips and pulling his dick out - it’s obvious that he’s painfully hard, if the redness of his swollen tip is anything to go off of. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, watching with a monumental amount of anticipation as he presses against you to gather some of your wetness on his cock.

One glide against your folds is all it takes for you to sigh his name, the pressure on your clit sending your head rolling back against the armrest you’re pushed up against. Silco actually laughs at you, though it’s just as rough as you’d expect from his very-clear arousal. A hand slides up your body, stopping only to tweak one of your nipples before it curls around your throat - the webbing of his thumb is pressed against your windpipe, but it’s the pressure at the sides of your neck that has you breathing heavily with the unspoken promise.

“Tell me what you need from me, my lovely.”

“I-I need you to fuck me,” You swallow, feeling the pressure of him against your neck and you know he felt that motion as well, “Please, I’m about to go fucking insane.”

Silco leans forward, his cock just barely pushing against your hole as a promise, and his lips find the corner of your mouth with a taunt on his breath, “I’d like to see that, but since you asked so prettily…”

The sharp inhale you take is so much sharper than any knife he’s got, your walls stretching suddenly as he enters you with a vicious thrust. You weren’t ready for it, but you’re already moaning as he pistons into you with quick, long thrusts that immediately scratch every itch you’ve got. It’s enough to have you wantonly moaning Silco’s name like some cock-dumb idiot, but the sounds you’re making seem to be doing something to him because his thrusts are less measured and more feral.

Tilting your head back down to look at Silco, you’re greeted with the same sight as the one you’d seen that first incident - teeth bared, eyes wild, hair completely disheveled as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. And by every light in the Undercity he’s got you fucked up looking like that, there’s no other way to explain the way it makes your cunt tighten like a vice around his cock.

“Touch yourself,” Silco’s voice is breathless and vicious as he orders you, “Cum for me and I’ll take you to my bed and make sure you leave here so satisfied you’re crawling back on your knees.”

As if you wouldn’t do that for him already, you’re damn near ready to worship this man if he demanded it of you. But with shaking fingers you do as he asks, and he watches with laser focus as you rub tight, concise circles around your clit in time with the thrusting of his cock and the lewd wet noises he was creating as a result.

His fingers around your neck tighten against your skin, pushing against the sides and letting the blackness creep in at the edges of your vision. You can’t possibly last long, and within a few more thrusts you’re near-screaming his name to the ceiling. The sensation is impossibly heightened by the way his fingers release perfectly with the first wave of your orgasm. The rush is too much, and Silco has to grab your hips with bruising fingers to keep you from bucking him off.

Silco doesn’t last much longer, not with the way you writhe below him and babble incoherent praise about him and his cock. He cums with naught more than a stuttered curse and fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes impossibly hard against you to bury his cock in your heat as far as he can get it.

There’s a pinch of pain that you hiss at, but he only shifts the angle and no longer presses against you in that way, allowing you to relax against the couch with a disbelieving laugh.

“Something funny?”

“Giddiness, not humor,” You clarify, cracking your eyes open to take in the way he pants with his mouth open, the tiniest shimmer of spit on his lip that you desperately want to savor. So you lean up and grab behind his head to pull him close, your lips crashing against his own with teeth and tongue to get a taste of him.

Silco returns it with his own enthusiasm, and as he slips out of you, he hooks his arms under your body to hoist you up. Your legs wrap around his hips as he carries you away to that bed he promised and the satisfaction you’d been craving.

[notaninterest]

Carnal *1* (A Hisoka x Reader)

[A/N]: Hello! My username says notaninterest, but feel free to call me Cece.

I'm going to be making this into a story! So I do hope you stick around for the other parts to come. This is also posted on my Wattpad if you're interested. I don't know how many chapters this is going to be but it shouldn't be too long. We'll see :)

I update weekly to biweekly depending on how my life pans out. I will let you know when you should expect the next chapter.

I think I made some mistakes with my writing about Nen so I hope that's okay. I'm not going to be completely accurate in my writing. I hope you understand.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this first chapter!

warnings: heavy sexual themes, smut, Hisoka being fucking hawt

The smell is the same as any other strip club. These grimy places usually never interested him, but tonight is different. It is not the same as the others. He urges for something, something not related to his bloodlust. Yes...He requires a woman. And places like these were full of them. He smiles to himself whilst taking a sip of his alcohol. Nevermind the crowd of inebriated men and some women. His yellow eyes are trained on the dancers, three different ones each accompanying their own respective poles. One of them is a brunette with an aline bob, her hands above her head wrapped around the pole and her legs crossed over the pole with her back facing towards it. She held a look of lust while she arched her back, exposing her full bare breasts further to the crowd as she spun down the pole slowly. While she played the part, her aura certainly didn't feel the part. Hisoka could sense the underlying hatred and disgust this girl has for her job and while she is good at it, she clearly doesn't enjoy it. 'Too boring. Easily manipulated. Not enough fun.' He decides, switching his gaze over to the second girl. This one has long, blue hair reaching to her waist. She confidently swirls upside on the pole, grinding against it upside down. As she reaches down lower, she does the splits midair, manipulating her lower body to face the crowd of horny alcoholics, giving them a peek as to what's beneath the lingerie. A man in the mass of bodies spits out his beer in surprise, quickly throwing money at the dancer. Hisoka rolls his eyes. It's clear as day that she's just a run of the mill slut, perfect for this specific area of expertise. She's clearly in it for it all. Sex, money, and exhibitionism. She doesn't care who watches her or who touches her. She enjoys it all the same. While sensitivity to touch was always a plus, he prefers at least some resistance to his advances. He likes 'em feisty.

The third dancer however...bingo. Her [h/c] hair is what first draws him to her significantly more than the others. The second? Well, he can't sense her aura. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he can't feel it at all. She must be using Zetsu to conceal herself from any Nen users. Little does she know that any other other highly experienced Nen users like himself can easily spot through her deception from just looking at her. Another smile upturns his lips. She will certainly entertain him for the night. He continues to watch her, noting the way her [e/c] eyes sparkle with excitement, nervousness, and some other emotions he can't place. This placates his curiosity more. "Oi, bartender." He calls one of the employees, who walks over while cleaning a glass. "What's the name of that third dancer, the one right over there?" Hisoka asks, pointing over to the mysterious woman. "Well that'd be [Y/N], the most graceful of them all." The bartender gushes, clearly having it out for the lady. "Hmm...'most graceful' you say..." He'd be the test of that one. He continues to stalk you out from the bar, sipping on his alcohol slowly. He needn't be drunk for this experience. No...He's going to enjoy this one to satisfy his more carnal cravings for a longer time. He watches you closely. You were wearing very little, definitely giving the appearance of confidence in your body. That scores high in the point system in Hisoka's head. You were currently positioned so the front of your body faced the pole, your backside facing the crowd. You bent over at the waist, grabbing the pole in front of you and bending to a 90-degree angle. Your toned ass is on clear view to the people in front of you and you slowly rotate your hips, imitating a sexual act in midair. Or, at least trying to. ‘Mmm...she's perfect.’ Hisoka dreams of the acts he'll perform on you, becoming more excited by the second. He continues to watch you, head in his left hand, his drink in the other. As soon as you finish undulating your hips, you slide up against the pole, grinding your pussy against the cold metal. A gasp leaves your lips, one that should be inaudible considering the noise and the atmosphere, but it's a noise Hisoka can hear as clear as day. It's clear that from the pitch in this noise and the way you move your body that you're not experienced in this area, which leaves him to wonder why you chose it. Maybe for the money? No...he doubted that. You didn't lurch your body around the pole as deliberately as the first dancer. There was a secret to your work that he doesn't know of. It becomes painfully more clear that you aren't experienced in any pole work at all, judging by how clumsily you slither up the pole. Your eyes struggle to convey the desire to practically fuck the pole and instead are glazed over in what seems to be a sort of nervousness. To any other everyday individual, you'd look like a professional, maybe graceful as others say. Yet, to Hisoka, he can see right through your dancing façade. Why are you doing this...he must sate his ever-growing curiosity.

As the number finishes and the dancers walk offstage, Hisoka approaches the man responsible for handing out lap dances and the like, going to put his request in nice and early. "Eh?! You request a room for the rest of the night?! S-Sir I'm afraid-" Hisoka holds up a heavy, full bag. "This here is enough jenny to last you a lifetime and even your grandkids if you spend it wisely." He smiles as he hands the packed bag over, watching as the man's eyes light up in greed. He needs this money. And Hisoka can tell. "I'm sure we can make something work. This man here will guide you to your room." The greedy man shoos over a hefty bulk of a guy, who promptly tells Hisoka to follow him. Hisoka smirks, dropping the bag of money on the slimy man's desk. "Very well. Thank you." He thanks, following the brawny dude to his assigned room.

The large man guides the magician to the room furthest down the long hallway. As Hisoka opens it, he notices it to be some sort of suite. He chuckles to himself. The other rooms were smaller. Money sure did get you good things. The strong guard before him tells him that the dancer he requested will be with him shortly before leaving, giving Hisoka some time to himself before you arrived. He investigates the big room for the time being, meticulously looking over things. There was the obvious king-sized bed, massive enough for two bodies. There's a nightstand full of condoms and lube. It has a lamp with a red shade on top of it, which Hisoka turns on. The room fills with an additional red light, making him smile. Yes...mood lighting. He's looking through the dresser across the bed when the door swings open, an angry-looking woman greeting him. He smiles at her, arms crossed behind his back. "Hello, [Y/N]-" "I don't allow any clients to touch me, much less have me for 12 hours straight!" You interrupt as you fume, glaring at the magician before you. "Must be your lucky night then." Hisoka chuckles, running his entrancing eyes over your body. Your minimal clothing was enticing to say the least, easily getting him worked up. But the air of mystery swarming around you fuels his horniness more. He needs to find out what exactly you are up to. The door suddenly closes firmly behind you, clicking locked behind the woman. You panic, trying to open the locked door handle. As predicted, it doesn't budge. "I think what you mean by not allowing anyone to touch you, you also mean you haven't even touched yourself?" Hisoka asks, beginning to walk over to you with his hands still behind his back. Your aura suddenly springs to life, surrounding your body in an instant. Hisoka smirks, continuing his approach. "St-Stand back, clown! I will not hesitate to send you flying!" You stamper, projecting your Nen in an offensive manner. "Hm..." Hisoka ponders, stopping inches away from you.

You're strong, but not nearly as strong as he is. He wonders how long you've been practicing. Must've been a few years now. You place yourself in a defensive stance, one arm angled up at a 90-degree angle and the other positioned a little below that one in the same stance, legs spread apart with one a little behind the other. Ah, yes. Every stereotypical position most fighters took when looking to fight. It looks silly with what you're wearing. And the look on your face was so hilariously serious. That's why Hisoka couldn't stop himself from laughing. He seriously tried to contain it, but the silliness of your posture combined with your facial expression absolutely cracked him up. This reaction serves to royally piss off the woman in front of him. "What?! What's so funny?!" You snap at him, clenching your hands into fists. He laughs himself to literal tears, holding his stomach with one clawed hand. "It's just...Your Nen compares next to nothing against mine, but your effort is quite adorable." The Transmuter purrs, wiping his cheek and taking a step closer to you. You look worried, taking a step away from the man. He responds by simply taking a step closer. "Wh-What do you want from me, f-freak?" You stutter nervously, finding yourself being backed into a corner. "Why, you of course." The magician licks his lips to emphasize his statement. A blush crosses your [s/c] cheeks, your eyes gleaming with fear. The look is so utterly delicious to him.

He chuckles, continuing to walk towards you. You back up until your back is literally against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go expect towards the creepy man. You breathe shakily, making your fear of him clear. "Well, let's get started...[Y/N]." Hisoka smiles, placing his hand next to your head and leaning down to touch noses with you. It's clear his height intimidates you. You swallow and swing, missing your Nen-powered punch by a longshot. He dodges, letting the attack wisp by his right star-drawn cheek. Hisoka giggles at your attempt, grabbing your outstretched hand with his free one and pinning it against the wall you were up against. You look totally helpless, fuelling his desire more. "Oh-ho-ho, trying to hit me are you now? Your attempt turns me on." He teases, fully smiling at your clear look of panic. His eyes narrow as your Nen powers up, sensing that you're up to something. He uses Gyo, centering his Ren in his eyes and watching your aura, watching as it enhances to your hidden fist behind you and to your left leg. So you're an Enhancer, hm? You were going to try to bait him with a fake punch before actually hitting him with your left leg? Okay. He feigns as if he doesn't suspect anything, allowing you to throw your fist at him before pulling back, jumping up and predictably swinging your leg at the left side of his teardrop-stained cheek. He allows the attack to land on him, his head snapping to the side with a frightening speed. Your eyes light up victoriously, but they soon dim to horror as he turns his scuffed up face back to look down at you with a smug smirk. "Any normal person would have flown away with that attack, so I must say I'm impressed. Yet, I'm not a normal man if you can't already tell. Your attacks will provide you with no protection if I haven't already predicted this. It's cute that you think you have an evenly-scored battleground with me." Hisoka chuckles, pinning you against the wall with both of your hands restrained by his at this point.

Your expressive eyes give away your anxiety of the situation, but your face remains hard with determination. The look reminds him of a certain 12-year old boy. This stirs his lust for you up further. He licks at his pale lips seductively, yellow eyes glowing into your own [e/c] ones. Your cold glare sends a spike of pleasure right to his hardened dick. He smiles wider if possible. It's becoming increasingly clear that you have no chance against him and he finds this power over you intoxicating, delicious even. "I have a question for you, [Y/N]. Sate my curiosity if you will." The clown husks, putting his mouth right next to your right ear. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of your face and you gulp nervously. "Shoot." Your icy voice fills his ears, and he gives a simple, "Hmm." at your compliance. You were going to be so much fun to break. He really chose the right contender to satisfy his needs. He snickers into your ear, his hot breath hitting the shell of it. It causes you to barely shiver. It was almost imperceptible, but not to perceptive Hisoka. He grins with this discovery, deciding not to voice it. You would soon find your body betraying you. "Pray tell what you're doing in a place like this? We both know you're not qualified for sex work, so what really brings you here, [Y/N]?" Hisoka's flirtatious voice whispers against your flesh. You noticeably tense up at the question, your hands forming into fists. Your wrists flex in his grasp. He seems to have hit a sore spot. You don't respond immediately. This moves Hisoka to press his body up against yours. Your almost completely exposed chest rubs up against his completely covered one and you gasp at his movements, clearly not expecting them. "Mmm your body feels delightful up against me dear~ Now answer the question." He lustfully whispers in your ear. You seem frozen in place, eyes wide with surprise. He decides he quite likes that expression, ingraining it into his memory. You quickly catch yourself, squirming against his body. "Let m-me go!" You stutter. Your futile attempts only rub him in all the right ways and he moans deeply, the noise hitting your right ear loudly. You gasp, your cheeks reddening with...desire? You freeze up again. He chuckles. "You feel amazing rubbing up against me like that~ Now...are you going to answer or am I going to force it out of you?~" He mumbles sensually, rubbing his lips against the flesh of your ear. You lick your lips to moisten them, your breathing correcting itself quickly.

"I'm here to collect a bounty." You simply state, watching his pale face out of the corner of your right eye. He laughs. "Liar." He growls into your ear, his hands tightening on your wrists before he throws you behind him. He listens as your delectable body bounces on the massive mattress before he turns around, predatory eyes focusing on your scared ones as you sit up on the bed. "That's the truth-" "Incorrect. I'm simply calling you out on your bullshit." Hisoka grins, beginning to approach the bed with obvious sexual intentions. You back away to the headboard of the bed, your back pressing against the splintering wood. He crawls onto the king-sized cot, stopping as soon as he looms on top of you. The look in his eyes is hungry as he looks down your body once again. He loves the position you're in. Utterly helpless. He places his hands beneath your arms, leaning down so that he's touching noses with you again. "Answer the question. Truthfully this time." He adds, smiling deviously in your flustered face. Your mouth remains shut. That's fine. It's well past time for him to immerse himself in your beautiful body. He reaches underneath you, carefully manipulating his clawed hand to the string of your toppiece. He unties it, the flimsy material of the lingerie falling away from your breasts almost instantly. You puff out a noise of embarrassment, your hands quickly coming to aid in hiding your tits from him. The magician quickly evades this method however, encircling both your wrists in his hands again and pinning them next to your head. He takes a long look at your perfect bust, practically drooling at the sight of them. He truly scored with this catch. He smiles, making eye contact with you again. He does not hide his lust from you this time. "Fine.~ I suppose I'll have to try a different method to coax an answer out of you." He punctuates this by licking his lips, moving his face over your bosom. Your eyes watch, curious as to what he'll do. You look nervous and Hisoka couldn't hold back his smirk. The nervousness only virgins hold. This'll be one hell of a lay. He almost couldn't contain his excitement.

He sticks out his tongue, running it over your left nipple before popping it into his mouth. He gives an experimental suck and watches as your body jolts beneath him. A noise akin to pleasure leaves your throat and you look embarrassed at this, closing your eyes. His smile widens and he continues to suck on your nipple, running his tongue over it at the same time. He releases your right hand when he's sure you won't move, using his free hand to massage your other boob. He kneads the flesh in his palm, squeezing the whole thing harshly. Your back arches off the bed and a groan leaves your lips, your hands squeezing as you squirm beneath him. Beautiful. The way you respond to him. You must be sensitive. He watches your face with his observate eyes, watching as your face relaxes into a sort of pleasured expression. Perfect. He pops your breast out of his mouth, replacing it with his other hand. He continues his ministrations for a few quiet moments, listening as you release more pleased noises. This heats up his body more and as a result, his own face flushes up with his desire. "So [Y/N].~ You ready to spill the beans?" Hisoka asks, squeezing both of your tits rather roughly. You pant, opening your defiant eyes to glare at him. "Never." You huff, shivering beneath him. He chuckles. "Shame.~" He continues to fondle you, this time kissing and dragging his tongue against your stomach. Your muscles tense and untense and a full fledged moan dares to leave your mouth. Sensitive you are indeed. This causes Hisoka himself to shiver, your moan music to his ears. He drags his tongue up your stomach, in between the valley of your boobs and up to your neck, where he centers his attack. He laves his tongue in the area, kissing it too. Your moans double in volume and he smiles to himself. "Dare to share, [Y/N]~?" He huskily whispers, licking up to your earlobe and nibbling it. “Ahn- N-No." You pant, trying to remain as stoic as before. You were for sure a challenge...and Hisoka loves challenges. Chuckling, he bites at the skin of your neck, enjoying your flinch in response. "Fine. Be that way." He responds, returning his attention to your tits. He massages the flesh in his clawed hands, tweaking the nipples at the same time. He pulls them, making your back arch to follow them. He leans down to your face, running his nose against your cheek before kissing it. He moves his face towards your left ear, breathing hotly against it. You freeze up before shivering in response. "Perhaps I'll have to take more...drastic measures." He whispers into your ear, his right hand releasing its grip on your left boob and hovering over the side of your hip where a tie holds up the bottom piece of your sexy outfit.

He pulls at the measly string, untying it from your hip. It loosens the fabric, yet the triangular material protecting your modesty continues to cover it. This is fine. He unties the other string, the fabric effectively falling slack against your skin. Hisoka releases all touches, focusing on your lower body now. You move to cover your most sensitive bits, but Hisoka simply smacks your hands away with force, moving back to take the covering away from you. As you yelp and rub your hands, he uses his to grab the thong, taking it away from your body. He stares at your pussy in all its glory, licking his lips. "Say...~ all this interrogating has got me famished. You don't mind if I have a little snack, right?~" His seductive voice proclaims, spreading open your thighs and settling himself in between them. Your nervous eyes alight his own dilated ones and he continues his prowl. He inhales your scent deeply, moaning. Yes, you smell absolutely scrumptious! "I will not be asking you questions from here on out. I will be demanding them. So, [Y/N]. Tell me why you're actually here." He almost snarls, his claws digging into the skin of your hips, drawing a small amount of blood. You wince, but remain strong. "No." You respond icily, acting as if you weren't intimidated. It's almost cute, but he can smell your fear. You reek of it. He chuckles. "Alright.~" He immediately dives into your pussy, licking a stripe up to your clit. You gasp, an ungodly pornographic moan leaving your throat. Hisoka groans in response to your taste, licking up what is all of you. His practiced tongue flicks against your clit and your body twists around, full-fledged, unembarrassed moans leaving your mouth as his sucks on your sensitive sex. His thumbs spread your lower lips open and he flattens his tongue, giving another harsh lick all the way up. He sucks on your hole and you keen, arching your back all the way up. "W-wait -AH- I think I'm going to cum!" You yell out those magic words, your hands grabbing at his hair. That was fast. This fuels his goal further and he eats at you with much more fervor. He slurps your pussy, eating up all you have to offer. Your moans grow more high-pitched and before the both of you know it, you're cumming into Hisoka's mouth. He sucks up all the cum you have to offer, unabashedly enjoying all of it. By the end of it, you're a panting and sweating mess, while Hisoka remains fresh. "Wonderful.~" He murmurs dirtily against you, lapping at your pussy again. You flinch, panting up a storm. You release your grip on his hair, moving your hands to wipe sweat off of your forehead. "W-Wait. I'm too sensit- OH!" You exclaim as he sucks on your clit, watching your face closely this time. Your cheeks are the reddest he's ever seen anyone's become and your eyes are dilated with desire, something he secretly hurrahs in his head. You look amazing. He watches your mouth open in a frenzied moan and shivers, continuing his attack on your pussy. As he continues, he watches you unravel before him yet again. The sight is damning to say the least. You were a gorgeous sight to gaze at and he almost couldn't let you cum a second time, getting caught up in his own desire. He begins to rub himself against the bed to ease himself, moaning into your clit. The vibrations make your toes curl and you throw your head back in a scream. He watches your face as you come undone beneath him yet again, marvelling at your orgasmic expression. That's a face he's certainly going to remember forever.

You're different from his other whores, seeing how you aren't an experienced one. Also seeing as he didn't perform these acts on his other playthings. You're...special. To him for now at least. Surely you wouldn't mean anything once he's finished with you, right? He creeps up your body once your grip on his pink hair loosens, throwing off his shirt and undergarments, exposing his ripped physique to you. Your eyes hungrily trail down the eight-pack, coming into contact with the tent in his loose pants. "I will try this one last time. Final chance. Tell me what your purpose is being here, now." His authoritative tone falls on horny ears. You shake your head, expression firm. He smiles. "Very well..." He strips off the rest of his clothing. Your eyes are trained on his hard dick, a look of panic behind them. He smiles and positions himself at your entrance, wrapping his hands on your soft hips. You seem to second guess yourself. "W-Wait--" "Too late, [Y/N]. You can't stop me from taking you now." He huskily interrupts, beginning to push into your tight pussy. You yowl, pushing your hands against his muscled abdomen. His grips tightens on your hips and despite your efforts, his cock continues to push inside of you, rendering you helpless beneath him. You gasp, shakily exhaling. Your weak arms eventually give up, falling to the sides of you in defeat. He enjoys your submission, fueling his lust for you. He pushes himself in all the way with a hard thrust, making you cry out in pain as your virginity is given to him. He sits there for a minute, relishing in his victory and at the tightness of your walls around him.

