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smallerinfinities · 4 years ago

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mad woman: iii (nessian)

a/n: *taps mic* does this thing still work? OH hey! hello! yes, this fic is properly old now and probably everyone thought I abandoned it but joke is on everyone including myself lmao...turns out I love these two..and after acosf well I would 10/10 die for them. so here we go! a ride to be sure! people do be getting naked!

warnings: 4.8k of smut (like woah). language. guilt.

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone in certain social circles knew the truth about Hewn City. Knew the dance club for the front it was for the shadowy bowels beneath. Here, she had thought yesterday morning, here she could be on even ground with him.

Him.

Cassian's hand was still in hers as she led them both down the long hallway toward room 3B. His words before hadn’t completely hidden his reactions to her clothes, her face, her body. She smiled to herself remembering the slight widening of his eyes. He probably thought he hadn’t reacted, but she knew. All men are weak. Just put on a dress and show some thigh and she knew she’d get his attention. Even if it was probably all for show. Cassian was a fine actor.

She thought back to four days ago. Or was it five, she thought. They had started to bleed together after the bender she’d gone on after wishing Cassian death on the phone with Amren.

Feyre was in her apartment for the second time in a week. An unprecedented occurrence. If the judgment in her eyes was any indication, she had come to check on things. Baby sister coming to her rescue. How rich. She stood on the carpet again, with her perfect heeled sandals and her tidy camel trench coat. Thankfully, she’d left the hat at home this time. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest as she surveyed the room.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home again,” she observed, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin, “I’ll send Alis this afternoon.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my fucking apartment, Feyre,” Nesta cringed at the lingering slur in her voice.

“So you can drown yourself in this shit alone?” She held up an empty bottle of vodka in her other hand. “Nesta, it’s only been a few days since I was here the last time. Can you even stand right now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta sneered, settling back into the couch cushions. She couldn’t, but Feyre was a bitch for even asking, so she spat back, “At least I cope with my problems legally, High Lady.” In a fantasy world, smoke would have curled from her lips when she exhaled those last words.

Feyre stilled, breathing evenly. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was containing her rage or accepting the shame she had to be feeling.

“I see you gave Amren a call.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Nesta was surprised. Amren had seemed like one of Feyre’s inner circle, no matter how much money the High Lord and Lady may have given her.

“No, I told Amren that what you did with her number was your business,” she wrung her hands. She was….nervous. How odd. Feyre Archeron was a lot of things, but nervous was rarely one of them.

“Well,” Nesta exhaled, the anger fleeting like wind taken out of her sails, “yes, I called. Everything was very cryptic until someone showed up here who was not a therapist and started taking his clothes off. Honestly, what were you thinking, Feyre?!”

“I…” she hesitated, sinking down on the other end of the couch with Nesta, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I don’t know. I was desperate. I just want you to feel something again, Nes.” She hadn’t called her that since they were children. Nesta felt a little pang in her chest. I need another drink. “I know it’s...unconventional, but it really does help. Rhys and I...well, you know there’s a lot of stress involved in our lives.”

“So you fuck it out with strangers that you pay to keep silent??” Nesta asked incredulously.

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot seedier than it actually is, but,” she huffed, swallowing back some kind of emotion, “yes. There’s a lot of….relief, if you just give into it. Amren knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you and Rhys having problems?” It was the only explanation Nesta could understand for this. I mean it was one thing to hire a hooker if you weren’t getting any, but from the forced lunches and “sister dates” that Elain made the three of them go on, Feyre had always seemed to have a very active sex life.

“Oh, God, no,” Feyre visibly relaxed, caught off guard by even the implication. That made Nesta’s stomach relax. She hadn’t even realized she cared. “Rhys and I are fine, stronger even. There is power in giving up power, especially when you grapple with it on a daily basis. But this isn’t about me or Rhys.” Feyre leaned over and reached out to take Nesta’s hands, but stopped when Nesta visibly tensed at the mere idea of contact. “I’m really not lying when I say I think a little relief would help you.”

“Why do you insist I need help?” Nesta ground out through her teeth.

Feyre sighed and stood. There was something settling over her face, deep in her eyes. Sadness. “Suit yourself, sister.” She stood and, to Nesta’s surprise, took a swig from the half-empty gin bottle she’d pushed in Nesta’s face earlier. Her face screwed up in a grimace, “Jesus, how do you drink that shit?”

“I don’t even taste it anymore.” Nesta looked off, toward the window. Toward the empty corner where the wedding dress had hung for months. She’d taken it down that night after he had left.

That bone-deep sadness returned to Feyre’s eyes, “Alis will be here this afternoon.”

She left without another word.

Nesta sighed, catching Cassian’s attention, but she said nothing. She kept a steady flow of booze in her veins after Feyre left for three more days, sometimes just laying in bed for hours while the world spun. She saw Tomas, saw Elain, but most often she saw hazel eyes and bold, dark lines inked across a broad, tanned chest. Those were the torturous hours, when the desire would rise in her, when she would feel something just like Feyre said. Even if it made her soul burn. He was haunting her. He’d left her alone, angry and wet, for what? Because she refused to accept his “help”? Wasn’t this all just fucking anyway? What difference did it make how she responded?

The frustration had overwhelmed her until she finally realized that it didn’t matter how much she drank, he wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t chase him into a whiskey-soaked oblivion like she could the memories of her fiancé and her sister. He was real. He was still breathing. He was making her life a living hell.

He was going to pay for it.

So, she’d called Amren back. Had made him meet her here of all places. Had put on a dress and a pair of heels and more makeup than she’d been planning to wear at her own wedding. A costume. A mask. If he was going to “help” her, at least it wouldn’t seem like her that he was helping. She’d fuck him out of her life on her terms. Just once wouldn’t damn her to hell, right?

Nesta had never been to Hewn City before. Clubbing had never been her style. She was more of a library, bookworm kind of girl. But now that she was here, she kind of liked the secrecy of it all, the discretion everyone had whispered about. It made her feel like a character in one of her books, a different kind of escape than booze offered, with the rouge-tinted lights and shadowy, padded hallways. She could be anyone here. She would be anyone here. Anyone but herself.

“I think this is it,” Cassian’s deep rumble sounded behind her. They stopped in front of a painted black door, the marker flickering “3B” in the light of the candle sconce behind them. Nesta fit the key into the lock and turned it.

The room was cooler than the hall, but she wasn’t sure the temperature was what made her break out in gooseflesh. There was a massive four-poster bed in the center of the room covered in black satin sheets drawn back against a deep crimson comforter. Only a handful of hanging exposed bulbs lit the space, giving the boudoir decoration some industrial finishes. It was like a scene out of some vampire film noir. The light reflecting off heavy restraint cuffs at each corner of the bed only heightened the effect. A dark armoire loomed in the corner. Nesta was sure that if she opened it, she would find any number of instruments with which to tease and taunt Cassian with. This place was a sex dungeon and she had paid to be a mistress tonight.

Cassian’s mistress.

Nesta took a deep breath and settled into this new character, some confident woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to take it from a willing participant. She sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned back against it to look at him. He was so quiet tonight, looking around the room like she had, taking it all in.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nesta proded.

“No,” he hesitated, stuffing his hands into his front pockets like an embarrassed school boy rocking forward on his toes. It only lasted for a second before he hid it behind a smirk, “no, just a little….confused?”

“About what?” She crossed her feet at the ankle and let the deep slit on her dress fall open, revealing almost every inch of her long legs. His eyes widened momentarily before he cleared his throat. Was he….nervous?

“Well, uhh,” he was stammering now, the false bravado unable to keep up with the situation unfolding in front of him, “if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what to do.”

“You mean, Cassian, self-proclaimed sex therapist, doesn’t know what to do?” The teasing in her voice blushed his cheeks pink, “well, color me surprised. I thought it would have been clear by now.”

“It’s not that it’s...you’re…” he cocked his head, “different.” His eyes followed every inch of bare skin from her painted toe to the top of the slit an inch below her hip. “Something changed.”

Why does he make this so damn difficult?

“Yes, well,” she replied, biting her bottom lip for effect, “I decided that I want you to help me.” His head straightened.

“Do you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps. His nervous energy cooled in seconds, giving way to something else, something that had been simmering beneath the ice.

“I do,” she slipped back a little farther onto her palms, tilting her head back. She was a predator, setting a pretty, needy trap for him. If he got off on a savior complex, she’d play the part until she got what she wanted. “I just want to feel normal again.” She smiled internally as she watched her words wash over him. Watched him take a few deep breaths, watched him move for the first time since they walked in the room.

He kept his body closed, his arms a barrier between the two of them, as he stalked forward. Nesta stopped breathing, feeling his gaze shift from confusion and questions to calculated assessment. He paused in front of her and bent down, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her slim waist. The space between them was thinner than the air atop the mountains in Illyria.

“I think…” he looked her in the eye, no blinking, no touching, just a wisp of mint from his mouth, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

A rush of fury, so white hot it blinded her, licked down her arm. She raised her open hand and ripped it through the air.

Only to be caught in an iron grip.

“Ah, ah, dear Nesta,” his lips curled up on one side, “I like a little pain with my pleasure, but not without my consent.”

All she could do was stare him down as she huffed, imagining the breath leaving her nostrils in puffs of hot smoke. A caged dragon in pretty clothes begging to get out. But hell would freeze over before she moved first. She could feel the tension between them, feel the electricity pulsing through him where his fist gripped her wrist. Maybe it was her pheromone-laced delusion but she thought he might want this as much as she did. He wanted her challenge, her adamant wall. He wanted to break her, remake her. Little did he know that you can’t break what’s already broken.

Just a character, just a role to play...

“Oh, come on, Cassian,” she tried to free her hand but he remained hard as stone around her wrist. He hadn’t pinned her legs though. She slid one bare leg up the inside seam of his jeans. The muscles flexed and contracted underneath the well-fit fabric, higher and higher, until she reached the apex. He hissed. A feline smile spread across her face when she felt it, felt him, hard and begging for her. “I think you want this a little more than you’re willing to admit, more than you’re allowed to admit.”

His nostrils flared, barely imperceptible, but even the smallest changes in him drew her notice. Why? It was a question she didn’t want to even ask herself, but it kept coming, night and day. Why did this night feel like the edge of a dangerous cliff? Why did his agreement to come tonight feel like more than just a business arrangement? Why did the tension between them feel like her only anchor to this life? She pressed harder into him, needing to move, to get this over with, to fuck him right out of her head.

“Nesta.” His voice brought her back from those questions that haunted her like the inked lines hidden underneath his t-shirt. So close now, so close to her fingers, her mouth. She looked up at him, aware of her knee still cradled between his legs.

“Cassian.” Her voice practically sang. The song of his own personal siren.

He was so still. If he hadn’t said her name she wouldn’t have been sure he was even breathing. He placed his hand between his groin and her knee and stepped backward. His pupils were wide, endless pools, black as tar and eating at the hazel surrounding them. He was drunk on the lust, drowning in it just like she was.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off.”

A bone-deep shiver ran from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the command, reaching back up to settle between her thighs. She flushed from the heat of his gaze on her skin as she stood, reaching behind her neck to loose the three pearl buttons between her pride and her desire. Fuck it. The dress pooled at her feet.

The corner of her lip tugged upward when she heard his breath catch. She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. Lingerie had felt like too much and her regular cotton cheekies would have been too conspicuous beneath her close-fitting dress, so nothing had been the only choice. The right choice if Cassian’s jeans had anything to say about it, clearly growing tighter by the second.

Nesta backed herself onto the bed again, digging in with her heels to push herself toward the headboard as gracefully as she could while burning alive. And she was burning under his gaze. Every flick of his dilated pupils, from her bare legs, to her full breasts, to her smooth stomach, to her glistening cunt, she burned. When her head thudded against the carved cherry wood headboard, his eyes finally met hers. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

“See something you want, Cassian?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone innocent, indifferent.

“Depends, Nes.” She ignored the heat that pooled at the nickname, especially when he said, “what are you offering?”

She bit her lip at his words. And spread her knees open for him. Now, come and take it.

He went wholly still as pink creeped into his tan cheeks. He was fucking blushing at her cunt on display for him. A filthy thought entered her head and before she could shut it down, she reached between her legs and traced a finger over her slit. The low lights flickered in the reflection off the wetness laced there before her finger disappeared….

Right between Nesta’s wine-colored lips.

His eyes tracked that finger in and out of her mouth as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it, moaning at the taste of her arousal, the eroticism of the gesture. She released her finger with a pop and smiled wickedly at him.

“Want to taste?”

Cassian moved swift as a thunderclap, as if her words were paddles jumpstarting his heart into quick, heavy beats. He pulled off his shirt. Those thick, black lines of ink that haunted her dreams were on full display, curling around his biceps and across his broad shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her tongue, taste the salt on his skin. He didn’t bother with some cliché striptease. His fingers fumbled with his belt, fumbled with the top button and zipper of those tight jeans. He tripped out of them, splaying his hands across the rumpled comforter as he kicked his pants somewhere across the room, losing his shoes and socks at some point between.

She would have smirked at the clumsiness, questioned his self-proclaimed prowess as a sex therapist, if her throat hadn’t gone completely dry at the size of him. Even through his underwear there was no mistaking it—massive, just like every inch of the rest of his body. Of course, he had a cock to match.

He grinned, following her eyes, guessing her train of thought. The bed dipped as he crawled toward her, full prince of cats on display again. A man who knew what people saw when they looked at him and enjoyed that power, that raw sexual energy dripping from his every pore. With that glint in his eye, she was happy to play along—for now.

Every thread in the expensive duvet cover beneath her set a thousand sparks rocketing across her skin. His movements were measured, purposefully kept from touching her skin. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him with every inch forward, every inch toward where she wanted him. All of him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Nesta started to fidget with anticipation, ready for him to spread her open and take, take, take, but she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t reach or claw or whimper, no matter how much she wanted to.

Feyre might be paying, but she would own him before the end. Even if she had to sacrifice her soul to do it.

When his mouth finally made contact with her skin, a whisper of a kiss along the inside of her thigh, it was a struggle not to moan. Loud. She was strung tighter than a bowstring and he knew. Her traitor body was going to beg for him with or without words, so she opened her mouth instead.

“Gonna fuck me senseless, Cassian?”

His head jerked up from between her thighs, that feline smile turning her molten. “You know, Nesta. I think I’ll shut you up instead.”

Someone as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to move that fast. Shouldn’t have been able to cover her entire body with his and claim her mouth between one second and the next. His hands curled behind her neck to pull her firmly to him and devoured her. Their tongues clashed, dancing together, as she moaned into his mouth. Whether it was surprise or pleasure or both that pulled it from her, she wasn’t sure. The mint and adrenaline still laced his tongue, this time with a natural smokiness that she hadn’t noticed before. He licked at her, sucked at her lower lip. She nipped at him, teeth as much a weapon as her words, her hands. She dragged her nails down his naked back and drew a hiss from him, maybe some blood too if the tang of iron was any indication.

It only spurred him.

“You know these lips taste better when they’re not liquor-stained,” he panted. He studied her face, she knew it must be flushed from his kiss, and slowly ground his hips into hers, with the same bruising intensity he claimed her mouth, drenching himself in her through the thin fabric of his underwear. Those really need to disappear. Her fingers continued their violent path down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, the only barrier left between everything she wanted. Wanted, never needed. They danced around to the front of him and sought purchase.

Another moan, loud and throaty filled the space between them.

My God.

“Off, off, off, off,” she was chanting when he finally released her mouth to move down to her neck, surely to mark her like she’d marked his back. It was going to be tit for tat with him. “OFF,” she clawed at his hips. He raised up and smirked at her.

“You just have to ask, Nes.” His lips curled to the side, “maybe say please.”

She held his gaze. Please. It was a chant in her head but she couldn’t say it. He saw it there, the challenge, the struggle, but this was a battle of wills. And Cassian was a seasoned general.

He ducked his head and nosed at her jaw, along her throat, peppering her skin with close-mouthed kisses. “Just say the word,” he ground into her again, not nearly the friction she wanted. His hands found her peaked breasts and traced her nipples, slow circles at first, then quick pinches accented by his teeth at her throat. There was no pattern, no guessing, no preparation. Every nerve ending was a live wire, screaming for his touch.

Nesta Archeron was going to die here. The flames in her belly were going to consume her and she was going to die at a high-priced sex club. And maybe she should. It might be worth it. Rhysand would never live it down. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for an orgasm. But, as his hips did another slow roll against hers and he scraped at her neck with his teeth, her resolve imploded.

“Please,” she croaked. She felt his smile against her skin.

“What was that?”

“Please,” she said a little louder, still barely a whisper.

“That’s awfully quiet, Nesta,” he licked at her collarbone and made her eyes roll back into her head. “Makes me think you don’t really want it.”

“Please,” she repeated, her head thrashing, “please, PLEASE.”

“Okay, okay,” he pushed up to lean back on his heels above her. “No need to shout.” The tease in his voice forced an impatient growl from her. He cocked an eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic waistband on his underwear, slowly pulling it down below the defined V set low on his abdomen, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin, until finally they were gone and there was nothing left between them but sexual tension and a promise of release.

Her eyes raked down his muscled body, unable to keep her hand from reaching to touch the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, reaching lower. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“Uh, uh, princess,” her cheeks flamed as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss on her palm, “it’s my turn.”

She blinked and his mouth was on her. His hair, tufted at the back of his head, bobbed between her legs as he lapped up the wetness that had been pooling since they started their games tonight. Since he first leaned against her door frame, if she was being honest with herself. His lips wrapped around her clit and when he moaned around her, she saw stars. Her toes curled. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Her knees bent to capture his head forever between her thighs but he caught them before she could crush him with the force of her pleasure.

It might have been hours, days. He held her spread open and licked and suckled and fucked her entrance with his tongue. Careful, slow strokes to stoke the fire ripping through her veins but not enough to send her to her peak. Her thighs began shaking; her fingers knotted into his hair and held his mouth against her. His name was a holy chant in this unholy place.

“Cassian,” she sobbed as a tear rolled down her temple and into her sweat-soaked hair.

He groaned and release ripped through her. Waves of pleasure locked her body in a silent scream, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. He kept stroking her through it, his tongue undulating against her clit over and over as her body jerked involuntarily once, twice before relaxing completely, melting into a warm, soft puddle of flesh.

There were no words. No thoughts. Nothing inside her head except for the truth of it. No one has ever made her feel like that, forced that kind of pleasure from her. Her harsh breaths were the only sound in the room as Cassian traced patterns on her inner thigh. She blinked furiously, clearing her eyes of any emotions that might betray her. Looking down, she caught his eye and his answering smile made her forget her own name.

He was looking up at her, his cheeks pink from the heat and pressure between her thighs. His hair was a fucked out mess. He looked...content. As if her orgasm was all he wanted, like he could do it again and again and not care if she ever touched his cock even though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

But...what if he doesn't want that?

She tensed suddenly. He was an escort after all. This wasn’t his choice. What if all of this is just an act? She knew she shouldn’t care. She was a paying customer and shouldn’t care what he wanted. What his desires were. She should just take her pleasure, satiate her own desire, and leave. That had been the plan when she came here. Hell, she had just been acting when this all started.

Until he gave her the best orgasm of her entire fucking life. Until he called her on her bullshit, got naked, and got on his knees for her. Until he made her gasp his name and fucking cry for the privilege.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—

I don’t deserve this.

Her breath caught in her throat. I need to get out of here.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. Her fingers caught on the restraints attached to the headboard and she recoiled. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? Cassian jerked up from between her legs at the motion, the perfect window for her to rip her legs from his vicinity and swing them to the floor.

“Nesta, what’s wrong?”

She heard him, confused, still panting, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him. The panic was bitter, the taste in stark relief to Cassian’s tongue. Stop! Where is my fucking dress? Her head swiveled frantically. A slip of navy stuck out from under the armoire in the corner. She lurched forward, grabbing and pulling on the dress that barely covered her ass, left nothing to the imagination. What have I done?

“Nesta, what is happening?” Cassian was louder this time. Loud enough to draw her eyes. He was leaning on one elbow, wide-eyed and still painfully hard. At this angle, she could see the angry red marks across his shoulder, darkening with dried blood in some places. A damning souvenir for what she had done. A claiming.

She couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. A betrayal.

“Was—” he sat up and leaned on his knees, “was it not good?” Some unfamiliar emotion danced across his eyes as he waited. She stared and stared and stared. “Did I—“ he kept hesitating, “did I not make you feel good?”

It was the doubt, thick and traitorous, in his voice that made her silently turn around and walk out the door.

------ *runs away*

tags: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron @awesomelena555 @mysticalunicole @lordof-bloodshed @courtofjurdan

#acotar #acosf #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #sjm #sarah j maas #nessian #nessian fic #nessian au #acotar au #acotar smut #my writing

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winetae · 4 years ago

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wall to wall (m.) 02

— female reader x hoseok

— smut, porn star!au

— sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification, role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, anal sex, sex toys, face fucking, double penetration, erotic massages, humiliation, degradation, porn star type dirty talk, squirting, creampie, lots of cum (and oil!)

— 19.7k

…

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action! collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | part 2 is finally here ! ! ty to jordan who has encouraged me literally every step of the way and to ella for supplying a never ending amount of hoseok gifs and pics when i most needed it :’) i’m sorry again for cutting the chapter into two parts but seeing as this entire chunk only amounted to 1/3 of my outline for part two it’s safe to say i would have never finished this fic otherwise ;;

(!) if you are particularly sensitive to humiliation/ degradation then maybe u should skip the smut scene bc jdjffjkfkddkd cries in tears of heaux

SCENE 03 - PULP FRICTION. TAKE 02. ROLL A.

It’s hard to guess how a project will be perceived by the general public. Sometimes a xxx feature film everyone believed would do well sells less than expected, and with online pirating becoming such a rampant and common occurrence, it’s harder to measure the impact of your work. Views and numbers are no longer a reliable indicator of one’s popularity. You’re lucky that you’re signed under such a big talent agency because at least you’re guaranteed regular paychecks, regardless of how well you perform. But to survive in this industry you’re conscious that you need more than that.

According to Seokjin and his expert advice, fans are the ones who will keep an adult entertainer’s career afloat for longer than the average six months. It doesn’t matter how good-looking or well endowed an actor is; if fans aren’t interested and invested, there’s a slim chance that they’ll pay money from their own pockets to view your work. And in order to build such a strong and dedicated fan base, you need one of several things: regular content and an active social media account.

It’s a careful line to tread; not enough online interaction can make people lose interest, but so can overexposure.

You’re patiently waiting for what Seokjin baptizes “The Big Breakthrough” - the decisive project that will propel you into superstardom. None of your videos have ever garnered that type of traction, however, and you’ve been stuck repeating the same old recycled scenarios of plumbers/pizza delivery boys coming over to get the fuck of their life.

When your latest video is uploaded online, you do your best to steer clear from social media. As much as you want to see what people think of your performance, it’s too nerve-wracking to deal with on an empty stomach. You know that if you begin scrolling through the comments, you’ll spend all day glued to your phone, constantly refreshing the page to check for feedback.

And while you aren’t the type of person who lets negative opinions affect your morale, you are nonetheless worried that your time in the industry is about to run out. Lately, the thought lingers ominously in the corners of your mind.

In times like these, exercise is one of the best distractions, second to maybe sex.

Pia, the yoga instructor, walks you through several routines, bending your body this way and that, until your head feels pleasantly blank, devoid for once of any stress and self-doubt. The hour long hot yoga class puts your overthinking mind to rest. In that moment even the notion of time ceases to matter.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

The instructor turns off his meditation playlist while the room empties out, soft chattering replacing the chirping of birds and the sound of cascading water. Slowly, mind still fuzzy around the edges, you gather your belongings and head straight to the vending machine to get a much needed dose of caffeine.

As you dig around the contents of your purse for spare change, someone comes up from behind and taps your shoulder.

“Eep!” You catch your bag before it can slip from your grasp. “What—”

“Shit, sorry!”

When you spin around, hands clutched protectively over your chest to keep your heart rate steady, you don’t expect to come face to face with Hoseok, of all people.

He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to give you a scare. I, um, recognized you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

Now that the initial shock has faded, you’re free to admire the sight in front of you without any distractions.

As handsome as Hoseok looks under the bright studio lights with his hair styled and make-up applied, there’s something undeniably appealing about the way he appears now - with his hair mussed up and sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips. While you normally prefer someone who puts more effort into their appearance, there’s something attractive and unpretentious about his casual demeanor that intrigues you.

Heat surges to the apple of your cheeks when you realize that you’re being too blatant with your ogling. Your eyes settle on his face - a safe zone, one that won’t cause any misunderstandings. It’s a nice sight to look at. Hoseok’s face is pretty, the absence of powder and contour not taking away from his handsomeness in the least. His skin glows in a way that can only be achieved post-workout or after an intense orgasm.

This train of thought brings you down a slippery slope. All too soon, your mind supplies images of his long cock filling you up over and over and over again, his lips whispering praise and filth in the same breath. Your gaze flits to his mouth as you recall how red and swollen they’d been after kissing you senseless, how sticky and wet they’d felt against your own, the taste of your own succulence bleeding into your mouth as your breaths intermingled.

“You’re - yes.” You clear your throat, embarrassed by the way you’d quickly let your thoughts spiral out of control. “It’s fine, you just - caught me off guard. How’ve you been?”

Since you last dicked me down, goes unsaid.

“Just finished teaching a class a few minutes ago. I’ve got a 30 minute break before the next one starts.” He checks his watch. “Well, eleven minutes now.”

“You teach here?” You raise your brows, taken aback by his revelation.

Not that it isn’t uncommon for adult entertainers to work two jobs - or more. You’ve run into a variety of cases since joining the industry. Some do porn on the side, as a hobby or as a way to make a quick buck. They quit the moment porn becomes tedious or when they’ve made enough money to pay back their loans. For you, however, it’s not like that. What started off as amateur cam work has now become your whole life. You can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means going against your family members’ wishes. They could go suck on a rancid cock, for all you cared.

“Yep, sure do. I teach the morning Pilates class on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Funny how I’ve never run into you before, huh?”

He takes a few coins out of his left pocket and inserts them into the vending machine. “Here, get whatever you want.”

“You don’t—”

“My treat.”

You want to argue but Hoseok’s too beguiling for his own good. It doesn’t take much for you to be won over; Hoseok’s smile widens and you’re a goner.

It’s that easy.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve seen each other naked before or if the earlier yoga session has successfully weakened your defenses, but you’re not as wary as you usually would be around people you don’t know well. Distrust runs in your veins yet something about Hoseok has you lowering your guard.

Based on your observations, there’s nothing calculated behind his gestures and mannerisms. The blinding grin, the jokes, the way people easily get pulled into his magnetic field - it’s not a facade or an act or a fluke. It’s just the way he is.

Hoseok leans against the vending machine and watches you press in the numbers for your order. From the corner of your eye, you see him studying your profile with a degree of intensity that makes you self-conscious. You swallow down the urge to fidget.

And it’s - silly. He’s seen you bare and at your most exposed, has kissed and touched the entirety of your body from head to toe, but this quiet moment feels strangely intimate, more so than when he’d slid his cock inside of you for the first time. Perhaps it’s due to the absence of cameras and prying eyes or the knowledge that right now you’re both real people, stripped of your porn star persona exterior.

Your eyes meet.

There’s nothing predatory or hungry about his gaze. The passion and the love he’d expressed so naturally during your filmed scenes are no longer detectable. Right now he’s Jung Hoseok, not a character with a role to play. This is all him - the dark circles, the relaxed smile, the slight slouch in his shoulders.

