#like i need my phone active right /now/ and also i'm not going to like. try and crowdfund 30$ for that

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- mentally/emotionally abusive Naoya, Sukuna is possessive, violence, mafia ties, a lil bit of smut in here- whipped ass Kuna- he whimpers hehe- angst smut AND fluff - WC-6.2k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - will be six or more parts- I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (esp on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINK

<<<Part Three Playlist Masterlist Part Five>>>

Part Four

“I’m outside, sweetheart, wanna let me in?” Your heart hammers in your chest, as Touma is tilting his head curiously, you bolt up to sit straight, feeling sick to your stomach as his cat-like tone works its way into your mind.

“What!?” You demand quietly, standing as you head towards the door, you’ve rarely ever had him come here, he’s been so uninvolved aside from his never ending calls or texts, which were just taunts truly.

“You heard me, honey, I’d love to come see you. Wonder what you’re wearing hmm?”

You hang up the phone, disgust making bile rise in your throat, turning to Touma then and bending low on your knees, brushing back his hair gently. “Hey baby, let Mama talk to him, hmm?”

“But will daddy upset Mama?” He asks, breaking you slowly into pieces, you take a shaky breath, plastering on a smile.

“No way, I’ll be good! Promise. But I want you to stay inside, will you do that for me?”

“Of course! I'm a big boy.”

“You are!” You snatch up a cardigan, you’re literally in a crop top and shorts, the last thing you need is him to tear apart you showing the stretch marks he loves to shit on you for, for being comfortable with your body, that gives him more power over you.

You open the door and see him, sleazy smile on his face, those narrowed brown eyes raking down your figure as you shut the door behind you, looking directly at him with a scowl. He chuckles, grinning with sharp canines as the sun that should be warming your skin makes you so hot you feel faint, blood pressure rising and rising to where you can’t breathe.

“Naoya. Need something?” You whisper, he leans a hand on the door, right by your head, the other brushing back your hair, you itch to smack him but you’re terrified, knowing more and more of what he does.

“Not a nice greeting sweetheart, where’s my kiss?”

“You’re not getting one ever again.” He laughs harshly, dragging you to him then by your waist, and you shove at his chest. “Back off.”

“No way to talk to me, maybe I should occupy your stupid fucking mouth, huh?” You glare and smack him right in the face then, earning him pinning your wrist brutally to the door. “Gonna put your hands on me?”

“You’re not gonna kiss me, ever agin. Stop it, you’re making a scene!”

“Then let me in, huh?”

“No. I’m not letting you scare Touma.” Naoya rubs his red cheek, letting your wrist go now, eyes trailing down your body once more, tugging at your cardigan, seeing the marks Sukuna left, glaring.

“And just what are these?” He touches your neck, making you shiver, pushing his hand off once more.

“None of your business, Naoya.”

“Gonna get marked up like some whore?”

“Says the man who had women bent over tables in front of me?” You counter, raising a brow, as Naoya tilts your chin up, touch so vile compared to Sukuna’s that you wonder how you ever really did it with him.

“If you would’ve tried harder, maybe I wouldn’t have had to. Served your man a little more, appreciated all I did.”

You scoff now, eyes narrowing. “All you did was down me, make me feel like shit, and blame me for your infidelity instead of just taking responsibility. And I served you plenty, you sure didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Get me off.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes and adjusting his suit jacket. “Oh really? You’re playing that?”

“It’s not a game, I know you didn’t.”

“And you’re gonna stand here looking so satisfied, for what?”

“Because I’m happy for once, you can’t stand it, can you?” You whisper, only for him to press your back against the door, hovering over you, for all his faults he’s never hit you, but your eyes go wide, tummy flipping so much you feel sick, you’re dying to just be in Sukuna’s arms suddenly. 

It’s an insane thought, too much too soon, but fuck you want him to hold you, to tell you it’ll all be okay, to feel him cup your face with one of his big hands, that make you feel so safe. You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to gather yourself, as Naoya continues to spit his nasty words, mixed with falsehoods.

“You wanna live in this piece of shit apartment with the kid?”

“He’s happy here, and it’s what I can afford.”

“So come back, and live like you should, have you in furs and diamonds, hmm?” He’s caressing your cheek as he speaks, altering his tone, and shit that used to work but now!?

“No.”

“No!?”

“No, I’m good with working hard, and doing what I can. I haven’t asked you for a dime, Naoya.”

“Making such good money shaking your ass?” You tense then, jaw setting, glaring back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Heard the rumors, someone saw you coming out of that club downtown, the real fancy one. Are you actually bartending, or are you just slutting it out?”

“I swear to god, go the fuck away.”

“Want me to tell the lawyer what you do? Mommy who strips, who knows what else she does for money. How much are you charging them?” He cooes again, brushing back your hair as your hands are numb from the blood pressure rising higher and higher, until you almost feel faint.

“What are you getting at, stop talking in circles.”

He laughs then, throwing his head back a bit. “That you either come back where you belong, with me, or I make sure he’s not gonna be yours.”

“You will not, and since when do you even want him in your life?” Your voice is under your breath, you can’t have Touma hearing, Naoya’s brows lower, as he finally backs up a bit, but his hands are slipping across the sides of your breasts, to your waist and your hips.

“Miss you, don’t you know?” He tries to run it, that game he used to, but it doesn’t work, not now that you’ve had Sukuna, a real man. “I need you in my bed, not some john at a club.”

“I don’t get paid to fuck.” You speak through your teeth, he snorts then.

“You were good with your mouth, you know.”

“Wouldn’t know if you were, thank god.”

“What now?” You smile then.

“Nothing. If you want to see Touma, set it up with our lawyer, you don’t need to come here, or do you want more legal involvement in your hair?”

“You threatening me, stupid little bitch?”

“Just giving what I’m getting, bet you don’t want the feds on you.” He laughs cruelly, pinching your cheek so hard you gasp.

“Think I don’t have feds in my back pocket? Stop acting like you fucking know shit, huh? Think about it, coming back, being safe with me, or acting like some dumb bitch at a club. What’s better?”