He shudders, his whole body rocking with it. It was painfully noticeable. It feels amazing to be inside of you. That's a fact he couldn't hide. "Oh [Y/N].~ You...ngh...feel marvelous.~" Hisoka moans heavily, his grip on your hips growing tighter to the point of being painful. You quietly groan beneath him, arching your back as he begins to move. He moves out and in slowly, testing the waters. You squeak, grabbling your death grip on the sheets on the bed, bunching the material up in your fists. What a sexy display. It'd be better if it was on him instead. He encourages you to grab his back by lowering his chest to touch yours, putting his face next to yours. He effectively covers your body with his own. You get the gist of what he's trying to do, raking your nails against his back as you grab at it. He shudders at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin and in response, thrusts into your tight pussy roughly. You yelp at the new sensation, throwing your head back as the pleasure surges through you. Hisoka treasures your expression of newfound enjoyment, really relishing in being the cause of it. He nips at your ear, groaning deeply when it causes your inner walls to convulse around him more. He'll use that knowledge at a later time. For now, he hotly exhales against your flesh, making you shiver against him. He sets out a slow and punishing rhythm, slowly pulling out before forcefully shoving himself back in. You cry out each time his hips meet yours, tears forming at the edge of your eyes from the intensity of his fucking. Hisoka simply smiles, deciding to speed things up a bit. He quickens his pace, smacking against your hips more frequently now. "How's it feel, [Y/N]? Tell me - mm - how my cock feels inside of you." He grunts, sitting up to gauge your reaction. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at his dirty talk and Hisoka stops, almost cumming from the expression alone. He pants, pausing for only a moment. He awaits your response while he recovers, watching as your eyes return, your dilated [e/c] eyes looking into his lustful yellow ones. You attempt to roll your hips back onto him, but you fail horribly. You did, however, manage to sink down onto the rest of him, a moan leaving your mouth from feeling so full. Hisoka giggles. "So greedy for my dick~ Tell me how it feels, [Y/N].~" He puts your leg over his shoulder, opening you up more to him. He doesn't move. Not until you choose to respond, that is.

You whine at the lack of friction, glaring up at him with that desireful expression you hold. He smiles. You relent, closing your eyes. "Y-Your cock feels amazing, Hisoka." You admit, gasping and practically screaming as he continues his fucking you from the new position he put you in. Your eyes once again roll to the back of your head from the sheer force that he's pumping into you. You're a sweaty mess while Hisoka remains good as new, the workout hardly giving him any strain. You let out a cry as one of his thumbs connects with your clit, massaging it in time with his thrusts. Hisoka moans as you tighten around him and he continues to push into you, harsher now. Your vocality rings through his ears, heating up his body more if possible. His flushed face grows darker still and he singles in on his primary focus: making you cum again. He breathes heavily, thrusting into you at a now impossibly fast pace. Your moans feed into screams, your eyes closed from the intensity of his fucking you. He continues to finger your clit, focusing on your orgasm. He wasn't even close to his, but he decides that your release is more of a spectacle than his own. He zeroes in on it, listening as your moans reach a higher octave. Then, without warning, you arch your back for the last time, crying out as you reach your peak. Your walls milk him, but he refuses to cum, just watching your face as your orgasm rips through you for the third time. He'd definitely remember that face until he's cut from this world. He pulls out of you, settling on massaging your clit a little longer as you ride out the waves of euphoria. You twitch and moan breathlessly, gasping for air from the come down. Hisoka just watches, enjoying your facial expressions. You were certainly something. He stops touching you when you come down completely, breathing harshly. Your flustered eyes open, looking at his still lust-filled ones.

"I...," You start. Hisoka listens, tilting his head in curiosity. "I was assigned here to find you, Hisoka." You pant, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your eyes are encircled in that hard set determination yet again as you tell him this. "My orders are to dispose of you." You admit, hardening your gaze. Hisoka smiles...and it's not a nice one. "Is that so?" He chuckles, flipping you onto your stomach.

"Tell me more as you sing for me...[Y/N].~ We've still got ten hours left for you to tell me all."

_______

Word count: 5,000+

Next chapter should arrive sometime today on Saturday, May 1st. I’m so sorry for the delay ;-;

[gojology]

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (2/2) (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | woooo, part 2 ! as stated previously, this is heavily inspired by @/mystic-sky on tumblr or skyfelt on ao3. amazing writer, check her out (but this isn’t a direct copy, just same storyline in a way). i’m cleaning up my writing a lot, i think. maybe im getting better as well? probably not but uh i kinda gave up at the end and uh.. hope u enjoy.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Voyeurism To Some Degree, Teasing, Ripped Tights, I didn’t proof read. 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom! Gojo x Sub! Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 4561

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | In which you finally get fucked by this mysterious, yet freakishly handsome stranger. That’s it, you just get fucked.

       The first thing you realize is how cold it is.     The wind is working against you, it seems, as you take your first step out of the warm building. Hair blows in every direction, you button up your cardigan, your breath coming out in puffs of smoke. Shivers went down your spine.    Not too far behind you, the mysterious man that you had met just an hour ago trailed behind, winking and waving at the girls confidently using him as eye-candy. Long strides, hands shoved into his pockets.    Your heart swells as you watch other woman stare flirtatiously as he gestured back at them, before their eyes set on you. He followed you like a duckling, and you’re sure to relish in how powerful it made you feel.    He walked like a model, with so much confidence. He didn’t appear as cold, his cheeks were flush and he reeked of fruity sugary alcohol, a playful grin still stubbornly on his face, 5 minutes later.    “Uber should be coming soon... I think, too lazy to check. You cold?” he slurred huskily.    You nod. For a one night stand, he was strangely kind to you.     He doesn’t say anything after that, so you opt to listen to the life around you. The clicking of high heels, the chatter, the drunken rants.     “Aw, come here.”     He didn’t give you much of a choice, though. Pulling you in to his chest, without warning. Your first instinct is to scream bloody murder, but he’s so warm, and you definitely need it.    One loose arm over your figure, his unoccupied arm dangled dangerously close to your butt. Taking in a deep breath, anticipating the feeling of being so scandalous in public, he chuckles breathily, almost like a taunt. You can feel the rumble in his chest as he cleared his throat.    You stare up at him, confused as to why you’re not feeling anything in your lower regions, before you realize what he was doing.    Rubbing your head with the once unoccupied hand, his fingers weaved into your hair as he sniffled. Something about the interaction was strangely intimate, but you don’t dare to say a word.     You inhale sharply, rubbing your face into his chest. You want to get closer, deep in bliss as he seemed to return the want back. You want to close any remaining space between the two of you, but making the first move was scary.    He yawns, and this triggers you to yawn as well. It was probably well past 1 AM by now, and you were tired.    You couldn’t hear much around you other then the honk of the growing sea of cars, some people just starting their night, and the others ending it.     “Oh shit. Our Uber’s here.” he mutters under his breath, pushing you out of his chest gently.    Whining, you try to push yourself back into his arms, he takes a quick glance down at you, traces of a faint lukewarm smile playing upon his lips. Almost like he’s saying, “Are you kidding me right now?” before taking a hold of your hand.     Fingers intertwining as if they were meant to be together, you gawk down at your hands, before looking back up at him.     There were a few issues, one, you had no idea if this man had an intent to kidnap you. Second, you didn’t know what the Uber looked like, and you’re too embarrassed to ask. Third, he was holding your hand with no hesitation, and the feeling in your chest was indescribable.    You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but you hope that it’s something along the lines of what you’re thinking. Your eyes briefly flickering over his jawline as you pondered to yourself, but what you do know is that you’re being dragged towards the presumed Uber. It’s sleek, and black, with a glossy finish, you note.    “Yo chill, I’m not gonna kidnap you, missy.” chuckling, examining your doubtful, yet frightened expression. He swung open the car door carelessly.    “After you, m’lady.” he adds, bowing and straightening, his chin up.     “Thank you, Sir Mysterious.” you give him a small smile before sliding into the sleek, comfortable seats.     His eyebrow raised, he looked at you.    “That’s a first.”     “It’s also a shit nickname, maybe that’s why you’ve never heard it.” you suggested.    “I like it. Has a nice ring to it.” a lukewarm smile played at his glossy lips.    The sly smile wipes clean off your face, he laughs at you while sliding into his designated seat, as if he owned the car.    Right. You were in a car, and it would be best for you to study your surroundings, just to make sure you weren’t being kidnapped.     The car was obviously expensive, black leather reclining seats, and a sweet offering of warmth against the chill of the midnight air.    A coffee cup idly stood in the cup holder, the driver taking a quick sip and turning his body to look at you two. Air fresheners and various trinkets dangled from the rear-view mirror, swinging back and forth     “A couple, eh? You wanna go to this address?”     The driver whipped his phone out, an address in black, bold text stood out.     “Yep.” the man says confidently.     Opening your mouth to speak, you try to inform the driver that he wasn’t your boyfriend, before your supposed boyfriend covers your mouth with his hand as soon as the driver repositioned towards the steering wheel.     You realize that his other hand is on your thigh, stroking your skin.    This newfound position was at the very least, terrifying. There was another person in the vehicle, for starters, and you weren’t exactly the quiet type when it came to, well, anything in general.     Cold, large calloused hands considerately caressed your thigh, and your breathing hitches. His other arm against his side, but you know his fingers are itching to feel you all over. You want to moan, but the driver’s presence is enough to tell you that it would be stupid.    Fingers drawing shapes, words, anything would repeatedly loop on the sensitive skin just barely. He was definitely teasing you, but you couldn’t quite fight back.    “Why don’t you be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” he whispers, you anticipate the driver to look back at the two of you, and to throw both of you off the car, but he does no such thing.    Feebly, you raise your arm up, ignoring the flirtatious request. Swatting his hand away in a desperate attempt to get him to stop before it got out of hand, but he’s persistent.    It’s getting even more difficult to breathe quietly now, your body getting hotter and hotter and hotter.    It doesn’t take long for a noise to slip out from your lips that you can’t quite shut up, and the driver turns to look at you.     “So precious.” the white haired man mouths to you before quickly turning his head to look at the window, humming to himself, still caressing your thigh.     “Ma’am? Are you okay?”     About to respond, the white haired man scooched closer to you. His clothed leg now rubbing your bare skin. He whistles innocently in the opposite direction before skimming his hand against your inner thigh, and you almost shriek.    Instead, you let out a pathetic gasp.    Panning his gaze over to you, he gives you a sly, playful smirk, before looking away again.    Drawing more shapes onto your skin, he hums. It was so hard to focus, or even remember the words the driver had said literally just a minute ago. You feel yourself shiver, almost losing yourself entirely to his hands before shakily responding to the driver, praying to any divine figure in the skies that you would be coherent.     “Y-yeah. Just, spilled water on m-my clothes.” you reply, barely audible.     The driver’s eyes stared back at yours, concern etched onto his features, before sighing. Tension grew inside of you.    “Alright, if you need anything, just ask, okay ma’am?”     Trying to respond, no sound comes out of your mouth, and the reason dawns on you. Taking a quick look down, the man’s digits were now fumbling with your panties, brushing against your wetness.     It takes a moment for you to register in your brain, you thank every entity possible for preventing the inevitable slew of noises you’d make. Waves of need crashing over your body. You hungrily stare at him, hoping that he’d be kind enough to stop and save it for later.     Circling your entrance through the now utterly soaked panties, he dips his finger in, just enough so you could feel the slight pressure against your sensitive skin.    He’s fucking taunting you again.    Driver be damned, you needed him.    Opening your legs more, you confidently peer at him, inviting him to explore your body even more. His fingers are drumming against the leather surface, the other hand had retreated back to your thigh,  boldly looking at you back.     “No. I thought you didn’t want to, what’s with the change of thought?” he mouths, stifling a chuckle and a smug tone, already knowing what you were going to ask.   Bewildered, you gape at him before shaking your head curtly, making sure you’re staring daggers at his stupidly arrogant face.     “Stop fucking playing with me then!”     “You’re too cute.”    “Fine then.” closing your legs, you stare out the window, your chin sitting on the palm of your hand. Flickering blurry lights passing by quickly. Looking at your reflection, you steal a quick glance at the flirtatious bastard.     “If you’re so angry, why can’t you look away from me for 1 second?” he whispers proudly.    You can’t think of a snarky remark, so you huff and look back at the window defeatedly.    What a cocky arrogant little-    Your bruised pride burning into ashes, you grunt in response before the car abruptly halts to its stop.    Were you two too loud?    “What are you two so scared for? Freezing up like a deer in headlights, we’re at your destination.” the driver said, twisting his head around, his eyebrow slightly raised.     “Oh, yeah, thanks.”     That was way too close to comfort, and you’re resisting the urge of banging on his chest for being so overly confident in his endeavors. You open the car door, cursing under your breath, swinging your legs out and lightly stepping out.     First thing you realize in the new destination? This guy was obviously loaded.     In front of you were a bunch of condos, and it was bound to cost a lot. Modern architecture was all you could see, wide windows and balconies in every corner. Suddenly, you’re self conscious about your outfit, were you too poorly dressed?    The man hums, placing his hand on your shoulder. Plant life was meticulously placed in such a beautiful manner that you promise yourself that you would search up his name- if you ever got it, on the Forbes lists.    “Like what you see?”    Snapping out of it, you look back at him, and you nod, still astounded by his presumed riches.    “Yeah? Lets go up missy, I got more to show, in more ways then one.”  ‧₊˚✩彡.            Standing in front of his door, you realize how quiet and still the atmosphere is. He fumbles with his keys, muttering to himself, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re about to have sex with some celebrity.     Not knowing how to start conversation, you clear your throat.     “You ever going to tell me your name?”     “Aw, the little baby still wants my name.” he cooed    “Call me Gojo.” he adds nonchalantly.    “(Y/N).” you reply, ecstatic. That wasn’t too hard, but you wonder why he didn’t just give up his name to you at the club earlier. Perhaps he didn’t think he was going to take you back?    “Aw, sugar. You scared?” Gojo says, looking you up and down. Well, that’s what you assumed. He still had his glasses on.    “No I’m not, who said that?”    “Look at your legs, missy.” he cheekily replies.    Looking down, you realize you’re violently shaking, and you didn’t even realize it.    “...Maybe.” you say coyly.    He breathily chuckles, finally opening the door with the right key.    You’re surprised by the presence of such a spotless place, a large, plush black leather couch was in one corner, the other, an island. Amazingly large windows replaced what would usually be the walls, and you could see the extent of the city life from where you’re standing.      “Slip your shoes off girly, sandals on the left. Can I offer you something?” Gojo questions you, walking over to the island.     “...I’m not much of a drinker.” you reply, still standing in the doorway. You were honestly more interested in him then the small talk.     “Baby, sit down. Don’t you wanna see me up close?” he pats the cushioned island seats, and you sheepishly walk over.    “I have apple juice too. If that’s more your vibe.” you watched him swirl some melting ice cubes around in a glass of water with a spoon.    “I’m not 12.” you retort, maybe the guy wasn’t a celebrity. No famous guy has apple juice in the fridge, rather then fancy champagne and wine.     Gojo snickers, “Hey, I’m not 12 either, I’m nearing my fucking 30′s but I can never reject a good box of apple juice, plus, I teach a group of kiddos that drink this shit like it’s fine wine.”     You pause, this guy was NEAR 30? He certainly didn’t look the age, and second of all, he bought apple juice just for the kids he taught? That was surprisingly sweet, but that didn’t explain the richness.    “You’re a teacher?” you nod as he hands you a chilled box of apple juice.     “Uh, yeah.” he scratches the back of his neck. “International Japanese teacher, sometimes I just teach in Japan as well. It pays good.”     “No way you actually live here. Is this your friends place?”     He laughs loudly, “So backhanded, and sassy! Nah, this is my place. As I said, job pays well. Feel free to stop by for a good fucking.” he says whilst pouring liquor into his glass cup.    “You’re really confident in your abilities of fucking people.” you sarcastically note aloud as he slides into the comfortable tall stool next to you, drink in hand.    “Hm, you weren’t saying that when I was touching you in that car, brat. How strange.” sipping his beverage lightly.     Your mouth zipped shut, and he laughs again.     “Aw, don’t go all awkward on me.” his once vacant hand now rubbing your shoulder. Setting down his drink, taking off his glasses. He doesn’t give you much time to admire his eyes, but what you can see is an almost aquamarine color, flecks of darker blue sprinkled throughout. So brilliantly colored it didn’t look real.     Before you realize it, he leans closer into your neck, suckling your skin and lightly nibbling. His breath fanning over your delicate skin, you can’t even hold back, gasping a little as his hands played with the hem of your cardigan, tugging at it playfully.     You can’t even formulate words. He was undeniably good, his suckling now gradually getting more harsher and harsher, and you dread coming back to your friends place, neck full of hickeys, you’d be nudged for whoever did that to you for the rest of your life.     He grunts, standing up in the little space between what was his stool and yours, even on such a surprisingly tall stool he still towered over you. He has to slightly crouch before his eyes is at the level of your neck, hungrily crashing back down.      “G-Gojo!” you squeaked, struggling to do much of anything. You’re limp on the stool, slumped and burning up. Your skin was ridiculously hot.     “Hmmm?” he smiles into your neck, pausing momentarily, you can feel him exhale harshly on your skin. You look him up and down, the sexual tension between the two of you was prominent, and so was the tent in his pants.     You feel a whine creep up towards your throat, now realizing just how wet you are. Ignoring this, you gesture to your clothes. The layers were sticking to you, and you never wanted anything more then to just get the sex started.    “...Hot.” is all you can muster pathetically.     “What was, baby?” he coos at you.     “Me.” shrugging off your cardigan the best you can, you let out a subtle whine, the weird feeling growing between your legs.     “Yes, we both know you’re hot.” tipping your chin upwards to look at him, he smiles. “use your words.”     “Clothes.. Off.” you pant, obviously sick and tired of the stupid sexual tension and the teasing.     “Full sentence, girly.” he repeats, stroking your cheek with his thumb.     You inhale his scent, smelling of expensive cologne and lingering sickeningly sweet alcohol. Looking up at him, but averting your gaze as soon as you saw those incredible eyes once again.    “Look at me.” he orders.    You peer up at him, swallowing.     “P-please, take my clothes off.” you say politely.     “All it took was a few hickeys? You really are a pretty kitty.” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “Get down.”     You nod obediently, getting off the stool and looking back up at him, anticipating his next step.     He bends down, swooping you up bridal style. One arm under your legs, gripped firmly onto the skin, the other under your waist. Your arms instinctively and rather slackly around his shoulders.     You expect something, a kiss, anything, but all Gojo does is walk down an endless hallway full of doors.     You lean closer into him while pouting, hoping that’ll catch his attention, but he doesn’t say a word.     “Where are we going?” you finally ask, growing needy.    “Bedroom. I’m not fucking on the couch. Pretty princesses deserve to be nice and comfy.” he replies back, fidgeting with the door knob. For a few seconds, all you can hear is how rapidly your heart is beating inside your chest, the rustling of clothes brushing against one another, and then the feeling sets in again.     You could very well be fucking someone that was out of your league.     He breathes a sigh of relief, and before you have the time to fully study his bedroom, he throws you off of the bed with a grunt.     Gojo’s toned forearms by your side, you were obviously trapped. You can see his chain just dangle barely swing back and forth on the tip of your nose, his lips curled into a lukewarm smile.    “You were so cheeky with me earlier, where’d she go?” stroking the corner of your lips.     He doesn’t give you the time to respond, instead locking lips with you and rolling over to be on your side. It starts off small and soft first, but it gradually grew hot. The fluttering in your chest only intensified. Tongues exploring every inch of one another’s mouth, you swear you can taste mint. The anxiety melted off of you like wax, and the only thing he could focus on was how soft you felt against his lips. Delightfully experienced enough for it to be good, but not better then him.    The smell of him was stronger now, and you’re sure you won’t be able to leave without some of it remaining on your clothes. Regardless, it was an addicting smell. Something you needed to come back to. Furiously exhaling through both of your noses, he finally lets go.     Dazed, your whole body tingles. You want him to claim you all as your own, hungrily staring at him for more. Both of you were radiating heat. The kissing left little for thought, and all you can think about is kissing him once again. It seemed that the more you spent with him, the more demand you had for his attention.    “Such cute noises. Makes me want to ravish you more.”     Gojo tenderly pulls you in, claiming your mouth as his once again. Fumbling with your cardigan, yanking it off of your body. Large, hot hands brushing against your now semi-exposed skin, and you know he wants more. His hands brushed against your butt under your skirt, and you shiver just a bit.     Pulling out from the kiss, he looks at you, panting heavily.     “So beautiful.” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your swollen lips.     “You wanna know why they call me the best?”     You nod, his arm snakes above your waist, forcefully flipping you down head first into the blankets.     Just now realizing that all your clothes are no where to be found, presumably on the floor, you shiver at the cold air conditioner blowing against you. That is, besides your skirts and your tights.     “On your arms, baby. Knees too.” he instructs, patting your butt.     You obey, a warmth rushing to your cheeks again. He had you like a dog being trained by it’s owner, following their every order.     “Good girl.” he says under his breath.     You’re about to tell him that you’re still wearing tights, about to open your mouth, you heard a loud rip disturb the peaceful atmosphere, and a cold exposure to your lower regions.     You squeal, digging your face into the covers, and he chuckles again.     “Oh baby. You were begging for this, I can see why now.” you felt him drag his fingers against your panties, and you whimper.    “So impatient for my touch, aren’t you kitty? You’ll have to wait.”     About to complain, you look back at him before you find him shoving you down, sitting on your knees now, your nipples hardened in the air, but you want to be stimulated else where.    “Be patient, and you’ll be rewarded, no complaining.”     “But-” he cuts you off.     “Don’t fucking talk over me, you got that?”     “...Yes sir.”      His eyes soften, and he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his hands brushed against your nipples, rubbing them with his thumb. Rolling the sensitive bud, you loudly moan, trying to express that you wanted more.    “God, you’re so cute.” he says under his breath, still rubbing and now slightly pulling them. Placing his mouth upon the abused buds, you stifle a cry out.     Gently suckling, he used his other hand to play with the other attention-starved nipple mildly.     You whine out again, beginning to melt under his stupidly experienced hands and mouth. The attention was nice, but you needed it some place else, his eyes looked up at you, his wet mouth still suckling your breast.     Taking his wet mouth off your nipple, he looked at you, mischief still evident on his face.     “You like that?” he says,  cocking his head to his side.    “I-If I say anything, It’ll fill your stupid ego.” you breathed.     “And if you don’t say anything I’m not doing shit.” his hand now rubbing your butt.     “You ripped my tights!” you spat back.     “I’ll pay for it and more, no bother babygirl. Now tell me what I want to hear.”      He obviously wasn’t lying, he could probably turn any girl into putty if he just wanted to, and here you were, in the palm of his hand.     “...Please touch me more.” you uttered shamelessly.    “Good girl. On your back, spread those pretty little legs for me too, why don’t you?”     Lying down on the plush mattress and warm pillows, you stare at the ceilings.    You peered at him starting where he left off. Giving you faint, yet chaste kisses on your breasts, trailing kisses down your stomach.     “Aw, your panties are absolutely fucking soaked baby, how cute.” he cooed, parting the soaked fabric to the side.     You look at him undress thoughtlessly, but you’re sure he’s done this several times. He did it with little to no effort, but that would mean that you’re not special.    It would be useless to think about right now, you were gonna have the dicking of your lifetime anyway, it was called a one night-stand for a reason. The mountain of clothes grew taller.    Growing impatient, you look up to where he was once standing, only to find him already in between your legs.     “So pretty.” Gojo purred, circling your entrance just as he had done previously in the car ride, you squeak.     “So lucky this is all mine.”     Gojo had figured he could add, “for the night.” but that strangely felt wrong.     He dips his fingers into your walls, and you cry out. Wrapping around his digits, sobbing, this wasn’t enough to satisfy your cravings.     “You want more?” he huskily said, a tone of playfulness still rampant.     “Yes! Please, just fuck me!” you croaked, already damn near about to cum from the teasing.     “That’s my girl.” he whispered under his breath, slipping off boxers you didn’t even realize were there in the first place.      He doesn’t give you a chance to see his full length, instead ramming inside of you. You inhale sharply at the sudden disruption.     The throbbing evaporated into thin air, and you’re desperately grabbing at the sheets to steady yourself. Sweaty and sticky skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the room, along with your moans and his grunts. You could feel him reaching heights that you would never be able to do with the dildos you had at your house, much less your fingers. One hand on your waist to steady your flailing body, the other, roughly groping your breast.    You were finding it hard to think, pleasure and euphoria filling your senses. Unknowingly, you wrap yourself around Gojo even harder then before.     “Fuck, baby, I can barely pull out.” he panted. “you’re too tight.”      You can’t even begin to respond, still deep in your state of pleasure, instead responding incoherently with a jumble of delicate moans and gasps in between.     “C-cum!”      “Hm? Repeat that princess?” he soothed.    You’re unable to respond again, instead you try to lift your head up, and Gojo feels himself throb again, watching your eyes flutter back.     It’s not until it’s too late, realizing a hot fluid flow down your holes. He pulls out, he himself ejaculating on your stomach.     Both muscles stretched taut, you both laid on the bedsheets, sweating and panting.     “Fuck, I haven’t had a girl like you in a while.” he says, turning his head to look at you. Strands of hair stuck to your forehead.     “R-Really?” he kissed your forehead, tipping your chin with his long fingers.     “Yes, really. I’m so lucky I spotted such a pretty little thing at a club.”      The sun was starting to rise, you note, and you realize just how perfect his body is with the new light.     A sudden warmth on your cheeks, you look down, still panting.     “Clubs aren’t my thing.” you said breathlessly.     “Fuck. It’s 5 AM” he says, eyes now glued to his phone, ruffling his white hair.     “I’ll go-”     “No, here, lets take a shower with each other, and then we sleep.”      “Okay.” you responded, hoping to not make conversation, still believing that he was a celebrity.     He handed you his phone, rubbing the back of his neck.     “Can I get your number?”     “...Why?” you questioned.     “...To call you back again, duh.” he teases, rubbing your head.      No way, he wanted you back at his house?      You?    Not wanting to fuck up your chances, you nod, something was growing inside of you, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, but you knew he made you feel special.    