“About—” He clears his throat. “About the other day. The guy that was with you...”

You know without needing clarification who and what he’s talking about. You run your tongue across your row of teeth, wiping away the cheap coffee’s aftertaste, and nod for him to continue.

“He give you a hard time?” Hoseok’s eyes don’t stray from yours. He looks concerned. Serious. “Afterwards I - I regretted leaving so soon. I didn’t want to - I wasn’t sure. But, regardless, I should have made sure you were okay before leaving you alone with him.”

“Oh.”

Realization sinks in. Your eyes widen and you splutter, flustered. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. Jimin - he’s my boyfriend.”

It’s hard to appreciate the concern when all you feel is shocked that someone could misinterpret your relationship for a perverted staff member preying on an unsuspecting porn actress. Although it’s unfortunately common practice in the industry, it’s so far removed from what you share with Jimin that you’re at a loss for words.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Hoseok immediately rubs his face in embarrassment. “I thought - sorry. I’m a dumbass. Ignore me.”

“It’s -” You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

An awkward silence ensues.

You occupy the void by sipping on the bitter vending machine coffee, your eyes glued to your toenails peeking out the top of your sandals. Any other time, you’d fret over the chipping nail polish and rush to schedule an appointment at the nail salon, but your thoughts are so jumbled up that you can barely string a coherent sentence together.

Jimin - he isn’t anything like what Hoseok’s implying. Implied. You know this. But the fact that someone could mistake him as such doesn’t sit right with you. You want to defend him but at the same time you don’t know what to say.

“I just,” he sighs, breaking the silence. “I’ve seen it happen before. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. I guess I’m too paranoid for my own good. I hope I didn’t offend you too much. Or him.”

“No - I’m - I understand.” You give him a small smile to let him know you don’t harbor any ill feelings over the mistake. Hoseok seems so genuinely sorry about the entire situation that it’s impossible to hold it against him.

It’s possible, you think. To misinterpret your relationship with Jimin. The situation back then had been so tense - you remember that better than anyone. Given the context, Hoseok had every right to be mistrustful, especially when no one had bothered to set the record straight.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“There’s no harm done.” You hesitate before continuing, “I’m that way too, you know. I tend to think the worst of people when I probably shouldn’t. I thought - I was worried about you at first, too. When we met. Not because - it wasn’t anything against you personally. I’m just distrustful. But I’m glad - that it was you and not someone else.”

His posture relaxes. “Thank you. I’m glad that it was you, too. And that I was able to prove you wrong about me. With the shit you hear and see happening on set… I don’t blame you for being on your guard.”

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll - oh. I think someone’s calling you.”

Hoseok follows your line of sight to where a small group of his students are huddled behind the glass panel separating the Pilates classroom from the hallway leading down to the changing rooms. They’re all female and look around your age, maybe younger. The one who had been waving her arms wilts under the attention of her teacher, blush high on her cheeks, while her group of friends dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Ah. That’s my cue.” Hoseok sighs in apology, the corner of his lips tugged downwards into a pout. “Sorry. Would’ve loved to get coffee and catch up but alas. Duty calls.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll hold you up to that. And it’ll be proper coffee next time! Promise.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree easily. “I’ll buy.”

He looks somewhat offended. “What - no, that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s only fair.” You gesture at the half-empty plastic coffee cup still warm against your palm.

Hoseok opens his mouth to object but a short-haired woman pokes his head out the open door. “Yo, teach! Wasn’t class supposed to start five minutes ago?”

“I’m coming!” Hoseok shouts back, waving his student back inside. “Arrogant brat.”

“Go, go!” You urge, holding yourself from physically pushing him towards the classroom. His group of students look like they’re willing to jump you if you keep hogging his attention.

“We’ll Rock Paper Scissors it!” He says while jogging backwards. “Gotta run but see you around, yeah?”

Your lips pull into an amused smile as you watch him retreat back to his classroom. Through the glass panel, you can see the horde of girls flock around him, each vying for his attention in different ways. You’re especially impressed by how one almost succeeds in drowning Hoseok in her generous cleavage.

The sight of Hoseok dealing with thirsty college girls is so ridiculous you can’t help but giggle. You’re tempted to attend one of his classes just to watch them all trip over each other in an attempt to seduce him. Maybe you could even learn a thing or two.

With that thought in mind, you leave the gym center in high spirits, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle on whatever hurdles the day decides to throw your way. You hum along to a top 40 hit they constantly play on the radio and decide to stop by your favorite restaurant to get take-out before heading home.

As you get into your car, you turn on your phone you’d disregarded all morning and are immediately notified of five missed calls and several unread text messages. More than half are - unsurprisingly - from your agent. You’re tempted to ignore him for an hour or two longer but you know how he gets once his patience runs thin.

“Don’t tell me you were out with Jimmy again,” Seokjin groans once you decide to call him back.

“I was with Hoseok, actually.”

“Hoseok?” Seokjin instantly perks up on the other side of the line. “As in, Jung Hoseok? J-Hope? Your baby daddy? That Hoseok?”

You contemplate ending the call.

Begrudgingly you concur, “Yes. That one.”

“Oooooh. Do tell,” he eggs, the smugness in his tone so thick that you can visualize it.

“It wasn’t - whatever scandalous thought you’re thinking. He works at the gym I go to. What are the chances, right?”

“What are the chances indeed.” Despite the lack of juicy gossip, he sounds pleased. “The news I rang you for earlier involves him.”

“How so?”

“Your video with Hoseok has been the number 1 trending video on Bang Gang’s home page since this morning!” He squeals, enthusiasm making the volume of his voice raise by a notch. “People are eating that romantic insemination stuff for breakfast and lunch. The views on this are insane! We haven’t gotten such a big reaction since the Agust D teacher-student role play and that was ages ago.”

“Wh- Are you serious?!”

Unable to contain the elation that surges through your chest, your face breaks out into a giant grin.

You’re admittedly the first to say that the number of views doesn’t equate to one’s talent or prowess in bed, but you also can’t completely disregard what this particular achievement implies...

While belonging to a reputable agency has its perks, it also entails continuous competition with big names. Your coworkers are also your competitors. Every month the most successful porn stars are rewarded and praised, whilst the ones who rake in the least amount of views are cast aside and are fated to fade into anonymity.

As much as you hate to acknowledge it, you’ve never had the support or interest it takes to contend for 1st place on any popularity polls or rankings of the sort. On Wednesdays, it so happens that the number one trending video spot is usually occupied by a popular femdom porn star who’s been in the game long enough to have secured a loyal fanbase.

Seokjin understands and empathizes with your excitement more than anybody.

“Yes, I’m serious! I think this is It, you know? Your Big Breakthrough, the moment we’ve been waiting for. You’ve been doing well so far but I think we’ll be able to go mainstream with this,” he chatters on, excitement building with every word. “Director Ryu said he’d personally call you up later to congratulate you, so don’t turn off your phone and ignore your calls, okay? I think he wants to ask you to film in his next movie but he didn’t discuss the details with me. Whatever it is - please say yes. I know the guy is a little pompous old fart but he really has an eye for this sort of thing. Casting you and Hoseok in the same film was the work of God. The chemistry between the two of you is unreal, no wonder people are jacking off to this at 10 am while they eat their cereal.”

You think it’s too early to rejoice in the success of your video considering the majority of the viewers are sleeping or busy at work - but when THE SPERMINATOR retains its number one ranking for the remainder of the week, you know your achievement deserves to be properly celebrated.

True to Seokjin’s word, Director Ryu does end up calling you. He wants to work with you and Hoseok again for a new film - and possibly more.

“A multi-film contract? You want to sign one with me?”

“How could I not? You’re both naturals and work well together. More importantly, the camera loves you. And people are on board with the pairing already! I think it’s a good idea to capitalize on their interest, don’t you think?”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you — not that you need any convincing at this point.

You refuse to be a flash-in-the-pan star. Although you admittedly had your reservations at first, the unexpected success of the last film is all Ryu needs to persuade you.

And - you like Hoseok. It goes without saying that there are far worse people to be partnered up with. Besides, it’s easier to work with co-stars you’ve starred in movies with previously for multiple reasons. Your acting is much more likely to come off as natural if you’re already acquainted with the dick that’s about to split you open - at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

When you mention the possibility of working again with Hoseok, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“So it’s not a one time thing?” He’s not looking at you directly, his attention fixed instead on the freshly brewed coffee he nurses in his hands.

“I mean—” You smile tentatively. “Director Ryu hasn’t said for how long he’ll keep hiring us for his projects. Maybe - maybe he’ll keep the format and hire different actors in the future? He - he didn’t really say. I don’t think he has much of an idea himself. He’s very...peculiar.”

You force out a laugh, but your attempt to lighten up the atmosphere falls flat.

“I see.” Jimin brings the coffee cup to his mouth to hide his grimace.

You don’t need to see his dejected expression to know that he isn’t pleased with this development.

“Do you - is there something wrong with Hoseok?” You hesitate, unsure of how he’ll reply.

Jimin’s never insisted you step down from a project before or expressed his dissatisfaction with any of your ‘artistic choices’, although you always imagined that someday, somewhere down the line, he might. Compared to your past dalliances, Jimin is understanding and empathetic. You don’t expect him to be perfect, however, especially when you yourself are far from that. Everyone must have their own personal limits, right? It’s unfair to ask Jimin to be accepting all the time.

It’s just that...the timing is bad.

You want to take his feelings into consideration, but you’re also aware that this might be your last opportunity to get your name out there once and for all. Your previous works have never tanked, so to speak, but they’d mostly gone by unnoticed. While you’ve managed to make ends meet in the past, such anonymity cannot go on for much longer if you want to remain in this line of work.

Your lipstick wears off as you bite your lower lip. Silence hangs heavy in the air.

Jimin sets down his cup of coffee and averts his gaze.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

You breathe out in relief, only now realizing you’d been holding in your breath as you awaited his answer.

“It’s a bit difficult,” he admits after a pause. “Watching both of you together... Not because it’s bad! You did really good last time. You always do, but - saying ‘I love you’, that kind of stuff, it’s - I don’t know. It’s not your fault, though! I just need some time to adjust. Next time shouldn’t be as strange - since I know what to expect...”

You blink slowly as your brain registers the confession. His words echo in your ears and a strong feeling of déjà-vu washes over you. He’d said something along those lines before, hadn’t he?

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal before continuing, “As for Hoseok... He seems like a good person, I guess. I don’t think he’s the problem. Whether it’s him or another guy...” He sighs. “I think I just need to work this out on my own. It’s not like I can ask you to turn down a job offer because of me, right?”

Guilt makes your stomach turn. He’s right. As much as you want to respect his feelings, you can’t bring yourself to turn down the job for his sake. Does that make you selfish? Does he think less of you for it?

“Alright...” When you reach out to take his hand in yours, his skin is surprisingly cold to the touch. “You’ll tell me if it ever bothers you, okay? Filming this - or anything else. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with what I do...”

You’re not sure what you’ll do if that moment ever comes to pass. Work is your number one priority in life. Many of your relationships haven’t worked out because of that very reason but your past lovers’ dissatisfaction hadn’t been enough to change your mindset. After all, work is what helps put money on the table, not love. You shake your head, as if the action will help you get rid of your stressful thoughts.

Jimin nods as he interlaces his fingers with yours. On normal days, holding hands together puts your mind at rest. You love the way his hand fits in yours, the different skin tones blending into one.

Right now, his pale hand feels unnaturally cold against your own. It feels like winter itself is embracing you and you repress a shiver.

Maybe as his girlfriend it’s not the right choice to make, but — you can’t falter now. It physically pains you to admit it but Seokjin’s worrying isn’t unfounded. Your career is stagnant, your projects predictable and boring. You’re not bad at your job, but you don’t stand out amidst the sea of pretty girls hoping to make a name for themselves.

There’s no guarantee that Director Ryu’s new project will be as successful as the first. You’re no stranger to false hopes; there’s a chance that Seokjin’s wishful thinking might never amount to anything. Even so, you want to give it a shot. Not trying feels too much like giving up and giving up is not an option you’re willing to consider, not when you’ve already put so much on the line.

You’re not a quitter. Seokjin had warned you from day one that it wouldn’t be easy and you’d taken his lessons and warnings to heart. You’d become an adult entertainer fully aware of the trials and tribulations you’d have to face and had been prepared to make the necessary sacrifices in order to achieve your goals.

But are the risks truly worth it? Looking at Jimin’s dejected expression, you’re not so sure anymore.

They’ve really gone all out this time, you muse as you cast a cursory glance at your surroundings. A small, electric waterfall fountain sits in the far right corner and crimson colored scented candles are dispersed all around the elaborate massage parlor set-up, dousing the room in a cosy, amber glow. It’s a surprising sight because porn sets are famous for never focusing on the details. Viewers are here for the sex, not the generic backdrop of a rented room or hotel suite.

Director Ryu vehemently protests.

“That’s precisely what sets apart my works from your average pornography film. I want the viewer to be completely immersed in the movie they’re watching. Porn is too constricting and underwhelming a word. What I’m creating is a feast for the eyes, one that leaves a lasting impression after consumption.”

“Ah... Yes.” You try (and fail) to sound impressed.

“People want to believe the sex is real, even if it’s just for an hour.” He sighs deeply, sounding pained, like explicating such a simple fact isn’t worthy of his time. “They need the escape and it’s our job to make it happen. A few extra candles might not make a colossal difference at first glance. But that’s where you’re wrong! It’s never been about the candles. It’s about the ambiance! The visual experience!”

It’s a pity the new budget doesn’t extend to your wardrobe, you remark internally as your gaze drops to observe the stylists’ pick of the day.

For the upcoming scene, you’ve been instructed to squeeze into a tight, baby pink shirt that stretches obscenely over your bust like something straight out of a frat boy’s wet dream. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for hitting the gym religiously because your clothes—or lack thereof—put everything on display. The cotton material of your shirt is so thin, you’re surprised the stitches haven’t popped out, while the denim bottoms you sport are so tiny that you could hardly qualify them as shorts. Although—you suppose that there isn’t any use debating over semantics. It’s not as if they’ll stay on long enough for it to matter.

The scenario that you’ll be acting out today is pretty straight-forward. You stop by the parlor to cash in a voucher gifted by a generous and thoughtful friend. Hoseok, who plays the role of an erotic masseuse, gives you a deep tissue body massage worthy of a five star review on Yelp.

Director Ryu is extremely proud of the pitch. His spectacles glint as he pushes them up the bridge of his long nose.

“We’re gonna call it My Bare Lady. Haha, get it?” He gloats. “It’ll be different from our last shoot - the both of you aren’t supposed to be acquainted with each other at all. In fact, there won’t be any romance. We’re aiming for something new because as artists, it’s our duty to reinvent ourselves every day. Complacency is the enemy of creativity.”

At the mention of Hoseok, your gaze flits over in his direction.

His brown hair, two shades lighter than the last time you’d run into him, is swept to the side, giving him a professional and tidy appearance. He’s swapped his workout attire for beige scrub pants and a matching shirt. The color compliments the glow of his tan and the cut of the uniform is flattering to his figure. Diretor Ryu’s speech continues despite your wavering focus.

“—visual stimulation. That’s why one shouldn’t underestimate the proper use of props. A believable setting sets the tone for the rest of the scene. If you don’t believe the role you’ve been given, then why should the audience?”

“Mhm,” you nod here and there but you’ve long stopped paying attention to his one-sided speech.

Your eyes linger on Hoseok’s arms and the dimples that appear every time he laughs. You’re not the only one who stares. A small group of admirers flock to him like bees swarming around a rare and exotic flower.

You’d noticed it before but today confirms it; Hoseok’s presence is riveting. It’s not the first time today your gaze has strayed his way. More than once, you find your eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame only to quickly avert your gaze whenever your eyes meet. Each time, the right side of his mouth quirks into a half-smile, the beginning of a question forming on his lips.

It’s embarrassing to be caught red-handed gawking but, in your defense, you aren’t the only one who ogles him—and many of them are far less discreet than you try to be, some gazes curious, others downright lecherous.

It bothers you. What exactly do you and everyone else find so fascinating about his character? He’s good-looking, sure—but you’re no stranger to handsome and pretty co-stars with nicely shaped dicks. You can’t put a finger on what sets him apart from the rest.

The gaffer comes over and momentarily interrupts the flow of Director Ryu’s monologue with a personal inquiry. Thank God. You use the opportunity to slip away, grateful that someone has put an end to your misery. As thankful as you are to the director for the career opportunity, you could do without his long-winded speeches that never seem to end.

“Hey, Hoseok.”

His smile widens, the corners dimpling the moment he spots you. “Hey! It’s been a while. Who would’ve thought we’d get to work again so soon, huh?”

“I didn’t think our last movie would do so well, honestly.”

Without its success, who knows what kind of movie you’d be participating in right now? Another re-hashed version of ‘BABYSITTER GETS CREAMED’ type scenario, most probably.

“I guess that’s a testament to your acting skills, right?”

You smile back, sheepish but nevertheless pleased. It always feels nice to be complimented, especially on days like today when you’re feeling less confident than usual.

“You changed up your hair.”

“Yeah! I thought I needed a change.” He threads his fingers through his locks self-consciously. “It looks fine, right?”

“It does!” you agree with an enthusiastic nod.

Jimin, who had insisted to be present on set today, hovers on the edge of your periphery. In the back of your mind you know he means well—that his presence is meant to be a source of support and security. On a typical day, you’re relieved that someone you trust is close by in case the situation escalates. While you’ve never had any horrific experiences, there have been the occasional uncomfortable encounters behind the scenes. Thankfully, Seokjin or Jimin have always stepped in before whichever entitled asshat could get too handsy.

But for the first time, his presence doesn’t comfort you the way it usually does.

Your smile becomes stiff.

The last thing you want is for Jimin to misunderstand the situation... Despite his claims of not having any problems with you shooting again with Hoseok, you can’t forget the stony expression on your boyfriend’s face as he had stared your co-star down, his grip around your waist strong and possessive.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok inquires, noticing your change in attitude. Worry creases his brow. He takes a step forward as if to check up on you.

“I’m okay!” You wave your hands around in the air, if only to maintain the distance separating your figures.

Despite your energetic reassurances, Hoseok looks unconvinced. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in concern.

You wrack your head for an acceptable excuse. “Maybe I have pre-performance jitters? It’s nothing serious, though!”

It’s not too far from the truth, either. You feel more nervous than usual... Maybe because you’re aware that today’s shoot will most likely make or break your career. If the results prove to be disappointing, you don’t want to imagine what that means for your future.

You shake your head, refusing to accept any talks of early retirement.

But what other choice will you have, your inner voice argues. If no one is interested in viewing your works, no production company will want to book you for their movies. Even if you’re able to shoot half a dozen films after this failed attempt, the interest and support from viewers and higher-ups will soon dry up.

Hoseok’s features soften.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but if my opinion means anything... I think you’re really amazing.” His deep brown eyes reflect sincerity. “I haven’t had this much fun performing with anyone before and it’s not just ‘cos you’re fucking hot.” He laughs to cover up his embarrassment. “Maybe it’s a bit of a reach to compare the two, but porn is a bit like dancing in a way. There’s a choreography to follow, a certain rhythm and mood you have to get into. But the most important part is the chemistry and trust between you and your partner. And you - when I perform with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m acting at all. Not many people have that ability. For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty special.”

“T-thanks,” you stutter in reply, taken aback by his candor. “I appreciate that.”

You’re not the only one caught off-guard by Hoseok’s frankness. He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles to fill up the momentary lapse in conversation. A bashful smile inches its way across his face, but surprisingly he doesn’t break eye contact.

You quickly change subjects, unwilling to acknowledge the slight fluttering in your stomach.

“...So, you dance?”

It’s not the smoothest transition, but Hoseok’s face instantly lights up.

“Yes! I mean,” he pauses and clears his throat. “Not professionally. I minored in dance. But it’s something I definitely enjoy, you know, to blow off some steam. Ah, wait a sec—”

He takes out his phone to show you short video clips of his dancing. He pulls up his instagram account and scrolls through an eclectic mix of mirror selfies showcasing his bold fashion choices, dog pics, and videos of him working out and dancing.

“Here’s a recent one.”

You don’t know much about dance but in spite of your little knowledge in the subject, your eyes stay transfixed on the screen in front of you. “Whoa...”

The way he moves is enthralling, for lack of a better word. You know from experience that his body is flexible and agile, lithe and strong, but seeing it in action like this leaves you speechless, momentarily robbed of coherency. You can’t even describe it. His execution of the choreography is sharp and powerful, yet his body doesn’t look rigid. On the contrary, his movements are surprisingly fluid and he never misses a single beat. You watch in astonishment as he pushes himself off of his knees after bending backwards in one fell swoop.

“Eh? Is it even possible to move your body that way?” Surely if you try to mimic him, you’ll look like a flailing chicken. “That can’t be safe...”

Hoseok laughs at your shocked expression. “It takes a lot of practice. You should come to a workshop one day! My friend teaches beginners. He’d be glad if you could join. The more the merrier, right? You don’t need to know any of the basics... And if you’re worried about people poking fun—don’t. Dancing isn’t a competition or anything.”

“I dunno.” You hand him back his phone after watching the video loop back for a second time. “I think my back would crack if I attempted any of that.”

“I think you would do really well! You’re pretty flexible and I don’t think you need to worry about stamina. Your core muscles are also really well developed. Based on what I’ve seen, you have a good sense of balance and beat awareness, so even if you’ve never danced before, you have the body and disposition for it.”

“Well... I guess I—”

“Hey.” Jimin interrupts, plump lips curved into a polite smile. You try not to let your surprise show; you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. He kisses your cheek and slides his hand into yours, clasping it between his own. “Sorry to interrupt, doll. Seokjin wanted to have a word with you before the shoot.”

“Oh.” You blink, your eyes darting back and forth between Jimin and Hoseok. “Um...if you don’t mind?”

“That’s straight,” Hoseok steps back, shoving his hands down his pockets. He shoots you a tentative smile. “I’ll catch you later.”

You feel bad for ditching him mid-conversation after he’d been so nice, but you know how annoying your agent can get when ignored for too long.

Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours. When you look up, he’s pouting, his lips pursed and brows drawn together.

“Is something on your mind?”

You can see the hesitation flicker across his face. When he finally meets your gaze, his expression is troubled.

“It’s nothing...” He looks away again and the grip he has on your hand loosens.

“Hm.” You swallow down any further inquiries, worried you’ll upset him.

“What was that about, anyway?” he asks casually, trying his best to look uninterested. “You and Hoseok look like you’re getting along well.”

“Yeah.” The memory of your previous conversation makes you smile softly despite yourself. “He’s a nice guy.”

“I can imagine.” Jimin mutters under his breath. Before you have time to question him again, he straightens his spine, his features twisting into an apologetic expression. “Look, I gotta help setting up the cameras. I’ll see you after the shoot.”

“Ah... Alright.” You fight to keep the disappointment of your face. Since you only have a few minutes before filming begins, you’d been hoping to spend it with him.

As if reading your mind, Jimin leans in and kisses you, his plush lips soft and familiar against your own. You expect him to pull away after a few seconds but his left hand slots itself behind your neck, bringing you in closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand angles your head to the side, giving him more access, and he doesn’t waste any time before brushing his tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You respond to the kiss as if on auto-pilot, but your thoughts are all jumbled in your head. Jimin’s always been a good kisser but he’s rarely kissed you quite like this. His style is more of a slow-burn, the kind that slowly creeps up on you and leaves your whole body numb with pleasure. Every press of his lips feels like a silent prayer of worship and each swipe of his tongue tastes like adoration. You like that he takes his time, like you’re not just a quick meal to curb his hunger but a delicacy worthy of being savored.

Right now, this kiss feels unfamiliar. Urgency replaces devotion. Perhaps it’s because he’s short on time, but his touch is hurried and sloppy. He bites your lower lip, hard enough for it to hurt, and licks into your mouth when you mewl out a gasp of surprise.

“I wish I could just mark you up,” he pants against your parted lips. They feel tender when you smack them closed.

“The makeup artist is going to strangle you for messing up my lipstick.” You fake a scowl. You’re not half-wrong, though. Once she sees how swollen they’ve become she’s bound to take out her frustration on the closest available victim. “If you marked me for real, she’d probably kill you. Don’t tempt her.”

He chuckles and pulls back, letting his hands fall to his side. His eyes dart to somewhere behind your shoulder, his smile curving into a smirk.

“You’re right.” He sighs, looking back at you. “But that’s easier said than done. You’re hard to resist... Anyone would agree.”

Something dark clouds his eyes but whatever it is, it’s gone in the next blink.

You laugh, pleased nonetheless by his flattery. “Didn’t you say you had to help set up? You’re going to end up in trouble because of me…”

Jimin snorts but backs up all the same. “Don’t worry about me. Besides, you’re worth getting in trouble for.”

Someone behind you gags dramatically. “Absolutely sickening.”

When you whirl around, your agent shoots you a disgusted glare. “I was wondering what was taking you so long but I should’ve known you two were out here fabricating babies. Have you no shame?”

“I’ll see you after the shoot!” Jimin says quickly, eager to get away from Seokjin and his sharp tongue.

“See you.” You smile sweetly, ignoring Seokjin’s grumbling. You feel a pang of jealousy as you watch him scurry out of sight. If only you could avoid Seokjin’s pre-performance motivational speeches...

“Anyways.” Seokjin looks noticeably less irritated once Jimin is gone. “I wanted to check up on you before filming could begin. How’s your ass doing?”

You don’t bother hiding your grimace. “Squeaky clean and stretched.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He sounds proud. “Don’t make that face. It’s your first anal scene after all. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

By ‘be prepared’ he means following a strict diet prior to shooting, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a colonic, stretching out your asshole for a good thirty minutes using a fuck ton of lube, and constantly rehydrating yourself throughout the day to the point where you’d gone to the bathroom more times than you could count on one hand.

You’re never this thorough with prep before having anal but apparently that’s the difference between fucking in the privacy of your own home and on camera.

“There’s a reason why cleanliness is one of the fundamentals of anal sex, especially when shooting porn. It’s a pain...in the ass...but this way, no one sees something they’d rather not see,” had explained Seokjin after giving you a non-exhaustive list of detailed steps to follow. You suppose there’s logic behind his reasoning. Due to the magic of 4k-quality videos, viewers can now easily see everything, down to the sweat droplets dotting your hairline and any makeup-covered skin imperfections, so you don’t want to imagine what they’ll notice once the camera zooms in on your back entrance.

“Eventually you’ll get used to squeezing water out your bum on the regular.” He shrugs. “You’ll also start to avoid certain foods on your own. The dietary restrictions aren’t that bad, all things considered, and your body will thank you for eating more spinach than you’re used to. Greens are good for your health even if they taste like yuck.”

Athough his suggestions are well-intended, you don’t need another 25 minute speech on all the know-hows of filming anal sex. The first time had been more than enough.

“Thanks for the advice!” you interject right as he opens his mouth to continue his counseling. “That reminds me I need to get this butt plug out of my ass before we start shooting.”

Seokjin sighs. “That would be preferable, yes.”

He doesn’t need to know that you’ve taken out the butt plug in the bathroom half an hour ago. Any excuse will do, as long as you’re spared from listening to his passionate discourse on the benefits of high-fibre food diets and his long list of enema tutorial video recommendations.