“Call me a bitch one more time, I swear.” He leans close, lips against your ear, hands slipping down your body, gripping at your hips.

“You’re real pretty when you’re scared.” Is all he says, kissing your ear and laughing again, before pulling back, finally allowing you a breath. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

You try to compose yourself, finally walking inside and seeing Touma nomming happily on his little cheese puff snacks, giggling as he’s watching his cartoon. You exhale in relief that he hadn’t heard it, but then a sense of dread starts to fill you, as you have no clue truly just what your ex is capable of.

******

Candy looks at you with a frown when you walk in, as do the other girls, not saying a word as you start to get undressed, they never really talk to you, seeing as you’re Mr. Sukuna’s favorite, and you can’t blame them. Sukuna was heavily lusted after by the girls here, and you’re sure from overhearing conversations that he used to partake in the women here as well.

But it definitely seems like he no longer is, as body spray is spritzed and lockers are shut, leaving you alone as you’re dusting glitter on your skin, struggling to pull yourself together just a bit. Sukuna isn’t here yet, and when he is you’re certain the flood gates are going to open, and tears will fall.

You need to tell him what happened.

You struggle to save face, stepping up the stairs to one of the stages, clear platform heels clicking, the straps have calloused your ankles all week, but you seem to be getting used to this again. Your body after just a couple weeks is a little stronger, a little more used to the movements, though you’re not sure you’ll be able to get up all the way like before Touma.

You spin and glide, earning grins and looks, as you slip to the floor, hair falling loosely, you’re not wearing a wig tonight, hair just flowing lightly, led lights glittering like diamonds on your skin. You try to fake a smile, try to put on a bright exterior, as men ogle you with their eyes, as they slip cash into your garter, when you see Sukuna walk in, along with Toji, Suguru and Satoru.

As soon as his eyes hit you, he knows something is wrong, and he panics, was it him, yesterday? Was it the fuckfest you two had!? Was he too much or…

What you do to him.

He walks up now, casually standing at the stage and pulling out hundreds, becoming you over, blunt in his mouth as he hands you a lighter. “Light it f’me, pretty hmm?”

“Of course, Mr. Sukuna.” You step closer, taking it and cupping around the flame, he exhales, slipping a hundred in your garter, then another few in your waistband, thumbs brushing on your skin, feeling so good then. “Don’t give me-”

“Shh. Tipping my girls here.” He says, inhaling the blunt as more men are gathering around, trying to garner your attention, and Sukuna’s putting another few hundred in your other garter, as your body responds to his every touch. “God just look at you.”

“Mnh…” Is all you manage to whisper, he smirks then, inhaling the blunt and exhaling against your skin as you spread your thighs, pulling your panties up to where your lips are just barely visible, making his head spin.

“Teasing me, huh brat?”

“Maybe.” You turn now, rolling your hips, before pulling him by his tie, as he stands so close, feeling your heat against him, making him almost moan as he lets you pull his face to your titties.

“You better not do this with anyone again.” He says as you jiggle your breasts, managing the first soft laugh since your run in with your ex.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Sir.”

“Fuck.” You pull back a bit, and he sighs as his name is called, looking over his shoulder, then back at you. “Come see me in a bit.”

You nod, finding it hard to pay any attention to any of the other men, outright shuffling off dances to the other girls, until your set is done and Sukuna eyes you heading to his office. Soon he’s in there, shutting the door and pulling you close, intending on kissing you when he sees the tense set of your face, the way your eyebrows are drawn together.

He softly says your name, and you know you’re losing it, your hold on everything. “Anyone bothering you?”

“Not any of the guys here, no.”

 “What’s wrong?” Sukuna cups your face, and as soon as he does, you drop your shields, your barriers, all your defenses, lip trembling so much you have to bite at it to make it stop. You’re blinking back tears, when his crimson eyes narrow with concern, his jaw tensing. “What’s wrong, brat, out with it.”

“I don’t wanna worry you.” You whisper, then Sukuna knows.

“He fuckin threaten you?”

“Just with custody, not… physical. But he was grabbing at me, saying nasty things to me… I… Kuna, I…”

“Shh, shit just c’mere.” He pulls you in his embrace, a big hand on your head, pressing you against  his chest, letting you inhale that familiar scent, feeling so right and perfect, this cardamom mixed with something so heady, so him. You inhale it as your tears decorate his black dress shirt, and he’s just holding you.

You can’t stop crying, it opens up like a damn flood gate, all while he’s holding you against his chest. “S-someone saw m-me here… that night he w-was here, I think he was looking for me.”

Sukuna’s grip tightens, holding you so close you can barely breathe. “He won’t fucking touch you, not a hair on your head.” Sukuna feels his chest aching, how much and how intense he’s feeling for you, with every breath you take, the thoughts fill his head over and over.

Kill him, he wants to kill Naoya.

It would start a fucking gang war though, but he can’t even think of anything, seeing red as he looks at the door to his office, as he holds you while you cry, over a man who doesn’t deserve shit, especially your damn tears. Didn’t deserve to touch you, and now has made you cry? No.

“He won’t bother you anymore.”

“You don’t understand who he is-”

“You don’t understand who I am.” You look up at him, as he swipes his thumbs across your cheeks. He can’t stop himself then, he wants to finally tell you, just how he feels, how much he feels. “Listen, I-”

Suddenly there’s a commotion, and Sukuna hears the sounds of a fight breaking out, you both quickly dart out of the room, and see it then, Naoya being held by his collar with Toji. The dancers and bartenders scatter, the men there gathering around, including several Zenin, with guns on the ready, you feel sick when Naoya sees you, wearing literally just pasties and panties.

Brown eyes lock as Sukuna spins a gold ring on one of his tattooed fingers, putting the insignia on it under his fist, stepping in front of you, as Toji hooks him under his shoulders, and Satoru and Suguru walk in, starting to punch the other men around you all, taking their guns right from their hands. The entire room is chaotic as you stand behind Sukuna, hand gripping his shirt like some lifeline.