[fanfictionfansmiction]

Get Over You

Another Sirius reader insert! Are you surprised? So to summarise you and Sirius are friends and big shocker you love him, but you just don’t think he feels the same so you decide tonight's the night to get over him once and for all. But that doesn’t work out too well when Sirius is also out that night. If you have any requests for me please feel free to send them my way now that I have plenty of free time! Enjoy :)

Word Count: 3030

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“I’m not sure about this!” I say adjusting the tight-fitting clothes Marlene picked out trying to twist the dress, so it sits right. The seam still wonky and the hem line not quite straight I plod my way out of the bathroom into the kitchen to show her. She stands with two large bottles of liquor in her hands cackling when she sees me.

“How did you manage this?” She asks in a high-pitched tone that gets carried off with giggles waving the bottles around gesturing toward my body.

“Well, I thought the back was the front.” I huff.

“That reminds me of my days as a straight. Let me help you out babe.” She slinks up to me wearing a gorgeous midnight blue velvet dress that’s clung to her in ways I would never understand to be humanly possible. With force she grabs the fabric pulling it in the right direction for a few moments huffing and puffing as she does. She steps back with a smug look on her face. “You look hot. Now what are we doing with your hair and makeup?” She asks rubbing her chin as though she had a beard to ponder with.

“Just what I normally do. What time is it Mar?” I ask not particularly worried with the rest of my ‘hot bitch party look’ as Marlene put it.

“Oh, don’t worry we have plenty of time, have a drink and I’ll do you hair and makeup. Lily and Dorcas will let themselves in, so we don’t have to worry about it. Tonight, is going to be great.” Marlene spoke with a glint of mischief in her green eyes. Quickly she mixes me a drink in one of our fancier glasses which turns a strange brown, hands it to me like a child showing their parent a finger painting. I take it with caution and then she drags me into the bathroom sitting me down on a bin she turns upside down getting to work.

“So, are you looking forward to seeing Dorcas?” I ask knowing the answer.

“Knock it off you know I am. Also, I am the best makeup artist you look incredible. I was thinking of telling her tonight that I want more than just sleeping together. Do you think that’s a dumb thing to do?” She asks.

“Mar why would that be dumb?”

She huffs putting down the brush in her hand letting her head fall to one side. “Well, you keep saying you can’t tell Sirius how you feel about him because it would be a stupid thing to do.” She looks at the ground finding the product she was after next.

“That’s different you and Dorcas have a connection. You have a history together. I am just Sirius’s friend; I like being his friend it’s comfortable. He is someone I trust but I wouldn’t feel secure with him if he felt the same. I mean he’s Sirius Black he’s hot and he is just… uh I’m not enough for someone like that.” I say before gulping down the rest of the strange drink feeling it burn in my throat and warm my chest. Marlene doesn’t stop what she’s doing but I can tell she disagrees, and she wants to have this argument with me once again.

“Okay. Fine. If you don’t think it’ll work out how about we find someone else. To help you get over him. That’s the plan babe, tonight’s the night to get over Black.” She says finally standing back with a prideful look on her face. “All done.” She says holding up a mirror for you to see her work. She’s not done too much to change my normal look, but I think she mainly took over to have that moment with me. But either way I do look hot and feel good which is exactly what she was going for.

“You are good.” I say and then we hear the door open followed by the loud singing from our already drunk friends. We jump up from where we were sitting and comically rush into the living room to join in with the David Bowie song they’re singing. Marlene takes Dorcas by the hands and Dorcas holds Marlene as they sway singing and laughing. Lily pouts and then does the same with me.

“You look stunning babe.” I say to Lily who never has a bad hair day.

“Uh says you, I mean who allowed you to look this good?” She asks me, kissing my cheek and dragging me to the kitchen in need of another drink. “Have you already got a glass?”

“Yes, I do. I hope you’re a better barman than Mar whatever she made me should be taken to a lab for testing.” I laugh grabbing the glass from the kitchen. Upon returning I pull Lily in for a big hug, “I missed you Lil.”

“You were only gone for less than a minute.” She says squeezing me tighter.

“I know it was horrible!” I jest breaking away from her.

She dramatically overpours vodka into my glass followed by orange juice from the fridge and hands it to me overfilling with pride as she takes a sip of her own drink, cringing as she does. “That is so good.” She says pulling a face. “Did Marlene tell you that James and the boys are coming over before we head out?”

My widening eyes and downing of my drink tell her everything she needs to know. Which of course causes her to laugh and shout to Marlene to bring her cute ass into the kitchen.

“Did someone ask for a cute ass?” Sirius says waltzing into the room with a bottle of tequila in his large hands. James, Remus and Peter follow in after him and eventually so do Marlene and Dorcas. Sirius places the bottle down then searches our cupboards for shot glasses. He immediately goes to the right cupboard and grabs enough for everyone. “Shall we do shots?” He asks wiggling his dark brows. He pours out a shot for everyone without waiting for an encouraging response. I take the sherry glass repurposed into a shot glass and hold it up in a cheer to my friends. Sirius takes this opportunity to loop his arm round mine, so we take the drink with our arms intertwined. I can feel the blush creeping up my neck, but I quickly create space between me and Sirius wandering around to the other side of the kitchen ignoring the pout he gives me when I do. I look up at Remus who stands next to me.

“You look lovely tonight darling.” He says affectionately placing a friendly arm round my shoulder giving it a squeeze. We start a small conversation between ourselves discussing the books we’ve been reading, and the course Remus had been taking at the local college because he just missed studying that much. “I can’t even begin to tell you how interesting the speaker is! She thinks I should do a master’s degree and I am considering it you know. Put off the job stuff for a while and I do love literature.”

“Do it Rem that sounds exactly like something you should be doing.” I reply.

“Hey Moony, do you want another drink?” Peter asks dragging Remus away from me with a look of determination on his face.

I lean back on the kitchen counter behind me laughing at Lily and James dancing together slash play fighting. He picks her up off the ground and twirls her around, she just can’t stop herself from laughing. Her hair swinging around with a life of its own. When she’s back on the ground she playfully hits his chest, and he feigns pain. Then they both forget whatever they were fighting about. They just stare at each other with admiration and love.

“It’s disgustingly sweet isn’t it?” Sirius says leaning to one side so he’s closer to me. “I’ll be honest though I never thought he’d manage to get a girl like Lily.”

“She always fancied him more than she hated him. Good things James grew up a bit or who knows if they would have worked it out.” I say sipping on my drink.

“Nah they would’ve found a way.” He looks down at me and with grin. I look him in the eyes for the first time tonight. They’re warm and he holds my gaze with such intensity I can’t help but look away with a sharp intake of breath. “You look good tonight love.” He says in a low tone, so it stays thick in the air between the two of us. “But you always do look beautiful.” Which adds to the weight growing within my chest. I catch Marlene’s eye which I now notice has been on the two of us for a while. She understands that I require an intervention, so she drags me over to her and Dorcas saying they need someone to decide who’s right in their debate.

Under her breath Marlene says, “We need you to find you a rebound fast.” You nod taking her drink from her and downing it.

“Right shall we make our way out into the night?” Remus inquires clasping his hands together like a teacher.

Everyone queues for the toilet and makes sure everything is left clean enough, so it won’t be a problem for us when we’re hung over tomorrow. While I wait, I go into my room to grab a jacket or a bag to take with me. I hear someone follow me assuming its Marlene I ask, “Do you think I should wear a jacket with this dress?”

“Oh, definitely not, it would ruin the integrity of the look.” A low voice answers.

“Sirius hasn’t any ever told you not to follow a woman into her room uninvited?” I retort.

“Well, I normally wouldn’t love you know me, but you’ve been avoiding me.” He says playing with the fabric of my dress.

“What if I am?” I say picking up a bag and walking past him.

“Well, it’s okay if you are, I just thought I was imagining it. Good to know you are indeed avoiding me.”

I stop and turn around to look at him, “I just… look tonight I’m looking to get over someone and I’m not sure hanging around you will help me attract people Sirius. If I spend the whole night with you, I’m giving off the wrong impression. It’s not personal.”

“It feels a little personal.”

“Come on Sirius lets go.” I say holding out my hand to him, which he takes placing a kiss on the top of my had.

We walk out of my room into the hallway where we hear the others calling to us telling us its time to go. The walk to the club is colder than expected but Sirius wraps his arm around me to keep me warm. I can’t protest because it’s just for the small walk once we get into the club it’ll be fine, I tell myself, when we get in, I’ll keep my distance. But it doesn’t stop the electricity I feel when his fingertips brush along the exposed skin on my back. It doesn’t stop my heart beating too fast when he jokes with me speaking right in my ear. The heat of his breath on my neck and the idea of him being so close to me. All too soon we reach the club with a line along the stretch of the road. When we get in line, I position myself between Lily and Marlene to keep my distance from Sirius. It works to he doesn’t try to stand next to me or wrap his arm around me or even really talk to me.

When we enter the club the thudding music pulses through my body, and I make a beeline to the bar letting my friends scatter throughout the club. I find myself waiting to be served next to a tall man with bright red hair who has a gleaming smile and a large nose. He leans down to speak in my ear asking if he can buy me a drink, I accept.

“Sorry I don’t think I caught your name.” I state.

“I’m Fabian. I think I know you from somewhere.” He answers.

“Well, I work in the local bookshop so you might know me from there.” I respond. “Actually, you do look a little familiar… Do you have any siblings?”

“I have a sister you might know, Molly?”

“Oh yes! I know Molly, she’s dating Arthur.”

“They’re actually engaged now.” He says.

The conversation dies down a little after we talk about his sister and he soon excuses himself, “I think my brother is doing something stupid in the smoking area and I have to join in.” He explains shooting me his bright smile again before leaving me alone by the bar again.

“You’ve got a real determined look going on right now love.” Sirius speaks sliding into the free space next to me. I look up at him not caring about just how close his face is to mine. “Maybe that’s why Fab left.” I open my mouth to respond but Sirius offers me a drink, so I don’t bite his head off.

“You know him?” I ask.

“We run in the same circles. Look what asshole are you trying to get over with random people in this gross club.” He responds pulling a face.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I think I do.”

Biting my lip nervously I look him right in the eyes and tell him, “It’s you Sirius you’re the asshole.”

He swallows and raises his eyebrows. Seemingly unsure on how to respond. He runs a hand through his long intentionally messy hair and then rubs his face as if trying to understand what I’m saying. Trying to pull it into focus. I try to smile at him, but my face won’t let me, and I feel my sadness catch in my throat and pull at my chin. Quickly as though to make the emotion disappear, I wipe away a stray tear with my finger. Sirius catches me doing it and then he really sees how he has affected me, and I see the guilt bubble up through him. He says my name too quietly for me to hear in the club but the look on his face tells me that he doesn’t feel the same. The room feels too hot. Like there isn’t enough air for me in here.

“It’s okay Sirius.” I pause letting out a small sob, “You don’t have to say it I already know.” The heat builds up and I must get out of this stupid club because the room suddenly feels a lot smaller than before. I think he tries to call after me but all I can focus on is getting out of here. I break out into a small run bumping into people as I push my way through. When I get outside, I sink to the cold pavement and let the sobs rack through me like waves. This really isn’t how I imagined the night going. I look up to the night sky and a feeling of loneliness latches onto me. I don’t even try to avoid it. I go into full pity party mode, already thinking of the uncomfortable conversation I’ll eventually have to have with him about this. About how this will probably ruin our friendship for good. What will happen to the whole group of us? Then I hear his voice calling out for me in a panic and the loneliness washes out of me. He spots me and gently sits down next to be shrugging his leather jacket off and placing it over my shoulders.

“Love I didn’t realise how you felt. I wouldn’t ever want to make you feel like this. I hate myself right now.” He places a hand on my leg, and I look at him. He is crying too. I wipe away a tear holding his face with my cold hand.

“Why are you crying?” I laugh.

“Because I’m an idiot love I didn’t even realise you were an option for me! Are you kidding? Why wasn’t this something I knew about. Who else knew?”

“Just Marlene. But what difference does me being an option make?”

“Well only because I’ve been trying to get over you since we were 15! I always assumed you didn’t think of me that way, that I was just your hot friend.”

“Well, you are the hot friend, but I have had feelings for you for years. I just never thought I was good enough for you.”

“Good enough for me! I never thought I was good enough for you.”

The tears turn quickly into laughter realising how blind we’ve both been. I stand up offering Sirius my hand he takes it placing another kiss on my hand and we walk back to my apartment. I invite him into my bedroom where he kisses me passionately holding my body flush against his. He kisses me like he’s been waiting to kiss since the moment he met me. I kiss him back with the same emotion. We kiss until we break apart foreheads pressed together panting, trying to catch our breathes. Both smiling once again. A warmth exploding in my chest.

“Sirius I’ve been waiting to be with you for longer than I would like to admit. As much as I’d love to jump into bed with you right now and let you have your way with me.” Sirius laughs at this, “I just don’t want to go too quickly because I want this to work out. So instead of sex could we just hold each other until we fall asleep?”

“I do love that you worded it that way. Makes me feel like the guy in one of those sappy romance books. Yes, I’m more than okay with taking it as slow as you want my love. I can wait as long as you want. I would happily wait thousands of lifetimes for you.” He speaks kissing me again.

[lin-nin]

T&T Oneshots - Alcohol-Scented Sweet Nothings

Ship: Dream/Reader Plot: It’s the night of your eighteenth birthday, and you’re alight with festivities and full of alcohol. One thing inevitably leads to another. Disclaimer/Warnings: Smut!! This takes place about a year or so before the events of T&T. -- Alcohol-Scented Sweet Nothings

When your eighteenth birthday had rolled around, there was naturally a big celebration. Your coming of age party was one to behold, full of gifts of flowers and jewelry and other beautiful crafts from the people. Perhaps there wasn't as much food as there would have been a few years ago, but it was fine by you. You were more than happy to enjoy the music and company of your family and friends. As well as the alcohol. You definitely enjoyed the alcohol.

Keeping track of how much you had was hard. The raspberry melomel had been sweet on your tongue, and pleasantly warm in your throat, you had easily had at least three cups of it. Beyond that, you were too warm and content to care about the unknown amount you drank after that. You were still aware of everything to a degree, though alcohol was clearly inhibiting your decisions. You truly didn’t care, though. All you cared about tonight was having fun.

The music pounded around the room, filling it with a liveliness not always seen in the castle lately. You stood across from Dream, bouncing to the beat of the drums. He grinned at you, single green eye alight with excitement as he watched you swing your skirts around, the two of you dancing merrily around one another. He was equally, or maybe less, drunk than you, but you didn't mind. It made it fun, unlike when it had been his eighteenth birthday when you couldn't drink.

Your laughter rang out around you as he grabbed your hands, pulling you close and spinning around with you. Dream smelled of the same raspberry melomel you did, and you wondered briefly how many drinks the two of you had shared tonight. You didn’t have too much time to think, being jolted out of your thoughts by his hands on your waist. You squealed and laughed as he picked you up, forcing your hands onto his shoulders to grip tight. He spun you around a few times to the beat of the music, before landing you safely on your feet. Once he did, the two of you were dancing around each other in circles again, laughing loudly and sometimes grabbing one another’s hands.

As the night progressed, the celebration slowly died down. Though you and dream still danced and celebrated, sharing even a few more drinks between the pair of you. It wasn't until the musicians had packed up and your parents had retired that you had ceased your dancing, though the both of you still laughed at some untold joke. You leaned into him, his arm curled around your waist as he guided you through your stumbling. Every time you stumbled more than normal the pair of you paused, erupting into another bout of laughter as he chuckled slightly.

"Did you have fun?" He asked quietly as the pair of you got close to your room, and you smiled up at him almost adoringly. 

"I had so much fun," You sighed happily, pausing outside your room. You grabbed his hands, leaning back a little."I don't want it to end, though." He squeezed your hands softly as you pouted, seeming almost conflicted.

"It doesn't have to." His voice was soft, hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. You leaned into it, staring at him curiously.

"It doesn't?" You pondered aloud, sliding one hand along his arm to further press his palm to your cheek. The thought of it ending was a little upsetting, and you were prepared to do anything to extend your festivities. Even if it was for just a few more hours. Until the alcohol took its toll and you were inevitably asleep.

"No. Do you trust me?" His lips were turned up, but despite that a seriousness lay in his eye. Like he was double checking something. The whole while, he ran his thumb along your cheekbone, carefully massaging small circles into the skin.

"Of course I do, Dream. I always will, with my entire life." You offered a smile, and the genuine tone in your words was enough to soften the seriousness of his gaze. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the warmth of the contact. The scent of alcohol swirled the air around the pair of you, but you hardly minded. He lingered there, almost unsure if he should pull away. You just pushed your forehead against his lips, sighing contentedly.

His hand slipped to your chin, tilting it up to look at him. You blinked at him, offering a smile. His thumb brushed against your chin, before moving to your bottom lip. You were vaguely aware of the flush on your cheeks, blaming it simply on the alcohol coursing through you. You also blamed the alcohol for the curiosity that had you leaning up towards him, lips brushing over his. 

Dream jerked a little on instinct, pulling back just enough to gaze down at you. Like he was gauging your intentions. You simply stared back at him, waiting for him to fully react. A sigh spilled from his lips as he leaned down to properly slot his lips to your own. His hands came to your face, gently cradling your cheeks. You practically melted into the hold. Your hands slid to grip onto his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut. The kiss was soft but not entirely unpleasant, the taste of honey, raspberries, and alcohol heavy against one another’s lips.

One of Dream’s hands abandoned your face to reach around you, grasping the handle to your door and pushing it open. He moved back for a breath of air, staring at you with a lidded eye. You didn’t give too much thought to anything. You simply just used your hold on him to pull him back towards you and into your room. He murmured your name as you did, seeming almost uncertain. “Are you sure about this?” He questioned, seemingly aware of your intentions for the moment.

“Yes, don’t talk,” You insisted, only vaguely aware of the slur in your words. He seemed conflicted for a few moments, watching you as you pulled him back down towards you. His hands immediately fell to your waist as your lips met his once again. You sighed contentedly as they did, moving closer to him. He let you, head tilting and tongue brushing against your lips. You didn’t need to think twice, instinctively parting your lips to let him in. A shudder ran down your spine as his tongue met yours, warmth spreading throughout your body. You were vaguely aware of the door thunking shut behind Dream, hiding the pair of you from any prying eyes.

Your hands slid up his shoulders and into his hair, tangling into the messy blonde locks. You gripped onto them, grounding him to you. Or perhaps it served to ground yourself as his hands moved to your back, pinning you entirely against him. You broke from the kiss with a gasp, head spinning with the need for air. His lips immediately moved to your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there instead. You whined just the slightest at it, head easily falling back. 

You could feel his smug smirk as he covered whatever part of your neck he could with kisses Every so often he would nip at the skin, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His face nestled into the crook of your neck, biting down onto the spot firmly. A moan slipped past your lips almost immediately, face flushing in embarrassment. Want coursed through you as he chuckled a little at your reaction, pulling back to look at your face. The way he gazed at you only seemed to further it, an almost adoring look on his face.

His fingers moved to your stay, carefully tugging at the laces that tied it. He took it slow, as if waiting for you to tell him to stop. You didn’t. Instead your hands moved from his hair to his shirt instead, carefully tugging at the green fabric. He let you pull at it, focused on your stay as he slipped it off of your body. He let it hit the floor, uncaring where it wound up. You couldn’t entirely find it in yourself to care, either. You were too absorbed in the way he let you guide the shirt over his head, watching you drop it to the floor much like he did with your stay.

Your cheeks flushed impossibly further, taking in the exposed skin. Pink scars littered his chest and arms, some more noticeable than others. “Like what you see?” He teased, moving back towards you again. You stammered, causing him to chuckle and press his lips to yours once more. You didn’t complain, falling into the rhythm of the kiss easier this time. His hand buried itself in your hair, and then he was walking you backwards. He stopped the both of you when your legs hit the bed, keeping you from falling back onto it.

Instead he pulled back, settling onto the bed himself. You hesitated, unsure what exactly to do with yourself. He simply leaned forward, pulling you down on top of him and causing you to squeak. You settled on top of him after a few moments, legs on either side of his. He grasped your hips as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his once more. Everything about this kiss was more heated, making you whine in the back of your throat. You only vaguely wondered how exactly your thought process led you here, which you simply blamed on curiosity and alcohol. You were much too preoccupied in the way his teeth nipped at your lower lip, tugging it ever so slightly.

Dream’s fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, guiding you to grind down against him. You gasped against his lips, hands pressing to his chest. “Dream, I-” You stammered, biting down on your lip. Suddenly hesitant and unsure.