The fussing, you think, is unnecessary. You’re not worried about the upcoming sex scene, even if it will be the first time someone other than your partner sees you in that position. No, what troubles you is the possibility of the audience growing tired of seeing you onscreen now that they’ve witnessed you take it up the ass. Boredom is the reason why so many of your peers are forced to end their careers prematurely, after all. Why else is Seokjin so adamant about you pacing yourself and not filming everything there is to film right off the bat? You’ve always held off shooting anal, double penetration and the likes, for that very reason. Although you have no qualms with the act itself, you’re worried that you’re now one step closer to retirement.

The thoughts sit on your shoulders like a heavy weight as you get ready for the scene to come. You listen to Director Ryu’s instructions as he describes the scenario’s key points, your character’s motives, and what sex positions you should include before the scene comes to an end.

“The rest is up to you,” he says with an encouraging nod. “I want the words to come from the heart! Let yourself be a vessel, a way for your character to express their innermost desires.”

“Leave it up to us.” Hoseok’s smile radiates confidence.

“I like your enthusiasm!” Director Ryu approves, clapping his hands together. He misses the way his two leading actors exchange exasperated glances over his shoulder. “Good, then we’re all set? Remember where the cameras are positioned, please, or else we’ll have to reshoot to get the right angles.”

“Got it.” You nod, eager to get this show on the road. Between him and Seokjin, your ears are about to fall off from the incessant chattering. Even the camera men are starting to grow restless.

Speaking of... You meet Jimin’s gaze, the sides of your mouth upturning the moment you spot him. As usual, he looks slightly out of place standing between the other crew members, his white, ironed dress shirt neatly tucked into his black pants providing a stark contrast with his co-workers’ unkempt appearance.

Jimin mirrors your smile and your shoulders immediately relax. A lot of people may not understand why you’d allow your boyfriend on set while you’re fucking someone else, but his presence brings you a strange sense of comfort that’s hard to put into words.

The sound of your name being called pulls you from your line of thought.

“Can you scoot over to the right? Just a little.” Director Ryu orders while glancing at the monitor. “Yes, that’s much better. And can we fix the lighting, please? My shadow’s getting picked up by the camera.”

Now that the start of the shoot is right around the corner, your stomach cramps up with a nervous kind of anticipation. Your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth and even when you swallow, the unpleasant feeling doesn’t go away.

You clasp your hands together in your lap to hide the minute trembling of your fingers. It’s strange, you think. Ever since you started working with Hoseok, you always get too wrapped in your thoughts. Not necessarily in a bad way, at least not all the time, but --

“You all good?” Hoseok asks, low enough that the mics won’t be able to pick up his questioning. “Do you need some water?”

You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

He hesitates but doesn’t push. “I just wanna run this with you one last time. I know we already signed the consent forms but I’d feel better talking with you about the scene directly.”

“Oh.” You remember he’d done something similar last time, too. “Sure.”

“Anal aside, are you okay with the use of degrading names during the scene?” His eyes never leave yours, like he wants you to know how serious he is.

“I’m okay with you calling me a whore.” Your shoulders loosen up. It’s easy to relax when you’re on familiar territory. Working in this industry requires complete transparency. There’s no shame in discussing your kinks just like there’s no shame in admitting the acts you’re not comfortable performing. “As long as I can call you a slut.”

“That’s fine.” His lips quirk up, but not in a mocking or dismissing way. “I don’t really have any hard limits myself, except for what you’ve already seen on paper. Degradation is fine with me. Call my dick tiny all you want, I won’t take it to heart.”

You laugh, forgetting to keep the volume down. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

“So degradation is fine. Is humiliation okay as well? Situational and verbal?”

“I like that.” You bite your lower lip as you remember your encounter with Min Yoongi a month or so ago, how turned on you’d been from his words alone. “I’ll admit I haven’t dabbled too much in BDSM on the porn scene, but I enjoyed what I’ve done so far.”

“That’s good to know.” He raises his brow. “Ever since we received the pitch for today’s movie I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it, uh, more interesting. So to speak. But I didn’t want to take any initiatives if they made you uncomfortable. Oh, also I meant to ask if there was anything you wanted to include in the scene aside from anal sex.”

Somehow you’re not surprised he’s put thought into this. Last time you’d worked with him, he’d been overflowing with suggestions as well. Maybe because the previous filming formats aren’t as flexible, but it’s not often you meet someone so willing to exchange ideas before filming.

The change is more than welcome. For the first time, it feels like your opinion actually matters. The two of you quietly go back and forth discussing different possibilities while the filming crew finish setting up the set the way Director Ryu wants it.

“Alright,” Ryu calls, settling into the director’s chair. Somewhere in the background, the gaffer wipes off his brow. “Everyone ready to rooooollll?”

Hoseok takes a few steps back and reaches for a nearby clipboard.

Miraculously, you note distantly, the swarming of butterflies in your stomach is now gone. Your palms are no longer clammy and cold with perspiration. When you swallow, there’s no lump of nerves stuck in your throat.

Hoseok sends an encouraging smile your way right before Director Ryu yells “ACTION!” and he schools his features into a more polite, appropriate expression.

He doesn’t speak up right away, just walks over to where you’re sitting on the massage table in a leisurely manner. You open your mouth to fill the silence but he beats you to it.

“Welcome to Happy Ending Clinic, where we ensure every client leaves feeling 100% satisfied. We guarantee high quality services personally adapted to suit the needs of our every client,” Hoseok says in lieu of greeting, the lilt in his voice smooth and practiced, like he’s used to repeating this introduction multiple times throughout the day. “My name is J-Hope and today you will be in my care.”

“Nice to meet you.” You’re careful to keep your back ramrod straight, hoping the stiffness in your body will be picked up by the cameras.

The role you’re playing today is more reserved and awkward than the usual unabashed and bold characters you’re used to acting. And while it’s not your first time pretending to be coy and shy for the cameras, such behavior isn’t second nature.

His smile, whilst professional, radiates warmth. You suppose it’s meant to be reassuring.

“I will do my best to make this session unforgettable.”

His gaze sweeps over the clipboard sitting in his hands.

“Hmmm... ______, is it?” When you nod in affirmation, he continues. “It says here it’s your first time visiting our establishment.”

You’re surprised at how naturally he adapts to the role he’s been assigned to. The words that roll off his tongue sound like his own.

“Yes... Honestly, I - I didn’t think it was necessary, but my friend insisted - I mean, she recommended I visit this place...said it would do me some good.”

You wring your hands in your lap. You’re lucky the character you’re playing today is supposed to be a little shy and rigid. Otherwise, you’re not sure Director Ryu would have let your awkward stuttering slide.

“That’s not a problem.” The lines of Hoseok’s mouth bend into a reassuring smile. “Let’s see... It says you’ve booked an hour-long session?”

“Yep.”

“Then with your permission, I’d like to take fifteen supplementary minutes to find out which massage course is best suited for a novice like you. It’ll be free of charge, of course.”

You nod, eager to get the show on the road. Given your character’s disposition, maybe you should have pretended to mull over the proposal for a few seconds more - if only for appearance’s sake - but you’re tired of all this talking. Impatience gets the best of you.

“Oh! Yes, that sounds fine.”

He pulls out several colorful mock pamphlets and hands them over for you to peruse their contents. You try not to let your astonishment show.

It’s the first time you’ve seen a prop team this devoted to their task. Although the insides of the brochures remain blank, you still can’t believe someone actually took the time to print out fake brochure covers. You appreciate the effort, even if the covers do look like they’ve been made by someone who’s looking to major in ‘graphic design is my passion.’

You hold one up at random and pretend to read through it, hoping that whoever will watch the movie later will ignore the ugly block font that spells out ‘NAUGHTY MASSAGE : FOUR HANDS EDITION.’

“Inside, you’ll find a detailed explanation on the various vegan, cruelty-free products we use. All of our treatments are oil-based and you can choose the scent of your choice. If your skin is particularly sensitive, we have essential oil-infused body butters that work just as effectively and leave the skin silky smooth to the touch. Depending on your skin type, you might be interested in testing—” He takes out several jars all while explaining the different health benefits of ylang ylang essential oil.

Once again, you’re caught off guard by his convincing performance. Even though you’ve been given several pointers by the director before filming, Hoseok is the one who ultimately calls the shots. Inwardly, you wonder how he manages to come up with such original lines on the spot. Despite not being a professional actor, Hoseok’s intuitive choices are beyond your expectations.

The thoroughness of his explanation makes your head spin. Cruelty-free products? Body butter? You have no way of knowing whether his statements are fabricated for the sake of the vague storyline - but you suppose the credibility of his words doesn’t really matter in the end. It’s the small details he sprinkles here and there that help you immerse in the scene.

His proficiency in acting makes all of your worries melt away. It’s hard to believe he’s only a rookie, just starting off his career, and not an acting veteran with dozens of movies under his belt.

Not wanting to be entirely overshadowed by your co-star, you furrow your eyebrows, determination set into your features.

“I’m sorry... I’ve never done this before. They all look the same to me.”

“Ah.” Still, Hoseok’s smile stays amiable and professional. “Well, let’s go about it this way - why do you think your friend insisted you visit our establishment?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze dropping to the floor in order to avert his probing stare. “I - um. I haven’t had - I mean, I guess I’ve been stressed lately. More pent up than usual. I’ve tried exercising and meditating and mas- uh...well everything, honestly. But nothing seems to work. I’m snappy all the time and...frustrated.”

Today, the character you’re playing is a bit more bashful, too timid to voice her desires into spoken words. “It’s all about the tension! The build-up!” Director’s Ryu’s voice echoes in your mind as a reminder.

“I see,” Hoseok nods, taking your comments into consideration. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the quality of your sleep?”

“A five...” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t wake up during the night, but it takes me a long time to fall asleep.”

“Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

“Pain? No, not really.” You roll your shoulders back, conscious of the way your perky chest juts out, nipples prominent through the cheap fabric. “My neck does feel sore from time to time but I think it’s because I work an office job. They say staying hunched over in front of a computer all day is bad for your health.”

His gaze roams your figure, quietly assessing. “It is.”

“May I?” he asks, taking a tentative step closer. “I think I’ll need to gauge your level of sensitivity for myself. We’ll adjust the intensity of the massage depending on how much pressure you can withstand and how your body reacts to different types of stimuli.”

Your brows lift. “Oh. Sure, why not.”

“Move back a little. A bit more.” You obey his instructions without second thoughts. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

Your legs dangle awkwardly over the edge of the massage table. You can probably close them if you wanted to, but you don’t miss an opportunity to expose yourself in front of the cameras. The shorts you’re wearing are more like tiny scraps of denim put together with the help of a few stitches. You’re certain that if someone were to really look, they’d see the outline of your pussy lips.

Hoseok walks around the table to stand behind you. The sensation is somewhat familiar—right away, you’re reminded of the first encounter with Hoseok, the one where he’d wrapped his arms around you and whispered words of love into your ear. You close your eyes and let the images flash by in quick succession. The memories all come rushing in at once—an artist’s lips painting your skin like a brush would canvas, a potter’s agile fingers molding your body from clay, a lyricist’s tongue composing sonnets into your weeping, open cunt. Your body remembers it all.

When he finally touches you, his hands radiate warmth the shadow of his memory does not.

A shudder runs down your spine.

Oblivious to your inner thoughts, Hoseok carefully gathers your hair into a ponytail and moves it out of the way. His mobility no longer restricted, he lets his slender digits travel down the slope of your neck, the pads of his fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders.

“You’re unusually tense here.” Concern colors his voice as he increases the pressure.

Suddenly the discomfort you’re to convey to the audience is no longer feigned. “Ow!”

The wince that mars your face is authentic. You try to wiggle out of his grasp to relieve the sharp ache in your shoulders. Hoseok’s grip is strong, however, and he keeps you exactly where he thinks you ought to be.

“Hmm...”

He massages your arms one by one. The circular movements he traces across your skin are a lot more gentle this time around, and you allow yourself to slowly relax under his touch. He manipulates your body like one would a rag doll, pulling your arm over your head.

“Can you reach behind, towards your neck? How about a little lower? You should feel a stretch here.” He taps at an arm muscle.

“Yeah… I can definitely feel it.”

You suspect that Hoseok’s stunt as a Pilates instructor is what’s helping him sound so experienced and natural.

“Good.” He lets out a pleased hum. “Hold the position for as long as you can.”

His hands reach around your body to squeeze your perky breasts. You gasp at the rather rough way he handles your tits. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been told to forgo a bra, but you’re much more conscious of his every action - from the way his fingers splay out, cupping the fullness of your breasts between them, to the way he kneads your mounds with his entire palm as he gropes you from behind.

“How often do you masturbate?” he asks in an almost offhand manner, his tone is more clinical than casual. The question is crude and direct enough to distract you from the way his fingers encircle your nipples through the cotton fabric of your shirt.

You recall Ryu’s earlier directions: unlike your first movie together, this tryst is not romantic in nature. The scenario that you’re acting out this time doesn’t involve sweet kisses and whispered declarations of love. Feelings aren’t on the table.

You pretend like the bitter taste you swallow down isn’t disappointment.

“Um.” You struggle to remember the initial question. Luckily, your mental buffering comes off as bashful and true to the character you’re playing. “I, uh, I guess masturbate often?”

“But it isn’t enough, is it?”

His question comes off as slightly patronizing. Before you can formulate a suitable answer, Hoseok’s fingers tweak your hardened nipples and your back bows under the pressure. You oscillate between the desire to thrust your chest out in offering, and the pressing need to flee the sharp sensations his skilled hands provoke.

“I - um!” You squirm helplessly as he continues playing with your breasts. “It isn’t!”

“Just as I thought.” He pinches both of your nipples and pulls at them until you cry out in half-pain, half-pleasure. The thin material of your shirt doesn’t dull the ache; if anything, the cotton scratches your skin, rubbing the nubs raw.

Despite your very visible discomfort, Hoseok doesn’t let go. You can only sit there obediently while he has his fun, knowing that if you wiggle too much it’ll only worsen the pain.

“Ah!”

Only then does he release them. You fight against the urge to cover your sore nipples. Your flimsy shirt hadn’t provided any protection against his rough onslaught, none at all.

“You’re quite sensitive,” he observes, giving your breasts one last squeeze.

Finished with his appraisal, he steps away and picks his clipboard up. He makes his way around the massage table, coming back into view, and scribbles something onto the paper with a ballpoint pen. He looks so absorbed in his work that you almost fall for the act.

You worry your bottom lip, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. Without a bra, your hardened nipples are clearly visible through the thin shirt. They jut out in a distracting way; Hoseok’s eyes drop down for a split-second in appreciation before flickering back to the clipboard in his hands.

“Your body is wound up. It’s tense in places it shouldn’t be.”

“Is that...a bad thing?”

“No. Your case is not abnormal.” He shakes his head and offers you a reassuring smile. “Although... Hm. When was the last time you achieved an an orgasm?”

You look away, mumbling your answer in an embarrassed voice. “Last night.”

More scribbling. He taps the end of the pen against his chin, pretending to be lost in thought.

His eyes glint when he asks, “How many times did you cum?”

It’s not real - none of this is - and yet you can feel warmth spreading from your cheeks down to your chest. It’s a strange sensation, stuck somewhere between humiliation and arousal, and it makes your entire body heat up from the inside out.

“Just - Just once…”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap towards his on command. He looks relaxed, unbothered, like he’s discussing the weather forecast and not your masturbation habits. You want to look away but something in his stare pins you in place.

“You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“Yes! I’m not - I wouldn’t lie.”

“Good.” He smiles pleasantly, nodding to himself. “So. You came once. Did you use your fingers? Or, perhaps, a toy?”

He’s still staring at you, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes while you confess your sins. Your thighs clench together and you struggle to focus on the conversation at hand.

“F-fingers.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you imagine Hoseok’s fingers replacing your imaginary ones. They’d fill you up nicely, too. Compared to your own, they’re longer, capable of reaching places yours can’t. All you’d have to do is hook your arms under your knees and keep your legs spread wide open. He doesn’t even need to take your clothes off; he could pull the seam of your shorts and underwear to the side and fuck you just like that. “I only used my fingers.”

He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t quite believe you. Somehow, that makes the fire between your legs burn hotter. It’s like - he knows you’re too cockhungry to settle for just fingers. And if a mere stranger can tell how desperate you are to get fucked, what about the rest?

“Interesting.” Hoseok’s eyes darken by the minute. “And do you prefer clitoral stimulation to penetration?”

“I-” You pause and struggle to formulate your response. Your ears feel hot. In fact - your entire face feels like it’s on fire.

The embarrassment you feel doesn’t make sense - you’ve never had any qualms discussing sex. You can talk candidly about any topic for hours on end, from the condom brands you prefer to advice on how to maintain a rash-free pussy, to the point where some people might think you’re over-sharing or being too crass. Discussing intimate topics shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s not even a real dialogue anyway, so why do you -

“Yes?” Hoseok leans forward, interrupting your train of thought. The corner of his mouth is upturned, like he can’t help but be amused by your discomfiture.

“I like, um.” You close your eyes, hoping that it’ll somehow make the admission easier. It doesn’t. The darkness makes you feel even more exposed, like all your secrets are laid bare for him to see. Your voice quivers when you answer. “I - I touch - I mean, sometimes I’ll - my fingers aren’t long enough. So just rubbing the outside is - fine.”

“Ah. You like being stuffed full, I take it?” Hoseok’s vulgar vocabulary makes your eyes snap open in shock. He smirks, not expecting you to answer. “Poor girl.”

You shake your head, your reply dying in your throat. With every word he utters, your thoughts become fuzzy, muddled.

“What did you imagine last night while you were getting off? A stranger fucking your face? Big men taking turns using your cunt? Tell me. In detail, preferably.”

“I don’t see how-” The sharp look in his eyes makes you swallow down any protest. Still. You can’t get your mouth to work correctly and you look back at him helplessly.

“Is there a reason why you can’t tell me?” He tilts his head to the side, the smirk on his face growing, canines flashing. “Oh. I see.”

You flinch, your face impossibly hot.

“Were you thinking of today’s session?” He chuckles, delighted. “That’s quite naughty of you. Although, I can’t blame you, can I? We are known to deliver the best orgasma. It’s only natural to imagine what would happen.”

That’s right, you think. You’d spent all night fantasizing about a faceless, nameless stranger’s hands all over your naked body. How long had it been since you’d felt someone’s touch? Their tongue buried deep in your cunt, fucking you until your thighs trembled? Even your best dildo couldn’t hold a candle to a hot-blooded, throbbing cock.

Hoseok taps the pen against the clipboard, the staccato sound filling the silence.

“One last question.” He makes sure he has your undivided attention before continuing. “No need to look so worried. I won’t ask you what lewd thoughts you get off to, although maybe in future sessions I’ll expect that of you.”

You don’t linger on the implication there - that you’ll undoubtedly come back for seconds - and nod your assent for him to go on.

“Did you cum hard while thinking of getting fucked by me today?”

You inhale sharply, struggling to hold his stare. “I… The sheets were so wet afterwards, I had to change them.”

“I see.” He jots something down on his clipboard but his reaction doesn’t give anything away. Nervously, you pull on a loose string hanging from the hem of your short. “Hm…”

After a few seconds of silence he speaks up again, done with his assessment.

“Well, normally for first timers such as yourself we’d recommend starting with a more soothing body massage. But I think in your case a more thorough massage is needed. It’s not a cause for concern!” He adds quickly, as if to assuage any growing fears. “But in my professional opinion, I think the massage I have in mind for you might be more beneficial than the beginner level massage.”

“Um, what does this massage entail exactly?”

“We call it the full treatment. In other words - it’s a deep tissue penetration massage,” Hoseok explains calmly. “It includes an internal massage. We’ll use a variety of methods but rest assured - all techniques are tried and tested! You’ll be in safe hands.”

You pretend to mull it over.

Hoseok waits for your nod of confirmation before instructing, “There are towels at your disposal.” He motions to the pile of fluffy white towels folded neatly on the bench. “Feel free to use them. While you change into a...less restricting outfit, I’ll go retrieve the rest of the massage equipment. See you in a bit!”

And with that he’s gone. The privacy he grants you is, of course, just an illusion. Even without looking in their direction, you know that the cameras’ lenses are all focused on you, waiting to capture the impending striptease. You’d forgotten about them but Hoseok’s absence reminds you of their presence.

Per Director Ryu’s earlier instructions, you make a show of taking off your clothes. Teasing the camera comes naturally to you thanks to your prior experience as a cam girl; you know exactly which angles are the most flattering and which ones, on the other hand, emphasize your flaws.

Your back arches as you peel off your shirt, drawing attention to the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. Not long after do you shimmy out of your shorts, exaggerating the swing of your hips for the audience’s viewing pleasure. You try not to show your surprise when the dampness of your crotch sticks to your folds as you pull them down your legs - you hadn’t expected how much a simple tit massage and few exchanged words would rile you up.

The denim pools around your ankles and when you bend over to retrieve the useless item of clothing, you’re acutely aware of how your wet, waxed pussy peeks out from between your thighs. You stay in position, giving the camera ample time to zoom in, and while the stretch isn’t painful (thanks to your yoga lessons!), it is a rather awkward position to maintain.

Once you straighten up, you take a few seconds to fold up the shirt and itty bitty shorts before setting them aside. Normally, you’d leave your discarded clothing strewn about but you can’t imagine your character behaving in such an uncouth way.

With that thought in mind, you wrap yourself with a short towel. Rather than covering your intimate bits, it’s so short that it emphasizes your nakedness. When you go to sit on the massage table, the towel rides up, leaving you exposed and you have to fold your hands in your lap to preserve a semblance of modesty.

It’s easy to convey nervousness while you wait for Hoseok’s return. While you’ve never attended any drama school, you have watched plenty enough Netflix dramas to know which physical cues are more or less effective - constant fidgeting, shifty eyes, audible gulping. Since it’s your first time putting your knowledge into practice, you’re not certain how convincing your acting is, but hey, isn’t it the effort that counts? You’re not here to audition for the starring role in Hollywood’s next summer blockbuster, after all.

Hoseok knocks twice before entering, stopping your self-depreciation in its tracks. He’s abandoned the earlier clipboard for a large, nondescript, white cardboard box that rattles with every step he takes. It sounds more ominous than it actually is.

If Director Ryu is truly aiming for realism, he wouldn’t make Hoseok carry back the items in a fucking box, you think privately. Who even does that? Although you suppose realism isn’t the be-all end-all, no matter how much the director insists. Sometimes viewers like to be metaphorically edged and endlessly teased, and all this guessing only adds to the build-up, making the climax more than worth it. They could, of course, fast-forward to get to the juicy sex scenes, the crux of the matter, but you’d like to believe all this extra effort is worth it.

You blink curiously back at Hoseok, feigning ignorance.

“Oh good.” He beams in your direction, his eyes drinking in your scantily-clad figure. “Now that you’re more comfortable, please lie down for me.”

He sets the box to the side, opens the lid, and takes out a bottle of oil while you settle down on your stomach and carefully rearrange your towel so that it covers your bum.

“I’ve chosen bergamot essential oil for today’s massage. It’s a nice, citrus-like scent that’s not too overwhelming because it’s been mixed in with sweet almond oil. Its many virtues include, but are not limited to, increasing the body’s energy flow and enhancing feelings of joy and freshness.”

“That sounds lovely.” You sigh dreamily. Getting massaged and getting dicked down in one go? Hell yeah. That one is a no-brainer for sure.

There’s a shadow of a smirk on Hoseok’s face when he rounds on you, like he’s somehow privy to your thoughts. That, or your eagerness is too transparent. You’re betting on the latter.

His voice lowers an octave, the low timber making shivers run down your back.

“Shall we begin?”

He moves your hair to the side, leaving your neck and back exposed. He then pulls down your towel so that it uncovers the expanse of your back and covers more of your bottom half instead.

“Is this alright?” he inquires. As if testing the waters, his fingers trace down the line of your spine, stopping right before your lower back dips into a curve.

You moan your assent. “More than.”

Hoseok takes the bottle of oil and drizzles its contents over your skin like a painter splattering ink onto a blank canvas. He spreads the lubricant all over your back, rubbing your skin in circular motions until you’re coated with it. You let out a few pleased sounds here and there that are not entirely faked or exaggerated. He definitely knows what he’s doing with his hands.

Honestly, you feel sorry towards your co-star who’s stuck doing most of the work while you’re splayed out like a starfish. It feels a bit unfair that you’re getting paid more than him when he’s the one putting in most of the effort. Had you any shame, you’d give him half of your pay for his services. Alas.

“Tell me if it hurts anywhere,” he warns, not unkindly.

Your back stiffens. You expect Hoseok to replicate the rough treatment he’d inflicted to your breasts, but contrary to your expectations, he kneads your body gently, almost tenderly. The contrast between this touch and his earlier ministrations messes with your head. When his hands outline your flank, his fingers prodding the sides of your breasts, you swallow a hopeful sigh as you wait for him to envelop your soft mounds and roll your sensitive nipples between his skilled fingers.

Betrayal brews in your gut when he fails to indulge your fantasies. You’re tempted to grab his wrist and guide his hand to where you need it the most but you miraculously hold yourself back. Since the scene doesn’t call for that much impatience and desperation on your part, you’d hate to be the reason why Director Ryu asks for a re-take.

Thankfully, he soon puts you out of your misery. Hoseok retreats, done teasing the sides of your breasts for the time being. You’re not sure it’s relief or disappointment that swims in your lower belly, but Hoseok doesn’t give you time to dwell on the question. Almost as soon as he retracts his hands from your back, he redirects his attention to your legs. His hands, warm and slick from the oil, glide over the back of your calves and thighs with ease. His thumbs rub circular shapes into your flesh as he slowly works his way up, the pleasant sensations leaving your whole body boneless.

“You loosen up well.”

Hoseok’s fingers skirt the hem of the towel. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he toys with the fabric.

“Will you open up for me, pretty? You look tense right here.” He flips the towel up, revealing your bare lower half. He wastes no time before gripping the meat of your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He spreads your cheeks apart, cool air blowing against your exposed holes, and lets them jiggle back into place after giving the camera ample time to capture the view. “Hm. Looks like you haven’t been properly stretched out in a long time... We’ll fix that today.”

Bolts of pleasure run through your body. The whole situation is ludicrous and yet, for whatever reason you cannot pinpoint, moisture gathers between your thighs with every passing second, adding to the mess dripping from your folds.

“Um, like this?” You part your legs open slightly, as if unsure. In situations like these, the biggest challenge is to act diffident and coy when all you want is for your co-star to blow your back out.

He tsks, the sound sharp and reproving. It goes straight to your core and makes your belly clench with unspeakable need.

“How am I supposed to fuck your holes open in that position?” He has the audacity to sound impatient. “Work with me here.”

He grabs your ankles and separates them himself, ignoring your yelp of surprise. Unaccustomed to the stretch, the muscles in your thighs strain with the effort to hold the position.

A whine slips out your mouth. He’s so mean.

While you expect Hoseok to act somewhat distant and objective because of the role he’s playing, his fluctuating behavior gives you nothing but whiplash. One moment he’s cordial and friendly, the epitome of what a professional should be, the next he’s treating you like you’re his plaything, not his client.

His grip around your ankles is firm and unyielding. He’s got you spread impossibly wide, your legs dangling dangerously off the edge of the table with your waxed holes exposed for inspection.

“That’s good, just like that.” His hands let go of your ankles when he’s sure you won’t move from the position he’s steered you into. He strokes up your legs, the touch feather-light and fleeting. “Keep your legs spread wide. I want to see your cute little holes on display.”