“Out of the fuckin’ way, Ryomen. That’s my property right behind you.” Naoya says, and Sukuna’s body flexes with his fury, as he steps forward, laughing while he watches Naoya wriggle in Toji’s hold.

“She isn’t your damn property, Zenin.”

“She was my wife-”

“Was, being the keyword. You’re in our territory, fuck face.” Toji says then, and Naoya laughs, trying to heatbutt Toji and failing.

“Not the traitor son talking shit about territory, you all just are little bitches for the Gojo clan now, huh?”

Gojo quietly knocks another member out, until several are on the floor, as Suguru makes sure every last patron and dancer are out of the door, shutting and locking it with a click. “Speaking of my family, you are on my land, so why don’t you do us all a favor and leave her alone?” Gojo says then, as Sukuna steps closer, and Toji drags Naoya to a seat, holding his arms behind the back of it.

“The fuck do you care, you all tagging her?” Sukuna punches Naoya then, with a sickening crack, only making him lick the blood that drips from his lips, grinning when you find you have a jacket on you, tugging at it a bit and seeing Suguru smile just a bit, touching your back gently.

“You shouldn’t see this, love.” He murmurs, as Naoya coughs up once Sukuna has punched him in the stomach.

“Don’t talk about her, don’t even say her fucking name.” Sukuna mutters now, gripping Naoya’s collar and lowering his face.

“Do you know what my family can do?” Naoya asks, earning Sukuna’s grin.

“Do you know what I can do? What I feel like doing right now?” Satoru now has an arm around your shoulder, turning you to face his chest when you hear another scream from Naoya now, along with Sukuna chuckling.

“Shouldn’t see all that.” Satoru mumbles, as you’re shivering against him, and he has a hand on your head.

“I can look at it, I swear-”

“You really care about her, then you won’t piss me off, she’d fetch a pretty penny on the market, stretch marks and all- ah.” You hear another hit then, another sickening crunch of bone, making you just bury your face further against Satoru’s chest, feeling how stiff his own body has gotten, hands tight on you.

“Gojo, get her out of here while I finish this.” You hear gruffly, to just be ushered away from where your ex was further digging his grave. You’re gasping for a breath when Satoru has you in Sukuna’s office, struggling with your tears as you pull the coat closer against you.

“You have the worst taste, pookie.” Satoru says, and you laugh through your tears, as he leans over to grab tissues, dabbing them on your cheeks.

“How are you a mobster? You’re too sweet.”

“I am sweet, hmm?” He wiggles his brows, making you giggle again.

“How do you do that, be so sweet still?”

“Lots of sugary drinks. Sit.” You sit down now on the desk, hearing more screaming, trembling more as this giant coat swamps you, and Satoru sits next to you sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate this shit actually.”

“The head of the Gojo family hates it?”

“Sure do. Boring, bloody, just annoying. Sukuna, he really runs things for me, honestly, he can handle it all. I can but…” He frowns, looking at the backs of his knuckles, his long fingers spread out. “I don’t prefer to.”

“Do you think he’ll really do it, try to s-sell me?” Your trembling whisper makes Satoru frown now.

“He’s capable of it, and if Sukuna kills him now, there’ll be a war. He runs the Zenin at this point. But… no one will let it happen.”

“But my kid, I-”

“No one will let it happen. Okay?” You nod just a bit and he sighs, pulling you against him again. “Look like you need a hug.”

“Ugh, I do. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Satoru, we’re friends now hmm?” You nod with a little smile when Sukuna walks in, covered in blood all over his hand and forearms, eyeing you two.

But instead of irritation, he feels appreciative of idiot ass Gojo, even if just for the moment, as he comforts you. “I’ve got it now.”

Gojo smiles at you. “Don’t worry mmkay?”

You nod, wishing you could feel as unbothered as he’s trying, as he walks past Sukuna, and he murmurs something in his ear, before Sukuna shuts the door behind him, walking up to you now. Slowly, step by step, those dress shoes of his click quietly on polished hardwood floors, until he’s right in front of you, his shoulders finally relaxing their posture.

“Kuna…” You whisper, looking at his bloodied hands, as he cups your face with them, exhaling and leaning low, the crimson liquid decorating your cheeks as his thumbs brush over them.

“You need to come stay with me.” He says, husky voice so deep and broken, you take a shaky breath, your hands slipping up his shirt, dark line of sweat down his broad chest making it damp.

“I can’t do that, I can’t impose like that!”

“He’s more dangerous to you and your kid right now than anyone. You both need to stay with me for now so I can have you safe. No arguing, got me?” He says softly, and you nod, blinking tears back as he kisses you, deeply, hungrily now. “Good girl, actually listening.”

“Good girl, don’t do that.” You feel it then, his adrenaline just pouring from his veins, and he moans now, shoving off the jacket, baring you to him, every where he touches leaving little trails of blood, your ex husband’s blood at that, now coating your pretty breasts when he grabs them. You’re desperately unzipping him, feeling the need to be ever closer.

“God, what do you do to me.” He murmurs more to himself than anything, kissing the corner of your lips, down your jaw, pulling your pretty body so close, dying to take you, have you his and only his.

“Please.” You whine out softly, stroking his cock now, thumb trailing just over his piercing when he spreads your thighs, kissing down your neck, and you’re rubbing his tip between your folds, whining.

“I can’t touch her like this.” He huffs, and you whine out, making his cock throb in response.

“Don’t even need to touch me, please. In me- Ah!” As he presses his cock at your entrance, you’re soaking him, all while he’s cupping your chin, kisses hungrier now, your teeth clicking as he’s stretching out your little pussy.

“You’re too tight, brat, shit.” He huffs now, pulling your hair as he lays you back on his desk, yanking your thigh so he can sink even further, and you almost cum then and there, the sound drowned out by his mouth, muffling your cries.