“I’ll take care of you. I always will. Just tell me if something is too much,” His voice was soft as he spoke. Genuinely caring. You slowly nodded, thankful for not having to flat out say that you were still a virgin. Of course he would know, though. He knew almost everything there was to know about you. You supposed he would be learning more shortly. The thought made you shiver.

He once again guided your hips down against him, eliciting a soft groan from him. His head leaned back, eye fluttering shut. You watched him with rapt attention, rocking your hips forward on your own this time. Experimenting, trying to see if he liked it. He clearly did, another groan falling from his lips. You bit your lip, shifting the skirts of your dress around so they were out of the way. Once you did you rocked yourself against him again, unable to help the wanting whimper that left you. 

Dream propped himself up on his elbows, looking up at you with flushed cheeks. The look on his face, the adoration in his eye, made your stomach stir. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, hardly audible. The words caused your cheeks to flush all over again, lips parting to try and find some sort of words.

A quiet, “Shut up,” was all you could manage, letting his hands move to your dress. The words and the way he looked at you made it feel like you were drowning, and you weren’t positive if it was in a good way or not. You would much rather focus on other things. The rest could be dealt with in the morning. He pulled at your dress, causing you to pause and help him tug it off of you. You tossed it towards the foot of your bed, hovering over him in your shift.

He sat up, bringing your body flush to his, kissing you once more. You easily relaxed against him, letting him move the pair of you so you were pressed against the bed. You clung to him, stomach flipping when he was situated between your legs. His fingers were at the edge of your shift, eye staring at you. As if making sure each movement was fine. You didn’t make a move to stop him, allowing him to move the shift away. Once it was off your body, he dropped it to the floor, gaze focused solely on you.

The way he looked at you like you were the center of his universe in that moment killed any words in your throat. His eye roved over your body, and you only just remembered how exposed you were. Before you could make a move to cover yourself, he leaned down to kiss over your collarbone. Fingers skated along your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You didn’t even try to suppress your shudder or whimper, simply letting it happen. His hands worked their way up to your waist, caressing the skin gently.

He pulled back just a little to look at you, reaching out to cradle your face with one hand. You leaned into his palm, peering up at him through your lashes. He was searching your face, clearly looking for something. You weren’t sure what it was exactly. Whatever it had been, he never found it. At least you assumed so, judging by the way he leaned down to catch your lips once again. His kisses were short, practically grazing as he made his way down. Down your jawline and neck, over your clavicle and down your breasts.

A soft gasp was pulled from your lips as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples. His hand had easily moved to the other, twisting and pulling at it. You whined and squirmed beneath the ministrations, unable to stop any of the noises leaving you. It felt good. You couldn’t even be bothered to be embarrassed at the way his lips had twitched in amusement. Him finding your sensitivity amusing was the least of your concerns right now.

Dream eventually abandoned his assault on your nipples, lips continuing their trail down your body instead. You bit into your lip as he paused right at the edge of your underwear, eye cutting up to glance at you. Just the sight had your stomach stirring with want. It must have shown on your face, based on how that familiar smug smile pulled at his lips. He simply skipped over your underwear, head dropping between your thighs instead. You yelped a little, legs spreading to accommodate the new presence.

He hummed his approval at that, pressing a few kisses to the insides of your thighs. Making you shake and quiver, especially when he nipped at them. Moving upwards, nosing at you just slightly. It drew a whimper from you, watching his hands slide up your hips. “Please, Dream,” you couldn’t help but whine. You were starting to feel hot and uncomfortable with need. You were growing desperate.

He could only chuckle, moving to rid you of the last piece of cloth you wore. He pulled it down your legs, leaving you to kick the underwear off. They landed somewhere, and you couldn’t care about it right now. They’d be found later. You instead let your focus me solely on Dream, taking in a sharp breath as he returned his attention to your thighs. 

Then his fingers moved to your core, slowly running along your entrance. Never pushing in, just a ghost of a touch that made your hips twitch. Was it excitement or nervousness? You couldn’t judge, and Dream certainly wasn’t going to give you the time to think on it. His thumb pushed against your clit, almost teasingly, as he rubbed it in small, slow circles. A moan ripped from your throat instinctively, your hand fluttering to cover your mouth very shortly after it.

A breathless laugh left Dream, green eye boring a hole into you. “You’re quite sensitive, aren’t you?” He cooed teasingly, and you wanted to smack him for the comment. You, however, were quite busy muffling your moans and shivering periodically. You were so easily becoming a mess. He clearly wasn’t finished though. Of course he wasn’t though. He instead leaned forward, tongue running a slow stripe up your entrance. It elicited a pleasured gasp this time, your eyes fluttering at the sensation.

He continued the action, repeating it a few times before moving his lips around your clit instead. You practically mewled at that, free hand falling to tangle into his hair. He hardly seemed to mind, focusing instead on giving you every bit of attention he could. You kept yourself relatively quiet for a while, hand muffling your moans. Until, of course, Dream slid one finger into you. It was slow, careful. Yet it had you squirming, gasps and moans escaping you without restraint. The hand you had been using to muffle yourself had fallen to the side, gripping your sheets desperately. 

A chuckle was muffled by Dream, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. You cursed, losing yourself far too easily into the steady rhythm his tongue and finger provided. It was all you could do, trying to ground yourself by burying your hand further into his hair and pulling. You were burning, breath ragged as you squirmed more. Even more so when he slid a second finger in to join the first. They curled every so often, as if searching for something. It was all too much, overwhelming in a way that had you keening with approval. 

Your release felt as if it had snuck up on you. You came with a cry, tugging on Dream’s hair almost violently. You lost regard to your sense for a few moments, only vaguely aware of Dream’s fingers pumping you through your orgasm. His voice slowly came back into focus, eyes fluttering open to seek him out.

He was kneeling between your legs, hands having moved to your thighs. He was rubbing them, staring at you intently. “Feeling better?” He questioned, and you couldn’t help but nod gingerly. He hummed, moving himself so he was hovering over you once more. He lowered himself, pressing a brief kiss to your lips.

“You’re so pretty coming undone like that,” he has whispered, causing you to squirm beneath him. “Knowing it’s because of me makes it better.” You weren��t really given much chance to retort, his lips pushing against yours again. You placed your hands to his chest, fingers running over the skin almost lazily. You couldn’t help the exhaustion in your movements. Yet you just knew Dream wasn’t finished. You could tell he was enjoying it far too much.

Especially as his hips rolled, his clothed erection pressing against you. You gasped into the kiss, shuddering at how sensitive you were. “I hope you’re ready for more.” The timbre of his voice as he spoke the words made you burn with need almost instantly. You knew there would be more, but hearing- and feeling- that confirmation had your desire stirring back to life.

“I expected it,” Your voice was just above a whisper, a hint of a whine to it. Your hands slid down his back, then around the waistband of his pants. Fingers dipping into them despite the slight tremor there. A dangerous mix of nervousness, excitement, and need were burning a pit in your stomach. It was definitely emboldening your actions more than you would think. As was the alcohol.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down and kissing you fiercely. You leaned into it, clutching the cloth of his pants as you did. One of his hands came down, joining yours at his pants. He worked to unfasten them, pulling back to look at you. Once more searching your face for something. For rejection, you realized. You only offered a faint smile, nodding your head. Just enough to encourage him. You were fine with this. You weren’t entirely put off by it.

That seemed to be enough for Dream, as he responded by pushing down both his pants and underwear in one go, kicking them off of his legs. You blushed, keeping your gaze focused purely on his face. His lips quirked, a soft laugh leaving him. “Don’t be shy now, princess,” he murmured. That only seemed to worsen your blush, fingers digging into his sides in retaliation to the teasing.

His amusement was clear, and you really were not too fond of it. So you naturally did the one thing you could in this position. The alcohol probably gave you the courage to do it. You tossed a leg over his hip, tugging him down against you with the new leverage. He bit his lip as his length pressed against you, gaze darkening. Any teasing seemed to die with the movement, and you were unsure if you were glad for it.

Dream’s fingers moved to your hips, gripping them firmly. “Remember to tell me if something is too much. I will stop.” You simply nodded at the words, appreciating the brief moment of reassurance. He instead gripped his length, moving the tip to your entrance. You whimpered slightly as he pushed in. It was a new feeling, entirely different from that of his fingers. Not unwelcome, though. It would take a while to adjust.

He clearly knew that, too. He took his time pushing himself into you. He would pause and kiss your cheeks and lips, hands keeping you still. Once he was fully within you, he propped himself up just slightly. Enough to look down at you, gaze roving over you hungrily. You wanted to squirm, but kept yourself from doing so. Not yet, at least. Not until you were accustomed to the feel of him inside of you.

“Look at you,” He cooed, one hand moving to caress your face. You tried to look away, only for him to tilt your face back towards him. So he could take in your expression as he withdrew, thrusting back into you. You whimpered as he did, biting down onto your lip. With each thrust, a soft breath or whine escaped you, eyes fluttering. 

Whines eventually morphed to moans, your hands grappling at his back. He took it as encouragement, speeding up his thrusts. Groans mixed with your moans as his head came to the crook of your neck, lips pressed to the skin. He bit and sucked at the spot, leaving a sizable mark in his wake. A gasp of his name was called as he kept fucking into you. One hand slid down your body, pushing between your bodies.

Fingers sought out your clit, rubbing it in circles. You called out, back arching as the sensation overwhelmed you. You whimpered, unable to help yourself as you raked your nails down Dream’s back. A garbled sort of praise left him, and you weren’t sure if it was him who had garbled it, or if your senses were just so overwhelmed that you couldn’t properly hear. It was all too much, you could barely grasp the way fire burned deep in your stomach.

You weren’t even able to tell how loud you were truly being. You had a feeling it was low, judging from the way your throat felt. You mewled for Dream, begging for something, anything. Your release, you presumed. You were just begging him. Your body shook as you came, pressing yourself as close to him as possible. The groans that left Dream were intoxicating as they reverberated in your ear. You whimpered beneath him, lost in the steady thrusts of his hips. It wasn’t too long until he was reaching his own climax, holding you tight as he did.

You let him continue to hold you, even as he slumped against you. You leaned into each touch and gentle kiss pressed to your skin, sighing. Eventually he slid himself out of you, moving to lay beside you instead. He pulled you with him, prompting you to cuddle into his side. “Are you feeling okay?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You hummed in acknowledgement, focusing on the feel of his fingers caressing your skin. You simply nodded, resting your head on his chest.

Fatigue weighed on you, eyes falling shut easy. Perhaps two orgasms in such short succession was a bit much. Especially considering you were a virgin. Not anymore, of course. Still, the thought caused a satisfied warmth to spread through you. You mumbled a tired “Thank you,” as Dream tugged the blankets over the two of you. At least he did, because you were fast asleep well within the next five minutes.

------

The next morning

Your head was pounding, throat dry from dehydration. You were sore and desperately wanted to curl up and just not exist for the day. At least until everything stopped hurting. Your memories were a clouded haze, trickling back in slowly. You remembered dancing with Dream for most of the night, giggling and drinking. The memories after that were hard to get a hold of, like grasping in the dark. You remembered kissing Dream outside your room, leaning into him. The thought made you feel warm. Oh no.

The rest came back to you all too clearly. You had sex with him. You had sex with Dream. Your best friend. You practically blanched, shooting up from your lying position. Your entire body protested, but you hardly cared. Especially as Dream stirred beside you, eyes fluttering. You sat there, staring at him as his eyes opened to stare at you. You weren’t a stranger to his bare face, but the sight of the scarring always threw you for a bit of a loop.

The skin was still light pink, a deep gash going over his eye. Smaller gashes covered the rest of the side of his face. The accident had been brutal, and clearly made in bloodlust. You never knew what had happened, but you didn’t question him. He was clearly uncomfortable whenever he recalled it. Especially since the injury took his eye, the socket long since empty. It was always a bit of a shock to see. “G’morning,” his voice was rough, a soft smile gracing his features as he watched you. 

“Morning,” you whispered, turning away from him. His fingers ran along your waist, and you moved to get out of the bed. You were aware of the way he stared at you, at your still naked form. You quickly set about righting your nakedness, despite the way your body protested.

“Leaving already?” You glanced at him, before returning to grasping clothes from the floor.

“I need… I need to speak with George.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Panic was starting to seize you. You had hoped to be able to slip from the room without notice. You weren’t ready for this confrontation.

“Are you going to tell him about this? About us?” You paused in sliding on your dress, looking at him. 

“About us? You’re my best friend. I just need George’s counsel.” You turned around as you spoke, failing to notice the way Dream’s smile fell. You were much too preoccupied with trying to find a stay. 

“After that? We’re just… friends?” His voice was almost empty, and you weren’t sure you liked that.

“Of course. I was drunk. I… It was a drunken accident, nothing more.” You slipped on your shoes, moving to the door. You looked at Dream for a few moments, offering an apologetic smile. “I hope you’re not mad about it. Let me try and clear my mind, and then we can speak again.” You opened the door, slipping out of it and searching out your brother almost desperately. You had a lot to speak about.

[aseioh]

Of Stars and Moonlit walks pt.4/?

Chapter 4: The Art of Romance

After the incident that night Bela and Donna had become closer. When Alcina does not need Bela, she would visit Donna’s room to have tea, other times the two would venture to the library and stay there quietly reading. When the weather permits, the two are seen walking around the garden, Bela telling a story animatedly, while Donna holds her hand in front of her face laughing softly.

 It was an endearingly sweet scene.

Which is way it has caught a pair of eyes. Cassandra has been getting ready for the day when something caught her attention by the window.

‘Hmm… Interesting’ a grin forms as she stores this new information.

The three of them were balanced, their mother always said, each one brings a special joy to her. Cassandra considers herself as her mother’s greatest huntress, no man or maiden has ever escaped her sickle. Every move and swing calculated, a dance she has perfected over countless hunt. Daniel being the youngest has always had the fanciful mind, full of daydreams and romance. Some would say that her minds delusional but really her prey wouldn’t say the same, after all most of them died a colorful death. Some of the toys below the dungeon are Daniela’s after all.

Finally, there’s Bela the eldest of the three. Level-headed and perfectionist Bela, always at mother’s beck and call. Cassandra supposes all elder sisters are like her, always trying to please their mother. But lately Bela seems to be vying for someone else praises.

Somethings change ever since Lady Beneviento showed up in the castle. It seems that Bela’s been paying close attention to the mysterious lady.

‘Really I shouldn’t interfere.’ Cassandra thought as she stalks her way to the library where Daniela usually spends her leisure time. But the walls have eyes and ears, and the servants talk to each other. The closeness of the two hasn’t escape the attention of the denizens of the castle. ‘its not like this is the first time she’s had a crush on another woman’ as she remembers the time Bela paid a little more attention to one of their servants.

 That didn’t end well.

Arriving at the library, Cassandra opened the door and surveyed the room. The castle contains multiple libraries as each wing is outfitted with one. The one her sister favors is by the west wing close to the courtyard.

The library itself was small compared to the others with only few rows of bookshelf on the side and encircling the center of the room. The center piece of this particular library is its glass dome. She remembers the first time her mother brought the three of them in this particular room, the weather had been getting warmer and as a treat had shown them the glass dome. She remembers their delighted laughter as their mother pulls the lever by one of the pillars, activating the mechanism that opens the dome.

How wonderful it was to see the night sky back then; it was clear and perfect for star gazing. The four of them spent the whole evening gazing, their mother pointing out various constellations and telling them the stories behind them. Therefore, it came as no surprise that the three of them would treasure this room and claim it as their own. The library itself house their favorite literature. Botany and Medicine books for Bela, Warfare and History for herself, and Romance and Adventure for Daniela.

The youngest of the Dimitrescu can be found inside lounging by the fire, a book in hand and head swept away by the passages of her book.

Sensing someone had entered the library, Daniela looks up from her book. “Why do you look like the dinner fought and you lost to it?”

Cassandra saunters towards her sister and unceremoniously flops down the lounge chair. “I think somethings going on with Bela” She starts but doesn’t continue with her sentence, opting instead to think about her next words.

“You mean the fact that she spends more time with Lady Beneviento and calls her ‘Donna’ and has practically been making heart eyes to her?” Daniela supplies as she pays attention to her book again. At that Cassandra sits up straight and looks at Daniela

“How’d you-“

“I have eyes Cassandra, and Bela’s been trailing about Lady Beneviento like a lovesick puppy. Unfortunately for the both of them, they’re dense as rocks and will need a significant event to understand that they’ve been pining for each other since the start” Cassandra’s continued silence has started to exasperate Daniela, huffing she closes her book and levels Cassandra a look.

“I’ve read so many romance books both with happy and tragic ending to know what to look for. The shy smiles, the faraway look, the soft sigh-”

“Bela doesn’t sigh.”

“The point is she has clearly taken an interest with our mysterious guest. And if my intuition is correct, the Lady might also feel the same” Daniela ends with a triumphant grin.

Cassandra ponders what Daniela has said and tries to recall the last few weeks. There were certainly some looks and if the servants’ chatters are to be believed then there has been more. “What should we do” she finally said uncertainty clear in her voice. “Remember the last time Bela has shown interest in someone, it didn’t exactly end well”

“I don’t want to see our sister getting hurt, I don’t want you or mother getting hurt” she added

“First off, that one tried to kill Bela, we were younger and well, first love and all of that. I don’t think that’s the case for Lady Beneviento” Daniela smiles at Cassandra’s admission “Aww, Cass is concerned! Come on don’t look at me like that, besides if something were to happen mother will slice Lady Beneviento to ribbons, something we most definitely don’t want to happen.”

“Shut up.” Cassandra tries to slap Daniela’s hand but stops as a thought occurred to her “Wait, you little shit! You’ve been planning something!” At that Daniela laughs

“Well, technically Angie and I have been having bit of discussion and she approves of Bela! Can you believe that little doll is actually a closet romantic?”

“Angie? But isn’t she connected to Lady Beneviento?”

“Yes, to a point, but she has a certain degree of autonomy unlike the other dolls. She said it has something to do with Lady Beneviento giving her a part of herself and being the first one.” Daniela explains as she stands and makes her way towards one of the covered windows. Pushing it aside she spots the people they’ve been talking about.

Bela and Donna are currently sitting by the small gazebo, happily taking tea and having an animated conversation. Donna says something that makes Bela laugh.

Cassandra joins her sister and looks down below.

“I can’t believe my younger sister manage to solve this puzzle before me, I suppose a ‘Well done’ is in order.” She smiles as she pats Daniela in the back.

“Not yet. Not until they’re together. After all I did say that I’m familiar with both tragic and happy endings.” At the concerned look Cassandra gives her she continues. “Why don’t we tip it to Bela’s favor. I’m always a sucker for a happy ending.”

“Alright I’m in. What’s your plan?”

At that, the two continue to watch over their beloved elder sister. One already thinking of various plans to get the two together, while the other is praying to Mother Miranda that it doesn’t go wrong.

 Below them the budding romance continues to blossom.

[ktheist]

“Tell me, do you regret the day you left? Do you regret that we could have been something more? Because I do.” (x)

x

Returning home after 7 years in the big city opened the floodgate of memories. One, in particular, had you smiling to yourself as you sat on the bench at a park where you used to play with a certain, gentle and kind little boy.

Min Yoongi shared his candy when you cried your eyes out because you scrapped your knee while playing tag.

He also let you copy his homework and nagged you about staying up all night and reading one of those books of yours.

A dreamer you were, dreaming about being on the big screens.

And a realist he was, wanting to go to college to make something out of himself.

Maybe get a degree, get a stable job and get married.

Some time at 17, Yoongi proposed to you. A plastic ring he got at the dollar store was all he pulled out and placed in the palm of your hand.

You still have it in that little treasure box of yours where you keep your most prized possessions— memories that will live in forever in that tiny space.

”[Name]?” His husked voice rings in your ears and it takes you awhile to register that it’s real-time and not your memories playing tricks on you.

Some few feet away, a man stands —an older version of the boy whom you played with in this ver park. His eyebrows rise to the skimpy and his usually sleepy eyes look as if they’re wide awake.

Awake with shock.

”Yoongi,” you murmur, just as surprised.

It is only much later, do you notice the little girl tugging on his hand, looking up at him and pointing at the swings, “daddy, daddy! Can I go play with Minhee?”

So you find yourselves sitting side by side with a distance that screams the years you’ve been apart. You gained some people, you also lost some.

Like how you lost your husband to that skanky co-actress that’s just 2 years younger than you. The divorce is all over the news, which is why you’re back here, where nobody knows you and nobody will follow you.

”How’s the acting gig going?” Yoongi asks, staring at the sandbox where his daughter and her friend are trying to build a sand castle.

It’s their third try and that one‘s just crumbled into nothingness.

Just like you did.

A country bumpkin actress who changed her name and style. You never wanted to talk about your hometown in the interviews, never wanted to mention anything about the past you.

Guess living in the present means living with the fact that everywhere you go, you’ll be seeing that skank’s face in the promotional shoots of the movie your husband directed and chose her as the lead and not you.

”It’s doing great, I’m taking a break since it’s summer break and Taeyang‘s never knew his grandparents.” You simply say, your inflated, actress ego not letting you speak a word of your crumbling legacy even if it’s plastered all over the news, even if Min Yoongi has probably seen it and is just asking to make small talk.

Instead, he repeats the foreign name, as though tasting the fact that the woman he once dreamed a future with now has a kid who’s not his.

Well, to be fair, he’s a divorcee with a kid too.

”There, the little one in yellow—“ you tilt your head to the side, as if whispering a great, unknown secret to Yoongi.

The fact that you and Jeongguk had a child is mentioned too little of a time for it to stick to people’s minds. You both may have failed in the art of loving each other till death do you apart, but at the very least, you’re doing a good job with keeping your kid away from media exposure.

He’s just a kid. What can a kid do with that much exposure?

”—he’s an exact dupe of me.” You laugh, thinking about Taeyang’s puppy eyes and po lips that made you say yes to going back to this old, tired town, “Stubborn—”

“Just like you,” Yoongi finishes, a smile curved on his lips. A reminiscent of your younger days in his eyes.

“What about yours? Is she your eldest?” You ask, the black haired girl looks so much like Yoongi but acts the opposite of him.

The Min Yoongi you knew would follow you around like a lost puppy as you went on adventures to the sandy Egypt and sail ths seven seas.

His kid, however, seems like the kind that would brave through the sandstorms and lead the pirates to a cave full of treasures.

“Aera is my only,” he says simply, an enigma of his own. A book still being written and kept hidden from public eye.

”Taeyang’s my little buddy.“ You smile, “though he doesn’t like it when I say we’re best friends. Says his best friend is this Chungha girl from his school.”

Yoongi doesn’t offer anything after that —which is so very Yoongi of him.

Never saying something unless he truly feels passionate about a certain topic. Guess he’s not interested in knowing about his ex-fiancé’s kid. Why would he be? You up and left and never looked back.

But then, the answer as to why he fell silent for the longest moment comes not like a slap to the face, but like a gust of wind that blows past you and leaves you in that diner where you sit in the corner, in your favorite spot while the whole world moves on.

“Tell me, do you regret the day you left? Do you regret that we could have been something more? Because I do.”

And as much as you did not see it coming, you did not also need to ponder on it for longer than a second.

For you are a dreamer and when you close your eyes, you see yourself leaning up against Yoongi’s beaten up truck that his father gifted him for his 17th birthday, waiting for his classes to finish so you can ride home or get some food somewhere in the heart of the town.

And you smile, “that would mean I’d regret having my kid and I can’t do that. He’s all I have left.”