His crude remarks make your body flush with heat.

Even if this is the sort of place that offers sexual gratification, Hoseok’s wording toes several lines. As his client, he should be focused on giving you pleasure, so why do his comments make it sound like you’re here for his entertainment instead?

Despite your character being fully aware of what type of establishment she’s visiting, you reckon Hoseok’s words are enough to make her squirm in embarrassment. There’s something filthy about the way he orders you around and bends you to his will. Even you’re not indifferent to the impersonal way he handles your body like a doll. Flickers of arousal lick up your spine, and with your legs extended so far apart, it’s not difficult for Hoseok to notice how much you’re wound up.

The position is far from proper. Hot streaks of humiliation burn through you when you imagine how easy and slutty you must seem to whoever is watching. You don’t dare move from the pose he’s maneuvered you into, not because you’re scared of the consequences, but because his presence demands obedience. Even without explicitly saying so, he’s made it clear that for the next hour or so, you’re his to toy with.

“Good girl. You open up so nicely.” Hoseok purrs, satisfied with your compliance. “Now let me see what I’m working with here.”

He swipes his index finger through your glossy folds, the action forcing you to stifle a startled gasp. It’s nothing like the erotic oil massage you’d experienced minutes prior. The touch is inquisitive, clinical, assessing. Like he’s testing out a new product before purchase.

You want to stay still but you’re so wound up from his incessant teasing. The slightest caress makes the hairs on the back of your nape stand straight. Hoseok is all too aware of this fact. The tip of his pointer finger comes in contact with your clit, the touch more delicate than a feather's caress. Hoseok watches with thinly veiled amusement as you jerk against the table.

“You really are sensitive,” he all but coos. “What a treat. Don’t need any oil when you’re leaking all over the table like a faucet. How long has it been since someone touched you here, hm?”

The teasing lilt in his voice borders on condescending. Heat simmers under the surface of your skin as you struggle to collect your thoughts.

“Eight months,” you squeak just as two of his fingers dip into your slicked up entrance.

“No wonder you’re all worked up.” He slides his digits right up to the knuckle, the glide so easy it’s embarrassing. “Needy holes like yours should be used more often.”

He fucks his fingers into your pussy one, two, three times, before pulling away, chuckling under his breath when your hips push back, greedy and desperate for more. Using the same hand he’d used to test out your cunt Hoseok slaps your ass once, the sharp sting making you still at once.

The damp mark on your ass is a testament to how fucking soaked you are. You can’t imagine what kind of mess the cameras are picking up on - but maybe you don’t have to.

Hoseok wipes his fingers off on you, using you to clean himself off. Although you can’t see anything because of the way you’re laying down, everything feels wet and filthy. He rubs your own juices onto your skin, reminding you of the intensity of your need.

And just when you don’t think his mouth can get any filthier, he proves you wrong.

“I can tell you haven’t been stretched recently,” he sighs, almost disappointed. “You’re just gagging for a pounding, aren’t you? It’s a shame your fuck-hole is too tight to take a big cock or I would have given it to you right away.”

Your lower body clenches as his words wash over you.

The idea sounds downright delicious. Hoseok is right. Even if it’s just for the sake of the storyline, there’s nothing more you want right now than a good, hard fucking. It would take him less than ten seconds for him to pull his hard cock out from his scrubs and make a home for himself between your thighs. Images flash through your mind of Hoseok’s hands on your breasts, in your hair, around your throat. You want him to cover you, smother you, as he forces you down against the table and takes his fill. You want his lips on your skin, hot and possessive, as he uses you like the cocksleeve he needs you to be.

God, you want that. You want to be used hard, to be fucked full until you break. You need this - your character needs this.

You whimper, high-pitched and needy. “Please. Please, I want it. I want - I want your cock.”

“I’m sure you do.” Hoseok all but scoffs. “Why don’t you just sit still and relax for me? I’m going to massage you until you’re nice and loose, alright? First-timers like you could get hurt if they’re not prepped properly but I’ll get you ready, don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be able to take big cocks in all your holes like a pro.”

“Shit.”

You bite back a moan, startled at how much you’re turned on.

Porn dialogue is rarely arousing. You’re the first to tune out your partner whenever they talk for longer than a minute. It’s because you hear the same exact shitty lines repeated so often that you’re half-convinced there’s a porn acting for dummies handbook being circulated around.

Although… Maybe if Hoseok’s lines had been delivered by someone else, they wouldn’t have the same effect on you. That’s the difference, you think to yourself. Hoseok’s delivery. The cockiness that infuses his every word, the way he confidently carries himself… He does it all so convincingly - nothing like the wooden and awkward memorized performances you’ve witnessed from fellow actors.

While you’re lost in thought, Hoseok rummages inside the cardboard box. Without his touch or words to distract you, it’s harder to ignore the building arousal between your legs. As the seconds tick by, your shameful desire only worsens.

Before you can crane your neck or voice your confusion, Hoseok returns, humming under his breath.

“We’re gonna try a different massage technique now. This method will help with lubrication,” he explains evenly. “I’ll use a special vibrating tool that will massage hard to reach areas.”

“Um…” You swallow, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds. We’ll start off slow and I’ll gradually up the intensity once I deem you ready for the next stage. How does that sound?”

A click, followed by a low buzzing, fills the room.

You gasp when the vibrating object comes in contact with the back of your knee. Hoseok’s free hand settles on your leg - a nonverbal reminder to keep your legs wide open for him as well as the cameras.

“See? Nice and easy. Nothing to be scared of.”

He rotates the tool in slow, even circles. You force yourself to relax and accept the foreign massage, disregarding how strange it feels to have small vibrations travel up and down your leg. After a few minutes of him repeating the same motions on your other leg, he slowly makes his way up your thighs, the rounded tip of the tool dangerously close to your drenched pussy.

A pleading whine reverberates in your chest. The electric whirring of the vibrator is not enough to soothe the burning between your thighs. If anything, it makes it worse. You need more, you think urgently.

Hoseok moves to the side of the table so that the cameras can get an unobstructed view of your clenching hole. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he made you lie down. From his voice alone, it’s impossible to tell how affected he is. More than once you’d caught yourself wondering… Does he like what he sees? Is he enjoying himself?

A dark streak of satisfaction crosses over you when you notice the hunger in his gaze, his pupils blown so wide his brown eyes look black. Drool pools in your mouth when you spot the sizable tent in his scrubs.

The fact that you’re at the perfect height to suck his dick doesn’t slip by you. He could flip you over onto your back, your head hanging off the table, and use your mouth to his heart’s content. You whimper at the thought of him fucking your face, your mouth reduced to a fleshlight for him to get off. You could probably cum like that - his cock buried deep in your throat, his fingers pressed against the side of your neck to you struggle around his length, while his other hand reaches down to grab at your breast, using it as an anchor to fuck into you harder.

“Shit, you’re really making a mess of my work table.”

Hoseok’s gaze is trained between your legs. He wets his lips and adjusts his hold on the vibrator. The sudden movement changes the angle, positioning the tool right over your dripping entrance, closer than ever to your swollen clit. The vibrations suddenly feel louder and stronger than before. If this keeps up, you reckon that it won’t be long before you’re hurtling towards the edge of a precipice.

A moan slips past your parted lips, loud and wanton. Embarrassed by the sheer need that colors your voice, you quickly shut your mouth closed, hoping that your desperation goes by unnoticed.

Hoseok chuckles, the sound sharp and mean. He comments on your obscene behavior, how you’re acting so slutty it’s a wonder you’d kept this side of you locked away for this long without people suspecting your love for cock. Every word infiltrates your mind, leaves no corners untainted, until all you can think and breathe and smell is him.

“Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of sluts parade in here and pay for my time,” he says, his dulcet tone making the degradation sweeter. You hang onto each and every word, letting yourself fall deeper into a haze of arousal and submission. “But it’s been a while since someone like you showed up. Just look at this… Your little fuck-hole can’t even take a bit of teasing without getting me dirty.”

The buzzing between your thighs switches back and forth between strong pulses and rapid, little vibrations. You keen, shaking from head to toe in pleasure. Your thighs are wet, sticky with your juices, and your clit is hard and aching for attention.

You don’t even want to know what state your sopping pussy is in. Every time your body jerks and trembles, you feel the pool of arousal that’s gathered underneath you. It’s - embarrassing. That you’re this soaked and close to cumming when he hasn’t even touched your clit or fucked you with his cock.

In the midst of your pleasure-induced haze, your eyes meet his. The lines of his face are drawn into a smug expression, his gaze smoldering. Embers of arousal light up his dark eyes, and you can only stare back at him, clit throbbing, as he ups the intensity of the vibrations.

“Fuck! Oh God, oh I’m-” Your legs thrash, hips lifting off the table in an effort to escape the shocks of pleasure zapping throughout your body. Mercifully - or not, depending on how you looked at it - Hoseok brought the vibrations down a few settings, until the whirring had quieted down to a low thrum.

“Feeling good, huh?” The grin he sends your way is positively wicked. “I think you’re ready to take more.”

More? you think weakly. Any more and you’ll explode, like popcorn kernels in a microwave.

For a second you think he’ll bring the vibrator up to your clit. Maybe even slide the long, phallic-shaped vibrator inside your pussy so that it’ll stretch you out like he’d promised. What you don’t expect is for him to bring it down to your other hole, the powerful vibrations rattling you to the core.

Your surprised gasp is so loud, not even the buzzing of the toy drowns it out. Hoseok places his available hand on your left hip and pins you to the table, the gentle weight keeping you steady.

“That’s right,” he soothes, voice smooth like silk. It sounds patronizing, almost like he’s calming down a dog startled by thunder or explaining right from wrong to a small child.

“Um.” You let trepidation inch its way into your voice. “You - what are you doing? That’s not - that’s dirty.”

“What is?”

“My,” you pause, humiliation coiling tightly around your spine. Hoseok presses the toy harder around your rim, its coat of arousal making the tip slide over your sensitive skin. You’re tempted not to answer but you know Hoseok wants you to voice the dirty words. “My asshole. It’s - dirty. Please - I… I don’t think you should touch it. It’s not right.”

You mumble the end of your sentence like you’re embarrassed to say such a scandalous thing out loud.

Hoseok laughs, sounding both mocking and endeared. “Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m going to loosen up all your holes. Because that’s what you’ve always wanted deep down, isn’t it? To service cock. Even if it means letting me play with this dirty hole of yours.”

The vibrations intensify with the click of a button. Your whole body spasms, limbs flailing pathetically as the sensations run down your back all the way to the tip of your toes.

You bite down a whimper. How does he know? How can he tell? All you want right now is a nice, hard cock buried inside of you - and at this point you don’t care which orifice he sticks in it. You’re just so - empty. So empty it physically aches.

Hoseok dials down the intensity of the vibrator and with his free hand, squeezes a copious amount of oil onto the toy, slicking it up.

Surprisingly he doesn’t bother prepping you with his fingers before easing the toy into your back entrance. From your position, you can’t tell if Director Ryu signaled to hurry things along or if his own impatience played a part. Either way, your sharp intake of breath is genuine.

You try your best to relax your muscles but the toy is thicker than expected, its sides bumpy and ribbed. Even though you’d stretched yourself out beforehand with a sizable dildo, the girth of the toy still makes your breath hitch. Your bottom lip hurts as you scrape your teeth over it.

“Relax for me. That’s it.” Hoseok whispers soft words of encouragement. “You’re doing such a good job.”

Finally, after what seems like light years, the toy is fully inserted, only the base of it peeking out from between your parted cheeks. You feel full, deliciously so. It’s only now with the weight of the toy inside of you that you realize how much you’d missed being stuffed to the brim.

“There you go.” Hoseok smacks your right ass cheek hard enough for the sting to go straight to your clit. “How does that feel?”

“Full.” You smack your lips together. Eloquence is not your strongest suit in the present moment and your lack of coherency only humiliates you further. It’s like he’s rendered you cock-dumb. Reduced you to a lust-driven creature that only has dick on the brain. “I feel good.”

“Of course you’d enjoy that.” The cockiness in his voice is undeniable, like he’s drunk off the power he has over you. “Needy sluts like you only care about getting filled up, huh?”

It sounds like a rhetorical question but you answer it anyway, just in case he wanted an answer.

“Yes! I’m a needy slut. Please - could you…?” You wriggle your hips, trying to entice him into action. The rocking motion jostles the toy nestled inside of you, causing you to choke out a moan. “Hng! Use my pussy this time, please?”

Hoseok clucks his tongue and slaps your ass again to keep you still. It moves the lodged vibrator, knocking it against a spot inside of you that makes you gush. Your pussy clenches up in an imitation of an orgasm - but you know from experience that you haven’t cum just yet.

Fuck. You’re so fucked and he hasn’t even given you his cock.

Your head thumps down against the table as you take in deep, steadying breaths. You can’t think straight; every thought seems clouded by a dense smog of lust. Your body feels like a live wire, all your nerve endings crackling with electricity. How much more can you endure before you shatter beyond repair?

Hoseok takes pity on you. “The vibrating massage should have helped your muscles relax. Your tight cunt should be able to fit this in by now.”

He slides another silicone toy into your pussy, this one wider and longer than the first. Your hands grapple for purchase as your body accommodates both toys, one in each hole. You’re so wet that there’s no resistance despite its impressive size and you suck in a breath as Hoseok keeps pushing it in, inch by interminable inch.

If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to how stretched you feel now. The wall separating the two toys is stretched thin and when you tense your abdomen, you can feel both of them nudge against one another. Your stomach feels - bloated. As if there’s a bulge where the toys are nestled deep inside of you.

It’s quite frankly obscene.

You’ve never felt more turned on.

“Whoa.” He grips both of your legs and widens them even further, displaying your stuffed holes for the cameras. “Your hungry cunt ate up my biggest dildo like it was nothing.”

The fact that he admitted it was a dildo - and not some vibrating tool - just adds to your mortification.

“Okay. Two holes down, one to go.”

He releases his hold on your legs and raises a brow at you. The smirk is back on his face and that, paired with the ravenous look in his eyes, makes you want to run and hide. He looks like he’s two seconds away from devouring you whole for dinner. “Why don’t you turn around for me? It wouldn’t be a full body massage if I didn’t rub down the other side, right?”

His chuckle spurs you into action. It’s not that you’re not embarrassed by the idea of baring yourself completely for him like some sort of cult offering, but the need to get dicked down trumps all.

Your mind feels fuzzy and your body sluggish. There’s a fire inside of you that not even double penetration has managed to extinguish and it roars to life as you manœuvre into the position he’s ordered you to get into. The toys jostle inside of you, reminding you of the depraved lengths you’d go to because you’re starving for cock.

He’s right about you, you think as you settle onto your back. You’re a needy slut. All you want is for your holes to be filled. And when they’re empty, your body aches with the need to fill them back up again. Toys will do but they’re a poor substitute for what you really want.

Thankfully, Hoseok’s own patience is running out. You’ve barely gotten into a comfortable position when he’s fishing out his cock from his scrubs, not even bothering to remove his clothes.

Drool pools into your mouth at the sight. He’s just as long as you remembered him to be. Not too thick or veiny, but prettily flushed and glistening with translucent precum. How long has he been hard? The erection looks painful. Distantly, you’re comforted by the knowledge that you haven’t been the only one suffering from this prolonged foreplay. God is fair, you rejoice internally.

Your mouth opens of its own accord and your tongue lolls out, hungry.

Hoseok doesn’t comment on your pathetic state - a testament to how worked up he probably is. He guides his cock into your waiting mouth with barely repressed urgency.

His cock is heavy on your tongue, the perfect weight. He pushes in until he can’t go any further, the position you’re in giving him better access to your throat. You fucking love it.

When you swallow around his length, he hisses between his teeth. “Shit.”

He gives you little time to adjust. As soon as he’s certain you can take it, he starts to thrust his hips. His cock drags across the rough surface of your tongue as it’s pushed and pulled out of your mouth at a rapid pace. Each thrust of his hips makes you gag, drool running down the sides of your face, and the obscene sounds of your choking echo in your ears.

The rough treatment should revolt you, make you squirm or shy away, but you’ve never felt more alive. Your mind feels pleasantly blank - like your sole purpose in life is to be a glorified cum bucket, a receptacle for his cock and cum. Even when he buries himself all the way to the hilt, so far down your throat it feels like he’s reached your stomach, you’re eager for more. Logically speaking you don’t even know if you can handle more, don’t have the mental faculty to figure out if more is physically possible, but your body knows that it’ll never be sated, not fully, not until he cums inside you.

“Greedy girl,” he rasps between heavy breaths. “Look at you… I’ve plugged up three of your holes but you’re still gagging for it, aren’t you? Filthy slut.”

His words are meant to degrade and humiliate you. Instead of disgust, you can hear the admiration ring in his voice. His awe satisfies you and you hollow your cheeks, suctioning around his girth just to hear him curse under his breath. You live for the way his hips stutter and how his deep breathing is interspersed by the occasional grunt or moan. It feels good to know that you’re bringing him pleasure, that your hole is satisfactory.

Hoseok reaches over your body and grabs something from the discarded cardboard box you can’t see. You soon find out what it is though - the oil is drizzled over your torso and chest, liquid spilling down the sides of your body. He throws the bottle to the side, more interested in spreading the lubricant over your tits until they’re slick and shiny.

It soon becomes clear that he’s abandoned his earlier massage techniques in favor of a more rushed treatment. Gone is the slow build-up. He rubs your breasts, grabbing and squeezing them like stress balls, and pinches your hard nipples tightly between his fingers, pulling them out until your back arches.

The next time he slams his erect length into your mouth, your breasts bounce from the force of the thrust. Hoseok’s eyes remain transfixed on the lewd way your breasts jiggle; because he keeps your nipples clamped tightly between his fingers, your tits have no other choice but to swing around every time he rocks his hips back and forth.

Every time you gag and choke on his cock, tears prickling your eyes, you feel the fire between your legs grow stronger. Shame and arousal course through you, your head dizzy with lust. You can’t move, can’t scream, all of your moans of pleasure muffled by the cock buried in your throat.

He laughs derisively, pulling out after a particularly hard thrust. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock and your eyes zero in on it, finding it impossible to look away.

“You slut.”

He makes a disapproving noise low in his throat before slapping you across the face with his cock.

It doesn’t hurt anywhere as much as a real slap but it’s so unexpected you gasp, your jaw throbbing in pain. The imprint of his cock is wet and dirty against your cheek. He keeps his cock hanging a few centimeters above your face. It taunts you, beckons you closer. The seam of your mouth stays wide open, your appetite evidently knowing no limits.

“Heh. You’re really something… Never seen a whore so cock-hungry in my life. And trust me when I say I’ve seen plenty.” He sneers, walking away.

For a long second, you fear he’s gone and left you high and dry and that the scene will end like that. Except - no. He’s positioned himself at the other side of the massage table. You shudder as you realize that can only mean one thing : he’s going to grant you the fucking your body craves.

Hoseok’s lips twitch into a knowing half-smile. He grips his stiff cock in one hand, the length of it soaked with your spit and precum.

You gulp, suddenly intimidated. Perhaps it’s the angle, but he looks taller than you remember him to be, bigger, his shoulders slightly broader. His cock looks more imposing, too. Despite just having choked on it, it’s long; his hand sits loosely at the base of his cock, leaving a few good inches poking out of his fist. Your mouth goes dry, your insatiable hunger reawakened.

The impatience marring your features is probably disgustingly obvious because Hoseok makes another comment about how desperate and pathetic you look once you’re deprived of cock.

Using his left hand, he slowly removes the toy from your ass. The slide is painful because you’re clenching so hard down on it, unwilling for your hole to become empty once again.

A whimper escapes your parted lips. Hoseok laughs at the betrayed look that crosses your face at the loss of the thick dildo.

“So fuckin’ greedy.” He slaps your entrance with his cock, his grin wolfish as you wail in reply. “Stay still if you want my cock.”

Immediately you freeze, taking his words to heart. Deep down, you know that he won’t be that cruel but you’re so exhausted from the never-ending teasing, that you’re not willing to take any chances.

Hoseok holds up one of your legs and pushes it over his shoulder.

“Good girl.” He breaches your ass, both of you moaning as his cock works its way inside of you. It’s a tight fit; you can feel his cock bump into the vibrating dildo in your pussy, the feeling overwhelming you. He grunts, fingertips bruising your skin as he hold back from cumming too quickly.

His hips work up a steady rhythm, the both of you already so close to finishing. You know that a lesser man would have cum ages ago, but Hoseok troops on, eyebrows creased in concentration. He looks - hot. Ridiculously hot, even in that dumb fake masseuse uniform.

His once perfectly combed hair is now disheveled, strands of hair falling over his eyes and dripping brow. There’s something about all of it - the wild glint in his eyes, the rough way he’s fucking you, the domineering aura that he exudes - that makes you absolutely lose it.

You clench up on his cock without warning, your insides squeezing around him even more tightly because of the toy still lodged in your dripping cunt. The orgasm rips through you, fast and hard, leaving your thighs soaking. Hoseok fucks you through it, his cock relentless, drawing your pleasure out until your body goes limp.

It’s the kind of orgasm that on a normal day you could only hope to achieve.

Except Hoseok doesn’t stop to let you rest or take a breather. He brings your other leg over his shoulder, testing the limits of your flexibility, and uses the new angle to plow into you with renewed force.

“Ah - ah fuck wait!” You cry out, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations traveling through your body. “Oh my God, oh shit! You’re so fucking deep, ah!”

Hoseok chooses that moment to turn on the vibrating dildo. He doesn’t even start at the lowest setting, sets it straight to one of the higher level ones, and your whole body jumps. Both of you moan as the toy comes to life. The vibrations rattle your insides - and that, coupled with the fat cock that’s splitting you open relentlessly, threaten to rearrange your insides.

Arousal builds again quickly inside of you, pulsing steadily alongside your heartbeat.

You feel so fucking full you think it’s possible you’ll burst. Before, when you had both toys buried inside of you, the stretch and the fullness had been pleasant. You had even been able to tune it out for the most part once you’d got used to it.

But with the way Hoseok is now fucking into you with reckless abandon, it’s impossible not to be reminded of how stuffed your holes are. Every thrust of his cock in your ass bumps against the vibrator, pushing it harder against your bundle of nerves.

“I knew the minute I saw you,” he growls, his pace punishing. “No bra, pussy ripe for the picking. Whores like you could never be satisfied with the beginner massage. No, I knew exactly what you needed.”

He adjusts his grip on your ankles and the change in angle keeps the vibrator pressed directly the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh God, there there! Please, keep going. It’s so good. Fuck me!” You chant, out of your mind with pleasure.Your words are raw, unrefined, and in any other circumstance, you’d laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he hisses between grunts of pleasure. “Why don’t you go ahead and cum for me. Make yourself useful and tighten up this hole of yours so I can feel good.”

He reaches down between your legs and fiddles with the switch.

You scream. Your eyes roll back and your entire body locks up. Intense pleasure that you’ve never experienced before thunders through your body. If your previous orgasm was like a building wave crashing to the shore at long last, this one is a fucking tornado determined to rip you to pieces.

Maybe you might’ve passed out. You don’t know. But when you regain consciousness, Hoseok’s cock is pulsing jet after jet of hot cum inside of your pussy. You feel it spurt inside of you, coating your already slick walls with his essence.

He pulls out quickly so that the camera can zoom in on the way the cum oozes out of you in thick globs. Instinctively you clench your walls to keep more from leaking out, but it only pushes more of the mess out, painting your inner thighs white.

When you glance up at him you notice his shirt is soaked. There’s a huge dark spot that starts from his chest to his pants. He doesn’t seem to mind the stain.

“You came so hard you passed out,” he informs you while tucking his spent cock back inside his scrubs. “I came inside of you while you were out of it but I figured you wouldn’t mind. That’s what you came here for, right?”

The smile he shoots your way looks more like a smirk. You bite your lip. He must’ve taken out the dildo - or it might’ve gotten pushed out during your orgasm, you don’t know - and you feel your holes gape a little after being stretched and used for so long. You’re tempted to snap your legs shut but you know the cameras need to record your debauchery.

“I’ll let you change. You can meet me out front to schedule your next appointment. Hm let’s see… Considering how well you reacted during this session I think we’ll have to take more, hm, drastic measures next time. I’m curious to see how far your greedy cunt is able to stretch with enough incentive. I’m positive that with you anything is possible. We’ll try fitting two cocks insides for starters and maybe - ah. I’m getting carried away.” He chuckles. “Anyways, meet me at the counter in ten minutes and we can go over the details then.”

“I…” You wet your lips. “I’d like that.”

A silence ensues and for a second you think your acting was bad or you’d said the wrong thing.

“CUT! And that, my friends, is what you call art!” yells Director Ryu, clapping his hands like a seal.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and sit up despite your muscles protesting loudly. God, your ass feels sore. Hoseok had really done a number on you.

“Hey, are you all good?” He asks, drawing closer to you in concern. He must have seen your grimace.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. It’s just - it was kind of intense. In a good way! I’ll probably be sore later but that’s because I’m not used to these kind of scenes yet.”

“You were really hot. I couldn’t tell this was your first anal scene at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Really.” Hoseok sighs dreamily. “I think I saw Jesus when I came.”

“What?” You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter. “It was a good nut, I take it?”

“The best.” He looks over at you, dimples on his cheek as he returns your smile. “I blacked out for a second and went to heaven.”

You bask in the afterglow for a few minutes longer than you usually would. Hoseok makes no move to leave either, even if logic dictates that you’re both better off washing up instead of letting the mixture of sweat, cum, and oil dry on your skin. You know from experience that it’s hard as fuck to clean up once it hardens - not to mention it stinks.

“Babe!”

You’re roused from your peaceful state of mind as your boyfriend approaches. He’s smiling but one side of his mouth looks stiff. He hands you a towel, eyes trailing down your figure, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. You hurriedly wrap the fluffy material around you, eager to hide the cum still dripping out of your swollen cunt and the red marks littered over your body from Hoseok’s rough treatment.

It’s not - you’re not ashamed. You never are. It’s just - you don’t want to hurt Jimin. Even if it does come with the job, it can’t be easy for him to see his girlfriend getting fucked by someone else.

“That was so good! You did great. The camera really loves you. I can’t wait to see how the final cut turns out,” Jimin compliments and you preen despite yourself, conditioned to suck up praise. “Are you hungry?”

Just on cue your stomach lets out a grumble.

Jimin’s eyes crease into crescents as he smiles. “I knew it. You’re always famished after a scene. It’s a good thing I booked a reservation at our favorite restaurant, right?”

You nod, thankful yet again that you have such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend. “I’m famished now that you mention it.”

Hoseok observes the exchange silently and his presence makes you embarrassed for some reason. Maybe not embarrassed but - something. You can’t put a name to the emotion.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” You say as you gather to your feet. Jimin is instantly by your side, his hand wrapping around yours tightly. “It was nice working with you again! Thank you for your hard work.”

Hoseok’s lips quirk into a half-smile. He’s still eyeing the both of you in a strange, intense kind of way and the scrutiny makes you fidgety. You try not to make your desire to flee the scene too transparent.

“It’s always a pleasure. I look forward to working with you again.”

The words he utters are tactful and diplomatic - nothing like the carefree familiarity he’d showcased minutes prior. You don’t blame him, given the circumstances.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you turn away to leave. To your relief, Hoseok doesn’t appear dejected or offended. Just - curious, maybe? Pensive? Like he’s in the middle of solving a complicated and intricate puzzle and that puzzle involves you.