“Need you.” You whisper again, and you needing him, hearing you say that, right along with your perfect pussy ruins him completely, he’s fucking into your slick walls now, harder and harder, pulling back to look at your face. Covered in mascara streaks, tears from this piece of shit who should have never had you, still so beautiful.

“You’re all mine now, aren’t you brat?” He huffs, you nod weakly, when his piercing drags on your spot, and you’re screaming out, he covers your mouth with his hand, his eyes dilated, lidded while he fucks into you. “Shh, baby.”

Baby.

Sukuna called you baby.

As you’re cumming and he’s whispering ‘that’s it, baby lemme fuckin’ feel you’ it’s partially from his cock, partially from his possessiveness, the way he owns you. He pulls out of you then, much to your whining dismay, chuckling a bit when he’s bent you over his desk instead, legs dangling at just how high it is, even with your heels they barely touch the floor.

“Mine, say it.” He huffs, fucking back into you, tip drooling as it kisses your cervix, your head falls back as you whine out. “Mine, just mine, never his again.”

“Never, Kuna, never.” Your cries are again muffled by a rough palm, as Sukuna feels a protectiveness so intense he can’t bear it, the need to claim you, to keep you, to make you his and all his. He’s closer and closer as he ravages your tight little cunt, which is pouring down his veiny length to accommodate.

“Gonna k-keep you s-safe, keep you cumming, f-fuck… got me?” You nod eagerly, screaming out into his palm when his ring drags on a new spot, and you’re cumming all over him, making him throb and moan himself, right in your ear, so sexy it sends shivers down your spine. “Gonna protect you baby.”

Protect you. 

Fuck you believe him, you trust him, more than someone you knew for years. The way he grabs you. Holds you. Kisses you. Fucks you. There's nothing like it, that strength as he rails your pretty pussy, yet the gentleness of his little kisses, then the feral way he claims you.

“Mnh!” Is all you squeak out against his rough hand, as your eyes roll back in your skull, and you’re convulsing around his thickness.

“Fuck…” Sukuna whimpers, the sound that always ends you even further, as he tries to keep going buried deep in you, he has to rest his other hand on the desk, clutching it, while he turns your face to him, breath on your lips burning. He almost says it, insane words, you make him think when you look at him with those eyes.

I love you.

Fucking brat, coming in and making him obsessed, making him soft, reckless and stupid, and now in love. He barely knows you, he’s surely pussydrunk, but that’s just not it, Sukuna has been whipped like a little bitch since day one, and it’s truly all your fault, as your pussy milks him, as your lips part and you look at him like that, like something he can’t explain.

Well shit.

He can’t just say that, so he stutters, his mouth open, shoving his cock so deep you scream out loud, and he couldn’t care less if someone heard then and there, not when he’s burying his face in your neck, murmuring your name. He also murmurs it, silently, those three little words, as he grabs you so tight, thick muscled arms around your body, so small compared to him.

“Kuna, cum in me, please. Wanna f-feel you.” You whisper, and who is he to deny anything you ask? He cums immediately, like your whispered plea was some command, his moans echoing in the room they’re so loud. “Mnh oh my god yes.”

You’re shuddering now, as his cock fills you so good, white cum shooting so deep inside you, and your head falls back as you rock your hips, arching your ass out for him to cum even deeper. Sukuna kisses you over and over, one hand gripping your hip, the other your face, trying to catch his own breath as he pushes in just a bit, feeling his cum and yours drooling down his length.

“Holy fuck…” You mumble, and he chuckles just a bit. “What?”

“You’re cute.”

“Cute, hmm?” He eases off you, pressing kisses down your spine, exhaling as he watches goosebumps rise everywhere he does.

“Cute. Even pouring cum like this.” You jerk as he pulls his cock out, and the emptiness and soreness hits. “Mmm, come with me tonight.”

“With my kid and everything? Let’s just… tomorrow? I mean I have to bring some things.” You try to adjust as you clean yourself up a bit with the tissues, hands shaking as you do.

“I mean… he’s not gonna do shit tonight, I guess, but I’ll have someone sit in front of your place, just to be sure.” You cup Sukuna’s face now, tiptoeing.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Let your kid sleep tonight, then we’ll figure something out.”

“Kuna I think I’m… like in love?” He snorts, but you’re dead serious, earning a blush on his high cheeks.

“It’s the moment brat, calm down.”

“Is it the moment?” Your eyes lock on his, he sighs now.

“You’re ‘like- in love’ what a shitty confession.” You glare now, earning his chuckle, the moment just a little lighter.

“Excuse me for not having the best confession, I have my exes blood on me and my boyfriend fucked my brain away.”

“Boyfriend?” He raises a brow, you bite your lower lip nervously then.

“Aren’t you?” He sighs, he wants to be that and more, brushing your messy hair back just so.

“You’re asking me out and confessing love? Damn, pathetic.”

“I swear if you-”

“I’m joking, brat.” He’s grinning now, for a moment this huge, tall and intimidating man with bruised knuckles is just a little sweetheart, genuine joy in his tone when he speaks. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah!?”

“Yeah.” You grin and kiss him again and again, until he’s damn near ready to fuck you all over, when the door knocks, and he clears his throat, grabbing his own coat and shoving it over your shoulders. “Come in.”

“Smells like sex in here.” Toji jokes with a grin, and Satoru sighs.

“Good sex.” He says with a pout.

“Can you two actually fuck off?” Sukuna demands, and you stand up, handing Suguru his jacket with a little smile.

“Thank you.” He smiles just a bit, nodding.

“How about we have a drink, I could sure use one.” Toji mutters, and Sukuna chuckles.

“Is that code for, I really fucked shit up and we need to talk about our plans?”

“Something like that. Wanna have a drink, doll?” Toji asks you then, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“I should get home, I need to be with my son.”

“I’ll have someone go there now.” Sukuna says, texting on his phone for a moment. “Want my driver to take you?”

“I can drive, Sukuna.”

“Aren’t you shaken up a bit?” Sukuna murmurs, before grinning. “Or should I say fucked out?”