Taeyang comes running over, his little pudgy hands placed on your knee as he looks up at you with a childish gaze, “mommy! Grandpa’s here to pick us up!”

”Hm?“ You scan the part and easily spot the familiar old figure standing across it, smiling sheepishly at the look you‘re shooting him.

He’s holding a plastic bag which he’ll probably use as an excuse to show that he was buying somethings for your grandmother who’s adamant about cooking every dinner because Taeyang’s had plenty of your cooking but it’s his first visit here.

Your father and you had a fight last night. He wants you to stay, get a job as a clerk and you argued back, your ego not allowing your own father to knock you down to a mere clerk position.

He’s either feeling guilty or worried that you left town like you did 7 years ago under the pretense of taking Taeyang to the park.

That anger you felt has also melted into regret. You could’ve listened and explained than lash out like a wounded animal.

”Then, that’s our cue to go home,” you stand up and Taeyang runs over to his grandpa.

Yoongi’s in the middle of placing his hand back on his lap after waving a greeting to your father.

”Yeah, me and Minhee should head back too.” He nods, standing, “it was good seeing you, [Name].”

You mutter an affirmation, turning on your heels to walk towards your awaiting father before you pause, legs not moving until you truly say what you‘ve been holding back.

”There’s this movie I starred in —about an aunt turning back time to find her nephew’s killer, it’s called Timeturner... I wish I had her ability.”

At that, Yoongi blinks, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something.

”See you around, Yoongi.” You finally say, putting an end to both you and his misery.

But before you can take one step in, he’s calling for you, ”the diner‘s owner passed the business to his son —Sungwoo, maybe... If you’re free—“

”Sure,” you say, “maybe we can bring our kids with us you know... introduce them to the world’s best dumpling.”

”Yeah,” Yoongi nods before he murmurs to himself, “yeah that’d be great.”

Taeyang calls for you, waving his arms impatiently. You mouth a “bye” to Yoongi and mini job over to your father and child how waiting by the lamppost to a street that leads up the hill where your house is.

And this town may be old, but this is where it all began and ended.

This is where it continues after the ending.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 fin

Inukag Royalty Au

A month had gone by since the Naraku incident and for the two royal families, life had seemingly returned to normal. Princess Rin found in Prince Souta a new friend closer to her age, Miroku had started following Sango around— much to her chagrin, and the Queens were already teasing their kids over future grandchildren. The formal wedding celebration had begun with guests from all their ally territories in attendance. It was truly a large and joyous occasion. The Higurashi’s ballroom was filled with the finest food and drink, beautiful decor, and music to entertain the masses. Both kingdoms were ready to put all the misunderstandings aside, ready for a bright new future. But not everyone was in a celebratory mood.

The party was already in mid-swing with Prince Inuyasha and Princess Kagome mingling with the guests and giving off on an air of contentment. Plastered smiled and staged conversations. But once the revelers seemed fully preoccupied by drink and merriment, Inuyasha pulled Kagome to the side.

“I could use some fresh air,” he suggested quietly.

“Mmhmm,” she agreed with a nod.

Inuyasha took Kagome by entwined fingers and led her out to a side garden where they would have some privacy. No one noticed them take their leave, save for their ever-dutiful attendants who simply nodded their approval. Don’t get him wrong, Inuyasha wasn’t having second doubts about marrying Kagome. He loved her, there was no question about it. But that didn’t mean there weren’t a few things still left unanswered. He could sense in her that she felt the same way, so with the start of their new lives truly about to begin, it was time to get things straightened out.

“Is this, okay?” Inuyasha questioned once they reached a small gazebo. “The night air isn’t too cold, is it?”

“No, it’s alright.” Kagome sat down with Inuyasha following her lead. “I suppose this was inevitable.”

The last couple of months had been such a whirlwind. From her identity being found out, to Naraku, the threat on the kingdom, the wedding— she and Inuyasha didn’t have any time to talk. Or rather, Kagome had also been nervous to do so.

“I think so too.” Inuyasha took her hands. “Please do not think I brought you out here because I am unhappy with you or that this marriage was simply to save you from Naraku.” He brought her hands to his chest and held them tightly. “I married you because I love you. But I just wanted to make certain there isn’t anything else you’d kept from me. All those months you were with us under false pretenses, I wish to know what was fact, and what was fiction?”

Kagome dropped her gaze to the ground. “I’m sure it’s obvious that all the stories about my family were fiction since they are very much alive. But there were truths woven in. In her youth, my mother’s parents really did not provide her a tutor because they didn’t believe a noble woman needed anything more than how to satisfy and cater to a husband. So, she took it upon herself to listen in during her brother’s lessons, then steal away to their library to educate herself further. With me, she made sure I got as much education as they could provide. Sango taught me a lot about how to protect myself and to use a bow. My parents weren’t thrilled about it but didn’t stop us either.” She looked back up at Inuyasha. “And Tanaka was the name of an old attendant of mine. As for what else is true, falling in love. I tried so hard to resist you because I didn’t want either of us to get hurt.” Kagome looked down again. “I should have thought things out more clearly before I ran… it caused so many problems for everyone. Yet even so, I feel guilty because it had led me to you and the happiest time of my life. You, Rin, your family, I love you all so much for what you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t know where to begin in repaying such a debt.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

“Who you saw in me, my personality, and behaviors, that was all still me. I didn’t change that part— don’t think I could have lied to that degree and made it believable.”

Inuyasha tipped Kagome’s chin back up. “I believe you; I can sense that much in you.” He smiled before leaning in with a soft kiss. “Now, is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

“No,” she shook her head and smiled. “I feel you’ve always shown me the real you.”

He kissed her again, deeper, letting it linger as he kept their foreheads touching. “There is no debt to be repaid my love. For you’ve already given me what I’ve been searching for my whole life.”

“What… do you mean?”

“Acceptance— true acceptance.”

“I-I don’t understand…”

Inuyasha pulled back but kept his palm cradling Kagome’s cheek. “All my life I’ve felt split between two worlds because I’m a hanyo. Yokai and human alike would sometimes look at me differently. Of course, they wouldn’t dare say anything to my face, but I could feel the awkwardness. That’s why I was very angry for a long time. Rin forced me to lighten up, but I still felt inside like I’d never be truly accepted and yet you loved me despite my nature. Now, I don’t care if anyone else judges me differently, as long as I have you by my side.”

Kagome’s eyes crinkled at the corners as a few happy tears pooled in them. “Oh, Inu, I’m just as lucky to have you too.” She chuckled and smiled. “My mother worried no one would want a woman who’s feisty.”

He laughed, “that’s exactly what drew me to you.”

She leaned her head onto his shoulder with a contented sigh. “Fate was never something I really believed in before, but it’s hard not to think there is truth on such tales.”

“It is quite ironic how things worked out in the end, but I’m really happy they did.”

“Me too.”

This was a future neither had allowed themselves to believe possible. For Kagome, the fairytales of finding a Prince Charming were once a dream now come true, and Inuyasha the weight of lonely years melted away. They sat there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the night air and absorbing this whole new life about to begin. What will it be like? Will they always be happy now? Have all their worries ended? As a second son, they won’t have the stress of ruling to deal with, so that just left creating a normal family life— well, as normal of a life a royal could design. Children… how many should they have? These are the kinds of questions the couple will need to ponder at some point.

Speaking of children, Kagome flushed at the idea. While they have had a few intimate moments, mostly kissing and a little bit of touching, but the couple had not gone all the way yet and frankly Kagome was a little nervous about it.

“Inu?” Her voice was soft, hesitant in breaking the silence. She wasn’t sure how she’ll take his answer, but Kagome wanted to know.

“Yeah?”

“Have you, been with anyone before… like, i-in bed?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve heard stories about how princes can be loose like that…”

“Well, not me. I won’t lie and say I’d never been tempted, but most of the women I’ve been around never interested me much. Nobles are usually so… boring or just looking to increase their status and I wasn’t about that.”

“Are you nervous about it?”

“A little.”

“Me too.”

Inuyasha turned to face Kagome. “I won’t force you, if you’re not ready.” He lifted her chin. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

Kagome blushed harder. “It’s not… that… I want to… with you.”

“Oh,” his brow raised with a chuckle. “Have you been fantasizing about me?”

“Maybe… Have you?”

“Oh— yeah.” He grinned. “How could I not? Every time I’d see your beautiful face, and this,” his hands moved down to her waist, “body, just dreaming of learning every inch of it. Plus, have you any idea how much your scent drives me wild?” She shook her head no. Inuyasha leaned down, his lips so close to her neck, his breath sent chills down her body. “Well, it does, and now you know,” he answered in a husky tone.

“Oh… Inu…” Kagome breathed out when his lips grazed her skin. Her hands clutched to his vest, pulling, begging he stay right where he was as her head tilted to give a great span of access.

Inuyasha chuckled, whispering a tease. “Princess we’re too out in the open to be getting so hot and heavy. Or is this a naughtier side you’ve been hiding from me?”

“S-Sorry,” Kagome blushed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“No need to apologize love.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m excited too.”

Now that the air had been cleared, the couple decided to go back to the party before someone came looking for them. It was winding down already, and guests were starting to leave. They assisted their parents in giving their thanks and wishing safe journeys to those traveling a distance. Then once they were assured, they were no longer required to stay, Inuyasha and Kagome retreated to their private room.

“Need any pointers?” Miroku whispered to the prince as he escorted them through the castle.

“Pfft, not from you,” Inuyasha sneered back.

Miroku chuckled as they reached the room. “Have fun you two,” he winked before walking away.

“Damn pervert.”

“Leave him be,” Kagome giggled as she pulled Inuyasha into the room and locked the door. “He means well. Will you help me with this dress?”

“I know…” Inuyasha sighed. “And of course. What do you need me to do?”

Kagome’s face heated up, but she stayed with her convictions. I’m a firm, yet tentative tone. “Take it off me.”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened as a grin formed. “With pleasure…”

Their time at the Higurashi castle had come to an end, and the Inu royals said their goodbyes. Kagome’s parents were sad to see her go but were happy with the outcome knowing their son-in-law will take good care of their daughter. Promises were made to visit as often as possible, and they looked forward to the grandchildren yet to come. Sango would stay on and become a member of the Inu kingdom for Kagome, much to the delight of Miroku. The Princess had teased her friend about the budding infatuation, but Sango still refused to admit there was something brewing. That left more addition to the entourage, Sango’s younger brother since he became her ward after the death of their parents. Princess Rin was delighted by the decision because now she’ll have a friend to play with at the palace. Even her father Sesshomaru had taken a surprising interest in the boy’s prospects as a future soldier.

The newlyweds were given their own comfortable carriage to travel in. Which was great because it gave them privacy during the four-day trip. Inuyasha pulled Kagome close and kissed her forehead. “Ready to start our new future Princess?”