The idea scares you. Mostly because you yourself don’t know what he’ll find.

As soon as you’ve rounded the corner, Jimin excuses himself. “I have to finish helping the guys. There’s still some equipment to put away. But we’ll meet out in the back like last time?”

“Sure.”

He kisses your cheek and scampers away.

Seokjin is waiting for you in the next room over. He’s holding a water bottle, your favorite silk robe, and a dark chocolate energy bar. You’re so sweaty that it feels silly to wear the robe but you shrug it on anyway, knowing that Jimin will feel better if you’re not parading around the set naked.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and it’s only then that you realize the extent of how fucking hungry you are. Non-stop sex sure is tiring, you note while ripping open the energy bar with your teeth. Seokjin calls you a savage under his breath but those types of comments are so commonplace that it’s easy to tune him out.

“God, I could kiss you right now,” you say after swallowing down a mouthful of granola. After eating spinach exclusively for the past three days, the sweetness on your tongue tastes like a slice of heaven.

“Not with that mouth, you won’t.” Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I know where it’s been.”

Still high from your mind-shattering orgasm, you giggle and pretend to kiss him just to watch him squirm. It’s not until much later, after you’d washed up as best you could with the help of baby wipes, that you check your phone. You respond to a text or two before finally checking your social media page out of habit more so than anything else.

(2) new notifications

JHOPE94 has followed you!

JHOPE94 has mentioned you in their story.

It’s the same account Hoseok had shown you earlier in the day. You follow him without much thought, grinning to yourself when you read his bio “hope on streets and in the sheets ;)”, and click on his Instagram story.

You’re surprised to learn he’s one of those people who uploads multiple pictures about just about anything - his Starbucks’ coffee cup with JAY written in black sharpie, several mirror selfies, a snapshot of his shoes, pictures of the film crew setting up the scene. You click through the pictures, a little flummoxed by the random collage, and pause when you get to the picture you’d been tagged in.

It’s you. Squinting, you realize that he must have taken the candid picture in passing. You’re sitting in the hair and makeup chair, the makeup artist applying a layer of gloss on your lips. The row of lights that border all around the vanity mirror give your figure a halo spotlight effect.

JHOPE94 : not in heaven but i saw an angel today :))

#once again the italics did not transfer over but i rlly can’t be bothered at this point ;;#i am so happy this is done but also nervous agshsisjskss #bts smut #hoseok smut #bts #hoseok #also as usual I did not proof the last 4k bc I speed wrote the last bit in one go #believe me when i say i cannot look at this draft any longer !

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salenakingston · 4 years ago

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Mystery March Day 21 - One of Us

(This is by far the most involved prompt I have done for Mystery March, and so I hope it turned out alright. There will be some more detailed author’s notes at the end of the writing, as there’s no possible way I can fit them all here before it. Just let me express how much of an inspiration you all have been! ENJOY!)

I said, even if I told ya

It all started with an idea, as most every work of art does. Concepts were put in place, branching off from that one base idea. From there, others came together to help get this little project off the ground. Characters were fleshed out, just as the world they lived in where. The team worked hard on everything planned, a true passion project.

When the first video dropped, we were all invested. We fell in love with the characters, story, and music. We couldn’t wait to see more, and despite all the time having to wait, it has always been worth it. Great works take time, and even with a team as dedicated as this one is, they fueled our own passions with previews, updates, character and worldbuilding, merch, and as of the most recent video, a branch into another medium to further tell their story. Their group continued to grow, bringing on more talented individuals, including voice actors.

Fours videos under the belt and one more still to come, they pour their heart and soul into this series, though they are not the only ones who do so. There’s a theory in our world known as the ‘multiverse.’ It is said that all these universes living side by side with one another create everything that exists. Can the same not be said for this team and all the fascinating works of art that came out of this one little series of four videos?

They've been looking for you and only you

It’s a tale of three friends and their dog, all stemming from a terrifying incident inside a cave. One lost their life, one lost their memory, and one lost their arm. What of the last member of their group? He lost his identity. Karma for his trickery would come back to haunt him. Guilt came to consume another, and the last to make it out alive was left wondering what was even going on.

Revenge fueled the one that came back, determined to get back at the one ‘friend’ that managed to cut his life short, and reunite with the love of his life. What started with a chase through a mansion led to the appearance of a tree woman searching for the trickster. The ghost refueled hijacks a truck, gunning down for the familiar van he once drove for all of them.

The woman catches up, shattering the glass wall protecting those in the front seat. The ghost blows the back tire that causes the van to crash. Two encounters branch from this point, one shrouded in the past, and another in the pursuit of revenge. Blonde and blue-haired humans nearly falling at the hands of their captors.

But they survive.

The dog’s true form revealed, the battle commences, blood spilling. As one disintegrates, an opening is left over for a familiar evil to take hold. White became black, demonic nature taking over the once noble being. The three friends left being the ones to bring him free of this grip. What are they to do? It’s all left to be seen...

Darkness is my signal

Not too much is known about this blonde, though despite the change to his physical appearance, there are parts of what defined him that have not changed. He’s had to adjust his lifestyle, but seems to have made the most of his new life. He may have even found some comfort in a bit of an unusual source. Anything to keep him from the self-isolation he seemed content to bring upon himself because of his condition.

So what are you to me, what are we to you?

The cave incident plays out like normal, there is one major change in the timeline of events. The blonde is sent tossed over the cliff along with his best friend, the entity that caused all their problems still trapped inside his body. When the ghost reformed, his anger was washed away at the sight of his friend suffering the same fate, or so he believed. Once free, it was nothing but a rough struggle to hold onto sanity, not just for one of them, but both.

One to keep calm, helping his friend to try and stay lucid.

The other fighting the terrifying entity inside him for control, while changing his body to fit the demon’s needs.

The blonde won, but at what a cost? Green skin covering his body, feet and hands sporting yellow-tinted claws. The posture of his own feet changed, causing him to have to learn how to walk all over again. A tail with a tuft of orange hair, and two large wings attached to his back. Last of course, were the horns on his head, and the blacked out eyes with amber pupils. He was in despair over the turn of events.

At least he had his best friend to help him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. Well, this, and the series of events that came to follow. The two were eventually united with their final friend, but their not-dog wasn’t convinced of the blonde’s mind. It didn’t matter that he didn’t act like a demon, as he still looked like one, accepting the pain brought on him.

Drastic measures were taken to ensure freedom of the ghost, no matter how unnecessary it was. Adjustment takes time, and a good talk was what the four of them needed.

But are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

What seemed like a simple task, well maybe not simple, but one that was plausible spiraled into a long drive across the country in search of a cure for the ghost’s condition. All it took was one ingredient: werewolf blood. Seven weeks after the start of their trip, two were starting to lose hope, the last of their trio determined as always. A blur running across the front of their van was enough to bring their hopes back up, chasing down what looked like a big wolf.

To just miss it. It seemed like another dead end for their search.

Until the blonde was all alone.

The wolf jumped out of the shadows, teeth sinking down into flesh. Were it not for the arrival of the kitsune, who knows what would have happened. The injured one was brought back to his friends, patched up, and taken in for proper treatment. A headache marks the night of the full moon, a night when werewolves are said to be forced to transform. What will happen for them? Most left to the whim of try blue ghosts deemed as blueberries. We shall see where their questions and actions take this new werewolf and his friends.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Tales of legends are passed down, but come from a place of truth. Those that speak of a king gifted a sword with a beautiful, glowing, purple gem just before the silver of the blade. This is a gift from the Lady of the Lake, and one not to be taken lightly. It comes as a surprise when the weapon turns out to be sentient, and the two not always getting along.

Sometimes the king can be a little harsh on his partner.

And sometimes the sword can refuse to work in situations where his help would be greatly appreciated.

They must learn to work with one another if they hope to overcome the obstacles placed in front of them. The question is can this be done, or will they continue to bicker with one another?

I know that this sounds crazy

An unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes the members of the separate mystery solving groups to be body swapped with one another. A kid stuck with adult hunters that deal with magic, as well as otherworldly dangers, and an adult stuck with a bunch of kids that seem like they may be in way over their heads. The ultimate goal is for the two groups to come together, and find a way to swap the souls in each body back to their original home.

Easier said than done.

One gets to learn the truth of a horrifying incident, something that tore friends apart, and damaged the people of their group beyond some repair. A kind heart is offered to them despite all this, helping to try and ease the burden even if he has nothing to do with them.

The other sees first hand what kind of trouble a group of kids can get themselves in. His own problems arise, and in typical fashion, does not wish to push them onto anyone he’s been stuck with. It’s a little harder to convince some of this new group of the world he has seen, and learned from; but, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s to still help those around him, and lend a hand when a mystery comes along their way.

Two outsider perspectives looking in, and it’s a matter of what adventures they will have before and after they come together again.

Waiting for this moment, can you see me?

A whirlwind of emotions, pushed only further at the hands of abuse, a blonde is left to flee from his own home to try and preserve himself. He fled through the states, ending up at another corner of the US. His mind might have been broken, but that didn’t stop one person from becoming the most important in his life, nor the three that came to follow from their union. The haunts of old were constantly clinging to him, no matter how careful he was so that none could find him, and even when those fears returned, he never let them get in the way of his family. There was an understanding between them.

But all that fear came crashing back when one single letter was hand passed to him by his former friend’s father.

Even terrified out of his wits, he found the courage to pack up some of his family to return to his old home. The past came back in full force, as well as the reveal of a curse that only seemed to have the power to vanquish. The people that treated him the worst came back to him for help. The same blue-haired girl who’s father delivered the father nearly brought the end of three children with her partner in crime. The wraith that made his life a living hell came back trying to act as if there was something he could do to make up for what he had done.

And the demon that caused all this to happen in the first place was now roaming free...

'Cause I know that you're out there

Almost as if the reset button had been hit, the blonde wakes up thrown into the past, a time when his best friend was still alive, but… it wasn’t the same. The blonde was still the same one from the future, and new friends that his past friends would know nothing about showed themselves. How was he meant to be like his old self when anytime he looked at the purple wearing man, all he saw was the vengeful ghost out for his life?

Events aren’t meant to play out the same way, and they don’t. Despite this, some things can not be changed. The demon still found his way to the same host, though what he chose to do was different. Even with all the chaos, at least the one man didn’t lose his life.

And he gets a front row seat to what his blonde friend had to go through in the future he once came from. It hurt. Emotions still rang high, even if the circumstances are not the same.

This darkness is my signal, come and find me

Sometimes the past can be changed and have one new timeline play out, but what if that same man from the future was now thrown into multiple iterations of the same events, each one spent trying to make it a perfect outcome for all four of them? Well… after a few rounds it didn’t matter if he got to be part of their ending. All that mattered was fixing things for the other three. That was his assigned duty.

Death ended each try, waking the man back up in his bed, whether that be at the hands of someone else, or himself. He just needed more time, plan, and make sure he got it right. He could do it, he was determined to do so.

No matter how much it was tearing him apart.

And when enough was finally enough, it was up to the three left to try and convince him that even with pain, they could continue on with their lives. He didn’t have to keep fighting anymore. He could take an ending that hurt, but one they could heal from, rather than spending so many years trying and trying, all to end with a repeat.

As having to remember all of that hurt.

Are you one of us?

What started out as just another night of sleepwalking led the blonde to the steps of a very familiar mansion. Fleeing from an unseen threat caused him to swallow his fear, taking the first step inside. There was no greeting this time, save for the slamming of doors behind him. The only light provided was a light purple of three candles, lifted by the only hand he had. A journey up a flight of stairs and down the hall, coming to a plaque with his name on it.

Entrance strangely granted to him with the twist of a knob from a hand that wasn't there.

The night spent in a bed, waking up to find he had become a prisoner. It seemed death was what would come to him, whether it be at the hands of his former best friend, or by his own. After all, there was a reason his room was on the second floor. Revelations come to light with the appearance of a certain green arm… wearing a familiar, black wristband.

Friendships ruined, for another reason than before. Another friend found searching for him. Both started for selfish means, but it was selflessness that sent him back into the house, even though an evil from the past threatened them once more.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

It’s not everyday that some dive into the past of these character’s lives, but what would happen if one young, scared blonde came across an ancient tree? One that was alive in more ways than one. A strange feeling washed between the two of them, a bond made from the day the blond fled into her woods to hide from the one hunting him. He came to her more than once, and yet every time he did, she sought to rest his soul.

And soon, the tables had turned. Now she was the one in need of rest, though she did not realize it yet until she got the same comfort she once gave to the blonde. His pack adopted her, and he took care of her rot. Names of a powerful thing to these beings, and they knew each other by that power word.

This was not the end of their story. The three friends and dog were reunited, of course the blonde being the one to decide to choose the home where his wooden friend resided. There’s no denying that he was still healing, but he found the courage to try and seek it for himself. The bluenette grew curious about the tree in their backyard, and the final finds an outside source to try and round his curious status.

Are you one of us?

The once ghost only turned out to be half deceased, but the hatred still remained. Whether he liked it or not, the blond was at fault; but, he had a plan. One that was sure to fix everything. Find the true cause of their misery, proof that he was just as much a victim.

It was a plan that split their group apart. The dog chose to go with the man on his search, while the bluenette stayed with their half dead friend. The hunt is on, but who’s to tell how the story is to go on from here. Will they each succeed with their goals? We shall see.

Are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

The ghost finds himself in the company of others like him. Not ghosts, but skeletons from various worlds. The logistics of how this came to pass is a mystery, though he does not seem to find these details too important. Separated from his ‘friends,’ he finds new ones in this strange group of individuals. They seem to naturally bounce off one another, though some still have trouble catching the ghost’s triggers to his anger. Thankfully, most situations involving this aren’t left to fester.

Their local hang out at Manny’s place is full of stories, interactions between these liked characters. Some funny, some more serious. Whatever the case may be, even if he’s not in the same place as most other ghosts like him, he’s found a place where he can fit in.

Are you one of us?

A prince and a noble of green came together, an unholy union that was meant to lead to a prosperous life. Perhaps, but only for one half of that pair. Concerns were dismissed, comfort was sought by an evil man from the one he supposedly loved, and the other tried to find what little comfort there was in his constricting hold. It took the support of two outside his kingdom, and two strangers that wormed into his life to stand up to the terror in his life.

And yet… even with their help… and his desire to lend his help in return…

It wasn’t enough.

A life ended, but the king came back. He was not about to give up on the kingdom he always poured his heart and soul into. Years he seemed to be alone, though one by one, four beings came into his company. He still had those that aided him in life, but now he had more to add to his family. A pink rabbit, golem, a purple imp, and a dark girl with a skull marking. Each had their own story, and a place with him.

And he would see to their safety as much as anyone else in his kingdom.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Some characters are unique to the world, not all always branching off the main four. Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some made with connections to them in mind. Each is special, and built with as much care as anyone else…

Whether it be a cousin to the blonde, gray with orange highlights rather than the way around, a darker aesthetic, but still similar style to his cousin. A tattoo pattern along his left arm.

A green haired ghost, one met when the group of friends were out together. Something seemed about ready to suck her inside, the ghost reaching out to save her. She seemed to stick with them since.

A young woman dressed in red, blue, and brown. Golden pearls hang from her neck, and a black shawl wrapped around one shoulder. A brown cat accompanying her and group at times, and one that seems to have a power of her own hidden just underneath.

Are you one of us?

Some characters branching off the core four, and even some of those that were created as their own entity for this series chose to build their stories and characters with one another. Their worlds cross over to one another, relationships naturally build, and so too do the special elements and plots to separate them from one another. Each one of them is equally unique.

Whether it be from the multitude of different colored ghosts, each of them centered around their own story and emotions.

A blue-haired girl with one strand that is lighter than the other. A snowflake twinkled in her left eye, and a roller derby team she has been dedicated to for years counting on her.

The same mechanic, though with more visible scars to the incident in the cave. So much love and care to give, even to those in other worlds, even if the gray faes take a little too much pleasure in bringing him grief.

A black robed king, living far beyond the grave, glowing locks of hair flowing through the air. He’s been seen before, but this one on another plane, a chance to interact with others outside his grown family.

Are you one of us?

This amazing group of people, as well as many others come together over a series we all love and cherish. We create our own works of art, but not without credit to the original source. From this point and on, we only seem to grow as a collective, continuing to create as we wait, and surely even after the series comes to a close, it will hold a special place in our hearts. So long as we are all here, we shall continue to spread our joy over mystery skulls animated, supporting one another, no matter how small or big someone may be.

We extend our open arms to one another, and to those new to this fandom...

“Said, are you one of us?”

-----

(Author’s Notes: Seriously, this fandom has been an amazing inspiration, and I’m so happy to be able to take part in Mystery March. There was no other good prompt to really do this for, and I thought this would be a clever way to give tribute to the many amazing people and ideas/stories they have come up with. I tried to keep things short and vague for some, as there are some things I don’t want to give away, so you can check them out if you haven’t. I know there’s no possible way I could get everyone, but I tried to get as many as I’ve fallen in love with and not repeat anyone twice (even though I think I broke that rule twice). Again, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

Credits: (In order of appearance)

@mysterybensmysteryblog, @heilos, @artsyfeathersartsyblog, and the rest of the amazing team!

@lottafandoms (Vampire Arthur)

@ectoimp (Demon!Arthur) / @providentially-demonic (The Devil and the Dead Fic)

@askmysteryskullswerewolfarthur (Werewolf Arthur)

@heilos (King Arthur)

@phantoms-lair (Mirror’s Gaze Fic)

@braveskyered (Knights Fic)

@pi-cat000 (Time Travel Idea Fic)

@thefandomcassandra (The Future Fic)

@tyigra (House of Strays Fic)

@hecallsmehischild (Rest Nestling/Explain it like I’m a Tree Fics)

@neversleepagainau

@atomi-cat (Boneheads)

@ask-twoyearsafter / @kanaiekla (The Cruel Irony of a Prophetic Love Fic)

OC’s: @nerv0usm3chanic (Lucan), @binaconfusa (Frog), @lauritanaomystery (Laurel)

RP Blogs: @splatterlewis, @lamentinglewis, @frenzys-furnace, @bluescarfvivi, @punsandfuturekingsmen, @diviinc)

#MysteryMarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #msa au #my writing #my submission #long post

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fangirlovestuff · 4 years ago

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Playful - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - hey lovely people! i’ve had all these little headcanons in my head for quite a bit of time, so i’m finally posting it! let me know what you think and enjoy!<3

warning: implied sexual content

you and chris are known as a really goofy couple

what do you expect? when you put a couple of children at heart together there’s bound to be at least some chaos

once you built a blanket fort in the middle of the living room and spent the night in it

obviously, a disney marathon was involved

on the morning you wake up to find chris tangled up in the blankets you had for yourselves, leaving none for you

i mean you were pretty sure he didn’t do it on purpose, but still

you woke him up with a pillow to his face

which led to a pillow fight that ruined your fort

“oh well, it was bound to be ruined sometime”

you took your tongue out at him and he returned the favor

you were both pretty fond of puns as well

if you found a good one you’d make sure to share it

sometimes you’d get on a roll

“what did the grape say when it was crushed? nothing it just let out a little... wine,” you burst into laughing and so did chris

“what do you call a can opener that doesn’t work? a can’t opener!”

you could get into hours of laughing at each other’s stupid jokes, until your sides hurt and you were practically crying with laughter, when you got in a silly mood

once you were having a nice saturday lunch at his parents' house, the whole family coming together to see each other and staying the afternoon

you were sitting on the couch, reading a book Lisa just lent you

the kids were playing outside, and, so you thought, was chris

but once you were immersed in your book chris came in without you noticing

he came up behind the couch and circled his arms around you

“you look pretty” he smiled and whispered in your ear, startling you from your book

“awww, you’re pretty too,” you replied

and then, smirking, you continued

“pretty annoying”

you burst out laughing

chris pouted and turned to walk away

you quickly grabbed onto his arm and turned around, so your knees were on the couch and your face was towards him

you pulled him back towards you, circling your arms around his neck

“you look handsome,” you whispered before bringing your foreheads together

you smiled and pecked his lips

just then one of the kids came in

“ewwww,” he exclaimed at your PDA and everyone laughed

a lot of times when you mildly annoy chris he has a not-so-secret weapon against you

the mustache

god, you hated it with a passion

so if you were feeling particularly bratty that day, he’d just sigh and go “you know what? i think it’s time to bring back that iconic stache”

which would prompt you to thoroughly apologize

“okay okay i’m sorry, please just not the mustache, i won’t do it again!”

you’d pout and you’d both laugh

you actually challenged him to a push-up contest one time

was it an excuse to watch him do push-ups because he didn’t like working out in the house?

maybe

anyway, you actually held up better than you thought but he still won, obviously

you started rambling about how it’s kinda unfair that he won but he cut you off swiftly, putting his arms on the small of your back and asking you in a low voice

“when do i get my prize?”

there was one summer day when your AC broke down

it was an absolute nightmare

you called a technician but he said he could be there only in about three hours

you laid down on your bed with your phone, the heat boring into you like hellfire

you had one of those ceiling fans, but they were no match for an AC, doing nothing to cool the room down

you were scrolling on your phone, a bit sweaty even though you were laying down, when chris came to lay behind you

he started moving his hands on your hips and sides, coming to squeeze on your ass

“chris,” you groaned “it’s hot as shit in here, please let’s not make it worse”

he hummed as if debating it, then brought his lips to kiss along your neck, sucking and nipping at your collarbone, drawing a moan out of your lips as you tilted your neck to grant him easier access

“i don’t know,” he mused, “i think we could use a distraction”

he ground himself against your ass and your breath hitched as you tossed your phone aside

once you both came down from your high you laid down beside him, sweaty and breathless

you huffed and rolled yourself to lay on top on him, like a big sweaty blanket

“nooo,” he groaned, “it’s like 200 degrees in here”

“oh really? who would’ve known something like this would happen?” you exclaimed

you lifted your head from his chest and smirked at him

“this is really your fault, you brought this onto yourself and-- oh!” you squealed and giggled as he suddenly rose from the bed, lifting you with him

you wrapped your legs around his waist as he made your way to the shower, smiling the entire way

sometimes interviewers would ask stupid questions about him working out, or people who met him would say they thought he was bigger

he tried to take it in good humor but you knew it still stung a little

so you never missed a chance to show chris how much you thought he was hot

touching his arm and pulling your palm away immediately, holding it in your other hand as if you got burned

“ahhh,” you hissed, “you’re hot!”

he laughed heartily, his hand slapping his chest

other times you see him talking to someone in a family gathering and come up next to him, slipping your hand into his back pocket and splaying it on his ass

luckily for the both of you, he’s an actor, so no one but you sees the glint of laughter in his eyes

other times you’d just see him standing in your kitchen, or in front of your bathroom sink, brushing his teeth

and you’d just give his butt a nice little smack

america’s ass wasn’t the only one who appreciated a nice ass in this house😏

once you were sitting on the couch when you had scott and some friends over

you were sitting in chris’ lap, talking to him in a hushed voice, your hands intertwined in your lap

absentmindedly, chris brought your hand up to kiss it

you rubbed your nose on his in an eskimo kiss

which resulted in you both gave each other mad heart eyes

everyone in the room rolled their eyes

“c’mon guys,” scott said, “you’ve been dating for more than a year, when’s this gonna stop?”

the both of you just laughed

because you knew the answer to that was never

in conclusion chris evans come wife me up right now!!

hope u enjoyed! as always if you have any requests/ideaslet me know! btw for this anon - this is the fic i was talking about lol

Chris Taglist: @swatson06 @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @phoebe-21-99 @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @wanessalopesueiros @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @darkwitchfromthesouth @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal

if you wanna join / be removed from the taglist, comment/message me! this is a taglist for Chris and his characters. much love <3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans headcanon #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n

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desiraypark · 4 years ago

Text

Ominous (Part 3)

Because the people asked for it!

Part I | Part II CHARACTERS: Adam Sackler x Brenda “Bree” Sackler CONTENT: Angst; Infidelity; Flashback; Argument; Drinking (Brief)

Adam and Bree’s Apartment (The Ritz Plaza > Virtual Tours > 2BR, 2BA)

“Good morning, Mr. Sackler.”

Adam shook the young woman’s balmy hand. She cringed, wiped it on her pants, and lifted her eyeglasses by the bridge. “I’m so sorry, my palms are all sweaty. I’m so nervous.”

Adam smiled. “That’s alright.”

She walked to the folding table behind her, grabbed a pencil and searched through a small stack of file folders. “I’ll be taking measurements for Mrs. Yang today.”

“And your name is...?”

“Oh,” she said. She placed Adam’s folder back down on the table and held out her hand again. Adam raised an eyebrow and shook it. “Brenda. Brenda Mayweather. But you can call me Bree.”

“Oh,” Bree said with a chuckle. Adam chuckled as well, taking in Bree’s heart-shaped face and the dark green lipstick that melted into her plump limps. “I already shook your hand.”

“It’s alright. Just relax. I’m just an actor,” he said.

Bree scoffed and tilted her wrist forward. She turned around and grabbed the pink measuring tape. “I’m not worried about you. It’s Peggy LuPont that I’m freaking out over.”

Adam blinked and laughed as Bree faced him and put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh my God, I didn’t mean it like--”

“I know what you mean,” Adam said. He placed his hands on Bree’s shoulders. “Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Bree breathed in through her nose, and exhaled out of her mouth. “You’re wonderful yourself, Mr. Sackler. I’ve seen some of your work.”

“Thanks, Bree,” he said. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“No, no. I’ve seen you on TV.”

Bree unraveled the measuring tape, stood on her tiptoes, and held the tape in the air. “Oh,” she said, resting her feet flat again. “I’m gonna measure your neck, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

Bree stood on her tiptoes again, and Adam lowered himself at the knees.

“No, stand straight,” she said firmly. She cleared her throat and smiled. “Please.”

Adam straightened his knees and stared down at Bree--enjoying the sight of her avoiding his gaze. She wrapped the tape measure around his neck, just under his Adam’s apple. He breathed in the light scent of lavender and lemon. Just as he’d determined what the scents were, Bree pulled away, opened Adam’s folder and scribbled something inside.

“Are you a costume designer, too?” Adam asked.

“Lift your arms,” Bree demanded. Adam did as he was told as she wrapped the tape around his chest.

“Please,” she said with delay. “Thanks. No, I call myself a seamstress. But...I get paid to be an assistant.”

Adam nodded. “Do you like it so far?”

“Yeah. I like Mrs. Yang. I like being surrounded by fabric...” Bree whispered a number to herself, then moved the measuring tape to Adam’s waist.

“...but?”

Bree looked up at Adam, smiled, and shook her head. “No buts. Yet.”

____________

FOUR YEARS LATER

Adam had just swallowed the last swig of bourbon in his glass when the lock turned. The sun just starting to set, Bree had ignored two phone calls and a text message during her four-hour excursion from home. Adam listened to the sound of shoes knocking against the wall--followed by the sound of the lock turning back. Then, bare feet slid across the sleek wood, bringing a glaring Bree into the living room. She flopped down on their firm green sofa and leaned back against it.

“When I was at my cousin’s wedding?” she asked after a few seconds of silence. Her face immediately began to burn.

Adam placed his drinking glass on the dining table.

“Yes.”

Bree leaned forward and held her face in her hands. “Was she in our bed?” she asked, her voice amplified in her hands.

Adam inhaled through his nostrils, then let the air go. He rested his back against the dining chair, letting the setting sun warm his back. Suddenly, Bree lifted her head and stared into Adam’s eyes. He slowly nodded.

“...yeah.”