“Oh stop!” You head off to get cleaned up and dressed, and when you’re out there aside from knocked over chairs and broken glass shattered, it seems relatively normal. Toji, Sukuna and Gojo are sitting there with Suguru at the bar, pouring them each a drink when Sukuna sees you, in your hoodie and jeans, sighing.

“You gonna be okay alone? I can come with you.” Sukuna asks, and Suguru hands you a shot, which you down with a little shiver, coughing a bit.

“If you have someone keeping an eye on the place I’ll be okay.”

“Just in case…” Sukuna walks behind the bar now, grabbing a gun and handing it to you, you blink a bit in confusion, frowning at it. “I’ll be showing you how to shoot a mother fucker.”

“Right now!?” You hear the chuckling of the men around you.

“Just point and shoot em, pookie.” Gojo says.

“I’m not gonna have a gun around! I don’t have a lock box and-”

“There’s the safety, and you can put it right under your pillow, just for tonight. Tomorrow I can protect you.” Sukuna says softly, putting the cool metal in your hands, dainty and shimmering. “It’s not a big gun, it’s tiny, just a little ‘22, enough that it’ll fuck em up, but barely any kick back. And easy to keep on you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, doll, ya need to start carrying, with that ex of yours? Trust us.” Toji says, you sigh then, nodding and taking the gun carefully, hand trembling just a bit.

“Safety is here, trigger here, it’s loaded so don’t play with it. Okay?” You nod now, and pops a little holster around your hips, securing it and covering it with your hoodie.

“I don’t have a permit-”

“Baby we run coke and are in the mob, you think that matters?” You look down and they all chuckle again at you. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I should go home though, I need to clean up and… be with my kid.”

“I’ll walk you out.” You wave to the other men now, as you feel the weight of his gun, though light, the mental weight of it is heavy on you, as you look up at him and a car pulls up.

“Only go straight home, already got someone parked, red mercedes, any other car lurking you call me, okay?” You nod then, leaning up and kissing him softly, sighing against his lips.

“I think I really love you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, pulling you against him now, hands warm even over the layer of your fleece hoodie. “Do I gotta baby proof my house for the kid, or can he keep his hands off my coke?”

“Oh god, Sukuna!” He’s chuckling more now, earning your narrowed eyes. “Yes I need it somewhat put up, certain things, but he’s three, not an infant, so he’s good with most things. Are you really sure this won’t be a big imposition?”

“I’m sure it’ll annoy the fuck out of me, but it’s worth it if you’re safe.” You melt now, the breeze softly blowing his pastel hair around as you look up at him in the night.

“You’re gonna meet the kid, hmm? So soon?” You tease, he smirks.

“Already clearly met the ex.”

“Oh!” You shove at him playfully, for a moment you can let go, this horrible night, a night where your ex said and did terrible things, and threatened worse, because with Sukuna you just feel safe.

“The kid, he looks like you…”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Sukuna’s mind flits, to wild things he shouldn’t think about yet, like if he puts a baby in you, but he tries to shove it back, down with the pesky I love you, that doesn’t need to come out yet.

In just a couple of weeks you’re turning his entire life upside down, but he’s not sure he’s upset about it, really.

“He’ll love you, don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” He is.

“Well, good night Kuna.”

“Dumb nickname.” He grumbles, kissing you again, soft and sweet, and your eyes meet, seeing so much behind them, the worry and fear and… more. “Call me when you get home, lock up good. Keep the gun close, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.” You giggle when he moans at that, hands on your hips, pressing you close against his hard body.

“Keep talking shit. I have that room soundproof you know.”

“Freaky ass.” He snorts, and you both kiss once more, as he leans over the car door, opening his mouth as if to say something, then sighing.

“Don’t forget to call me.”

“I won’t.” His heart aches when you drive off, he quickly walks back in however, his entire demeanor shifting when he sees the other men are serious now too, now that they don’t have to try to keep it a little more positive for you.

“He fucked up big time coming here.” Toji slicks back his inky locks, downing another shot of tequila, as Satoru’s hands clutch the bar so hard his thin veins are popping from his hands and wrists.

“He’s gonna come back with more people, we need to amp up, call in some of the guys to be on watch. God this shit is boring.” Gojo sighs now, leaning his snowy head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Tired of the Zenin.”

“They’re becoming more and more of a problem, no respect.” Sukuna takes a bottle of whiskey, pouring it into his glass now, jaw clenching. “And that Naoya, the things he fucking said.”

“Love is the biggest weakness, Sukuna.” Satoru murmurs, Sukuna glares at him, but he’s right.

You’re now his weakness, a target, long standing shit mixing with Naoya’s clear need to get you back, it spells disaster. “Did I say I’m in love, Gojo?”

“Written all over your face.” Suguru smirks a bit, earning Sukuna’s glare.

“And her kid, you’re like gonna be a stepdad. God, imagine Ryomen Sukuna as your step dad?” Satoru’s cackling, and Sukuna stands now, stepping up to him as he holds his hands out. “I don’t blame you!? I’d do it too, look at her-”

“I think I need more blood on my knuckles tonight.” Sukuna yanks Satoru by the collar, his arms flailing.

“Shit, sorry step dad-”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Separate you two, god.” Suguru shoves them apart, shaking his head. “Satoru, you really just enjoy being threatened I think.”

“You do love her.” Satoru gets released, brushing himself off as Sukuna grumbles.

“I’ll never let him touch her again, whatever I gotta do.”

When you’re snug in your bed after a shower, you yawn, calling Sukuna, who is riding back home. “Hey, Kuna.”

“Brat, are you all good?” He tries to hide the worry in his voice, but it comes out through the phone, as you turn on your back, blinking a bit, hand clutching tightly.

“I’m okay, I promise. Scared for Touma. I don’t know, would he hurt him?”

“He’d hurt you, and that leaves him with no mom. So it doesn't matter if he’d hurt him or not.” You bite your lip then, feeling exhaustion starting to seep in.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Tch.”