“Mmm,” she smiled. “I can’t wait.”

~~~~~

Sorry this final chapter is a bit lackluster, but the last couple of weeks I kinda lost motivation to write. I hope it was still at least okay, and thank you to everyone who's been following along :)

[toosicktoocare]

If ur taking request (if not it’s totally fine just ignore this) dick trying to keep going about his day with a fever because he doesn’t think his well-being is that important and he ends up collapsing in front of/on his siblings?

The situation, Dick thinks, is overwhelmingly less than ideal. He’s due at the manor in an hour, and yet the thermometer reading, 101.4 degrees Fahrenheit, is flashing red across his vision, a physical testament to the headache drumming across his temples.

His schedule, as it has been for the last few months, is packed. Now that he’s mending and strengthening his relationships with his brothers, he’s keeping himself actively involved in their lives, and thus, he’s near-constantly busy.

Today, he promised Damian he’d spar with him in the morning, then he’s due to work with Tim on some advanced science project for his advanced biology course, and then Jason, begrudgingly, agreed to a late lunch that Dick will be cooking for everyone at the manor, seizing the opportunity to utilize so the full kitchen without Alfred and Bruce breathing down his neck.

Relastically, he should cancel. He knows this; however, his commitment to his brothers means more than the fever pressing warm against his cheeks right now, so he turns the thermometer off and snags his jacket and bag, leaving his apartment, and hopefully, the knowledge of his ailments at his back.

***

Even just pulling his car into the cave, he can tell the manor’s buzzing with activity, and he parks beside Jason’s bike, sporting a curious gaze at it. Jason mentioned he wouldn’t be over until later, right before lunch essentially, citing he had “business” to tend to beforehand. At the time, Dick didn’t want to ask and still doesn’t want to ask now. Besides, he’s not sure his head can even properly wrap around Jason’s “business,” not with the now pounding that’s stretching out across his forehead.

He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead, frowning at the faint drops of sweat, and takes a few moments to breathe deeply, willing his heart to ease up some of the rabbit’s foot racing. His breathing, however, goes interrupted when Damian bangs on his window, already geared up and ready to spar.

“Are you going to sit in there all day, Grayson?”

Dick plasters on a practiced smile, one he can manifest to be naturally radiant, and he slips out of the car, dropping his hand atop Damian’s head and ruffling his hair. “Sorry, Little D. You’re sparring in full gear?” He eyes the Robin costume fitted on Damian, and Damian nods tightly.

“Of course. Father says I should always spar in my suit to ensure I know exactly how my body’s able to move within it.”

Dick’s heard this one before, and he can’t help but roll his eyes. “Right, well, believe it or not,” he pauses, reaching for his bag in his backseat, I’ve only got sweats and a tank.” He waves the bag in front of Damian’s face, smiling almost impishly. “Unfortunately for you, that’s all I need.”

Damian scoffs, whipping sharply on his heel and starting toward the manor’s large sparring arena, and Dick laughs, his smile only faltering when he’s sure Damian’s no longer in sight. He slips to the changing rooms, locking the door behind him and sagging against it, his bag falling to the floor. It’s occurred to him, just now of all times, that in his rush to disregard his own well-being in favor of his brothers’, he completely forgot to actually take anything to alleviate the fever. The changing room’s not stocked since med-bay’s close by, and Dick’s sure he won’t manage to sneak into medical without Damian seeing.

Instead, he hunches over a sink, splashing cold water over his face, the feeling odd as it eases the heat coating his face but brings a mute chill down his spine. Shuddering lightly, he changes from his jeans to his sweats, and he tugs his GCPD shirt off, slipping his tank on and rubbing lightly at his bare arms as he starts out of the room.

Damian’s already center of the mat when Dick walks in, and Dick pulls his arms into long stretches and shakes out his limbs as he walks forward, planting himself in front of Damian.

“Ready?”

“Are you?” Damian spits out, eyes narrow behind his domino.

“Show me what you’ve got, Robin.”

Dick’s quick on feet, effortlessly dodging Damian’s fists swinging at him, the batarangs flying toward him. When he catches on between two fingers, a cocky smile playing on his lips, Damian comes at him harder, stronger, really putting what he’s learned from Bruce on display. Dick can still keep up, he can still pin Damian within each cycle, but his headache, that he’s forced to the back of his mind, is blooming centerfold, tugging at his attention enough for Damian to sneak in a leg swipe, promptly knocking Dick on his back.

In seconds, Damian’s atop him, a knife pressed to his throat, and Dick raises both hands. “I cave.” Dick smiles, his chest heaving, lungs desperate to suck in air, and Damian flips off of him, frowning.

“What’s wrong with you? You aren’t normally winded this early in.”

Dick climbs to his feet, a groan threatening to creep up his throat, and then he moves, catching Damian off guard and knocking him square in the chest. Damian falls back, and now Dick’s pinning him. “No distractions, Little D.”

“Ugh,” Damian growls, shoving Dick off him. “You’re hot and sweaty, and you aren’t playing fair.”

“Playing,” Dick parrots back, and though his muscles are aching deeply, he pushes himself back to his feet, a tight smile teasing at his lips. “Since when is this playing?”

***

By the time Dick and Damian finish, roughly two hours later, Dick’s muscles are shaking with each step. He only just managed to change back into his jeans and shirt without toppling over, his sparring clothes now drenched in sweat, and now, on his way to Tim’s room, he’s shivering slightly, the lingering sweat against his skin now properly chilling him.

He rubs at his forehead, sighing deeply, but when he reaches Tim’s door, he smooths out his features and wills his body to stop trembling. He knocks even though the door’s ajar.

“Come in.”

Dick makes to push the door opening, pausing when Tim adds, “unless it’s you Damian. If that’s the case, go the hell away.”

Dick breathes through a low laugh and slips inside. “Friend?” he asks, and Tim spares a glance from the supplies on his desk.

“Hey, Dick.”

“Hey, Little Wing,” Dick says, starting toward the desk. He eyes the supplies, but his foggy mind struggles to work through the project based on what’s littered across the desk. “What do we have going on here?”

Tim explains as Dick drops down into the chair across from Tim, but Dick’s having a hard time following. He nods when appropriate, offers a few light hums, but his eyes can only blankly stare. He’s really beginning to feel the heat of the fever. It clings to his cheeks and drags down his neck, stopping just short of his collarbone, where the heat dissapates to an uncomfortable sheet of ice atop his muscles. His jaw is clenched tight to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Dick?”

“Huh?” Dick blinks slowly, and Tim’s frowning at him.

“Did you... are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course.” Dick smiles easily, and he can visibly see some of the tension taut against Tim’s face fade. He picks up up something, twisting it around in front his his eyes. “So this thing needs to attach to...” he pauses, pointing, “that thing via... science?”

Tim huffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “You know, Bruce always raves about how smart you are, but there’s not a day that goes by where I wonder if he’s delusional.”

Dick clutches dramatically at his chest, and he purses his lips into a pout. “I’m hurt, Little Wing! I’ll have you know I was top of my class.”

“Then prove it,” Tim challenges, lips pulled into a flat, almost bored, line that contradicts the faint hint of fire in his eyes.

For the second time, Dick slots the headache, the fever, far into the back of his mind, instead hunching over and forcing his ears to send comprehensive sentences to his mind as he begins to work while Tim talks.

***

By the time Dick’s planted in front of the stove, he’s sure his fever’s spiking. The heat billowing up from the stovetop seems to skin into his face, mixing with the hot pressure of illness, and yet the rest of him, down to his toes, his positively freezing. He swipes the back of his hand against his forehead, his breaths coming out in hot puffs.

The others are talking behind him. Well, Damian and Tim are arguing, and Jason’s only chiming in to agree with one or the other. For a while, Dick was able to keep up, even offering his own input, but now, he can’t work his mind into multitasking, and right now, he needs to flip the grilled cheese.

He’s holding the spatula, but his vision’s starting to gray at the edges, a new development that’s currently capturing all of his focus. Second to that is the fact that he’s beginning to feel hot all over, to the point where his skin is prickling with sweat. The heat encompasses his vision, roars in his ears.

“Grayson? Are you burning the grilled cheese?”

“Don’t be a dick, Damian.”

“Both of you shut the hell up.”

The voices are faint, and Dick wants to ponder on why Jason sounds worried. Jason doesn’t do worried; that’s Bruce’s and Dick’s jobs. He very slowly turns around to see Jason walking toward him, and when he opens his mouth, his vision chooses that exact time to black out.

***

Dick comes to in slow waves, his mind immediately working through his surroundings without panic, as he’s been trained to do. He’s on the floor, and it’s cold, but the tile is familiar. And, he’s slumped against someone warm and broad. He thinks Bruce for a moment, but then there’s a voice that is definitely not Bruce speaking.

“Dick?”

It’s Jason, Dick easily supplies, and he sounds scared. Dick lifts his head and struggles to push himself away from Jason, swaying lightly despite being seated. “What happened?”

Jason’s eyes are narrow as they dart across Dick’s face. “You passed out.”

The three words are enough to bring Dick completely back to the present, and he whips his gaze to see Damian at the stove, trying to keep a fire from starting, and Tim tight against the doorway, arms crossed, worry clear across his face.

“Shit,” he mutters, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

“You didn’t think-”

“-Jason, don’t,” Tim cuts in. “You can yell at him later. Right now, he doesn’t need to be on the floor.”

Dick’s shaking, unsure of just when he got so cold, and his head’s throbbing like mad. He pulls his gaze back to Jason, and he must really look awful because Jason’s face twists from anger then back to concern, and he starts to his feet, dragging Dick with him.

Dick’s unsteady, his legs wobbling, and he leans heavily into Jason as he’s guided out of the kitchen and into one of the many living rooms, where Jason eases him gently onto a couch.

“Have you taken anything?”

Jason’s voice is tight, and Dick shakes his head, draping an arm across his eyes to ease the pain the light filtering in from the window adds to the pressure already in his head. He can hear the others busying themselves around him, and then he’s being eased upward by Jason and offered a pill by Damian. He takes it, accepting the water Jason’s got in his other hand, and then he’s back on his back. A blanket’s draped over him, and then after some hushed debate above him, another one is added, which he’s mutely thankful for.

He tries to tug the blanket over his face, to block out the light, but Jason stops him with a low growl of “don’t,” and shortly after, a cold, damp cloth is being draped across his forehead.

“Here, Jason.”

Dick squints at the thermometer being handed to Jason, and he frowns when Jason presses it to his ear.

“Jay-”

“If you say ‘I’m fine,’ I’m going to call Bruce and have him bring down the wrath of Batman on your ass a thousand times over.”

The thermometer beeps quickly, before Dick can defend himself, and then he’s blinking slowly at the 103.2 degree reading flashing at him.

“See? Not fine,” Jason grumbles, leaving his spot on the edge of the catch and starting himself into a pace across the room.

“Dick, why didn’t you say something?”

Dick drags his gaze to the ceiling and tries not feel too hurt by Tim’s quiet voice. “I didn’t think it was important,” he admits and Jason throws his hands up, exasperated.

“Of course you fucking didn’t. Your self-sacrificial bullshit really grates on my nerves, Dick.”

“Jason-”

“-no. Todd is right,” Damian interrupts, cutting Tim off. “Grayson, your well-being is just as important as ours, if not more so. If you’re unwell, you should say so and rest.”

“You sound like Alfred,” Dick groans, eyes squeezing shut and only opening once more when Tim twists the blinds shut. “I just...” he tries, sighing deeply. “We’ve been through so much,” he starts, sure he’s got all eyes on him, “and we still have a long way to go. I didn’t want to cancel today and miss being with you three because of a small fever.”

“Small?”

“Jason,” Tim sighs. “Dick, you know I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it, but Damian is right. Everything today,” Tim pauses, gesturing around the room, “could have waited until you were better. We aren’t going anywhere.”

The thing is, that’s what Dick struggles to believe the most: that his family isn’t going anywhere. He suffered long through Jason’s first death, the pain was so deep it felt untouchable, and now he feels like he’s constantly chasing lost time, time that has the potential to be endlessly fragile.

“Ugh, stop,” Jason groans, and Dick whips a sharp gaze to him. “You have that stupid sad look on your face, and it’s annoying. You still wanna spend time with us, even though I personally think you should be hooked up in med-bay? Fine.” He pauses, turning to Tim, “Figure out something to watch. I’m going to try and salvage lunch.”

Jason storms out of the room before Dick can apologize, as he feels he needs to, and when he tries, Damian cuts him off by slapping at his legs so he can curl up on the end of the couch.

“Save it, Grayson. Just try not to be such an imbecile next time you have the plague, got it?”

“Once again,” Tim says, “I’m with Damian on this one.”

Dick smiles, the first genuinely real smile he’s mustered up all day. It’s tired, worn, and a little shaky, but it’s still real.

“I’ll try.”

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

light of my life, fire of my loins. be a good baby, do what i want.

summary: requested: Andy Barber gives me such strong sugar daddy vibes I haven’t watched the show but he just looks like the kinda guy who would spoil the shit outta someone

warnings: smut everywhere. and you know, sugar daddy shit, so. also, doesn’t make a lot of sense. I have a lot more that I actually wrote, I just wasn’t sure where I was going with this. so...prompt sugar andy daddy if you want more???

word count: around 10,400

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: anon! I want you to know that I started working on this as soon as you requested it! I just wanted to make sure I really got sugar daddy andy down and that it wasn’t steve rogers that I was writing. I am so sorry bc you definitely deserved this a very long time ago! if there are any typos, I apologize, I just needed to get this posted before work.

When you met Andy, you had been juggling three jobs, gaining more debt than you would probably ever be able to pull off even with a degree, fairly sucky grades caused by how much you worked, resulting in stress, anxiety, all that great shit that comes along with being someone in America that dares to want to pursue higher education.

After a few months dating Andy, you had one job that you only kept for autonomy reasons, shrinking debt, excellent grades, and truly, no stress at all. Instead of spending a night waiting tables at the restaurant near the campus, where disgusting men would flirt with you because you were on the clock and literally could not leave, you were in a tiny ass dress, covered in diamonds, drinking champagne, and trying not to be too obvious about the cum dripping down your thighs.

Obscene was often a word that you played with in your mind whenever you were with Andy. Your outfits were indecent because he loved seeing as much of your skin as he possibly could. Your behavior was shameless, you showed up, you laughed, you hung onto him the entire night with the smuggest of smiles. Your willingness, especially in public, was vulgar, the way you let him touch you in front of everyone. Salacious. Indecorous. Immoral. Debauched.

These parties that he took you to were only half of it. According to his son, Jacob, Andy hadn’t been one for socializing before the divorce. He claimed that this was something new his father picked up, something that he theorized was the consequence of loneliness. You figured that you also fell under that category. These people weren’t actually his friends and you weren’t actually his girlfriend.

Andy wanted a distraction and you were just fucked up and high-maintenance enough to be perfect for the job. Getting into the swing of things had been quite the task at the start, much to your surprise. Who didn’t want a gorgeous man to spoil them? Apparently you, if your earlier behavior was any indication.

You had started this with wanting to be as professional as possible. When you had pictured how this would look, it was you listening to him speak whenever he wanted, you would respond when prompted but it would be short, succinct, and your main concern would be maintaining your physical attractiveness. You tried to think of him as your employer, you were his employee, and that meant that there needed to be respect and boundaries. You pictured a lot of pretending. Pretending to laugh, pretending to care, pretending to enjoy his company, pretending to come.

You had also thought you were going to smart. This wasn’t some stupid Lifetime movie and you had dreams and goals and if you played your cards right, this man could put you on a sure path to reaching all you had ever hoped to accomplish. At least, that was what you were telling yourself when you’d had the mental quandary: were you a prostitute?

Thankfully, both phases of resistance had been dropped—possibly around the first time he went down on you. You were no expert, but “professional” probably barred him from fucking you in about 90% of his chosen locations. And whether you were a “prostitute”, an “escort”, a “hooker”, or whatever other demeaning word anyone could come up with, was another unimportant matter. Anyone could call you anything, at the end of the day, you had money.

It was supposed to be clean, a black and white exchange where you showed up and he paid you. At any point, you could step on the brakes, he could step on the brakes—something you had once found relief in, but was now a source of insecurity, not that you would ever tell him that. He didn’t need to know about your life, what you wanted to do after school, who your friends were, your shaky relationship with your parents, the reasons why someone like you wanted to enter this relationship.

But he asked about those things because rules seemed to either not exist to him, or they just weren’t meaningful. And you hadn’t felt pressured to answer or anything, if that was the case, you would have just lied. The fact of the matter was that eventually you told him these things because you didn’t mind him knowing about your life.

He was not supposed to be kind or smart or interesting. He was not supposed to be a good guy. Clearly, he didn’t get the memo. There should be an official organization that lets men know you can’t just be perfect and spoil someone if you look anything like Andrew Barber.

It was the middle of April in Massachusetts and that meant it was still just a little too chilly for the slinky slip Andy had picked out for you, but that was what all the champagne was for. You were buzzing and it wasn’t just that you were getting drunk. Summer was approaching and he often spoke about all of the things he wanted to do with you now that you had more free time and he gave you these looks and you could just get lost in his eyes and plans even though you knew better.

You had been doing this long enough that people had finally stopped staring. The first few times Andy brought you, they were blatant and downright rude, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. Despite the disproportionate wealth shared amongst this group, it wasn’t too often that someone brought along a much younger woman that they were undoubtedly paying. Most of these men were married and either brought their wives along or tales of their affairs.

The rich people here treated this like an elite group, so when people like you were around, not everyone was welcoming. The other few women that had similar situations to yours were kind enough and tried to get to know you better—shared experiences create great friendships, right? Andy didn’t think so, he discouraged any type of communication and claimed that it was because they didn’t tend to stick around long. You theorized he just didn’t want you spending time with anyone that wasn’t him.

The woman across from Andy, Francesca, had been around for as long as you could remember. She had long, dark brown hair, flawless eyebrows, a great jawline, and an even greater ass. She was a few years older than him and several older than you.

You often pondered just how much more interesting than you she was. See, she had never hidden that she was attracted to him, but Andy seemed oblivious. You couldn’t tell if he actually was or was just pretending not to notice. You told yourself it was deeper than just the age, that there was another, much different reason that he wasn’t interested in her.

But, of course, you couldn’t ask. You couldn’t talk to him about other women because that was teetering on the edge of possessiveness and jealousy. Those were two of the few luxuries that you would be denied. Romance would not be found here, just a lot of mutual lust and understanding.

She laughed at something he said, pulling you back into the moment. As you sipped on your champagne, you returned to your favorite activity at these parties: people watching. You were starting to pick up on some of the drama and whatever blanks were left at the end of the nights, Andy usually filled them for you.

There were certain types of men that always bred the most scandalous scenarios. Those are the same few men that had only just recently stopped trying to buy you away from Andy by offering you more money than he was paying you. Yes, technically, that was what you were here for, but Andy was not like these men.

For starters, most everyone in attendance was a lawyer. They followed the model of: the worse the job was, the better the pay. Unlike them, Andy didn’t represent sleazy, rich rapists or murderers. That was just the start of the differences. He didn’t get so drunk that he caused a scene at these parties, he didn’t touch drugs, and he wasn’t going through some tragic midlife crisis that he was trying to placate with cars or women.

When you looked back at the pair, Andy was texting and Francesca was eyeing your hand around the glass were sipping from. She was looking at your rings—oh, your rings. You loved your rings.

Originally, you’d thought you weren’t going to ask for or accept anything stupid. You just needed your bills paid, your rent, your car. You wanted to be able to eat more than once a day. Andy quickly realized that you wouldn’t ask, if he wanted you to have something, he was just going to have to give it to you.

(On your very first date, he’d given you a diamond bracelet. You had been stunned, maybe even a little uncomfortable. It was hard to accept such expensive items from strangers. However, you did like it and wore it almost every day even though it made no sense with most of your outfits. You’d simply grown fond of it because it had come from him.)

(On the fourth date, he gave you a three-strand diamond necklace that strongly resembled a collar. You adored it, not the way you adored your rings, but it still gave you butterflies whenever he would clasp it around your neck and then kiss the skin directly under it. These were things that he’d called gifts, but you recognized them for what they actually were, signs of ownership.)

The first ring had been a reward. You’d made it through midterms, so he took you to the jewelry shop that’s on the way back to your apartment from his house. After three hours and a lot of wine—you’d needed to be drunk the first few times you knew he was spending money on you—you left with the tiara ring for your pinky finger. It was a loud piece of intricate curls on top of and underneath a row of tiny hearts. This ring was the most special, the first, you rarely ever took it off—only for school.

The second had been an apology. He’d convinced you to spend the night at his house even though he knew you really didn’t want to. He had kissed your neck and your face and had two of his fingers inside you, he had whispered all the things he still wanted to do to you that night. Around two in the morning, you’d gone to get water from the kitchen. You were in a pair of panties and one of Andy’s shirts that you didn’t bother to button up. That was how you were dressed when you met his son for the first time. Two days later, you had the butterfly ring in its spot at the base of your index finger. It was gaudy and expensive but did little to quell your anger and humiliation. You loved it, nonetheless.

The third had been an anniversary present. This relationship had reached its 100-day mark, he took you to his favorite restaurant, the same one he had taken you to for your first date. Which wasn’t romantic at all, there were a lot of terms being discussed. This time had been much different. He asked you for your hand and slipped the ring onto your third finger without a word, he merely eyed the only empty finger with the unstated promise that that finger would soon have one as well. It was this huge oval cut diamond that covered the width of your finger, atop two bands of smaller but still fairly large identically cut diamonds.

A little less than three weeks after that, it had been…well, you still weren’t quite sure what the fourth ring was. It wasn’t often that Andy didn’t drive you. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you had only one class so he would drop you off and pick you up during his lunch break so you could get coffee together. On Wednesdays and Fridays, you had more than one class so he would drop you off and he would pick you up when he got off work.

One Wednesday morning, your first class had been canceled so you ended up driving yourself. Andy took Wednesdays and Fridays as his early days off because he didn’t want you waiting in the library too long after your final class let out, so those had become the simple nights when he would come over to your apartment even though he really didn’t like it there—you figured he was struggling with the urge to buy you a much bigger apartment, one that would probably coincidentally be closer to his house as well.

You had made the plan to cook dinner that night so before heading home, you drove to the grocery store… Fortunately, no one was hurt. Unfortunately, at your place just in front of the stoplight, a car in the turn lane drove right into your car. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal considering your life of absolute privilege and you just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

Andy wasn’t quite as level-headed. The other driver was a middle-aged man so Andy felt no reluctance in throwing a fit. You had been torn between being humiliated that he was fussing so much over you, flattered that he cared, angry that he was treating you like you were a fragile vase, or maybe just a little turned on because he was so angry.

That night, instead of your place, he took you to his house and spoiled the hell out of you. He undressed you and kissed you everywhere, he bundled you up in one of his sweaters and a throw blanket, sat you down on the bed, and made you hot chocolate. You were not allowed to lift a single finger. That was the first night you spent at his house, and since Jacob wasn’t there, Andy didn’t hesitate to fuck you for hours and make you scream as loudly as he wanted you to.

The next morning, when you woke up, the black velvet box was set on the pillow between you and him. He was propped up on the headboard with his laptop and the clock on his bedside table was saying that it was well past noon. Clearly, he decided to stay home from work and if there wasn’t jewelry in front of you, you would have given him a lecture.

It was a princess cut diamond—which he would later explain with ‘you are my princess’—with a double halo and a diamond-encrusted band. It was smaller than all the rest but somehow just went perfectly.

You weren’t bragging, at least not in a petty way. It was just that any time you noticed someone staring at your hand, you couldn’t help but try to draw more attention to it, or the other jewelry Andy showered you in.

You supposed that maybe that meant something, maybe during your little back and forth a few hours prior when he had accused you of being spoiled, he was onto something. Regardless, the only person who could be blamed for that was him.

You almost got lost in the diamonds on your hand when Andy reached out to you, pulling some hair over your shoulder. You looked up at him, he was smiling softly. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you ready to go?”

He really didn’t like these parties; he was always the one that wanted to leave and would slyly place the blame on you. You were tired, you weren’t feeling well, you had a tough week and you just wanted to go home. You never minded because it wasn’t as if you got anything out of these parties either, and if that was the easiest way to pull him out of there, so be it. It was Sunday anyway, he had to work tomorrow and you had to go over your weekly schedule with him before the night was over.

“Sure.”

It started as a quiet drive, just like it always did, but then he placed his hand on your thigh. You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. He simply smirked and kept his gaze on the road. You opened your legs wide, guiding two of his fingers inside you. “Can you feel your cum in me?”

“Not enough.”

“You’re the one that made me stand for almost an hour.”

“I’ll fill you up again before you go to class tomorrow.”

You snorted. “Lucky me.”

He shot you a look. “Oh, you don’t like it?”

“Never said that.”

“Well, if you don’t, I don’t need to—”

“I was kidding,” you whined.

He gave you a look, pretending he was unconvinced. “You’ve had an attitude all night.”

“You spanked me,” you reminded. The memory, the sore feeling on your ass whenever you sat down, had kept you wet all night. “Hard.”

“You talked back.”

You had because you wanted him to spank you. The first time he had, it was quite the discovery. It was after a drink, after you were feeling a little daring. He told you no, and you really hated when he did that. You couldn’t even remember what you had said, but it was bad, it was enough to get your skirt torn down, you bent over his knee, and well, the rest was a blissful blur.

This time it was because he was in a mood. You were getting dressed and he was watching you and that always meant something. You weren’t sure what exactly, but there were a few things you picked up on with Andy. When he wanted to be in control, he didn’t necessarily just want you to submit completely. When he gave you a look, you knew that he wanted you to fight just a bit. So, he told you to wear a specific dress and you refused initially. Cue the spanking. After your whole body felt hot and flushed and your legs were shaking and your cunt was dripping, you obliged, and he was so damn smug about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, because my fingers are inside you and you want me to make you come.”

“Well…yes.”

He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile. You loved the sound of it. Andy so rarely laughed but you took it to mean that he felt comfortable enough around you. “If you can be patient, I’ll fuck you when we get home.”

Home. His home. Whatever. “And if I can’t?”

“Then you’re going to have to wait until the morning and I might not feel like letting you come. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

But he didn’t play fair. He drove slower than usual, fingers still buried inside you, and he moved them. A lot. He tried to cover it with stupid things, like driving over a pothole or making a sharp turn. If you moved your hips once, just barely, you lost. So, you sat there, completely still, gripping the seat like it was a lifeline.

Upstairs, you waited for him to make the rounds. Jacob wasn’t there, thankfully, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been there earlier. Andy went around every door and window and made sure they were locked.

In that time, you got undressed and waited for him. You had a couple of red marks across your ass that you could see in the mirror on the opposite end of the bedroom. He always liked seeing your skin marked up in some way if he was the reason.

When he entered the room, you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “Stand up.”

You quickly did so, turning your back to him so he could see your ass. His palms lightly felt along the marked skin there. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He rarely asked, but you found that he fucked you better when he knew for sure. You just started letting him know and it seemed he trusted you enough to voice any boundaries you had if he ever crossed them.

One hand slowly trailed up your spine and slid across to your shoulder. He pressed you down quickly and you caught yourself on the mattress with both hands. You could hardly stay still as you heard his belt and zipper.

He easily pushed into you, body flush against yours. He let you adjust around him, staying perfectly still as he leaned over you and kissed your back, neck, and shoulders. Andy didn’t move until you angled your hips and pressed back a little more, whimpering nonsense.