Bree looked down at their coffee table, letting her eyes fall wherever--on the rose-scented candle that was almost empty. She let the tears roll down her cheeks. She quickly closed her eyes again and wiped the tears away. Adam watched her chest rise and fall as her eyes stayed trained on the wall to her left. Then, she looked him in the eyes again.

“How many times?” she asked.

Adam swallowed. “Three.”

Bree nodded and looked away again. Her eyebrows lifted and she grunted with slight amusement. “Hmph. I thought it would be more than that.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this, Bree,” Adam said. He chewed nervously at his bottom lip.

Bree shook her head and met his eyes again. “You can’t fix it.”

Adam rose from his chair, pushed it behind him with his heel, and charged toward Bree. Unable to detach herself from the sofa, she watched him make his way in front of her and fall to his knees.

“I can. I will fix this. It’s over. I’m never gonna see her again. I’m never gonna talk to her again. I promise.” He took her hands and held them tight in his own. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Adam searched Bree’s face for...something. She was suddenly looking at a stranger--and he could see that in her eyes. He swallowed again. His eyes began to sting and water developed inside of them.

“You can’t...” Bree started. Their wedding photo caught her attention--a framed, glossy 9x12 in the center of the console, under the television they barely watched. “You can’t fix this Adam...”

Tears fell from Bree’s eyes and she met Adam’s eyes again. His speckled face was red, his brown eyes wet. Bree fought against the blockage in her throat to speak.

“You...you cannot fix this. You...fucked...your ex...in...my bed.”

The realization of her words overwhelming her, Bree snatched her hands out of Adam’s grasp and stood up. “You have to go.”

“No,” Adam said, standing to his feet. He balled his fists, planted his feet, and shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving.”

“You think you have a choice, Adam?!” Bree shouted. “I’m not giving you one!”

“You don’t have to give me one,” Adam snapped back. The volume of his voice increased. “I’M NOT LEAVING YOU.”

“You’ve already left me!” Bree screamed. “What do you mean?! You’ve already left! Fuck you! GET OUT!”

Like a tree, Adam stood in the center of the floor, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and shaking his head “no”. Then, Bree grabbed the pint jar on the coffee table--the red wax filling less than a quarter of it--and threw it in his direction. Adam dodged the jar, letting it hit the wall behind him. His jaw hanging low, he watched Bree sink to her knees to sob into her hands again.

“Get out...” she whimpered.

Adam walked toward the bedroom, wiping tears from his face. First, he stopped at the linen closet and pulled out a duffel bag. Then, he continued to the bedroom. He dropped various necessities into the bag from their bedroom and private bathroom--not filling it up, however. Bree’s pained sobs nipped at his flesh and tore at his soul. Soon, she fell silent. He heard the door to the guest bathroom close.

_______________

Through cloudy vision, Bree stared at the light over sink. Her neck rubbed against the painted wall behind her--the cool tile under her feet a reminder that she wasn’t dreaming. She heard the creak of his footsteps approaching the bathroom. They stopped in front of the door.

“I’m sorry, Bree,” he mumbled. Her shoulders and chest bounced as she began to cry again.

“I love you,” he said.

Bree heard a light jingle of the doorknob. Her heart skipped a beat, then came to a rest when she remembered that she did lock it.

“When I get back...” Adam said softly. “Please...please let me fix this. I don’t want to lose you. I love you.”

Still, Bree said nothing. She returned her attention to the light above the bathroom sink. She listened to Adam walk away from the door. She heard him step into his shoes, open the door, close it, and lock it. She waited a few moments before she peeled herself away from the floor--her sweaty palms temporarily cooled by the tile. She wiped her hands on her pants before unlocking the door and turning the knob.

Bree dragged her body through the hallway and into the empty bedroom. She stared at her bed--the rumpled bedding, the smell of sex long gone. Then, with a growl, she snatched the blanket completely off the bed. She cried and screamed as she ripped the remaining sheets away and tossed them onto the floor--the light scene of lemon floating in the air, then quickly dissipating. Suddenly, the aroma of another woman filled her nostrils--cigarettes. Vanilla? Oranges?

The scent--so faint, yet, so strong--sent her crashing back down to her knees. She moved every molecule in the bedroom with her anguished cry.

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yeah-klave · 4 years ago

Text

The Sexual Awakening of David Joseph Katz - Chapter 8

Link to Chapter 1 || Link to Chapter 2 || Link to Chapter 3 || Link to Chapter 4 || Link to Chapter 5 || Link to Chapter 6 || Link to Chapter 7

Series summary: A multi-chapter journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening.

Chapter summary: Dave tries something new.

Genre: Developing relationship, smut. (18+ only, please)

A/N: This is set in a nothing-too-bad-happens modern AU. The characters are all in their early twenties (I’m picturing adult!actor versions of them and Dave as a (younger) Cody Ray Thompson). The siblings are all still living at home, relatively happily, and Dave, Lila, Sissy and Carl are friends who hang out with them at the Academy.

Word length: 5.2k

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

*******************************************************

It was the weekend. Klaus and Dave had spent the day hanging out with Diego, Ben and Luther.

They’d driven out of the city to a hiking trail and explored for a bit, then set themselves up on a rickety jetty to do some fishing in a nearby lake.

Ben had rolled his eyes at Diego and Luther’s competitive sniping, but all three had ended up blaming Klaus for scaring away all the fish after he got board of sitting quietly and decided to dip his toes in the water and attempt to splash the serious look of concentration off Dave’s face. He succeeded.

Nobody ended up catching any fish.

In the afternoon, they returned to the Academy to chill and – at Dave’s insistence – have a Star Wars movie marathon.

At one point, Five wandered through the living room. He paused to roll his eyes fondly at the slouching heap of limbs they had become, before heading off in the direction of the bar. They heard clinking, them a few moments later he wandered back out, distractedly muttering something about quantum mechanics and clutching a Margarita topped with a little blue cocktail umbrella.

At some point during the second movie, Ben extracted himself and wandered off to a quiet nook to do a little reading and, shortly afterwards, Luther left to go pick up Allison from the mall, where she’d been shopping with some girlfriends.

Bored again from too much sitting, Klaus had come up with a game that involved passing random objects between them without letting them touch the floor, using only their feet.

With the movie still playing in the background, they’d been passing Dave’s balled-up hoodie between them for a solid twenty minutes when Diego’s phone pinged and he missed the pass from Klaus, letting the hoodie fall to the floor.

“Dude!” Klaus exclaimed, hands raised.

Diego shrugged and checked his phone.

“It’s Lila inviting me over,” he said. “Her roommate’s out of town.”

“Booty call,” Klaus grinned, winking at Diego and conspiratorially nudging Dave with his elbow. “Sounds like you’re in there, bro.”

Diego grimaced back. “More like, she’s bored of being on her own without anyone to tease, so she’s calling sparring partners to her.”

“If that really was the case,” Dave said, “and all she wanted was an argument, she’d just text Carl.”

“Ha! True!” Klaus barked a laugh. “He’d definitely take the bait. He’s been in such a pissy mood recently.” Klaus made a lewd gesture, “I don’t think he’s getting any from Sissy.”

“I don’t think you can blame Sissy for Carl’s foul mood,” Dave added sagely.

“Definitely not!” Klaus said, “it’s not her fault her boyfriend’s a prick.”

“To be fair,” Diego cut in, “she’s been pretty busy recently with that volunteering group she and Vanya signed up for. You know, the one with the music therapy for autistic kids.”

Klaus and Dave shared a glance and Dave had to duck his head quickly to hide his smile.

“Yeah,” Klaus said slowly, “Sissy and Vanya have been busy with the… volunteering. Recently, in particular, they’ve both got very… busy. Together.”

Engrossed in his phone, Diego didn’t notice the knowing grin that passed between Klaus and Dave.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Diego mused, “maybe it gives her too much power. Coming when she calls, I mean. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“Don’t you mean get the right idea?” Klaus smirked.

“Shut up,” Diego scowled, “I’m not her lap dog.”

Klaus caught Dave’s gaze and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, these Straights,” he said with a mock exasperated sigh, “they have such complicated relationships.” He turned to Diego and levelled him a challenging look. “Seriously, brother mine, you need to let that girl peg the toxic masculinity right out of you. You might have a clearer perspective on the whole thing after you’ve let her fuck you ‘till your true bratty bottom personality starts showing. I bet you’d find it quite liberating to let her watch you shake apart while your ankles are in the air and your knees are up by your ears.”

Diego let out a strangled choking sound.

“But if you’re too much of a sissy to let a woman top you,” Klaus added, “I’d highly recommend levelling up and finding a nice guy to fuck you instead. Tits are nice and all that – but you just can’t beat a big, hard dick. So go find yourself one of them. Just not the one attached to him,” Klaus winked at Dave, “because that one’s spoken for.”

Dave grinned fondly, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Diego said with a grimace.

“Well,” Dave said evenly, “personally, I’d recommend starting with a bit of dry humping. Then, when you finally get your hands around it, you can start working it properly. Maybe fondle the balls a bit.”

“Dave!” Diego said shocked. “That’s… you… don’t say things like that.” He looked between Klaus and Dave, scandalised. “He’s having a bad effect on you, Dave.”

“He’s had an effect alright,” Dave said, catching Klaus’ eye, “a big, prominent, pointed effect.”

“Seriously, dude,” Diego grimaced, “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Oh, quit whining,” Klaus chuckled. “We all know you ship us hard.”

“So hard,” Dave added.

“So, very, very hard.” Klaus giggled. “As hard as we make each other.”

“Oh, dear god!” Diego cringed, covering his ears with his hands. “Mental images! Forcing their way into my brain. Cannot un-think!”

Klaus and Dave both laughed.

“Well, on that note, I’m off.” Diego patted himself down checking for his keys and started towards the door. “I’d rather be at Lila’s beck and call than listen to anymore of this. You reprobates stay safe now. And for God’s sake, don’t cum on anything, please!”

“Don’t worry,” Klaus called after him. “We swallow.”

“La-la-la! NOT LISTENING!” Diego called back, hands over his ears again as he left, the front door to the Academy clicking shut behind him.

Klaus caught Dave’s eye and Dave raised an eyebrow and asked simply, “So, shall we?”

And Klaus barked a laugh. “Hell, yes!” he said, pulling Dave to his feet.

They ran upstairs and stumbled down the corridor to Klaus’ room, laughing and kissing and fumbling, hands pulling off clothes and blindly knocking into furniture in their haste.

“Diego’s really going to appreciate the trail of discarded clothing leading to your room,” Dave smiled, glancing over Klaus’ shoulder.

“Don’t care,” Klaus breathed, his lips pressing kisses along Dave’s jaw. “To be honest, Grace will probably pick it all up before he sees anyway.” Dave’s eyes widened in panic, but Klaus took the lobe of Dave’s ear into his mouth and sucked, and Dave’s mind blanked. He shivered and Klaus grinned, grazing his teeth along the flesh.

The door to Klaus’ room was barely shut behind them before Klaus was sinking to his knees in front of Dave, hands scrambling to unbuckle his pants.

Dave rested his head back against the door and allowed Klaus to pull his pants and boxers down, but before Dave had chance to step out of them, Klaus was leaning forwards eagerly and taking Dave into his mouth.

Dave groaned, long and low, both his hands going to Klaus’ head, fingers carding through the unruly curls, fingernails raking slowly and seductively along the scalp. He then tugged gently, in just the way he knew Klaus loved and Klaus hummed in delight. The vibrations sent a wave of pleasure through Dave and he sighed out Klaus’ name. Klaus hummed again, then started sucking and bobbing his head in earnest, his hands steadying Dave’s hips.

Dave closed his eyes and let the feelings overtake him. Klaus was setting a delicious rhythm, with just the right level of suction. His mouth was hot and wet and perfect. Dave could feel Klaus breathe out as he relaxed his throat and took Dave down deeper.

“Oh, Klaus…” Dave moaned, gently tugging on his hair again. “That’s so good.”

Klaus hummed again and, fighting the impulse to gag, took him down ever further.

“Oh, yes!” Dave sighed. “Oh Klaus, your mouth feels so good.” His brain fuzzy, the praises spilled off his lips, “Yes, oh you’re so good at that. It feels amazing. You feel amazing. You’re amazing.” Dave could feel the pressure building, the knot tightening. Klaus kept bobbing and sucking. “Oh yes, there, like that. Klaus! Oh yes, yes.”

Dave twitched his hips slightly and Klaus gave an almost imperceptible nod and squeezed his fingers, signalling that Dave could thrust forwards. Dave let out a strangled little sound and – ever so gently – started fucking Klaus’ mouth. Klaus moaned, his pupil’s blown and his chin wet.

Dave let out a low grunt and concentrated on the feeling of the tiny thrusts of his hips – the raw, decadent pleasure of pushing his cock into his partner’s willing mouth. The slightly strangled moans coming from Klaus were needy and wanton and desperate. The act felt so… base. So… primal. To Dave, it felt… unimaginably good.

Dave savoured the feeling, storing it away to be examined and replayed at another time, another place.

Klaus squeezed Dave’s hips again and then took him all the way down into his throat, swallowed, then hummed. And Dave felt the vibrations rumble through him in a heady wave. His fingers twitched and his hips bucked involuntarily.

Klaus chocked. Just a little. “Sorry, sorry,” Dave said, contrite. He only felt slightly guilty for the sudden rush that had surged through him at the sight and sound of Klaus choking on his cock.

Klaus hummed in response, picking up the pace of his bobbing, cheeks hollowed and his tongue working the underside. His thumb ran soothingly over Dave’s hipbone and even in his state of fuggy pleasure, Dave knew it was a sign of reassurance.

Half out of his mind with pleasure, Dave looked down and took in the sight of Klaus; cheeks hollowed, his lips stretched wide around Dave’s cock, the gentle sway of his wild curls as he bobbed his head. His eyelashes were dark fans over eyelids heavy from desire. Dave felt a proprietary surge of pleasure as he noticed the beginnings of dark streaks on the pale, delicate skin under Klaus’ bottom lashes, where the slight wetness around his eyes had caused his eyeliner to run.

Dave gave another low groan. He could feel himself tensing, his pleasure cresting. “Klaus!” he managed to grunt.

Klaus pulled back and off with a wet pop, a line of saliva still connecting them. He began fisting Dave’s length. He opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue and rested Dave’s tip on the wet, pink muscle. He looked up: open and willing and eager. Ready to be claimed, though Dave.

Eyelids heavy and eyes dark with lust, Klaus gazed up at Dave through his lashes. And, staring down into Klaus’ eyes, Dave’s pleasure crested and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal surge. He came undone, pulsing and releasing, thick creamy ropes of cum landing over Klaus’ tongue and his lips and his chin and his cheek. Klaus closed his eyes and took it, hand still working Dave’s shaft, helping him ride out his high. And Dave just kept cumming, all over his boyfriend’s face and tongue and a bit in his hair. And it felt so dirty, but also so brilliant. And his brain thrummed: mine, mine, mine…

Dave’s cock gave a final weak pulse and Klaus licked the small trickle of cum off the tip.

Dave looked down and blushed at the sight of Klaus on his knees before him, his cheeks flushed, chin wet, face splattered with cum and his hair sticking up wildly from where Dave had been gripping the dark curls.

“Oh, Klaus” he whispered reverently. And Klaus smiled and gently kissed the tip of Dave’s cock one last time before getting to his feet.

Dave’s thumb came up to Klaus’ bottom lip and smeared a spot of cum across the skin. Klaus’ tongue came out to taste it, but Dave leaned forwards quickly and caught Klaus’ lips in a kiss, tasting himself on Klaus’ skin and in the slow slide of their lips and tongues.

“So, I guess we didn’t do what Diego asked after all,” Dave smiled.

“Pretty sure he meant the sofas, or in the kitchen or something,” Klaus grinned. “I don’t think it counts if the thing you’re cumming on is me.” Dave groaned again. Then reached blindly, grabbed his discarded tee and lightly wiped the mess off Klaus’ face. Then he brought their faces close until the tips of their noses were touching and brushed them together in an Eskimo kiss.

Dave stepped forwards, trying to walk Klaus back to the bed but, forgetting about his pants still pooled around his ankles, he almost overbalanced. Klaus laughed and held his arms steady while Dave toed off his boots and socks and stepped out of his jeans. Klaus’ pants had been abandoned somewhere on the trip from the living room to Klaus’ bedroom.

Dave gently placed his hands on Klaus’ immaculate chest and walked him back to the bed, softly pushing him down onto his back. Klaus shuffled backwards, laying his head on the pillow. He was toned and sun-golden and glorious, his erection a prominent bulge tenting his underwear. He’s gorgeous, Dave thought. Completely gorgeous and all mine. And a thrill ran through him.

Dave got onto the bed and pulled Klaus’ underwear off. And then Klaus was spread out before him: standing big and stiff and proud. A meal Dave wanted to both devour all at once… and also savour for the rest of his life.

Dave crawled over Klaus, propping himself up on his forearms so he could bring their lips together again. Klaus sighed and ran one hand down Dave’s spine, resting the other on his backside and squeezing.

“Ass man,” Dave breathed into Klaus’ mouth.

“Bite me,” Klaus smiled back, and Dave caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nipped lightly. Klaus groaned and pushed his hips up against Dave.

Dave grinned and rolled them over. He slotted his leg between Klaus’, presenting his thigh for Klaus to ride. Klaus propped himself up on his arms and pushed his hips down, grinding his erection into Dave’s deliciously solid thigh. He breathed out a sigh and leaned down to continue their kiss, his hips pressing forwards rhythmically. Dave pushed his tongue into Klaus’ mouth and let the kiss get dirty, his hands kneading Klaus’ ass cheeks as Klaus humped his leg. The room was filled with the sound of Klaus panting and grunting and the dull thunk of the headboard against the wall as Klaus increased the pace and vigour of his rutting.

“Look at you,” Dave breathed, eyeing Klaus’ slack mouth and flushed cheeks, “just look at you. So beautiful.”

“Dave,” Klaus gritted out.

“Oh, is there something you need, sweetheart?” Dave teased.

“Yes,” Klaus panted, a little frustrated and desperate to get off.

Dave raised an eyebrow but made no other attempt to move.

“Oh,” Klaus whined, “Dav-uh!”

Dave grinned wickedly, “Maybe you should ask nicely?”

Klaus’ eyes went wide. For a heart stopping moment, Dave thought he might have gone too far, might have misread the vibe, might have killed the moment.

But then Klaus flushed, blinking rapidly, and whispered, “Dave, please.” Dave squeezed his ass cheeks again and Klaus whined and clamped his thighs around Dave’s leg, grinding his erection down harder. “Please,” he repeated in a small, broken voice, “please do something to get me off.” He brought his lips to Dave’s ear, so close Dave could feel his lips moving, and murmured, “please, Mr Katz…”

Dave swallowed hard. A rush of adrenaline, and also something else – something deeper and more primal – ran through him. He could feel the soft, warm weight of his partner, writhing and rutting against him. Needy and desperate. Needy, for him. Dave was suddenly overwhelmed by an instinctive, primal urge to give and please and protect and provide. Mine, Dave thought again. He’s mine.

Dave hooked his leg around Klaus’ and flipped them over. He pressed one final searing kiss to Klaus’ lips and then worked his way down Klaus’ body, trailing kisses down his neck and chest, his tongue flicking over the hardened nub of a nipple. He teasingly kissed his way down the faint trail of dark hairs that started just below his navel and ended at the base of Klaus’ cock.

Dave could feel Klaus breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. But rather than turning his attention to Klaus’ erection. Dave dipped his head lower, and pressed kisses and teasing licks into the delicate skin surrounding Klaus’ cock. He pressed his nose against Klaus’ balls, nuzzling them slightly, then opened his mouth and sucked as much as he could into his mouth, applying delicious pressure and working the skin with his tongue. Klaus whined above him. Dave repeated the action, then moved onto the other.

“Dave,” Klaus panted. “Dave, please.”

A thought started buzzing in Dave’s brain. It felt electric – live and shocking.

Without quite realising he’d done it, Dave made a decision. He felt wired and alive and empowered.

Dave smiled and rose onto his knees. His hands went to Klaus’ hips. “Roll over,” he said gently.

“What?” Klaus’ head came up, eyes slightly unfocussed.

“Come on,” Dave repeated quietly, “roll over.”

“Dave? What’re you…” Klaus looked confused.

“I want to try something,” Dave smiled. He felt a shy, nervous flutter in his stomach, but he swallowed, caught Klaus’ eye and gave a confident little nod.

Klaus held his gaze a moment, eyes wide, but then he obliged, rolling onto his front. Dave encouraged him to spread his legs and lift onto his knees and elbows. Dave sat back for a second and just took in the sight before him: his boyfriend bent over on his bed, flushed and hard and slightly bewildered, but presenting himself so beautifully for Dave. Dave licked his lips and smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

Klaus’ head hung between his arms and he craned around to look at Dave admiring him and – despite all his previous experience – he still felt a small spike of self-conscious embarrassment. He shifted and started to get up, “Dave, what’s… what’re you doing…?”

“Shhh,” Dave reassured, his hand rubbing soothing circles into Klaus’ lower back and encouraging him back down. “It’s okay. Just relax. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes slightly but relaxed back down.

Dave positioned himself between Klaus’ legs and ran his hands over Klaus’ ass cheeks, endearingly pale against the tan of the rest of his skin. He gave the right one a quick pat and squeeze. Lowering his head slowly, he pressed a gentle kiss into the soft, fleshy centre of each cheek. Then, using his thumbs, he spread the cheeks apart, finally revealing Klaus’ pink, furled hole.

“Dave…?” He heard Klaus choke out.

Dave blew a soft stream of warm air onto Klaus’ little rosebud and watched as it clenched slightly.

Then, leaning forwards, he brought his face in close and slowly licked across Klaus’ tight hole.

“Fuck!” He heard Klaus exclaim.

Dave smiled and, tongue soft and wet and wide, he repeated the action.

“Oh, Dave! Oh, fuck!” Klaus panted again.

Dave pointed his tongue and flicked it up and down, and left to right, brushing it quickly over the delicate skin. Dave could feel Klaus’ hole fluttering under his tongue.

“Dave! Oh god, yes, oh yes!” Klaus panted. He shifted his hips and repositioned his arm to take his weight. He brought the other hand down to his cock, which was hanging thick and heavy and neglected between his legs. But before he could take hold of it, however, Dave caught his wrist and stopped him.

“Not yet,” he said. And his face was still so close to Klaus’ most private area that Klaus could feel the huff of air against his wet skin when Dave spoke.

Klaus shivered and groaned, but brought his elbow back down to the bed, resigning himself to the sweet torture.

Dave reapplied his tongue to Klaus’ hole and soon Klaus was panting and sighing and pushing back against him, needy whines and breathy little gasps escaping his throat.

Dave switched up the movement of his tongue from strong licks and fast little flicks, and instead covered Klaus’ hole with his lips and then sucked lightly.

Klaus groaned under him, pushing back, his legs trembling. “Oh, fuuuuuck!” he whimpered.

Dave gave the furled hole another slow lick, then pointed his tongue and – ever so slowly – pushed it against Klaus’ entrance. Klaus’ breath hitched. At first Klaus’ muscles resisted. But then, as Dave wiggled his tongue slightly, he felt the tight ring of muscles begin to relax, allowing him to push his tongue in slightly. Dave pressed his tongue forwards in tight circular motions, then slowly pulled back and pressed in again, fucking Klaus’ hole with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, fuuuuucck me!” Klaus wailed. “Fuck, Dave! Yes! Oh, fuck I need to cum!”

Dave could feel Klaus trembling under his hands, the erratic twitch of his hips, the desperate, broken edge to his voice.

“Please, Dave,” Klaus pleaded. “Please, please…”

And Dave, his face still buried in Klaus’ ass, finally reached around and gripped Klaus’ leaking erection and started pumping.

And Klaus keened. He was caught between thrusting his painfully hard cock forward into Dave’s fist and pressing back into the delicious wet flicks of Dave’s tongue against his quivering hole. He was so desperately, painfully hard; the desire to cum so strong. And the feeling of Dave finally touching his rock-hard cock was toe-curlingly amazing. And Dave’s tongue, pressing and licking and sucking him – there – was beyond amazing. And for Klaus, time seemed to be caught in one delicious, shining moment of wet, hot, hard, fast, urgent, pleasure, clenching, tensing… and then he was cumming. Hard.

Thick creamy ropes spurted onto the bed and over Dave’s fist and Dave could feel Klaus’ hole twitching and clenching under his tongue as his muscles spasmed in waves. And Klaus was moaning Dave’s name wildly… then breathlessly… then a little brokenly as his trembling legs gave way and he finally collapsed forwards onto the bed.

Dave moved up the bed and lay down on his side next to him. Carefully, he ran his fingers through Klaus’ hair, studying his face, his closed eyes, his blissed-out expression.

Klaus opened his eyes blearily and looked at Dave.

“Dave,” he whispered hoarsely. Dave smiled.

“Dave,” Klaus tried again, “That was just so… thank you. Just, wow! Like really. Wow. It was just… so…” he screwed up his face, trying to find the right words and failing, ending instead on just a low grunt of consonants. “Nngggh,” he finished.

Dave smiled, eyes fond and affectionate. “Well, if I’ve rendered you speechless, I guess it must have been okay,” he teased lightly. Klaus blinked. Dave brought his lips down and tenderly kissed Klaus’ forehead and whispered, “I’m glad you thought so. It felt pretty incredible to do it for you too.” Klaus hummed and his eyes drifted closed.

“Hey,” Dave squeezed his shoulder. “You should have a quick shower before you sleep.”

“Don’t wanna,” Klaus mumbled. “Tired and comfy and no energy.”

“Come on, up you get.” Dave encouraged. “You’re sticky and sweaty and smell like sex. You’re laying in the wet spot and you’ve got cum in your hair. Shower, now.”

Klaus groaned and with great effort pulled himself up and moved towards the bathroom.

“Aren’t you coming?” Klaus asked in a small voice.

“You get in, I’ll be there in a sec,” Dave said. Klaus nodded and padded off.

Dave quickly stripped the bed and put on clean sheets from the cupboard where Grace kept the fresh linen. He bundled the dirty ones up and stuffed then in the laundry basket. He then went into the bathroom to join Klaus.

When they were showered and dry, Klaus in a pair of fluorescent briefs and Dave wearing clean boxers and a soft old tee from the stash of clothes he’d started leaving at the Academy, they crawled into bed. Klaus cuddled up to him and rested his head on Dave’s chest.

“Good call,” Klaus admitted, running his hands over the crisp sheets.

Dave hummed in response. Klaus closed his eyes, listening to the rumble of it against his ear.

“So, power kink, huh?” Klaus smiled into Dave’s chest.

“I guess so,” Dave replied. “Believe me, it took me by surprise a bit too.”

“It was good,” Klaus said. “Different. It looked good on you.” Klaus paused, then added, “I like the idea that we can switch stuff up like that sometimes.”

“Me too,” Dave found himself agreeing.

“You know,” Klaus said tentatively, “we could go further too.”

Dave traced the rim of Klaus’ ear with a fingertip.

“Yeah,” Dave said, feeling bold in the gathering darkness of the room. “Give and take, assertive and submissive, top and bottom… there’s so much we can try together. And that’s just power stuff. Then there’s… well, everything else as well.” He felt Klaus hum his agreement into the skin over his heart.

“You know,” Klaus said after a pause, “when we talked about this the other day, I thought we were going to start with some light fingering. But I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, Mr Katz. You just dived straight in tongue first.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Dave asked a little worriedly.