“Answer me, you brat.”

“Me a brat!?” He laughs now, and you giggle. “You’re asking for it.”

“Am I? Gonna punish me?” Your words are just a whisper, but hearing his sigh even through the phone makes your tummy clench.

“Hah- you’d like it too much, won’t you, me beating that bouncy ass?”

“Shush. I’m sore, you know.”

“Gotta work on the stamina, pathetic.”

“Hmm.” You’re dozing now, lashes are lowering, and he soon hears a light little snore, glaring at the phone.

“You’re sleeping?” He hears more snoring now, chuckling and leaning back in the seat, shutting his eyes for a moment, picturing you.

You’re making him so sappy, god it’s annoying.

“Night then, brat.” He murmurs, hearing you stir then.

“Night Kuna.” He hates the stupid smile on his face, hates the heat spreading from his cheeks to even the tips of his ears, hanging up the phone with a sigh, mind swirling.

Images of you, images of Naoya with his broken fucking nose, then more and more thoughts swirling, especially one-

How is he going to baby proof his damn penthouse?

Gojo’s spin off is here!

A/N- there's a LOT of plot here vs just smut, but I really wanna get into just how awful the Zenin are in this mafia world, esp Naoya. NEXT CHAP we get Kuna meeting Touma OMG. Also I included a lot of Satoru bc he's getting his spin off hehe. Hope you enjoyed, tysm for the love so far on this lil fic!

Taglist #1 @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki part ii

warnings: smut, power play, cursing, etc.

read part one

you assumed that after having sex with ni-ki, your biggest opp, it would be awkward and uncomfortable…

but never this empty.

you arrive at your office monday morning to find your inbox startlingly free of his scathing one-liners. there's no "nice dress. shame about the brain." no "can you actually type without making typos?"

his favorite mockery is gone, somehow leaving you strangely bereft.

you tapped your pen against the wooden surface of your desk, scanning for any hint of his sabotages. the folder you thought you'd need for the managerial position, his file on your "possible fraudulent activities" are also nowhere to be found.

because according to him, you fucked him so good that he destroyed every single thing he had that could ruin you.

relief flares that he stopped, of course. but unlike him, you still do your best to make his life miserable, leaving yourself doused in guilt — feeling like an asshole.

an entire weekend passed. you swore you weren't dying for his banter, and yet whenever your phone buzzes, you leap out of your skin.

nishimura riki: stop messing with my report. are you fucking insane?

minutes passed.

nishimura riki: you must be missing me.

your lips twitched into a smirk. hell if you know how to respond.

i didn't do it, dumbass.

really? that's the reply? he'd know you were lying (or worse, honest). the cursor kept blinking in your reply box, taunting you. you typed, erase, typed again, erase — you racked your brain, thinking of a good comeback.

you: you're so stupid. also, my life has been so peaceful without you. please stay right where you are.

nishimura riki: i can come by your house and make your life hell again. if you want.

of course you want it. you'd kill him… or you'd kill for him to come over right now but shit, even the line between those urges were already starting to blur.

you spent your lunchtime writing a status report. your fingers snapping across the keys but your mind drifts to that shameless first night with him.

the night where you wrestled with him for that fraud file of yours. the heat of his breath when you kissed him, when it finally landed on your skin…

you remember all of it. every time you lean over to pull a document from the printer, you imagine the wide arc of ni-ki's arms behind you, the precise angle of his jaw, his thick lips devouring you while telling you how much he hated you for existing…

it's all fucking there.

and as if reading your thoughts, your phone lit up again.

nishimura riki: i want to see what i'm missing.

you: fuck you. you literally work five feet from me.

nishimura riki: and new skirt? goddamn

your stomach clenched. so he… noticed? he noticed your above the knee with the slit at the side that shows just enough thigh to be questionable but still professional according to the office dress code new skirt?

you: your point?

nishimura riki: you look good and i want to see it up close.

a shiver runs down your spine. ni-ki's words became so direct, so suggestive, you can't help but to swallow hard and bite your lip. you sighed, immediately closing the report window before anyone could see you blush.

you check your company messenger during break. you noticed nishimura riki's presence: his avatar pops into view with the status "ready to crush it."

how fucking pretentious.

you just hoped ni-ki would do something back so you could stop feeling guilty whenever you sabotage him, then it would all go back to hell. the hell you not-so-secretly love. the hell he seemed to have loved before — and now forgotten.

@you @ni-ki i expect great results from the two of you. focus on the work, not drama.

you sat on your couch, sipping a cup of lukewarm green tea when your phone buzzes.

nishimura riki: we're stuck together for the next couple days.

you smirked when you realized how he can't stop texting you. you plop your head back against the cushion, totally interested.

you: yeah. happy?

nishimura riki: ecstatic.

ni-ki signs off with a kiss emoji, making you scowl in disgust and throw your phone onto the cushion. he'll see how you haven't responded and he'll definitely laugh about it tomorrow.

you came into the office projecting confidence the next morning. ni-ki is already there, beating you in punctuality. he's leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone but smiled immediately when your eyes met.

"you're late," he drawls.

"shut up," you fired back, tossing your bag under the table. you saw another folder you've been dreading. ni-ki's opened it already— hands off, though.