This was so unlike the two times earlier. In the closet, after he spanked you, he sat you on top of his lap and made you ride him. At the party, in the bathroom, he stood you in front of the mirror and gently fucked you until he had filled you with his cum. This was fast, rough, and maybe a little detached if you really thought about it.

Andy took your waist in both hands and held you in place as he pounded into you relentlessly. Slapping skin, your soaking wet pussy, the bed banging against the wall on his particularly hard thrusts, these had become noises you were more than used to, noises you had grown to crave. Being with Andy was never supposed to be like this, but you didn’t have a single complaint.

You buried your face in the blankets, hands clutching tight at the sheets around you as your muffled screams filled the room. You knew he was close when his hands began to wander. One carded through your hair and pressed you down more, the other moved under you to reach your clit.

“You were such a good girl in the car.”

Your response was unintelligible, but yes. You had been more than just good. You had waited for him even though he was being a tease, and now, you wanted what he owed you. Which he didn’t deny you, not for a second.

He made you come. Once. Twice. Maybe three times. But after that, it was all just nonsense, satisfying, endless nonsense. He was still holding you by the hair, but he’d turned your head so you could breathe, and he was still circling his fingers around your clit.

Your back arched, allowing him in deeper—one of the tells of your approaching orgasm. You felt your pussy tighten around his fingers and began begging him to let you come. Even in this hazy, fucked-out state, you wanted to please him, you wanted his praise and approval.

He gave you permission like he always did and fully intended to fuck you through it. He only paused because he felt you spilling down his thighs, felt the wet sheets against his skin, heard light drops on the hardwood floor. Fuck.

He pulled you against him immediately, your sweat-slicked back to his chest. One arm draped across your chest, the opposite hand wrapped around your neck. You were watching him, eyes clear with curiosity. “You just squirted, princess.”

You blinked and attempted to voice your confusion. Problem was, his hips were still moving. You had no time to recover and there was no chance your brain had at making sense of anything in that moment.

“It was fucking hot and you’re going to do it again.”

Needless to say, you skipped classes the next day.

Andy liked to celebrate the monthly anniversaries.

He was big on creating traditions, you assumed that was just that part of him that had been hardwired to crave a normal family. He hadn’t told you much about his life and you didn’t want to pry—his dad wasn’t around and his mom had been but she died when he was pretty young. He shared this only after he asked about your parents.

The most personal he had ever gotten with you was one night when he had intended to take advantage of your drunk and thoroughly fucked state, obviously convinced that you wouldn’t remember the question in the morning. Do you believe in love?

It was weird given the setting and that you and Andy simply didn’t talk like that. It was dangerous because this could never be more than it was. You were both only allowed feelings of lust, maybe even obsession, but nothing of the usual sense. And Andy was so strict and controlled, you were surprised he would cross any sort of line.

You tried to play it off, tried to tell him that you had more important things to worry about. He didn’t like that response. He pressed because he was just like that, his career was all about pressing and sometimes, he brought it home. You ended up telling him that you viewed marriage as a waste of time. Your parents divorced, all your aunts and uncles, even the younger friends who got married out of high school were on the fast track to messy court dates and vicious custody battles. You also pointed out his situation. If someone as perfect as him couldn’t stay married, no one could.

It was then that he told you the happiest moments of his life were carving pumpkins or decorating the Christmas tree with Jacob. He had loved Valentine’s Day with Laurie, he was the one that had always insisted on doing something. He even looked forward to the smaller holidays, Independence Day, Memorial Day, any day that got Jacob out of school and him an extra day off so they could have a cookout in the backyard.

It wasn’t his intent, but it had sort of created a barrier between you two. You wished he still had his family even if that meant never meeting him. He was that kind of man, a good man, and you could tell that it weighed on him every day that he no longer had his perfect family.

He’d never pictured his life like this, a failed marriage, a child separated between his parents. He never would have entertained the idea of needing someone like you. He didn’t say that last part, but you knew. Sometimes, it was just in the way he looked at you. You feared he would grow to resent you one day, but you always tried to push that thought far away.

Regardless, the distance was there and he realized it even if he didn’t say it. There was also the matter that school had just let out meaning you had zero excuses for saying no to him when he proposed the trip to New York that would coincide with the 7-month mark of your relationship.

You’d never been and you’d always wanted to see Moulin Rouge on Broadway. He’d decided to drive to New York because you had once made the mistake of telling him you hated airports. It was a short road trip, one you weren’t entirely unwelcoming of. Especially not when he kept his hand on your thigh most of the time. It was late when you made it to the hotel and surprisingly, he had no issues with you diving straight into bed.

The morning was quite different. The hotel window had a perfect view of the city and he felt inclined to fuck you against it as soon as you both woke up. Then, he wanted to take you shopping. For nearly two entire days, he spoiled the hell out of you. Anywhere you wanted to go, he would take you. Anything you glanced at, he wanted to buy it for you.

On the night of the show, he finally took you to Victoria’s Secret. You’d seen pictures of it before, but you had not anticipated how beautiful it would look in person. You went crazy, you took him to the fitting room and tortured him on every single floor with both clothing and lingerie. Several hours had been devoted to teasing him and he let you know that after the show, you would regret your decisions.

Before you managed to get him back to the hotel so you could get ready, he needed to spend another awful amount of money on you. There was a jewelry shop just down the street from Victoria’s Secret and he couldn’t let you leave the state—as he claimed when he saw you frown—without at least one diamond.

You wanted nothing, but you knew the chances of him allowing that were nonexistent. So, you told yourself to keep it small, but one thing that had become a harsh reality since you met Andy: you were a sad, pathetic victim to larger, shinier diamonds. You immediately fell in love with a short string of sizable heart-shaped diamonds, the one larger heart dangling in the center is what had caught your eye.

Regardless of this terrible habit you had developed—this feeling that you craved, the pure joy that you got from people knowing that Andy was buying you diamonds—you tried to protest when he caught you staring. You just wanted a bracelet, really. He rarely ever gave you bracelets.

Instead, he sent you off to get coffee. You knew exactly why that was. He often got rid of you when he was about to make decisions that he knew would make you feel bad. You wanted to refuse, but what was better? Blissful ignorance or sitting there just watching him toss out the money for that necklace?

Learning what Andy liked at Starbucks had been a process. He didn’t like his coffee sweet so that eliminated 90% of the menu. His home coffee was some brand you’d never even heard of, the shops he went to were all nearly older than him. He liked cappuccinos with extra espresso, but he preferred the straightforward coffee he would get anywhere else, so he claimed. However, you knew he liked pumpkin spice lattes. You planned to prove it the day they released them for the year.

When he came out, the bag in his hand was much larger than one that would be used for just a necklace. He smiled at the horrified look you shot him and claimed that he was given a great deal for the entire set.

While you were getting ready for the show, you realized that this was the most normal you had felt with Andy in a while. There had been tension that neither of you wanted to address, but this trip was making you realize just how stupid that tension was. One day, this was going to end. It was impractical to think an arrangement like this was going to have a long shelf-life.

Shouldn’t you just enjoy it? Being here with him was fun. You liked the city and all the noise and bustle. You also liked being with him away from home and the lives you two had created long before you met one another. This was just you two, isolated together. Normally, you couldn’t ask that of him. He had his job and he was a father and you understood that completely, but you liked this.

During the show, Andy whispered to you several times. He couldn’t wait to be fucking you. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He couldn’t wait to hear you scream and cry and beg. He placed your hand over his lap just so you could feel how hard he was.

Back at the hotel, and maybe it was because of all that he had said, you didn’t want to tease. Almost immediately, you stripped completely naked—fuck all of that expensive lingerie, apparently.

He finally gave you your diamonds. He started with the necklace and you couldn’t even be upset. It fit you so well, you loved seeing it against your skin, you loved seeing how he looked at you while you were wearing it. Then, he gave you the matching bracelet. You had said you wanted a bracelet, right? You couldn’t complain. The earrings, you told yourself, were fine because you didn’t have a pair of diamond earrings yet.

You felt weighed down by these diamonds but not in a bad way. You felt tied to him, owned like you were one of his prized possessions. It was temporary, you reasoned, so was there any real harm in that? He watched you climb off the bed he had ordered you on mere minutes ago, arching an eyebrow as you lowered to your knees before him.

Andy rarely had the patience to let you go down on him, despite loving the feeling. Mostly, his main source of pleasure came from the things he could make you feel. He also couldn’t understand what you got out of letting him fuck your mouth. You weren’t much of a fan before Andy, you could admit since you had a total of zero pleasant experiences, but you felt that this was your only way of spoiling him.

It was nonnegotiable tonight, you would throw a fit if needed. You looked up at him for a moment, almost asking for permission. But not quite, maybe more for compliance. His promise was made by unzipping his pants for you and then letting his hands fall to his sides.

You took him out of his pants and opened your mouth. Staring up at him again, you took as much of him as you could. He was fine until he felt you gag, then his jaw set and his hands became fists.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Moaning around him, you slowly pulled back. One of his hands disappeared in your hair before you could get too far. He had to keep you there for a moment, attempting to calm himself down because he could tell how much you wanted this.

He brought his hand forward, touching your cheekbone. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He slipped his fingers under your jaw and thrust his hips forward gently. He didn’t go too deep and it was at a torturous pace that he pulled out. This man’s control was one of the sexiest things about him. It made him seem so powerful and stable and that was what you craved more than anything in this world.

“Touch yourself,” he directed.

Your hand dove down, two fingers instantly burying inside your pussy. You moaned loudly around him and he cursed again.

“You want me to fuck your face?”

You nodded as well as you could.

He nodded, taking another deep breath. His hold under your face tightened just a bit, thumb and fingers pressing into your jaw. He didn’t thrust, instead, he moved you with his hand. Each time he brought you down on him, he made sure to choke you a little because he knew you liked it.

By the time he was close, your jaw was sore, made worse by his tight hold, your ribs hurt from how hard you had been gagging, the back of your throat was testament that he had lost it a couple of times, and went a bit harder than he meant to. Your entire hand was wet, your thighs shaking and your hips still rolling.

He told you to come with him, told you he wasn’t going to until you did. You pressed the heel of your palm down on your clit and fucked your hand harder. Andy brought you down as far as your throat would allow and held you there, moaning as you attempted to swallow around him.

His hand slid down to your neck and he began to squeeze when he knew you were close, hips moving fast and sloppy. You placed one hand on his thigh to keep yourself balanced, turning your gaze up to him once more.

You felt him start to spill down your throat. He moved harder, hips jerking and cock slamming into the back of your throat each time. The cum that was in your mouth was now beginning to slip out from the sides of your lips.

He pulled out before he was done, one hand in your hair to angle your head back, his other hand stroking his cock as his cum leaked out along your jaw and neck. “God damn, you are fucking gorgeous.”

You stared at him as the tip of your tongue came out to the corner of your mouth where you felt some of his cum.

Immediately, he pulled you onto your feet and shoved you back onto the bed. He was on top of you instantly, using his fingers to collect his cum off your skin so he could feed it to you. As you laid there, licking his fingers, he brought his opposite hand down to your pussy.

“I love feeling your cunt after you’ve just finished.” He teased you several times, just dipping the tips of his fingers in before he pushed two inside you.

You whimpered, lips closed around his fingers. Once he pulled them out, your mouth was free to speak, which was rarely ever a good thing when you two were in bed. “Well, are you going to get inside me, or did you need a minute?”

He arched an eyebrow—it didn’t bother him when you joked about his age, but he pretended it was grounds for true punishment. “Maybe I need several minutes, I guess I just have to keep you coming until then, huh?”

You hummed in protest.

He brought his hand up to grab your jaw, wet fingers pressing tightly into your skin. His lips hovered over yours as he asked, “You’re such a fucking brat, you know that?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re shameless. I don’t know how you got this bad.”

But he did know, and he would do whatever he possibly could to ensure that you would just get worse. Andy’s success was measured by your bratty episodes. It showed how comfortable you had become with him but also just how much you wanted him.

For the record, you weren’t accusing Andy of being some evil mastermind who had planned this whole…ordeal. That would be insane because it would imply a lot of things that you knew were simply not true about him. He wasn’t a bad person, he was actually one of the best that you had ever met.

But…he was a lawyer. He had picked up some bad habits that came along with that. That meant, that though he didn’t plan this, he was enjoying it thoroughly. In short, you were accusing him of being an opportunist.

The first time you met Andy, he had brought Jacob to that hellhole of a restaurant you used to work at. So, technically Jacob knew you, but he was on his phone the entire time and they were low-maintenance customers, so he’d maybe seen you for a total of 5 minutes over their 2-hour stay. Andy did come back and bring Jacob several times, but it was always the same. He never paid you any mind, and why would he?

So, when you “met” him, half-naked and covered in bruises and bites—something that still made you glare at Andy if you thought about it too much—Jacob already knew you. He just didn’t know you. And after that one encounter, you couldn’t imagine what he thought of you.

This made you realize just how worried you were about how temporary you knew you were. Andy hadn’t said anything so you wondered if Jacob just didn’t tell Laurie. You wondered if she would even care if he had told her. Maybe Andy did this all the time, maybe she just couldn’t be bothered because they weren’t married anymore. You had no idea because Andy rarely spoke to you about Jacob and never spoke about Laurie.

Your grand solution was just trying to avoid Jacob at all costs. Mostly, you were successful, and Andy didn’t seem to mind, per se, but he did not encourage it. He loved his son and he didn’t want part of his life to be completely unknown to Jacob, but you kind of did.

It was one terrible morning when you were a bit hungover from the night before and Andy was making breakfast. He’d just set down a plate of pancakes in front of you, kissed you on top of the head because you were letting him baby you, when Jacob came in, so you didn’t even have an excuse to leave. It would be pathetically clear what you were doing. Were you seriously scared of a 17-year-old boy?

Yes. But you could pretend you weren’t, and you would pretend. There was no other choice. It wasn’t until you were all sitting down for the world’s most awkward breakfast that Andy’s phone rang. He often got calls in the morning and you never minded. Until then.

You shot him a threatening look that he clearly didn’t take seriously. He excused himself and with each step further away, your desire to suddenly die increased.

There was more painfully awkward silence and you wracked your brain for ways to fix it. You could ask him about school, his plans for the day. But that was the easy part. How were you going to word the question casually, unforced? You didn’t have to think on that much longer because he decided to speak first.

“Is my dad your, like, sugar daddy?”

And before you were subjected to having to respond, his friends showed up. Which was great because you couldn’t have formed a response if your life depended on it. But that shock had well worn off by the time Andy returned. He was throwing out apologies and explaining that he was being given an update on one of his cases. He seemed unaware of your silence until he realized Jacob was gone.

“Where’s Jake?”

“He left with his friends.”

“Oh.” He sat down at the table and you glared. “Come on, I didn’t know he was going to be here—”

“He just asked me if you’re my sugar daddy!”

“Well, I am.”

“You are not.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Then what am I? I pay your bills, I buy you things, in return, you spend most of your free time with me. What does that make me?”

You were mad but not about the idea that he was your sugar daddy. Of course, you’d played with that phrase a few times, but it seemed so unrepresentative of your relationship. At least, to you. He clearly saw it that way, and maybe you weren’t even mad about that.

You might not have been mad at all, maybe just scared. You knew that Andy was in love with his ex-wife still and he always would be. She was this terrifying person that you’d never met that essentially held the cards to your life. You figured that if she expressed any anger towards Andy’s relationship with you, that you would be gone. You would have to go back to your life before, like when the carriage was a pumpkin. And the scariest part of that was not that you had no money. It was that you two would just be done as if you never even happened at all.

“Your boyfriend?” he pressed.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he warned.

“I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not.”

Once more, you rolled your eyes. You pushed away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen and to his bedroom.

He came in moments later after you had thrown his shirt on the bed. You were in nothing more than a pair of panties as you searched for where he’d tossed your clothes the night before. He shut the door and locked it, but you refused to respond to his tactics to make you talk.

“Get on the bed.”

You scoffed incredulously, turning over your shoulder to him with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

His hand wrapped around one of your arms and he spun you back to him. You set your hands on his chest to push him away, but he pulled you in so tight that you couldn’t move. He kissed you like it had been years since he last did so, in reality, it had been a little over an hour. It was demanding and fast, he left you no room to protest, but it wasn’t like that mattered because with each passing second, you were giving in.

His free hand slid down between your legs and you broke the kiss to moan. Your head fell back, your body pressed closer to him. It wasn’t a surrender exactly, just a promise that you would get over it and never bring it up again.

But then he said, “Call me daddy.”

You froze, turning your head back to him. “What?”

“Call me daddy,” he repeated. “You want to come? Tell daddy how to make you come.”

It was just a matter of time before it was brought up. Unbeknownst to him, it was on your mind. Unbeknownst to you, it was on his. He hadn’t been the kind for it, then he met you. There was something primal inside him that was triggered when you would whimper and whine, when you were choking on his cock and staring up at him with your beautiful eyes, when you were crying his name. And sometimes, it didn’t completely sound unlike daddy. When you were breathless and fucked good, and nearly mindless. Sometimes, it was close enough that it made him wonder what it would be like.

And you’d been curious too. Ever since he spanked you the first time. You saw Andy as this powerful, good man. He was perfect and didn’t even know it. But all of that was what everyone could see. There were these dark parts of him that made you wet just thinking about. You would never tell him, but once, just one time, he was busy and couldn’t see you one weekend. Meaning you had to take care of yourself. Your dreams were vivid and filthy, and you might have called him daddy in one…so, yeah.

“I’m not going to touch you if you can’t follow orders, princess.”

It took you a moment to find your voice, especially with the way he was looking down at you. “I…don’t know…” It felt weird, like you were admitting this terrible secret. You were aware he had asked you to, but it still felt wrong. Kind of.

“Well,” his fingers slid over you again, a teasing touch that was too light for any real relief, “do you want daddy’s fingers?”

You nodded.

“What about daddy’s cock?”

“Yes.”

“Or maybe daddy’s mouth?” He kissed your forehead first, then your cheek, and finally all over your neck. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want.”

“You know what I want,” he pointed out, pulling back to look at you. “Tell me what you want first.”

He was not letting you out of this and did you actually want him to? Andy was a complete daddy. He spoiled the hell out of, almost literally got off on taking care of you, and he was a kind, beautiful man who had no problems fucking you like he hated you.

“Will you eat my pussy, Daddy?”

Wordlessly, he sat you down on the bed and pushed you onto your back by your shoulders. His eyes on yours, he took you with his mouth over your panties and any doubts you had about this just faded away.

Your breath was shaking as he held you down, his hands gripping your arms tight. You draped your legs over his shoulders and pulled him closer. He pressed his tongue flat against you each time he licked up your aching cunt. “Oh, god,” you blurted out when you felt him at your clit.

He turned his head, nipping at your thigh. It was a prompt.

“Daddy,” you breathed, and he returned his mouth to you. “Daddy, please.”

He hummed. What are you asking for?

“Please, take them off,” you begged.

His fingers slipped under the band of your underwear and he tore them into pieces, without any skill whatsoever, as his tongue sought out bare skin. You’d heard several tears by the time his tongue was inside you.

You arched your back and grabbed a hold of his hair with both hands. He almost instantly took your hands and held them down to the bed again. “Daddy, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please make me come.”

He pulled your clit between his lips and you knew that you weren’t going to last much longer. You knew this was your biggest loss so far. He was never going to let you forget that you’d come up here throwing a fit, trying to push him away, only to beg him to eat you out.

Your hips rolled against his face, he seemed surprised for a moment, but he moaned against you, so you kept doing it. “Can I come, Daddy? Please?”

He hummed again, a confirmation.

When you moved instead of waiting for him, you could feel his beard. That was the only reason you kept canting your hips up to meet the swipes of his tongue that were toeing the line of being too good.

He let his tongue drop down to tease your entrance, earning a frustrated whine from you. Your clit wasn’t neglected for long, you felt the tip of his nose hovering just right there. So, if you were to move, if you bucked your hips just right, you discovered quickly just how to get the right kind of pressure there.

Andy loved every second of it, he loved the smell of you and the taste of you, and he knew he was never going to be a better position to indulge in both. You were wild even though he was pinning you down, you were hardly ever this desperate, this upfront with your desire. It was the sexiest thing he ever witnessed.

You finished on his tongue and he let no drop of you go to waste. He was selfish in the way he ran his mouth along the oversensitive parts of you. Before reality had even made its way back to you, he’d placed you on your knees before him. Your body was moving without your brain, like pure instinct. Your mouth opened for him before you even knew you were on the floor and you took him in as deep as you could.

He took a handful of your hair and held you in place, hips slowly, gently moving back and forth. You were gagging around him but he was letting you get used to it, telling you that you were such a good girl, reminding you how well you knew how to suck his cock, how you’d always been so good at it.

He didn’t want to come in your mouth, he just wanted to get close. He threw you down on the bed just as soon as he’d gotten you back on your feet and then he was on top of you. His hand wrapped around your neck as he slotted his hips between your thighs.

His eyes locked on yours, he slowly sunk into you. It was damn near painful the kind of restraint he was using, how he was denying you that fast kind of fucking he knew you loved. He pulled back, using his knees for balance, and kept his hold on your throat.

His thrusts were too gentle, several agonizing times, until you were squirming and whimpering. He didn’t seem concerned with what you wanted then, he merely kept his eyes moving over your body.

“Andy,” you complained.

He tsked. “Baby girl.”

“Daddy,” you corrected instantly. “Daddy, please. I need you to fuck me.”

Instead, he leaned back down and kissed you. He started at your mouth and then moved to your jaw. His hips barely moved, just enough to keep you on this edge of murderous rage. Seriously? After what you just went through? He wasn’t going to fuck you to make it up to you?

He sat back again and tightened his hand when you opened your mouth. It was the nicest way he was ever going to tell you to shut up, but he was telling you to. You were too scared to show any signs of disobedience at this point.

He pulled out and you whined unintelligibly. You received nothing more than a brief ‘hush’ before he was laying down next to you. He was on his side, propping one of your legs over his hip as he slid back into you. He lifted you up so you could lay your head on his bicep and used that arm to grab your opposite thigh, pulling it out to the side so you were completely open for him.

“Daddy,” you mewled. You couldn’t keep doing this, you needed to come. You needed him to make you come. He dragged his cock out and then shoved back in, earning a strangled yelp from you. You brought both hands up to hold the forearm that was still pressed between your breasts.

It was then that he started this horrible pattern of fucking you hard, hard, until you were just about to come. You would be shaking, begging like you never had before, promising you would never talk back to him again, and then he would just stop.

He never denied your orgasm. If anything, he just threatened to, didn’t follow through, then made weak threats that he would next time. It was a nice routine and you weren’t sure why he wanted to ruin it.

He told you to leave your thigh where it was and then brought that hand up. He started at your mouth, he ordered you to close your lips around his fingers. He was choking you still and now gagging you and you were abruptly lightheaded. He’d never given you a safe word, you were sure he never intended to go too far. The idea that he might, though… Ugh.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth and they were soaking wet because he didn’t give you the chance to swallow. He dragged them down your body, stopping to pinch one of your nipples painfully until you gasped, and then down to your pussy.

Tears filled your eyes immediately as he pressed his fingers down on your clit. He kissed the side of your face several times before stating, “I can’t keep giving you what you want if you’re going to be such a brat, baby.”

“I’m not being a brat,” you protested.

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he scoffed. His fingers began to rub circles into you.

You shot him a desperate look. “Daddy, please I need you to make me come.”

He arched an eyebrow, hips still but hand moving. “Oh, you need me to?”

“No one else makes me come like you do.” It was clear that you were just saying anything you could think to make him give in. True? Yes. But were the words sincere? Not at all, and you didn’t want him to know that. Yes, you liked spending time with Andy, you even loved fucking him, but this was not a relationship. It was an arrangement first and you had to protect yourself.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Transparent.”

You let your head fall back into the pillow with an exaggerated sigh. “Please?”

“No.”

You looked at him instantly, eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“No,” he repeated slowly.

He’d never just told you no. Maybe in a roundabout way, he’d talked his way through the fact of no, but never once had he just out and said it. You had no idea how to reply. After all, he was in charge here. If he said no, did you have to accept it?

He brought his fingers down to where your bodies were connected and pulled out completely. He dipped his fingers into you at the same time he was easing his cock back in.

You bit down on your lip, willing yourself to relax. He was always a tight fit, even without the addition of two of his thick fingers, even on those weeks when he fucked you every day, numerous times a day.

“You’re okay,” he promised. “You can take it.”

You tried spreading your legs even more, hoping that would make him easier to take.

“Good girl.” He pulled his cock and fingers out briefly before working them both back in simultaneously. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“It hurts a little.”

“But you can take it, can’t you?” He kissed along your cheekbone. “You want it, right? Because you’re my good girl.”

You were nodding before you even truly thought about it. You wanted anything he wanted to give you, in reality. You supposed this was not the exception to that rule.

He continued pulling out and teasing back in, going just a little deeper each time.

Your cunt was aching by the time you propped yourself up on your elbows to see. The sight of him inside you was sinful and delicious.

He felt you flutter around him and kissed the side of your face again. “You like when I stretch you out, baby?”

You nodded. That was exactly how you felt. Stretched. It still hurt but not in any kind of way that you didn’t like. Your cheeks were flushed since he’d been denying you a finish, otherwise, you would be blushing terribly. It was a toe-in-the-water of humiliation, you felt a little objectified, or reduced to a single body part. Again, not something you were opposed to because your mind was fucked up enough that your body would respond ecstatically to anything Andy wanted to do to it.

“Do you want another one?”

You weren’t sure, but that didn’t stop you from claiming you did. You watched the tip of his third finger collect the slick on the base of his cock and slide into you. He began pulling out and gently pushing both fingers and cock back in until he was buried several inches and two knuckles into your pussy.

“You are soaked, baby.”

Part of you hated that. How bratty could you be from here on out if you were this wet for him? If your cunt was literally begging him for more of his fingers? That was the pride part of you. The sick part of you stopped to think about how he had 7 more fingers to fuck you with, if he wanted. “Can I have another?”

He smirked. “I think 3 is enough tonight, princess. I don’t want to hurt you too much.”

“I want all your fingers inside me, daddy.”

He scoffed. “Not sure that’s possible, you’re still so tight. But I do have a little more I can give you.” As he pressed more of his fingers in, beyond that second knuckle which made you gasp and squirm because it burned, he also gave you more of his cock.

You were shaking, hand settling on his forearm once more. “Oh, daddy…I feel so full.”

“And your desperate cunt still wants more?”

“Anything from you, daddy. Can I please come?”

He didn’t answer, his hips merely began moving. He roughly fucked into you as he pulled just so with his fingers to keep you painfully stretched.