“Fuck no!” Klaus exclaimed. “I just didn’t think we’d start with rimming. I mean it’s not really the natural place to start.”

“Isn’t it?” Dave frowned. “To me, it kind of just felt right in the moment.”

“I’m glad you did,” Klaus insisted, “it was mind-blowing.”

Dave grimaced. “Promise you’re not teasing my technique?” He asked. “It’s the first thing I’ve done to you before you’ve done it to me first. I didn’t have any previous experience to work from.”

There was silence and Dave frowned and shifted to look down at Klaus’ face. He was surprised to find Klaus’ cheeks pink and his ears a little red.

“Klaus?” he asked, worried.

“You weren’t bad.” Klaus said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just that, for once, I don’t really have anything to compare to either.” His eyes widened. “Not that I usually compare you with other people,” he said quickly. “I don’t do that. Just, with this, I don’t have a point of reference. So, all I can say is you blew my mind.”

Dave took a moment to process and then asked the obvious question. “Are you saying none of the people you’ve been with before have done that for you?”

“Um… yeah,” Klaus blushed – actually blushed – “yeah, I guess I am.”

Dave swallowed. “Because they didn’t want to? Or because you didn’t want them to?” He swallowed again. “Did I… I hope I didn’t… Klaus, did you want me to do that just now?”

Klaus shifted to press his face into the hollow of Dave’s neck, his nose nuzzling the base of his throat. “Dave,” he said seriously, “I wanted it. I wanted you to.” He paused. “Before now… nobody ever offered. It wasn’t particularly something that was on my radar. I was just happy for them to fuck me. Just that was okay. I didn’t feel like I was missing out or anything. But then you just… did that for me. Because you wanted to. I’ve never been with anyone who put me first like that before.”

Dave’s heart clenched and his chest felt tight. He wrapped his arms around Klaus’ small frame and buried his nose into the curls on the top of his head.

“Klaus” he murmured, “Klaus…”

“It’s okay,” he heard Klaus sigh into his neck, “you don’t need to say anything.”

Dave swallowed the lump in his throat and tightened his arms around Klaus. The warm weight of words that didn’t need to be said just yet, lying like a blanket over them as they held each other in the gathering darkness.

Finally, Dave broke the silence, “I don’t know whether I should be a little bit offended, you know? About not being complicated, I mean.” He grinned.

“What?” Klaus frowned, opening his eyes.

“That thing you said to Diego earlier, about his dynamic with Lila being complicated.”

“Oh,” Klaus settled back down. “That.” He paused then added. “You might play the deep, strong, silent type sometimes, Dave, but you’re not complicated. I mean, not complicated complicated.” Dave ran his fingers soothingly up and down Klaus’ arm. “It’s not like do you confusing things that I can’t work out. You’re easy.”

Dave laughed.

“I don’t mean easy.” Klaus corrected himself. “I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” Dave cut in. He pressed a kiss to the top of Klaus’ head. “You might be a chaotic, eccentric oddball at times, but to me, you’re easy, too.” Klaus huffed a small laugh against Dave’s chest.

“I love that we always seem to be on the same page about stuff,” Klaus said into the quiet stillness of the room.

“Yeah,” Dave agreed. “We click. Always have. And I suppose we trust each other too, so that helps.”

Klaus blinked and swallowed hard.

“We do click, don’t we?” His voice was small.

“Yes,” Dave said earnestly.

“This really is something special, isn’t it?” Klaus said, just as quietly. He wants confirmation, Dave thought. Despite all the bravado, he’s actually a little vulnerable and insecure and wants confirmation.

“Yes,” Dave said, giving him exactly what he needed. “For me, right from the very first moment, this just felt right.”

“For me too,” Klaus admitted softly.

Klaus rolled over and settled on his side, pulling Dave flush behind him; the big spoon to Klaus’ little spoon. Dave’s knees tucked into the crook of Klaus’ legs, his arm coming over, fingers interlacing and hands curled close to Klaus’ chest. Dave’s groin pressed against Klaus’ backside, but in this moment, Dave felt nothing more than tenderness and affection. He pressed a kiss to the back of Klaus’ neck, the spot right between his shoulders, and shifted slightly, snuggling them even closer.

“After everything,” Klaus mumbled into the pillow, voice drowsy and muffled slightly. “After all this time, and everything we’ve been through to get here.” He paused, let out a breath and then carried on. “It’s hard to believe that this is how it could be from now on.”

Dave thought back to how he used to feel about his relationship with Klaus – like his life had turned into a series of moments as precious… and delicate… and fragile as champagne flutes on a tray in the wind. He wondered when he had stopped feeling like the tiniest wrong move or misstep could bring his happiness crashing down in a shower of irreparable shards of shattered crystal.

“Believe it,” Dave replied, and Klaus sighed and relaxed further into his arms. Dave shut his eyes and held him close, his heart beating a rhythm against Klaus’ back: this, just this, just this, just this, just this…

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #klaus x dave #klaus/dave

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imma-potatoo · 4 years ago

Note

I love your writing so much???? Omggg it's absolutely amazing. Feel free to not accept the prompt, but how do you feel about hurt caretaker with Logan being the caretaker? (Bonus points if it happens right after the "Promises" fic you wrote)

Aww! Tysm for the compliment! (I am so so sorry it took so long-)

@badthingshappenbingo

Send me a prompt and a character! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m, U!Janus, U!Logan please!

Warnings: blood, U!Patton, U!Virgil, graphic abuse, ask to tag

Masterpost

Takes place after this fic

Tarnished Gold

--------------------------

Unlike Janus, who was sleeping peacefully against his chest, Logan didn’t relax. Thoughts of anger and betrayal flooded his head, Janus was just as much a part of him then Remus was to Roman. Janus was his other half, granted Janus was his romantic partner (not his brother, besides, any such actions with one’s sibling is unethical, wrong, and frankly disgusting) but Janus completed him.

Without the sarcastic liar by his side, he was empty, nothing, a void of empty logic.

Logan rubbed Janus’ back up and down, the shorter side clinging to him with a tight grip and small hiss like snores leaving his lips. Logan chuckled and brushed the curls away from his boyfriend’s eyes as he curled in tighter to him. Logan smiled. Logan never showed his smile openly, but no one was around to mock him or poke at sore spots.

Logan’s smile broke quickly though, what was he going to do about Virgil and Patton? There was no way he was going to let them get away with this… even if he promised Janus.

But for now, he was going to cuddle his boyfriend. Thinking of how he could tell Thomas of Morality and Anxiety's wrongdoings without his center accusing him of setting up the cyan and purple sides.

It was hours later before the yellow side loosed his grip and turned to face the door. Logan snuck out of the bed, keeping his steps light to not wake the sleeping side. Janus was bound to wake up any minute and was definitely going to be hungry, so he was going to the kitchen to make his lovely scaled boyfriend some ramen.

Logan stopped at the doorway and looked back towards the sleeping side, he took small steps back towards him, leaning down and pressing a small, barely noticeable, kiss to the yellow side's forehead, the skin was slightly cool to the touch. Logan raised a small grin as Janus poked his tongue out slightly through his lips and turned to the other side of the bed.

Logan shook his head with a huff of laughter and left the room.

The hallway was quiet, no music, no singing, no footsteps, other than the ones that belonged to the logical side. Logan felt the urge to keep his breaths slow and hushed, he continued down the hall nonetheless. Down the stairs, through the living room. The house was dead quiet. Logan could hear his heartbeat drum repeatedly, he could now understand the man in the Telltale Heart, this would drive him insane after a while as well.

Logan stepped into the kitchen, finding a note with green and red ink dried onto the paper, Logan picked it up, pushing his glasses up as he began to read.

EY NERDS!! Me and Roman went to go kill the dragon bitch again! There better be a dead body by the time we get back or else I’ll be very disappointed!! ~Remus

Don’t kill anyone ~Roman

Logan huffed a small laugh before turning to dig out the pots, the Dragon-Witch had always been a returning foe for the twins, but then again… what the point of having a defender of a city, if there’s no-one to defend it from? So the twins created a huge ass dragon with a witch-hat, they were eight at the time which would make sense for the ridiculous name.

But a small part of Logan wondered if the twins went to the imagination so often to escape the torment of Patton and Virgil. The two of them disapproved whenever any of them stepped out of line, even if it was something minor. They had never physically harmed any of them-- until Janus, but the abuse was still very much present. Janus and Logan would typically only come back for meals and then leave to the house for the rest of the day.

But Patton and Virgil putting a side in danger? Logan had never expected that.

Adding water to the pot, Logan wondered what the Dragon-Witch did this time. Terrorize a town? Kidnap a prince? Well, it certainly made the mindscape quieter with everyone go- Logan stopped in his tracks, just before turning on the stove. He gritted his teeth and pulled a cold expression before sinking out.

“-did this to me! Janus is a horrible threat to everyone her-”

Logan rose up, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, anger, and confusion. “Really Patton? That’s not what it looked like while I was disinfecting a week’s old infection and a twisted ankle that was just as black as your morality.” Logic hissed through his teeth, he looked at Patton and Virgil with hateful eyes. Patton’s “terrible injury” was something that you could get by bumping into a table

Thomas watched as his three sides glared daggers into their chests, “Woah Woah Woah! Guys! What’s happening here?!” Before Patton and Virgil even got a chance to speak, Logan took charge and nabbed the speaking spot before anyone else could.

“What is happening Thomas, is that your Anxiety and your Morality are attempting to fool you into believing that Janus is the villain, while these two have been abusing sides and misusing power since we visited the courtroom.” Logan drew a small hushed breath, “ I will tolerate a lot of things, but my partner refusing to tell me when they are in pain because two idiots told him not to, is not one of them.” Logan barely had to repress his empathy as he glared at the other two, they barely even flinched at the cold glare from someone who used to be so close.

Virgil merely raised an eyebrow as he leaned against Thomas’s banister, the wood groaning and creaking in the process. Patton however had eyes full of crocodile tears. The light blue side was a surprisingly good actor when he wanted to be.

Thomas gaped his mouth open and closed, “Guys.. is that true?” eyes wide as he stared in shock.

Virgil sneered, arms cross against his chest. His gaze shifted towards Patton briefly. “No, the nerd is making things up to protect his boyfriend.” Virgil locked eyes with Logan, “why he would want to date a villain is beyond me.”

Logan’s mind lagged as he processed the words. He went to rebuttal when Patton let fake tears roll down his cheeks while nodding.

Thomas’s eyes widened, hands starting to comb through his hair as he started to pace back and forth in the living room, “... Logan?”

Logan snapped back to attention, looking at his center’s surprisingly tear-filled eyes

“Summon Janus for us.”

The tension in the room increased tenfold, Patton and Virgil shot Logan a dirty look as the blue side smiled and agreed to Thomas’s demands.

Logan stepped aside to make room for the yellow side, prepared to catch him when he inevitably fell, and then raised his hand to summon his boyfriend.

Janus rose in his, now crumpled, outfit. A sleepy haze still clouded his mind as his ankle gave out. Falling against Logan’s chest with a groan. His hat and capelet were missing, revealing a head full of messy curls. Clearly just awoken from his slumber.

Patton and Virgil exchanged a plan through looks, giving each other a small nod as Janus pulled himself upright. The yellow side leaned against Logan’s chest as he drew heavy breaths, small beads of sweat dripped down his face, his hands twisted tightly on Logan’s tie.

Logan rubbed Janus’ back, he wasn’t normally one of PDA but he didn’t overly care about that. He was comforting his boyfriend. “As you can see Thomas, I didn’t lie. Janus is very clearly injured and it is all to the fault of Patton and Virgil, who pushed him down the stairs.” Logan held himself higher, his voice clearing of all threats of breaking, “I am demanding that you deal with this issue immediately. Or else your Logic and Deceit will be leavi-” Logan choked on his own words when Virgil pulled him backward, causing Janus to collapse without Logan holding him up. Patton swooped in behind Virgil and held Janus’ wrists in an ironclad grip.

Patton and Virgil sank down with the couple, leaving Thomas standing there in shock, unable to process what had just happened.

Patton rose up first, throwing Janus to the floor as soon as they arrived back at the mind-palace, soft warm brown eyes were replaced by cold angry ones. Janus’ breath increased as he backed up, hitting the wall with a thunk and wide scared eyes. His pupils dilated as he pulled his body in.

Patton kept his same blank expression as he stomped towards the cowering side, pulling Janus from the corner and pinning him to the ground, facedown with Patton sitting on his lower spine as Virgil rose up with Logan struggling in his grip.

“You need to listen and stop getting in our way.” Virgil growled lowly into Logan’s ear, the blue side barely held in a shudder as he locked eyes with his beloved. All Logan had to do was stay calm and not anger the twisted sides. Patton had his cheery smile plastered to his lips, although his eyes were apathetic. The cyan side grabbed Janus’ wrists and held them above his head, giggling when the side below him whimpered in pain but started to fight; to get Patton to loosen his grip

Logan continued his struggle in Virgil’s hold, looking at Janus with wide eyes as the purple side restricted his movement even more, “you can’t bend the entirety of Thomas’s mind to your will. That's not how it works. You, Virgil, should know this” Logan was buying time, he couldn’t summon either of the twins since they were in the imagination. A plan started to work like gears in a machine, twisting and turning in the side’s head. All he had to do was wait for Virgil to get distracted.

Virgil sneered, his lip twisting upward in a mocking fashion. “We can”t? Oh no! Whatever shall we do!?” Patton chuckled as he whispered something in Janus’ ear, watching as the shorter side paled slightly and started to struggle even more, “It’s not like you’re physically restraine-” Logan threw his entire weight against Virgil’s chest, hitting him in the nose with his head and pushed himself out of the side’s grip.

Virgil’s eyes started to water immediately from the hit as he went to hold his nose, he stumbled backward and hit the side of the staircase. A stream of blood starting to drip down and land on the wooden floor boards. Logan ran to Patton and hit him square in the temple, a thunk was heard as Patton fell off of Janus and held his head, hissing in pain.

Logan pulled Janus upward, being quick as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. The floors let out loud cracks and creaks as two sets of feet hit the ground. They got a headstart as Virgil recovered quickly, starting to chase after the couple.

Janus had tears leaking down his face from the pain. His ankle could barely hold his own weight, let alone run. But he kept pace with Logan anyway, knowing that if either of them were caught it would surely spell serious injury for them.

The duo could hear the fast steps of Virgil behind them, breaths heavy as they turned the corner. They had one goal in mind. The imagination.

At least that was where they were heading, until Janus could feel his ankle start to collapse. “L-Lo, you have to go on without me.” The yellow side stopped and braced himself against the wall. Breaths heavy. Virgil was maybe five minutes away from them.

Logan walked hesitantly up to Janus, both sets of eyes filled to the brim of fear. “I’m not leaving without you-”

“You have to” Janus moved his gaze to the ground. Keeping his heterochromic eyes trained to the withered wood.

Logan steeled his expression, “No! I promised you a long time ago that I’m never going to leave you! And that promise applies now!” four minutes until Virgil caught up.

Janus sank to the ground, resting his head against the cool plaster. He couldn’t make himself meet Logan’s eyes. Janus shook his head, “Starlight…” Janus gulped, his Addam’s apple bobbing, “you and I know that if they get us both, we are never going to be free again. If they only get me, then-” Janus took a breath, repressing more tears. “Then we have a chance. And a chance is all we could hope for.” three minuites

Logan didn’t know when he started crying, words refused to comply with the blue side as he shook his head. His hair was a mess, hands scraped and slightly stained with red, glasses covered in sweat and filth. “I love you.” Logan spoke hushly, “I love you Janus. I love your smile, I love your scales, I love the way you make coffee, I love how you curl into my chest at night, I love how you drag me away from my work at three am to go to sleep with you, I love how you steal my NASA shirts, I love how when I’m gone; you put on one of my ties and read my favourite novel, I love how you can charm a room with nothing but a grin and a subtle wink. I love you.” Logan sobbed into Janus’ chest, clenching his wrinkled shirt with desperation as tears fell and stained the fabric. Two minutes

Janus let the tears flow freely down his cheeks, clenching to Logan as if he would dematerialize from his fingertips. “I love you too, Logan.” Janus’ scales glistened under the tears, he didn’t want to let the blue side go. But sooner than they would’ve wanted, Janus pulled Logan’s face from his chest and gave him a bitter, tear-filled, hopeful smile. Janus leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the side’s lips, there was passion behind it but there wasn’t time to continue it.

The duo broke apart, Janus traced Logan’s temple with his fingernail, “Go.”

It broke Logan’s heart to stand up. He gave one last tearful gaze to Janus before continuing his flight. If he stayed longer, he never would’ve left. Thick globs of tears fell from the side’s eyes as he got further and further from his love, hiccups escaping his lips from the tears. The time was up.

Logan could hear Janus’ pleas from down the hallway, his heart ached as he heard Janus scream in agony.

But he continued running. He ran until he got to the red and green swirled door to the imagination. He barely looked through the door as he threw it open, slamming it shut behind him.

Even after he made it through the door, he still ran. He ran until his lungs ached for a break and his feet bled. Logan stopped against a tree, falling to the ground.

And Logan cried. He cried lung racking tears, covered in dirt and blood, Logan sobbed, glasses fogging.

A long time ago, Logan made a promise to a yellow side.

And he had just broken it.

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whothehellisyn · 3 years ago

Text

Cat and Mouse | Ch. 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Mysterio x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (full fic)

A/N: not beta read, tenses are mixed (sorry). Just what’s been sitting in my notes <3

Chapter warnings: nonconsensual embraces

You do not wake up in the bathtub. Your feet are twisted up in the bedsheets, and while Quentin isn’t in the bed with you, it’s obvious that he slept there as well. His smell is all over you now, and you wonder if he held you in the night after moving you. It’s an unsettling thought.

You’re missing your sweatpants, and while you often kick off clothes if you get overheated it’s especially concerning now that you know you were pantsless while he was lying next to you. You feel around the end of the bed with your feet and find them balled up in between the sheets and the comforter. It’s a no-brainer to you that you put them back on, and you get out of bed immediately after.

The alarm clock next to the bed tells you it’s ten in the morning, and the note next to it from Quentin tells you to behave yourself again, and not to sleep in the tub anymore or “we’ll have to add it to the list of punishable offenses”. You turn on the television, and put on a vintage film channel. It’s mostly foreign language, but it’s better than nothing.

You oblige yourself to some fruit from the kitchen as breakfast, and watch television on the floor in front of the sofa. It seems inappropriate to just sit on it like you belong there.

The time passes by rather slowly, but being alone you’re able to acclimate better to the situation. It’s easier when Quentin isn’t there, pretending like he and you are on a causal conversation level still. At least when you’re by yourself you can pretend still. This is just a weird vacation. A break from work, from stress.

Around three o’clock, you go to the kitchen to get a drink of water, moving your toothbrush and toothpaste off the edge of the sink so they don’t fall in. You had brushed your teeth in the kitchen area earlier this morning, with the toothbrush that must have been collected from your hotel room when your clothes were. It was easier to brush your teeth and your hair in a place when there’s no mirror like in the bathroom. You also noticed that the glass of the shower had water droplets on it when you were in there from when Quentin must have washed off earlier, and the idea of you and him sharing a bathroom in any capacity makes you feel gross.

You reach up into a cabinet to get a glass when you feel hands on your waist and you startle, letting go of the glass accidentally and causing it to fall. You instinctively jump back as it hits the counter, straight into Quentin. The cup thunks onto the counter, but doesn’t break.

“Woah there, honey!” Quentin says, wrapping his arms around your middle so you’re pressed close against him. “I didn’t realize you scared so easily.” You freeze in his embrace, tense and silent. Go away, you think. Get away from me.

“Oh, come on sweetheart,” He nudges you closer to the counter with his hips, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Don’t act so cold to me now. You were so much nicer last night.” He says in a patronizing voice.

“What did you—“ you begin to ask, but he cuts you off. “I didn’t do anything besides move you to bed.” He says, and you grip the counter with your hands as his own begin to roam around your waist. “But you cuddled right up against me as soon as I got in myself.”

He pushes his hips into you, and you brace yourself even harder on the counter. It’s taking all your strength not to move, part of you wanting to relax into the Widower Quentin and the rest of you wants to get away from whoever he really is. Quentin notices your grip and lets off a little by keeping his hands at your hips instead of roaming around, but you can tell he’s not done.

“It was cute, honey. Don’t get me wrong.” He says, pulling you closer to him still. “It’s a shame you’re not as nice when you’re awake.” You can feel that he’s about to kiss your ear when you feel you’ve had enough.

“Can you just make up your mind?” You huff, turning around to face him and pushing him back with your hand to gain some space. “One minute you’re threatening to kill me if I don’t ‘behave’ myself, the next you tell me you want me to resist you, and now you’re chastising me because I don’t act sweet on you?”

He steps backwards, crossing his arms. You can’t tell if he’s irate or defensive. “That’s rich, coming from someone who couldn’t say shit to me in private despite your little monologue at dinner.”

“‘Oh, you can take me but you’ll never have me Quentin.” He says, mocking your voice. “You can’t break me but if you ask me a question I’ll cry!” You stare at him, imagining his hair catching fire.

“Unlike you,” You begin, trying to gain some composure, “I’ve actually been very clear about what I want. Which is far, far away from you.” Deep breaths. “I don’t have control over my body when I’m fucking sleeping, Quentin. That’s not a choice or a desire, it’s just something that happens. It would’ve happened even if you were someone else entirely.” He’s silent, much like at dinner. You don’t know why you’re even saying this, but you press on. It’s exhilarating to finally get a word in.

“I don’t like who you actually are, Quentin. There’s not a cell in my body that wants you near me. The person I have feelings for is a widower and a survivor of planetary decimation. He’s a work of fiction. Just because your face is his face and your voice is his voice, doesn’t make you the next best thing. It makes you an actor. You might be Quentin Beck but you’re not Mysterio, no matter how well you can play him.”

“You’ve hurt me in multiple ways, Quentin. You lied to me for months. You took me on dates and inserted yourself into my life when you didn’t need to. You had sex with me! You told me you loved me!”

“You chose to further my relationship to Mysterio when you knew you’d eventually have to break character. And when I found out? You trapped me in a nightmare for hours, and then you hunted me down and forced yourself on me. It wasn’t even enough that you terrorized me and made me feel like I was just a conquest to you, you had to use your drones to pin me down while you did it.”

You can feel your emotions welling up inside you, the betrayal and the hurt and the anger at him. He doesn’t even matter anymore, you can’t bring yourself to stop now.

“You don’t get to be both Mysterio and Quentin Beck when you’re in here. Maybe with the rest of the world you can, but not with me. And don’t think that you lost that opportunity, because you never would have come by it honestly in the first place. All you will ever get from me is going to be bad. It’s going to be reluctant, or hateful, or indifferent. It’s going to be exactly what you deserve.”

You inhaled shakily, finished with what you wanted to say. Bracing yourself for his reaction, you waited for him to do something. He seemed to weigh what you said in his mind, and with a sigh he turned on his heels and made his leave without so much as a look back in your direction.

“We’ll see about that.” The door clanged shut as his words echo in your mind.

You’re alone again at last. Why does it feel like it might be a punishment?

#cat and mouse

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babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

My Lady

Cameron Bissel x Reader

2.5k ; NSFW lmao what even is this

You’re waiting by the sidelines, when the show is over. You’ve been watching him all evening, watching his performance. For whatever reason, they let him stay for the whole duration of the dinner, and you were grateful.

Grateful because that means you got to watch him move, got to watch him fight, got to watch those big arms of his flex as he wielded a sword that you knew had some weight to it, you knew. He looked so good, and it was bittersweet, because you had been sent to collect him, had been sent to bring him to the proverbial executioner.

He nearly collides into you, when the show is over. He’s impossibly tall and broad, and the wig he wears is slightly tangled just from all the activity. You’ve seen him without it of course, you’ve seen everyone out of costume before, and he’s just as sexy without it. But there’s something about the way his tunic is soaked through with sweat, about the way his chest heaves from the adrenaline of the performance, about the way he shakes the hair out of his face, that has you biting the inside of your cheek.

“Sir Cameron,” You say, still in character, everyone always having to remain in character, “Lord Steve wants to see you.”

You’ve got your hand braced on his chest to keep him from rushing away, and you can feel it through his tunic, how fast his heart is beating.

“Fuck, I’m probably going to be fired, huh?” He sighs, scratches the back of his neck.

He went too far, he knows he did. He was so caught up in his method acting class, so caught up in the thrill of being an actor, that he went too far. He’d have to go find Gregory and that other nice knight whose name he can’t remember, and apologize as soon as he was done packing up his bags.

“Yeah, probably.” You say sympathetically, your hand still on his chest. “You should follow me, I’ll take you to his office.” You nod your head in the direction of the hallway, and Cameron follows.

The dichotomy between seeing people in poorly designed medieval clothing, and the corporate environment never fails to amuse you, you think as the lavish medieval decoration fades away into white walled hallways with metal doors.

“You know,” You say, just to have something to say, to have some way to break the uncomfortable silence that had formed between the two of you, “I really enjoyed your performance tonight.”

“You did?” Cameron asks, surprised, his eyebrows raised.

“Mhm,” You smile over your shoulder at him, only able to keep your eyes on him for a moment, before your own thoughts derailed. “I thought you were a noble knight, avenging the death of your wife and son.”

Cameron slows to a stop, and in turn so do you, and you can see the gears turning in his head when he picks up what you’re putting down, when he realizes that you want to indulge him in his acting, in his fantasy that he’s made up to supplement the character in the show.

He didn’t mean to cause the whole thing to be a disaster, not really. He had just gotten so into it, had just wanted to make it better than it was. You knew that. You respected that.

“’Tis all I wanted, now they may rest peacefully.” Cameron says solemnly. No longer is he rage-filled, after having killed the King and Princess, now he is soft spoken, and looks at you with even softer eyes.

It’s just the two of you in the hallway, so you dare to take a step closer, you dare to let your fingers toy with the end of his braid, as you lick your lips entirely too suggestively.

“Has it been long?” You look up at him through your lashes, your hands bracing themselves on his chest as you press your body against his, “Since you’ve felt a woman’s touch, I mean.”

You’re worried for a minute that he’ll push you away, that you’ve crossed a line, over-stepped a boundary. But then he’s gripping your arm tightly with one of his bear-paws for hands, and he’s leading you around the corner and down a different hall, one that doesn’t lead anywhere near the regional manager’s office.

Instead, when he opens a door it’s to an empty supply closet, and you nearly squeal from excitement because yes, yes, he wants you too. He allows you to enter first, and when he follows behind you he closes the door, shutting out the light with it, and locks it from the inside to ensure no one disturbs you.

“My dear Lady.” He whispers, cupping your cheeks in both his hands, a gesture too tender for it being the last time you’ll see him, “You don’t mean…?”

“Brave Sir Knight, what would you say if I offered your last memory of this place to be filled with pleasure?” You cut right to the chase, figuring if this be the last time you spend with him, you want to spend it coming all over one another.

“I would say,” His breath comes in a shudder, “Get on your knees.”

You fall easily, wasting no time. You know people will be looking for him soon, they’ll come looking, so you have to make this quick. It’s not ideal, but you’re already on your knees and you’re already undoing the laces of his leather trousers.

“Oh shit.” You whisper when you pull out his cock, when it’s hard and already leaking at the tip, leaking just for you. You can’t see it, not in the dark of the closet, but you can feel it – and it feels huge.