"fuck... i couldn't sleep," he said, casually looking at your eyes.

who asked? is what you would've said but instead, it's: "why's that?" you leaned in, "last i heard, sleeping without protection was your specialty."

he nodded slowly. his urge of choking you to death using his necktie suddenly crossed his mind, like it always does whenever you talk back.

he never followed through, of course. because every time he pictures it, the ending is him fucking you instead. he saw you submitting not because of trust, but because you can't help it.

ni-ki sighed and quickly pulls your chair close to him, making your pulse quicken. "hmm, what do you mean 'heard'? we both know you know that for a fact," he teased, his hand trailing up to squeeze your thigh. "also, did i ever told you how bad you needed practice?"

heat blooms across your cheeks. didn't he say you fucked him good? this fucking guy keeps challenging you — mentally and sexually.

you scoffed and opened your mouth to retort but your boss already knocked on the door, barging in to start the meeting.

the day isn't even done, yet you and ni-ki have exchanged more messages than you have with anyone else all week:

nishimura riki: did you catch the way that idiot glanced at your legs during the meeting? that mf is gonna keel over later once you unplug your laptop.

that 'idiot' is notoriously stiff when it comes to 'office decorum.' the thought of him being flustered at your skirt is thrilling, but:

you: you know i'd rather see how you react when i ask you to take off my skirt.

nishimura riki: come to my office then, i'll show you.

you stood up as soon as everyone's too busy to notice your absence. you opened ni-ki's door without so much as a knock. the tall guy is leaning against the edge of his desk, shirt already untucked, tie loose — completely losing his patience.

you walk towards him. he traces a finger along your jaw, tilting your face up, brushing his thumb over your sexy lips.

"show me," you whispered, sliding both hands flat against his chest.

ni-ki leaned in. "hmm, watch me," he replied, turning you gently by the hips, pulling your ass against his crotch — where you can feel the rigid outline of his cock through his trousers. you pressed yourself back, grinding on him as his hand tightens on your hip.

"we have a meeting at six, right?" he murmurs in your ear. "let's get you naked under this skirt."

"i already am…"

unbelievable.

"you really are a fucking tease, huh?"

your breath hitched when you feel his tip nudging against your folds. ni-ki slowly slid inside your welcoming heat — his cock was so big and hard, making your knees buckle as you can practically feel him rearranging your guts without even moving.

ni-ki moaned, "oh, y/n—" biting his lower lip before pressing one more searing kiss to your neck. "i could stay like this all day," he said.

you let out a shaky gasp, head dropping forward with a whimper. your fingers reached back, grabbing his hands — his big, warm hands that are locked around your hips. "ni-ki…"

"let's not sin so much today," he groaned softly, hips giving one teasing rock that makes your whole body jolt before he pulls his cock out. he stepped back and adjusted your skirt like a gentleman — making you feel full and hollow in the same instant.

that same afternoon, you decided to head to the break room for water. you stop short when you saw ni-ki with the boss' niece, who came to visit the office.

she's laughing, batting her eyelashes at him while grinning so hard. you didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she mentioned something about wanting him to show her around — and that guy just casually folds his arm around her shoulders.

"look at you, you social climber," you interrupted, clapping your hands slowly, it echoed like a gunshot.

ni-ki glances at you lazily over the girl's shoulder. the niece looks startled, she gave you both a sheepish laugh before excusing herself.

"how long have you two been planning world domination?"

"are you jealous?" he asked, chuckling as he drags out a chair for himself. "'cause i'm telling you that's pathetic."

"wha—?"

"don't worry, y/n. it's just been few days, i'll make sure to find some time for my favorite brat."

you scoffed, grabbing your water a little too aggressive. "wow... you sound so proud of being passed around like a party favor."

"passed around?" he repeated, raising a brow. "jealousy already doesn't suit you and now you're possessive too?"

you shot him a sharp glare but he just leans back in his chair, spreading his legs like he's offering you a seat.

ni-ki sighed, "fine, i'll come over tonight," he declared so casually, it made your jaw drop.

"excuse me?"

"you heard me." he stretched and yawned. "you don't have to agree. i've already made up my mind."

"you're crazy."

he stands up, brushing past you as he grabs a protein bar "leave the door unlocked for me, okay?" he whispered, leaning in to give your cheek a quick kiss.

the sound of your skins slapping were obscene. ni-ki's breaths were heavy, his muscles tensed doing his best holding back from losing control. his necklace kept bouncing against his chest every time he slid in and out of your wet cunt. he hit it deep and slow, making your toes curl.

you looked down and watched at where your bodies met.

"oh, my–" he groaned when he felt your walls flutter around his cock. "this feels so fucking insane right now."

your arms tightened around his shoulders. "you haven't fucked me in days," you breathed out, looking up at him, admitting, "i was so stressed out."

"yeah, i know," he replied, "and look how mean you've gotten."

"kiss me..." you asked shyly — too quiet for ni-ki who was busy thrusting, far gone in the rhythm he was chasing to even hear it.

frustrated, you reached up and grabbed his hair — hard. your fingers got tangled so deep in the roots of his bleached strands, yanking him down without warning so you could force his mouth closer.

"ah—f-fuck—!" ni-ki hissed, jolting from the sharp tug. his hips slowed down for a second.

his palm slapped your arm away, the sound echoed a little loud in the room. it wasn't as harsh as what you did, but it was firm because he was hurt. a very clear response to pain.

your eyes slightly widened when he snatched your wrist, flipping you like you're a dead weight. one second you were just looking up at him — now, your face was pressed into the pillow, ass up. ni-ki's hand stayed flat on your lower back, keeping you in place.

his fingers dove straight into your hair, fisting it tight, pulling your head up until your back arched and your spine hit his chest. it forced a cry out of your throat, you quickly hold on to the headboard for your own control.

"it hurts, right?" he muttered, brows furrowed. his voice sounded pissed. "you dumbass."

your mouth parted to argue but you were too breathless and stunned at how fast he turned the tables on you.

ni-ki let go of your hair roughly. your cheek sank back into the pillow. his hands slid down to your hips, spreading you wider. it was careless and he moved confident as he positioned you just how he wanted.

your moans started crumbling into soft sobs — not from pain but from realizing how you weren't too used to getting caught off guard, let alone losing control.

your thighs started shaking, your breath had gone shallow, and ni-ki noticed it right away.

"shit—" he cursed under his breath, the movement of his hips started faltering before slowly pulling out from your pussy. he leaned down to kiss the back of your neck gently. "can you sit up?"

you nodded weakly. he helped you, pulling you gently onto his lap, seating you over one of his thighs while holding you carefully. "did i scare you?" he asked, worried and cautious.