You were getting close again. That stinging sensation was starting to fade away with the building pleasure. When he angled his hand and let his thumb massage your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Daddy, please.”

“You can’t come.”

You whined. “Daddy!”

“I said no.”

You pressed your hand to his stomach to still his hips, but he paid you no mind. “Daddy, I’m going to come.”

“You better not,” he warned, but didn’t do anything to help you want that. If anything, his hips snapped a bit harder.

“Please stop, daddy,” you begged, voice pathetically small and whiny. You didn’t care how you sounded or looked, you just didn’t want to come without him letting you. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Daddy, I’m close. Please stop.”

He scoffed, free hand coming up to your face. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

You frantically shook your head. You weren’t so good that you wouldn’t come, so really, you needed him to stop.

“You don’t want to come without my permission?”

“No, daddy.”

He pressed his thumb down harder and rubbed faster, earning an unintelligible, sad sound from you. “It’s okay, baby girl, you can come. Daddy wants to feel you coming around his cock.”

You lifted your hand back up to his arm, trying to turn into his body as much as you could. He understood immediately and moved his hold from your neck to drape his arm across you, resting his hand on your back. You set your head in the bend of his neck as you started to come.

He groaned when he felt you get tighter. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I wanna feel.”

Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time you were coming. Your body had never felt relief so strong. Andy shushed you through it all and told you that you were so good and didn’t stop until he had you filled with his cum.

He let you settle before urging you onto your back. “You okay, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” You were more than just okay. You were sated and aching, you were exhausted and blissful. It had been a while since he’d spent so much time on you and you felt good, doted on, paid attention to.

He carefully pulled his fingers from your cunt, eyeing your face as he did, but then quickly took your jaw in one hand and shoved the fingers into your mouth. You instantly began sucking on them. “A few things. First, you do not roll your eyes at me. Second, you do not leave the table unless I tell you that you can. Third, do not ever walk away from me. Fourth, when I tell you to get your ass on the bed, you better get your ass on the bed. Are we clear?”

You nodded, speaking around his fingers.

“Glad to hear it.” He slowly extracted his fingers, massaging your jaw with the opposite hand. “When you can walk again, I’ll take you shopping—”

You hurriedly jumped out of bed, rushing for the shower. “I’ll be ready in an hour!”

requests to be tagged:

@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 34 - Nostalgia

Author’s Note: Happy Nayeon Day everyone ;)

---

And so you do your best to hold on as her small, tight little body writhes and quivers on the bed, burying yourself completely inside her so you could both feel every ounce of pleasure that her orgasm had to give. Her fingers dig almost painfully into your forearm; but the pain from her nails only heightened the feel of her pussy pulsating around your cock.

When she finally comes down from her high her body is a quivering, mewling mess on the bed - but the fire in her eyes is undiminished, and the conviction and determination that were always at the core of her personality takes over.

“Baby,” she says, her voice low but firm, “I want you to take me.”

“Hmm?” you ask as you bend to nuzzle the side of her face. You knew what she meant, knew what she wanted you to do - but you had to hear her say it.

“I want you to be the first.”

“The first to what, Nayeon?”

There is silence for a few moments as Nayeon reaches up to your neck, bringing you close for a brief, passionate kiss before bringing her lips to your ear.

“I want you to be the first to fuck my ass.”

---

A chorus of hushed whispers washed over the room as Nayeon’s video finished playing. Jeongyeon was the first to speak up.

 “Who are those girls? What was Irene doing with them?”

 “Kidnapping them, probably,” Seolhyun quips, a stern look on her face as she crosses her arms. “More recruits for all her bullshit.”

 “They didn’t seem like they were going with her against their will - it’s almost like Irene was helping them escape from that YG building,” Tzuyu notes.

 “Those four girls were part of YG’s Blackpink division,” Nayeon explains. “They were essentially YG’s corporate espionage division, similar to what Red Velvet does for SM. Intel has dried up on them since this video - they’ve basically disappeared.”

 “Probably because they’re dead in a ditch somewhere after Irene got what she needed from them,” Seolhyun replies, still on edge about Irene. You decide to ignore her anger for now, hoping the young woman could at least channel it into something useful.

 “Regardless of Blackpink’s current whereabouts, our next course of action is clear. We have the evidence we need to put Irene away. The only matter now is finding her and arresting her - is that correct, detectives?” you ask.

 “Yes,” Jihyo answers from her seat at the front of the conference table, “but finding her is the hard part. After our mission at SM HQ she must know we’re on to her, so she’s likely gone to ground. We each need to reach out to any sources we may have that can help us track Irene down.”

 “What about Momo?” Jeongyeon asks, turning to you, “Maybe she has leads on Irene? It seemed like they were working on something big when they rescued us. I think they were closing in on her.”

 “Yup. And those two members of Red Velvet that we just saw get captured are now on Momo’s team as well. Maybe they know something that can help us - and I’d like to know how they managed to escape YG,” you add.

 “Okay, get in touch with her and find out what they know,” Jihyo says with a nod. “The rest of us can work any other leads we have. Maybe we can comb through the data we retrieved one more time to find any possible Red Velvet safehouse locations or schedule data. We can meet again on Monday morning and form an action plan.”

 Your assembled team rises from their seats and leaves the conference room, each of you spending the rest of the day doing everything you could to track down Red Velvet’s leader.

 ---

 Summer in Seoul was being a bit like being in an inescapable oven.

 Air conditioning was almost a necessity, what with temperatures averaging around 35 degrees and flirting with nearly 40. Despite this, you decided to leave the artificially cooled interior of JYP’s Seoul office to hopefully enjoy some quiet time to yourself on the roof.

 The office was almost empty now, most of the staff running off to enjoy their Friday night. You were happy to find the rooftop completely empty, and you grabbed a seat in one of the folding chairs in the small, shaded picnic area by the hot tub - remembering, briefly, the intimate encounter you’d had with Seolhyun there not so long ago. The memory brings a smile to your face, and you quickly found yourself reminiscing about the way she’d gone down on you, and the steamy shower sex you’d had soon thereafter.

 Your eyes involuntarily close as you lean back in the folding chair, raising your feet to rest on the chair opposite. You’d brought a file of Irene-related documents with you to the roof to study, but you were happy to take a short break - and maybe a nap - in the late afternoon sunlight.

 “You never were any good at studying,” comes a female voice, one that you knew all too well.

 You open your eyes to find Nayeon standing over you. Had you fallen asleep? You shake your head and rub your eyes in an attempt to gather your wits and focus on the young woman’s pretty features as she takes a seat in one of the other folding chairs. She is wearing a simple white sundress, one that is just slightly translucent, if the hint of a dark bra beneath its clean white fabric is any indication.

 “Oh, hey,” you answer, still shaking off the cobwebs of sleep, and unable to really say anything more. You sit up in the folding chair and lower your feet to the floor.

 “Sorry, I must’ve dozed off there for a second.”

 “No problem. But really, it’s me that should be apologizing.”

 Nayeon’s face is blank, and her features don’t give any indication as to her thoughts or intentions.

 “For what?”

 “You know for what,” she answers quickly, “For leaving you yesterday, during the mission.”

 The image of Nayeon standing in that alleyway, as she debated with herself whether she should leave you there to fall into the clutches of SM, flashes before your mind. The image of her finally making up her mind and running away came to mind soon after, although that image was significantly less pleasant to remember.

 “You don’t have to apologize. I ordered you to run. It was important that we get the data, otherwise the whole thing would’ve been in vain. Momo ended up rescuing Jeongyeon and I anyway - all’s well that ends well.”

 “But you didn’t know that at the time,” Nayeon answers, “and for all you and I knew I was leaving you there to be captured - and probably tortured, or worse.”

 You look away from her for a moment, unable to meet her gaze. It was true that her running away left you and Jeongyeon to an uncertain fate - one you were lucky to escape.

 “What good would it have done? If you’d stayed you would’ve been captured right along with us. There were almost a dozen of them and only three of us. They would’ve overpowered us eventually.”

 There is quiet for a few moments as Nayeon weighs your words in her mind. She fiddles with her fingers in her lap, trying to find voice and words to the emotions inside her.

 “I would at least have known I didn’t run away when you needed me. I would have known that I stayed when you needed me - like she did.”

 The image of Jeongyeon standing next to you, a fierce look in her eyes and a length of wood in her hands, ready to go down swinging, comes back to you. She also had the chance to run, right along with Nayeon; but instead she’d picked up a weapon and made a stand next to you.

 “That’s irrelevant,” you tell Nayeon, “what happened happened. We have the data and Jeongyeon and I are okay. That’s all that matters.”

 “No,” Nayeon snaps, “no, that’s not all that matters. I ran away. And I spent the rest of the day thinking I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. It wasn’t until Jihyo got that call from you last night that I found out you were okay. I thought you could have been dead.”

 The girl looks away, the strong front she had put up slowly beginning to show cracks. Her lip quivers slightly. The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, pondering the weight of Nayeon’s words.

 “When Jihyo recruited me for this and I found out you were involved, I jumped at the opportunity,” she begins, her voice a little weaker now. “I still had feelings for you, but I wasn’t sure if they were for real. I thought if I saw you again I’d know for sure.”

 Nayeon takes a breath, as if to compose herself. She looks back out at the empty rooftop, unable or unwilling to meet your gaze.

 “And when I found out you were sleeping with all these other girls and acting like an asshole, fucking them in front of me - I thought all those feelings for you disappeared. When that girl showed up wearing that blue hoodie I bought you - I wanted to strangle you.”

 She quickly swipes at the corner of her eyes - ostensibly to remove some bit of dust, but in reality to wipe away the beginnings of a tear.

 “But last night convinced me otherwise. Thinking I’d left you there, and that I might never see you again - it convinced me I still love you.”

 “Nayeon, I-”

 “I don’t care that you’re fucking all these other girls. I don’t care about the way we broke up, or why. I just care about you. We shouldn’t have broken up. We should still be together.”

 She looks at you now, and despite the tear that has finally broken free of her eyes and has slowly begun to fall down her left cheek, she still looks defiant, proud, just the way she always was.

 “We can be together again,” she says softly.

 Silence reigns for a moment as you gather your thoughts; you would have been lying if you’d said that Nayeon’s reappearance in your life hadn’t rekindled feelings for her. You’d always thought that the reason for your breakup and the way that you did it had left things so unresolved… and you’d spent many long nights since wondering what could have been.

 “Nayeon…” you begin, unable to really find the words to say anything more.

 “You don’t have to say anything,” she states. “At least until after we get Irene.”

 “I understand,” you answer.

 Apparently satisfied with the conversation, Nayeon gives you a soft nod before quickly wiping away the remnants of the tear from her cheek. She smiles softly - a smile that seems forced, as though it took all of her strength not to simply break down in front of you. Standing up, she begins to walk away.

 “Nayeon,” you say, her name a gasp upon your lips. She turns around with an almost imperceptible sigh, as though she were hoping you would stop her.

 “Do you… like, want to get super drunk or something?”

 Nayeon laughs, and although she tries to suppress it the way someone does when they don’t quite want to laugh, she nonetheless lets the soft, musical sound of her giggle escape her mouth.

 “Yes,” she answers, “yes I do.”

 ---

 “I got 34% on that econ midterm, and I have no one but you to blame.”

 “Oh please. Cramming doesn’t work. Scanning five chapters of a textbook the night before your exam isn’t going to magically turn you into an A student. You should have studied each chapter the week it was assigned, and not five chapters the night before the midterm. The night before the midterm is for a final review of all the major concepts.”

 “If I recall correctly you had a lot to do with keeping me up the night before the midterm.”

 “Psh. As great as the sex was, saying I kept you up ‘all night’ is a bit of an exaggeration.”

 “You wanted it three times. Then a fourth time as we were heading to campus.”

 “My point still stands. You had plenty of time for studying in between sessions.”

 “Awfully hard to study when your girlfriend ties you up to a chair and fucks your brains out. You slapped me a couple of times, too.”

 “Pain brings the brain to full alertness. I wanted to make sure you were alert and ready to study.”

 “I’m not complaining. The first time was fun. So was watching you walk around naked in the room afterwards.”

 “I wasn’t just walking around the room. Sometimes I was sitting. Or lying down.”

 “On top of my textbook. Which was hot as fuck, but not conducive to effective studying.”

 “I’m pretty sure I was nicer to look at than your textbook.”

 “I don’t doubt that. I’m just saying that the time between sessions would have been helpful for some last minute review, had you not distracted me the way you did.”

 “It’s not my fault you’re easily distracted.”

 “The second time, you literally bent over the kitchen counter and shook your ass at me.”

 “I didn’t say anything - it was you that decided to get up from your studying and come fuck me. I was just minding my own business, happily making us dinner and ensuring you had the energy for your studies. It was you that interrupted me.”

 “You looked over your shoulder at me with your ‘fuck me’ look and licked your lips. If that’s not asking for it, I don’t know what was.”

 “I wasn’t asking for anything. I was just tasting the food I made, to ensure it was delicious and nutritious enough for my boyfriend.”

 “And the ass shaking?”

 “I was dancing. We were playing music at the time, if you’ll recall. Music can aid the brain with memory retention.”

 “You had a hand between your legs. You did all your cooking with your left hand. Dancing gets you that hot and bothered?”

 “I wanted to improve my dexterity with my off hand.”

 “You were wet as hell when I got to you.”

 “Is it so wrong to say that my boyfriend made me wet?”

 “I think it was the thought of me fucking you over the kitchen counter that made you that wet, and you couldn’t help but touch yourself. Still think you weren’t asking for it?”

 “You’re crazy. I don’t ask for sex. I get it.”

 “Oh, you definitely got it. And the third time - giving me that blowjob under the desk while I was studying, what do you call that?”

 “I was cleaning under the table to ensure your feet weren’t injured by sharp or pointy objects while you studied. Safety first.”

 “And so not only do you cook naked - you clean naked too?”

 “It ensures clothing doesn’t get in the way or distract me from my chores.”

 “And the blowjob in the car on the way to campus?”

 “It was to ensure you were in the right mindset for the midterm. Orgasm releases endorphins to the brain which can improve examination outcomes.”

 “So four orgasms provide the recommended daily dose of endorphins, is that correct?”

 “That’s correct. For males, at least. It’s seven for women in the same time frame - you only gave me six, unfortunately. I had to get the seventh on my own.”

 “The picture you sent me of your wet fingertips just minutes before the midterm is enough proof.”

 “I was trying to provide visual support.”

 “You were insatiable, Nayeon.”

 “Were?”

 “Am?”

 “Am. I have to admit, I liked the way we tied each other up when we fucked. That was hot as fuck. But that night before your midterm - I was left wanting a little bit more, to be honest.”

 “Four times in twelve hours wasn’t enough?”

 “No, the number of times was enough.”

 “So? What more could you have wanted?”

 “Remind me again - where did you cum?”

 “On your back once, after you tied me up. Inside you, in the kitchen. And in your mouth twice.”

 “Hmm.”

 “Hmm?”

 “If only there was another place you could cum.”

 Nayeon finishes her beer in one long gulp. She slams the glass on the table and licks her lips with the same ‘fuck me’ look she wore in that room years ago. She gathers her purse and jacket and leaves the table. You quickly drop some bills down to pay for your meal and rush after her.

 ---

Sleeping with Nayeon was dangerous, to say the least, given your history together and your current circumstances. Sex with exes always made things so complicated. 

 But when she dragged you into her hotel room and your lips and bodies crashed together, you made no effort to resist. She was so familiar, her body so well known to your lips and fingers, that all thought of stopping fled quickly out the window. You’d spent so many long nights since your breakup wondering what could have been - and more than a few nights reminiscing about her body.

 The years were kind to Nayeon - when you were in school she was a little too thin, a little less curvy - but nature and long hours in the gym had sculpted her body further, and now she was a fully grown woman, curves and delicious skin and toned muscle all coming together to create a goddess in the prime of her life.

 You raise your head from between her spread legs, your tongue and chin dripping with her juices. You lick the delicious honey from your lips, savoring her taste as you kiss a path back up her slim, firm body, delighting in her tight stomach and cute, round breasts. You reach her neck and give her a quick peck there before you give her a deep kiss, Nayeon’s tongue sliding into your mouth to taste herself.

 “You always ate me so well,” she says, her cheeks flushed from recent orgasm.

 “You always tasted so fucking good,” you answer.

 “Fuck me now,” she hisses, and you are quick to oblige, positioning yourself between her spread thighs, reaching down and aiming the tip of your stiff cock at her dripping folds. You swirl it around the slick flesh, delighting in the soft moans that leave the girl’s lips as your tip slides around her clit.

 “Stop teasing. I need it. Fuck me, please.”

 You grin devilishly as you press your tip against her opening - but your grin turns into a gentle sigh as the feeling of slipping into Nayeon’s slick, hot pussy overwhelms your senses. 

 She felt exactly the way she did back then - tight, wet, hot - and it was all a little too much to handle. When you fill her completely you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and you open eyes you didn’t know you’d closed. Your vision is filled with Nayeon’s beautiful face, her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes and lips and nose overwritten with pleasure at being filled for the first time.

 “Oh god,” she gasps, “oh god, I missed you so much.”

 She grasps the back of your neck with her hand and brings you close for a kiss - one that is desperate, and full of need.

 “I’ve missed you too, Nayeon.”

 “Fuck me now,” she hisses, “fuck me like you used to.”

 You eagerly follow her demands, and you slowly begin to pump in and out of Nayeon’s slick, tight pussy, her body tightening around your cock with every thrust in and out, lathering your length with juices that glisten in the low light. The sound of her sighs and gasps quickly rise in volume, a beautiful backdrop to the sounds of your wet shaft penetrating her slick pussy again and again.

 You quickly find your rhythm, and you almost lose yourself in the feeling of her; you knew it was partially nostalgia - you felt like a university student again, enjoying himself and his girlfriend, not yet having to worry about corporate espionage or physical danger - no, there was only pleasure here, and indulging in it. For long minutes you fuck Im Nayeon, losing yourself in the feel of her body beneath yours, her limbs wrapped around you and your ears filled with her gasps and moans.

 The sounds were amazing, but it is the sight of her beneath you - the girl you’d long that was the one that got away - fed your desire more than any drug could have. You increase your rhythm, and the words that spill from Nayeon’s lips tell you she welcomed it.

 “Oh god… yes… fuck me, baby. I’m yours.”

 You decide to surprise her, slipping out of her needy pussy for a moment to turn her on to her left side. Straddling her left leg and raising her right leg so that it is on your right shoulder, you slip into her again, sliding easily inside her body and filling her completely, the position allowing you to get even deeper inside her.

 “Oh god!” she gasps, her mouth frozen open in a soundless “o”, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. You take a moment to let her adjust to the newfound depth of your cock - but her pussy is too wet and hot and slick to fight the temptation much longer, and soon you find yourself sliding in and out of her, fucking her with a hard, strong rhythm.

 Nayeon’s body bounces deliciously with every entrance and exit of your cock sending impacts that rock her form from head to toe. Her breasts, now stacked on top of each other due to being on her side, bounce hypnotically - you grab her right mound, squeezing softly and delighting in the feel of her stiff nipple in your palm.

 “Oh god… I missed this… I missed… mm, your cock inside me! Oh… oh god, I’m cumming!”

 When Nayeon orgasms it takes every effort on your part not to simply join her in bliss - her pussy tightening deliciously around you made it all to easy to pump inside her and fill her with cum that she would have been happy to be filled with; but you knew you had to hold on, had to give her what she asked for earlier that night.

 And so you do your best to hold on as her small, tight little body writhes and quivers on the bed, burying yourself completely inside her so you could both feel every ounce of pleasure that her orgasm had to give. Her fingers dig almost painfully into your forearm; but the pain from her nails only heightened the feel of her pussy pulsating around your cock.

 When she finally comes down from her high her body is a quivering, mewling mess on the bed - but the fire in her eyes is undiminished, and the conviction and determination that were always at the core of her personality takes over.

 “Baby,” she says, her voice low but firm, “I want you to take me.”

 “Hmm?” you ask as you bend to nuzzle the side of her face. You knew what she meant, knew what she wanted you to do - but you had to hear her say it.

 “I want you to be the first.”

 “The first to what, Nayeon?”

 There is silence for a few moments as Nayeon reaches up to your neck, bringing you close for a brief, passionate kiss before bringing her lips to your ear.

 “I want you to be the first to fuck my ass.”

 When you raise your head you find a newfound determination in her eyes - that ‘fuck me’ look, magnified a thousandfold. Before it was sexy - now it was downright lustful.

 Nayeon turns her body so that she is lying face down on her stomach, spreading her legs to allow you between them. When she looks back at you there is nothing but need and lust in her eyes.

 Your cock is already slick and wet with her juices, but you take a moment regardless to spit into your palm and stroke your rock hard shaft, ensuring it is lubricated enough for what was to come. You feel your heart beating fast and hard - the anticipation made your skin tingle.

 When Nayeon reaches behind her and spreads apart the cheeks of her ass, revealing her small, tight asshole - you had to remind yourself to breathe. It takes some effort, but you soon place the very tip of your glistening cock at her entrance, and you take a moment to spit one more time, the saliva landing right where your bodies met. Using your right hand to guide your shaft, you tease her ass with your tip, lubricating it as much as you could.

 “Enough,” Nayeon hisses, her face half pressed into the mattress, “fuck me now. Fuck my ass, baby. I want you to take every part of me. I want you to fuck my ass.”

 You push forward, and while it takes some effort, you finally enter Im Nayeon’s ass.

 Her body tries to fight you every step of the way, but soon the tight ring of her ass gives way to the unyielding flesh of your cock, and eventually your tip is fully inside her. Nayeon lets out a pained gasp into the mattress, and you watch as she grits her teeth as more of you enters her.

 “Are you okay, Nayeon? We can-”

 “No, don’t stop. Keep going. I can handle it.”

 You continue to push forward, your hands caressing her back and shoulders in an attempt to ease her into it. Her tightness is almost overwhelming, her ass a tight ring of muscle that squeezes every inch of your shaft as it enters her. It might have taken a minute, it might have taken an hour - but eventually you are fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Nayeon’s ass.

 “Oh god,” she gasps at the feel of being filled, “oh god, I feel so full.”

 “Are you okay?”

 “Yes… yes, I want this. I want you in my ass. Now fuck me.”

 You withdraw your cock for the first time - and when you look down and watch every inch of your shaft appear from between the round cheeks of her ass - it is almost overwhelming. But just as wonderful is the feeling of entering her again, and finding your soft, steady rhythm as you begin to fuck Nayeon’s ass.

 “Oh, oh god,” Nayeon says, repeating that mantra, “oh god, keep going like that.”

 Satisfied that you’d found a rhythm that didn’t cause her unnecessary pain, you continue to pump in and out of her, relishing every entry and exit into and out of her young, firm body, her ass clenched tightly around every inch of you as it penetrates her again and again.

 Nayeon is the first to raise the stakes.

 “Get on your knees,” she says. You bury yourself fully inside her, drawing out a gasp of pleasure from her lips before raise yourself to your knees. Taking care to keep you fully inside her, she gets on her own knees before you, until you are both kneeling on the bed with you behind her. The newfound intimacy of this position was welcome, and you wrap both your hands around her slim torso, cupping her small, perfect breasts in each of your hands.

 “Fuck me like this,” she says softly, “fuck my ass like this.”

 You resume pumping in and out of her, the position allowing you easier access to her butt - but you are surprised to find that she is rocking back and forth on her own, driving herself back to meet each of your thrusts. For long minutes you continue to fuck, your shaft drilling in and out of Nayeon’s tight, hot ass, her body pounding back against you with each thrust. Your hands roam her tight, sweaty little body, sometimes squeezing a breast, sometimes clenched around her waist or shoulders - anything to grasp her in your arms, tighten your grip on her as though you never wanted to let her go and lose the delicious pleasure that her body was giving you.

 Nayeon breaks free from your grasp, eventually, leaning forward with her arms. She continues to push herself back onto your cock as you thrust forward - every thrust, every feel of her tight ass clenched around your shaft driving you closer and closer to orgasm. You look down, watching your wet cock slide in and out of her hole - and you think you might pass out.

 “Oh, fuck, Nayeon - that’s so fucking hot.”

 “You like it?” she says, the words a breathy hiss, “you like fucking me like this? Fucking my ass like this?”

 “Fuck yes, Nayeon… Oh! Fuck… fuck, you feel so good. I’m not gonna last very long.”

 “Mmmmm oh god… Just cum when you want to… just cum for me… cum inside me… cum inside my ass. I want you… to be the first… to fill my ass with cum.”

 You are almost ashamed to admit it, ashamed that her first anal sex experience might be too short - but her body was too overwhelming, too wonderful to fight. It was all too much - the residual feelings from your past relationship, her reappearance into your life, her beauty and sexiness and utter physical perfection, the fact that she wanted you to be the first to claim her ass - all too fucking much to resist.

 “Fuck, Nayeon, I’m cumming!” you hiss, and Nayeon’s only reply is a breathy moan that turns into a plea.

 “Yes… cum inside… my ass!”

 You bury yourself as deep as you can inside her, your hands clenching tightly around her waist and hips as you finally lose control and tumble willingly over the edge into pure bliss, your shaft pulsating as it sends stream after stream of thick, hot semen inside Nayeon’s clenching ass, the white cum painting her rectum with white.

 It might have taken you hours to recover from the stars that dazzle your vision and the feeling of lightheadedness as your orgasm overtakes each of your senses. You are only vaguely aware of slipping out Nayeon’s body, and the needy, high pitched whine that escapes her lips when you finally leave her. A trail of thick white cum soon emerges from her hole, a trickle that becomes a stream that flows down her thighs and onto the bedsheets.

 There are no more words that could possibly be said between you, and so you fall into a tangle of exhausted limbs and sweaty bodies, your arms entangled with one another. You find her cheek, bring her face to yours, and the kiss that you share makes you feel like you’d found something you’d long thought was lost.

 ---

 Nayeon was right - she was still insatiable.

 The shower you shared when you both awoke only turned into one after you’d fucked again - when she dropped to her knees and took you into her mouth you didn’t think you’d ever get around to actually cleaning yourselves. But after you’d picked her up from the shower floor and fucked her against the cool tile, you both finally managed to achieve some semblance of cleanliness - even if the sight of her wet body as she rubbed a bar of soap all over herself, your own cum still dripping from her pussy, made it difficult to concentrate on actually cleaning yourself.

 You’re the first out of the shower, and you collapse onto the bed while Nayeon finishes drying her hair in the washroom. You grab your phone off the nightstand and scroll through your messages.

 The first few texts were from Jeongyeon - memes, mostly, and one or two messages telling you she was bored, and had nothing to do; it was far too late to respond to them now, however, and you felt some momentary guilt at having missed what was obviously an invitation from her to meet up.

 Sana came next - in the form of a few suggestive photos of herself in various skimpy outfits, all seemingly from a clothing store’s dressing room; in each one she was leaning forward, giving you a good look at the tight cleavage she was so fond of showing you. “Maybe these would look better on your hotel room floor,” she said in a follow up message that was far from subtle.

 A single text from Mina surprised you and brought a smile to your lips - “I’m getting promoted to head of legal affairs at JYP,” she’d said, “so I get my choice of post. Save me a spot on your team.”

 The last message came from Momo - a simple address of a meeting place she’d chosen. You’d asked her the night before if she and her team were willing to meet to discuss the next stage in the operations against Irene. Her response was just an address and a time to be there - a far cry from the long, cutesy texts she used to send you all the time.

 You allow yourself a moment of sadness at that last thought, but it is one that quickly flees your mind when Nayeon re-emerges from the bathroom. She is naked, of course, her skin still flushed and glistening from her shower, her hair still damp and falling around her head in thin, wavy strands. 

 In her hands is a shiny object, something you were quite familiar with long ago, something you never thought you’d see again - a red leather collar, to which was attached a length of silver chain.

 She doesn’t speak a word - not when she gets on the bed, not when she straddles you, not when she places soft kisses on your body that start on your stomach and begin to trace a path up your body, until she places a soft kiss upon your lips.

 She straightens, sitting atop your lap in all of her naked glory, water dripping deliciously down her perfect round breasts and her flat stomach. She undoes the clasp of the collar with long, dainty fingers, and places it around her neck. When it is sufficiently tightened, she gathers the chain in her hands, finding the end of it with her left hand. She bends once more to kiss you, her left hand tracing a path along your right arm. When she reaches your hand, she pushes the phone in it away with her own hand.

 The phone falls over the side of the bed - and Nayeon replaces it with the end of the silver chain. She bends her head, kissing your cheek, before bringing her lips to your ear.

 “How would you like to take me, master?”