“Sorry, I know it’s big I – ” He breaks character, suddenly shy, suddenly self-conscious. If you had more time you’d kiss him, but as it is, you only stroke the length of his dick, your mouth watering as your brain tries to figure out how the hell to do about doing this.

“Don’t apologize, I just don’t think I’ll be able to fit it all in my mouth.” You say, an apology in your own way. Even though it’s dark you can see the impression of him shaking his head, the beads that secure the end of his braids rattling where they clink together.

“That’s okay, (Y/N), it’s okay, do what you can, what you want.” He’s sweet, too sweet to you as he cards his fingers through your hair, and your chest warms at the evidence that he knows your name. You wonder if he’s been watching you just as long as you’ve been watching him.

Without any further hesitation, you guide the head of his cock to your tongue, lick up the salty pre-come that’s started to leak out of him. Almost immediately the hand in your hair tightens, almost immediately he takes a step forward, wanting to shove himself down your throat. It’s an involuntary movement of his hips, one that he apologizes for with a caress of your face from his free hand, and you smile, nuzzle your face into the palm, even as you lick a thick stripe up the shaft.

“Jesus,” He lets out low and long, curses as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, as you begin to suck on it, guiding him down down down your throat. “(Y/N), fuck.”

His dick is long, but the bigger issue is that it’s girthy, your fingertips barely meet when your hands wrap around him. You relax your throat and depress your tongue as flat as it’ll go, as you encourage his hips to sink his cock into the tight wet heat of your mouth.

“You’re so good, so good,” He groans, filling you with pride, “So beautiful.”

That comment makes you flush, because how does he know what you look like, there in the dark?

There’s not much space in the supply closet, but you don’t need much space, not when you’re trying to get as close to Cameron as possible. He helps, helps by fucking his cock into your throat, helps by thrusting his hips down into you, against your tongue, mindful of your teeth. He moans as he does it, has to bite down on the inside of his cheek, on the sleeve of his tunic, to not be so loud as he moans groans begs for you to suck his dick.

And you do, you hollow out your cheeks and suck hard, again and again until he’s panting, until he’s trembling all over, the character completely forgotten.

“You – You should stop, I’m going…oh fuck, I’m going to come.” He warns.

You only hum around him, you don’t let up the pace, not one bit. You pull him out of your throat so that the head of his cock rests on your tongue, and you accept the load he blows all over your face, swallow down the come that’s surprisingly sweet, surprisingly not so salty and bitter like you had expected.

“Get up here,” He whispers, somehow still strong enough to hoist you up onto your feet, knees protesting from kneeling for so long, “Let me take care of you.”

His hands are already roaming, already sliding around your body, hiking up the skirts of your own costume.

“You don’t have to.” You say, breathy, even though you do nothing to stop him, even though you encourage him.

“I want to, (Y/N),” He whispers, pausing to get close to you, to try and look at you in the dark. His nose bumps against yours, and suddenly his hands are back cupping your cheeks, and his breath is somehow minty on your lips. “I really want to. Can I kiss you?”

“Please, please do.” You surrender yourself to him, offering yourself up to him.

His lips are plush and soft when they meet yours, his shoulders are broad and strong when your arms wind around them. He sighs into your mouth like a parched man taking his first drink, drinks down your moans as one of his hands drifts away from your face and shoves into the waistband of your skirt, dips beneath your panties.

You’re so wet for him, have always been so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how badly you’ve wanted him, ever since you started working there only a few months ago. It would be embarrassing anyway, if it weren’t so clear that he wanted you back.

His fingers were much like your tongue in that they wasted little time sliding through your soaked folds, his blunt nails digging into your walls, fingers curled as he stroked your pussy from the inside out. His big thumb swirls little circles on your clit, and you almost fall backwards at the blinding pleasure of it all.

“Cameron!” You’re startled, your grip on his shoulders the only thing keeping you from crashing into the shelves of the supply closet.

“Tell me what you like.” He kisses you, kisses your cheek, fingers slowly pumping in and out of you.

“Faster, please.” You ask, needing to get off soon, needing to come, otherwise you’d demand him to fuck you with that big cock of his right then and there. He nods, kisses your cheek, licks at the corner of your mouth while his thumb speeds up, leaving you panting, “Yes just like that – yes.”

“Shh, shh, you have to be quiet,” He kisses you, so sweet that he’s concerned for you, “They’ll hear and then you’ll get in trouble too.”

“I don’t give a shit, I’m quitting.” You admit, huff out a laugh and a moan and a sigh and a gasp as his fingers shove themselves up further into you. “I hate it here – god your hands are huge.”

You can’t tell if he’s got two, or three, or his whole fucking fist up in your pussy, but you never want it to stop, never.

“Everything about me is big, I’m afraid.” He’s shy again, strangely shy for a man who was just angrily spitting on the floor an hour ago.

“I love it, I want it.” You moan, wishing that you were naked, wishing he could pinch at your tits, your stiff nipples, something, anything, “I wish you could fuck me.”

“When I fuck you,” Cameron says, and you clench hard around his hand at the promise of when, not if, “It’s going to be in the softest, biggest bed you’ve ever slept in. Nothing less is worthy to support your back while I blow it out.”

“C—Cameron!” You gasp, coming, coming coming coming on his hand, right as his fingers find your gspot and make the whole supply closet go bright white.

You’re both dizzy from the whole thing, when it’s over. It’s hot and humid in the closet, your hands slipping on the leather of his tunic, his hands slipping on the steamed-up walls. You’re both exhausted, both covered in sweat, but neither of you want to let the other go.

Your orgasm fades beautifully, into a slow pleasant ache between your legs. Your thighs are a mess of come, enough that it’ll probably chafe if you don’t wipe yourself down with something first – a thought which Cameron interrupts by tearing off a piece of paper-towel from a roll he happened to find on one of the shelves.

He wipes himself up and puts his cock away, and then you can feel his hands on your skin, gentle and careful to not hurt you.

“We really have to go to Steve’s office now, huh?” He asks quietly as he cleans you up with a fresh paper-towel that he rips from the roll.

He’s sad now. Before he had only been in love with you from afar, had only been obsessed with you in the privacy of his own head. Now though, now it was real, and you felt something for him too, and you’d probably never see one another again.

“Yeah.” You reply softly, before cupping his cheek in one of your hands, letting him nuzzle there just as you had done, two overly affectionate people finding themselves in the strangest of circumstances. “Promise me something?”

“Of course.” Cameron says right away, and even in the dark, you can see his eyes are bright with hope.

“Come find me after the show tomorrow, take me out to dinner.” You instruct, your arms tightening around his shoulders once again, your lips only millimeters away from his own. “Maybe to a movie, I don’t care. Just take me somewhere I can see you, somewhere I can kiss you out in the open.”

And he opens the door then, making sure you’re cleaned and dressed properly, because he wants to see the look on your face, wants to watch the moment he tells you, wants to witness the exact instant you begin to smile, when he holds you close and kisses you once more and says,

“Anything for my lady.”

#i genuinely do not know how to tag this #adam driver #snl #cameron bissel x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #lmfao im sorry

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years ago

Text

Sunset on Grass

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rated M: for later chapters/ this particular one is actually G.

Tags: Age Difference- Peeta is 19 years older than Katniss, but there won’t be any romance until she’s of age, so I might as well tag this as Slow Burn. Time Jump. Mr Everdeen is alive in this one, which makes Katniss OOC. Tags will update according to chapter posted.

Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine. This chapter closed at around 4200 words. Happy reading.

Thank you to @javistg and @xerxia31 for once again hosting Our Beloved Exchange. You guys are the best!!!

—————

CHAPTER ONE:

It was a very cold day; Mama made us wear hats and gloves and clunky snow boots, but the worst offender in my 8 year old opinion, was the fact she forced me to wear a fleece over my long sleeve shirt with the sparkly pink hearts, and then a heavy winter coat to top it all, covering my favorite outfit that happened to be perfectly apt for the month of February… who had time to worry about layering for the weather, when Valentine’s Day gave us the perfect excuse to wear mushy, pink, glittery hearts in public?!

Prim had just turned four recently, and Daddy decided she was finally old enough to sit through a movie at the theater with us ‘grown ups’ like a big girl. Normally, he would’ve let Prim pick the movie, since it was her first time joining us, but when we got to the theater, I begged to see Bridge to Terabithia, because all the girls in my class had a crush on the main character actor, some Josh Hutcher-something or another, and I really wanted to see what the fuss was about with the boy.

Well, none of my little girlfriends bothered to tell me the movie was so darned sad!

Prim wailed and sobbed despite not really understanding what happened in the story. All she knew was that Mama sniffled and dabbed at the corner of her blue eyes with a wadded-up napkin, and that was enough for her to let her tears fall freely, clinging to Daddy’s neck until hiccups raked her tiny frame.

At the end of the movie, Mama’s eyes were red rimmed but she at least was done sniffling. Daddy and I just sat there stoically, like the hardened leaders of our small clan, we were… if my lips trembled, it had nothing to do with the sap fest we just endured.

Daddy sighed, “Some movies should come with disclaimers.” He grumbled, adjusting Prim on his hip while pulling open the exit door.

“I thought it was great. The young actors were marvelous. Such range of emotion…” Mama gushed, before wiping the corner of her eye daintily. “I’d recommend it to other people, personally.”

Daddy gave her a look, and then Mama amended, “With a warning for grief and depression.” Her lips formed a thin line, but Daddy seemed satisfied, so we walked into the frigid February afternoon and winced in unison as soon as the cold hit our faces.

Prim was still intermittently sobbing.

“Primrose, honey, will a treat help you cheer up some?” Daddy asked quietly, tenderly caressing her cheek.

My baby sister nodded, her pitiful big o’ blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Let’s get you a nice treat then. Let’s take advantage of those neatly shoveled sidewalks our tax money afforded us.” Said Daddy smiling sweetly, his gray eyes twinkling.

We crossed the street and kept on going until we reached the square a block away and then hesitated for a second in front of the ice cream parlor, finally settling for the quaint little bakery two doors down.

Immediately, my cheeks warmed up and I tried to walk with my back a little straighter, just in case a certain baker boy was working that day. My heart rattled against my ribs and I tried real hard to keep my eyes up, but as usual, chickened out last minute and all I could see was the ground.

Daddy walked in making the bell above the entrance chimed cheerfully; he held the door open so Mama and I could scoot into the building. We all stood just inside the door, taking a collective sigh of relief at the warmth and inviting aromas of the bakery: Yeast, sugar and freshly brewed coffee mingled in the air, welcoming.

“Afternoon Everdeens!” Called a deep, velvety and familiar voice from somewhere ahead. “Come on in and make yourselves at home, please!” Mister Peeta smiled, like us, walking into his family’s shop was the highlight of his day.

It surely was mine, of course; not that anyone would’ve been able to tell just by how gun-shy I acted, except from my parents that is.

They knew alright.

They knew all about my crush on the young baker, and at least Mama thought it was cute. Daddy wasn’t too comfortable acknowledging it, so he usually rolled his eyes at Mama about it.

But who wouldn’t have a thing for mister Peeta, really? He was nice, polite, and handsome, with a soft looking face and bright blue eyes, always smiling, and wavy blond hair that curled under the many baseball caps he wore (currently, he donned one with the Mellark’s logo on the front.). He was also strong… or at least I figured he had to be, since he was school wrestling champion and all. I hadn’t witnessed it myself of course, mister Peeta and my folks were ancient compared to me, but I grew up hearing the stories.

Mama and Daddy had been high school sweethearts who’d been in the same grade as mister Rye— mister Peeta’s older brother— so they knew the Mellark brothers some. Daddy said Mr. Peeta was the pride of the town as a teenager, since he became State Wrestling champion in his senior year of high school, a full two years after my folks graduated Panem

high.

“How are you doing, Peeta?” Said Daddy reaching a hand over the counter to shake the baker’s.

Mama waved and smiled, offering her own little “Hello, Peeta.” Then nudged me to do the same, and my eyes about popped out of my sockets when the baker smiled and winked one of his bright, blue eyes at me.

“I heard you’re leaving for Europe soon?” Asked Daddy.

Mister Peeta smiled widely, “Yes! Got accepted to study pastistry at a prestigious school in France. I can’t wait.” His excitement was contagious.

“That’s great, Peeta!” Interjected my mama. “I bet your folks are pleased. The bakery will boom with everything you’ll bring back with that training.”

Mister Peeta nodded, and though he was still smiling, he didn’t look happy. “Full scholarship ride, and I came up with my own ticket and expenses money from a year’s worth of savings. My mother is really pleased.”

For some reason, it didn’t sound like Mrs Mellark was truly pleased. Not for the first time, I thought adults could be so weird when they talked, not saying what they truly meant.

Still, Mama and Daddy offered congratulations again and I felt my stomach knot when Mister Peeta spoke again, and for once my eyes were glued to his kind face.

“Enough about me. Y’all came in right on time,” Mister Peeta clapped his enormous hands once, “I just pulled a tray of cheese buns out of the oven, and sat them to cool on a rack in the back. Let me go grab y’all some. I heard cheese buns are Miss Katniss’ favorites!”

I almost choked at that, and turned my head owlishly to glare at my parents, wondering who’d spilled my secrets behind my back to the handsomest man ever.

Mama was already sitting at a table; she was covering her smile behind the gloves she just pulled off her hands, while Daddy rolled his eyes slightly before sliding into the bench with Prim still wrapped around him like a baby Koala.

So Mama then. She tattled on me.

Traitor!

At Daddy’s behest, I came and sat next to him; Prim on his lap, and all of our coats in the space next to Mama on the opposite side of the half booth.

Mister Peeta came back with a tray bearing hot chocolate in white mugs engraved with ‘Mellark’s’, and a dish piled high with pastries. He placed four small plates in front of each of us, and gifted us with one more of his wide, welcoming grins.

“Tuck in, Everdeens! Enjoy!” The bell above the door chimed with more customers, but right before he left, mr. Peeta leaned closer to me and suggested, “Dip your bread in the chocolate. Is my favorite snack on cold days like today.” He winked again and I almost fainted.

He truly was the handsomest man ever!

Mama’s smile just widened. She tried to hide it behind her cup of cocoa though, but Daddy let out a noise, like a grudgingly amused grunt of sorts.

“Lily,” He warned halfheartedly.

Mama looked up at him, wide, blue eyes innocently. “What?” She mumbled.

“Stop teasing.” He said, sinking his straight teeth into his cheese bun. “She’s too young for crushes. Even on bakers that make amazing cookies and cheese buns. Ain’t that right, Catkin?” Daddy looked at me, arching one bushy eyebrow.

I scowled and turned my nose up at the lot of them before tearing chunks of my bun and dunking them in my hot chocolate. At the first bite, I had to admit, the baker was onto something!

“I don’t know what y’all are yapping about,” I said haughtily.

“There you go,” said Daddy grinning smugly at Mama, “That’s my girl!”

Mama rolled her eyes and waved us off. “Oh well, it’s just puppy love. She’ll grow out of it soon enough, especially when he’s away in Paris and out of sight.”

I chewed on my chocolate infused cheese bun, and my eyes lifted to watch mister Peeta bagging a customer’s order, taking payment with a grateful smile.

My heart drummed harshly in my chest.

I had no idea what the love of puppies had to do with anything, but I found it hard to believe the strange feeling of bubbles popping in my tummy would go away any time soon, even if I didn’t see the baker ever again.

————————-

My 16th birthday brought me a set of wheels, in the form of my daddy’s ancient but still reliable pick-up truck. But with the wheels, came Daddy’s caveats.

“Young lady, if you want to be driving around town, here are the rules,” he stated, “You gotta drive your sister to and from school. No boys—“

“Or girls!” Interjected Mama, passing to the couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“Or girls,” Daddy continued glaring at Mama, “Unless Mama or I are in the truck with y’all.”

That one earned him a big groan from me, not that I’d planned on having friends ride with me places; after all, Gale had been driving his daddy’s old Jeep for the last two years, and Madge just got a new Volkswagen Beetle for her birthday, despite having failed her driving tests… twice! So we all had our own transportation, thank you very much.

“And, you are to keep the tank of the truck at least half full at all times.”

“Alright. That’s cool—“ I started, but was swiftly interrupted.

“What your daddy means is, Sweet pea, you are responsible for your own gas. We won’t pay for it, unless it’s an emergency.” Said Mama delicately, her eyes shifting to Daddy’s for support, which he gave in a curt nod of his graying head.

“Wait… what?” I stared at them in turn. “You mean I need to come up with my own gas money?” I asked just to clarify. “Even while having to chauffeur Prim around, like I’m a courtesy shuttle driver?”

“Lily, our daughter is a genius!” Said Daddy with his goofy dad smirk, “Haven’t I said so a million times before?”

Mama giggled, “You sure have, Dear. Our Katniss is one bonafide genius!”

Truth be told, the prospect of having spending money of my own was actually exciting for me. We lived a decent life, not luxurious like the Undersee’s, or as tight as the Hawthorne’s, but comfortable enough to always have a pocketful of allowance dough; but having my actual money, without having to ask for it or justify why I needed it, was very appealing to me.

I still groaned at my folks for their exuberance. I didn’t mind working hard; I’ve always helped Daddy doing house work around our place, and never complained about the daily chores imposed by Mama growing up; having an honest to God paying job sounded kind of… liberating. Like I was an adult, instead of a kid.

“You should try the shops in town,” Mama suggested. “Something close by that won’t interfere with school—“

“Or archery club—“ Father chimed in.

“Or soccer.” Said Prim crossing the room out of nowhere and plopping on the couch next to Mama, to munch on her popcorn. The demand was for her, since I didn’t play the sport. “I can’t miss practice. Rue would have a fit if I get kicked out.”

“Fine! I’ll go ask around town if anyone needs help.” I made a show of rolling my eyes and shrugging, but inside, my blood quickened with the excitement of my impending job hunt.

Twenty eight hours later, I was stumbling out of the Sweet’s store in town square, walking backwards and grinning like a lunatic.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Donner! Really. You won’t regret it! Thank you again!” I gushed and barely repressed a squeal of excitement, “I’ll see you Monday. Bye!”

I had to grab on to the frame of the open door, not to fall on my bottom like an uncoordinated noodle when I tripped on my own feet, and finally pulled myself away from the store front. I turned on my heel and practically skipped down the sidewalk, giggling non-stop. I managed to reel it in and climbed on my truck before pumping the air with my fists in a tiny victory dance.

Everything was coming up Katniss, and my spirits soared high!

I got myself a job, and while it wasn’t my first option— Mr. Mellark said his bakery was fully staffed at the time— I had effectively secured myself a source of gas money, which was my main concern and the literal driving force behind my job hunt. I counted as a perk, the fact that Mellark’s Bakery was sitting across the square from the Sweet Shop and I was granted an unobstructed view of the front room of the bakery from behind my counter, because watching the Mellark men working was just inspiring. And I meant that in a non creepy way… hopefully.

I tried not to be as obvious with my crush on Mr. Peeta, but I wasn’t deaf and his mama— dubbed The Witch, by the town youngsters— enjoyed bragging loudly about her successful business, and a good chunk of that came from Peeta’s success as a baker. I pretty much knew anything a nosy sixteen year old girl could know about a guy twenty years her senior, hoarding all kinds of gossip about him like a dragon hoards gold.

Being only a few years younger than my own father, Mister Peeta graduated from Panem U when I was a toddler. He earned a business degree he’d really never used; then, he went to Paris-France for almost three years, and trained with the best chefs in the pastry business, returning to our small town to open up his own high end patisserie, but since the economy had taken a dive those days and his shop was so new and fancy, he was forced to close up and take over the cakes and pastry side of Mellark’s, until things stabilized for new businesses. Sadly, he never ventured back on his own, which was a downright shame, because the man was a culinary genius and so artistic at that.

Currently, he worked weekend’s at Mellark’s while teaching at the Pastry school in Capitol City… not that I was keeping tabs on the man or anything.

I was just observant that way…

Sort of.

Mrs. Mellark liked to boast about things she had no hand in doing, like her youngest son’s accomplishments and success abroad and locally, but she was also a ruthless disparager who couldn’t care less when and where she criticized her sons or husband when something didn’t go her way. The Witch was always going on and on about Mr. Peeta going to France and becoming an expert cake decorator, and teaching pastrity at some hoity-toity culinary school in Capitol City, as if she herself had done it for him, and in the next breath she’d be groaning about how much of an inconvenience to her it was he went overseas for the training. The woman was a hag, but I couldn’t help people in town were so gossipy and when she started with the stories. I just perked up my ears and gobbled up all the information she was sharing.

Anyway, my mama’s prediction about my infatuation with Mr. Peeta ending, kind of flopped. The crushed endured all the years between his absence to Europe and his return; it was still going strong even at age sixteen, but I had learned to pine discreetly, surreptitiously sneaking peeks at mister Peeta from a distance and daydream about scenarios where the handsome baker finally noticed me, and we fell madly in love with each other and lived happily ever after in a marzipan house, eating all kinds of bread and cake without ever gaining an ounce of weight… Also, in those scenarios, Mr. Peeta was like ten years younger, and nobody batted an eye at us being together.

Of course, I wasn’t delusional. I knew nothing like it would ever happen; after all, Mr. Peeta was nineteen years older than me and devoted to his craft. But dreaming was free, and as long as the fantasies stayed locked in my head, I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself.

————————

My first Saturday morning working at the Candy shop, I parked in the public parking lot, diagonal to the town square, before opening time. The lot was built adyacente to a few city offices to accommodate anyone running errands downtown, like paying their license tags, filing taxes, getting permits of miscellaneous natures, or simply taking a stroll around the square at dusk, licking on a frozen treat from the ice cream parlor or having dinner at the pizza place. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to park there if one worked in one of the mom-and-pop shops littering the picturesque merchant center of Panem.

I could’ve used the designated parking spaces on the road behind the sweets store, but there was a humongous dumpster next to ours, and Ms. Donner hadn’t given me a key to the back door yet, so even if the threadbare upholstery of my truck wasn’t threatening to absorb the stench of the whole neighborhood’s trash, there wasn’t any benefit to me parking there.

I yawned dispassionately tossing my keys in the new purse Prim gave me when I announced I’d found a job, because according to her, I was now a grown-up and needed a proper purse instead of my ratty messenger bag, that honestly had seen better days. I swept the bag off the bench and slammed the door shut without bothering to lock it. There was nothing in the cab worth stealing; everyone knew me and my folks, we were just another run of the mill middle class family, without any wealth to our names.

“Ouch!” A velvety, deep voice spoke from a little ways over, and my whole body went rigidly straight. “Shouldn’t treat your steed so harshly, Hunter. I don’t think old Francine appreciates it.”

I turned on my heels and peered at Mr. Peeta trying to keep myself from screeching in a panic or something equally embarrassing.

The man was just straightening up from retrieving a chef jacket from the back seat of what I surmised was his car, and lifted his gaze in my direction with a slight smirk on his lips that quickly fell off, giving way to a confused expression, as his bright, blue eyes fixed on mine. “You ain’t Hunter,” he mumbled, squinting a little.

To his credit, it had been a while since he saw me last, despite me keeping tabs on him and stealing glances when I could. He had no reason to seek me out or anything, plus he was a busy man, always in the back room of the bakery working his pastillage gifts. Then again… ‘Francine’— my daddy’s former ‘89 F150– was like forever linked to Hunter Everdeen’s persona or something.

“Katniss?” Mr. Peeta frowned, like fog was slowly lifting from his mind and vague recognition finally set in, making my heart lurch and beat unbearably fast.

I nodded mutely, but soon I answered a spastic, “Morning, mister Peeta. How do you do?” My mama hadn’t drilled sixteen years worth of relentless Southern hospitality for me to stay silent for long. I hesitated a second and trudged along without giving him a chance to respond, scowling at the ground, “Francine, she’s sturdy,” I chance a glance at his face, “But you’re right, she’s too old to be treated poorly. I’ll make sure to be gentler with her in the future.”

Mr. Peeta arched his eyebrows, as if surprised by my mere voice. He tugged the collar of his plain white t-shirt, and then huffed a chuckle.

“Little Miss Katniss is driving now,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. He eyed me curiously, “Well, I guess you’re not little anymore. But wow! What a way to humble a man about his old age.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, making me shift in place in mild arousal.

He draped his chef’s shirt over his forearm and closed his car door softly. “I have no words to describe how I feel, discovering young Katniss Everdeen is old enough to drive Francine,” He tsked at his boots, but his smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “End of an era… for me at least. Beginning of a new one for you, I supposed.” He smiled self deprecatingly.

My face burned and my chest tightened at his words, not sure if I felt elation or embarrassment.

“Oh… you ain’t old, sir.” I waved him off, still scowling for no good reason.

Mr. Peeta laughed. “You’re too kind, Miss Katniss, but my I.D. disagrees. Plus, knowing you’re old enough to drive is a sobering thought.” He smiled kindly again.

“I turned sixteen a week and a half ago. Daddy gave me the truck for passing my driving test.” I volunteered without prompting.

“Neat! Spring baby, then. Makes sense. Suits you.” Mr. Peeta smiled, and I got incredibly shy, excited and happy at his short words.

“Yeah, May 8th.” I offered softly, “That’s me. Spring baby.”

“As I said, it suits you. I’m a wintry kid myself, so I try to be extra warm to counteract any cold disposition I might have.” He said, checking his watch.

I panicked slightly; I knew time was closing in, and I’d be dismissed soon, so I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “What brings you out here so early on a Saturday morning, anyway?”

Mr. Peeta cocked his head sideways and glanced at me curiously. “Work.” He said in an amused, lilting tone. He lifted his arm to point at his chef uniform laid neatly folded.

I clamped my mouth immediately, to prevent any other ‘brilliant’ questions might escape.

Mr. Peeta smirked, probably realizing what a dork I was. “How about you? It’s awfully early for a kid to be downtown.” His face took a distant quality for his next words. “When I was your age, my mother would beat me out of bed for my Saturday shifts at the bakery… all I wanted to do was lay in bed until noon, you know. But, baker’s hours aren’t exactly flexible.”

My whole face twisted at that tidbit of information. I couldn’t read his emotion about his comment, which bothered me somehow. I started talking just because I disliked the way his face turned blank.

“I’m a morning person myself.” I shrugged. But my folks made me get a job so I could finance my gas addiction,” I was smuggly pleased when the baker started laughing heartily at my silly joke. It felt nice, knowing I said something he found funny. “Anyway, I’m working too. At Ms. Donner’s shop.”

“Nice! Good taffy. Did old Maysilee offer to pay you in candy? I swear she did that to my brother, Bannock, one summer he decided to give another shop a try. ” He said conversationally, activating the alarm of his car.

“Oh, gosh!” I laughed, “No, she offered to give me a check every two weeks.” Then I looked at him dead in the eye, “Now the Christmas bonuses, those are in candy.”

We both laughed at that

Mr. Peeta nodded. “Well, Miss Katniss, I won’t keep you much longer, but if you need anything… a cheese bun for example,” He winked, putting my heart a flutter again, “Don’t hesitate to come in!”

With that, he started walking towards the narrow street behind the row of shops, no doubt heading to the back door of the bakery.

“Bye, Mister Peeta!” I croaked out belatedly.

Peeta waved over his shoulder.

All I could think after the encounter was how wrong my parents had been about my “puppy love” being a passing crush.

……………………………..

Josh Hurcherson starred in Bridge to Terabithia, which came out in February of 2007. To this day, I can’t watch that movie without bawling my eyes out. Everyone should see it!

#Springtime Edition 2020 #submission #alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 67

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