"no...not at all." you replied, shaking your head in assurance.

ni-ki sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. he place a long kiss your temple, "i'm sorry, y/n." he continued, "do you want to stop?"

you sniffled and pulled back to look him in the eye like you're a little offended, "hell no."

a small grin broke across his face. he's amused, relieved, but mostly turned on all over again. ni-ki buried his face into your neck, laughing softly. "good," he murmured, lips dragging across your skin.

"ride me."

each movement felt better than the last. his cock dragged against the deepest part of you, his blunt tip kept hitting your cervix, making you gasp in pleasure.

ni-ki sat back against your headboard, his thighs spread wide, letting you straddle him fully. his hands never stopped moving – gripping your waist or holding your nape, the other catching the bounce of your breast. his thumb grazes over your nipple, and sometimes, he'd lean in to suck it, groaning at the way your pussy clenched in response.

his hair was messy. he was so loud – groaning through his gritted teeth – that goddamn chrome necklace catching the low light as he tip back his head to moan.

you can't stop staring. you can't stop running your fingers through his hair, brushing the strands back, or cupping his jaw just to see his face better.

"ni-ki..." you whispered.

his eyes blinked open, resting his forehead against yours.

you were moving fast and steady, sinking down on his dick over and over again while your bodies stayed too close — noses brushing, stealing each other's air.

"you– you're so handsome," you breathed out, barely even realizing you said it.

"me?"

"yes," you whispered. "you."

he grinned and leaned forward after hearing that double down. ni-ki gave you a messy, open-mouthed kiss, your fingers threading through his hair again as your hips rocked in desperate circles.

you pulled back to suck on his jaw next, under his ear, then down to his neck — biting softly, marking him. you wanted to leave something there. something that would remind him how much you wanted to do this over and over again.

now, you're sitting in the center of your mattress, blinking stupidly slow as you try to process just how many times he made you cum. "g– god," you mumbled, "i think my spine broke."

ni-ki huffs a soft laugh, still catching his breath too, resting his head on his arm while his other hand would caress your stomach or squeeze your boobs. "you're fine... it's hurting because you are still talking too much."

"o– ow..."

ni-ki sat up and hugged you. placing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, and then to your temple. "fine, let's have it checked later. just lay down with me for now."

you nodded, laying down, pressing your back against his chest. you felt his smile against your skin, smug and fond. ni-ki palmed your breasts again... he can't stop touching you even if he wanted to.

"mm, you're such a baby," he murmurs against your hair, "what happened to the terrifying monster who's always mean and yells at me in meetings?"

"dead," you replied quietly, leaning against him. "she died."

ni-ki chuckled again after seeing you blush. he grinned before peppering kisses on your cheek again and he doesn't say it but he adores this messy, clingy, soft version of you.

the one only he ironically gets to see.

you sniffled, pressing your face to his neck. "ni-ki..."

"what?"

"i wanna see bisco."

"oh..."

"i– i wanna see your dog," you sniffled again, voice sleepy and soft. "even if he hates me…"

ni-ki smiled and whispered, "okay, baby." brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead, "i'll take you to see bisco as soon as he gets home."

later after a doctor's consultation, the dog-sitter also dropped off bisco. you're already in his apartment, in his shirt he basically forced you into wearing.

"wait–!" ni-ki reached out to get bisco but it ran towards to where you were. "bisco!" you gasped, eyes lighting up as you rushed toward the tiny white ball of fur that sprinted right away from you.

"bisco, come on! we brought you snacks!" you tried coaxing, crawling on your knees to look under the couch, but the little thing lunged out and bit your wrist – not hard but more of a warning chomp – "fuck– ow!"

ni-ki leaned against the wall, arms crossed and smiling like a proud dad watching the chaos unfold. "i told you he's dramatic."

you didn't care. you kept following bisco around the room, letting him bite, bark while you giggled and chased him with unearned affection... which ni-ki found strange because before, you probably would've fought with that small dog, until it fears you for rejecting you.

finally, bisco ran out of energy and jogged towards his bed, completely ignoring you like a diva.

you pouted and walked back to ni-ki, dragging your feet like you'd just been dumped. "why is it sweet to everyone but me, huh?" you mumbled, melting into his waiting arms.

ni-ki laughed and tugged you in, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "i don't think he hates you, y/n," he murmured, voice soft as his hand roamed slowly down your ass. "give it some time."

"or he knows you've been giving someone else all your attention." you added, rolling your eyes. "right? i knew it, he's jealous."

his lips found yours. "no," kiss. "he's not," kiss. "jealous," kiss. the kisses are so different from before. no clashing of teeth, no busting a lip open, or bruising... it feels like forgiving each other.

and usually, this groping and kissing would spiral into sex, but today, you both weren't even thinking about it. there's just the need to be close, not just to get off.

ni-ki was so distracted by you that he doesn't even know when did he stopped trying to win in everything.

he had plans too, you know? he thought about getting his lick back but whenever you come around, the noises in his head disappears, the urge to get even fades, and suddenly, there's nothing even left to fight for.

he pulls back just enough to see your face. you blinked up at him, tired and sleepy, your lips were still swollen from all the nonstop kissing.

but still, you're so goddamn kissable.

you gave ni-ki a kiss again when you saw him staring – once, twice – "i gotta go," you whispered eventually.

"this early?"

"yeah, i'm getting hungry."

"we can cook–"

"stop–"

"–y/n..." he interrupted, cutting you off. ni-ki opened his mouth then closed it before clearing his throat. "no. nothing. just…" he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. his eyes kept darting down to the floor like he couldn't believe he was about to say it. "just take care, okay?"

you tilted your head, "t–thanks…"

what the hell?

you're still mean and you still drive him insane, ni-ki took a deep breath – he swore he hates being this kind of guy but fuck it.

now or never.

"do you wanna have dinner with me?" he asked. he said it a little too fast, it's obvious that he was shy. "outside."

"huh?" you blinked. "you mean like–"

"yeah," he said, pressing his lips together, swallowing thickly. "like a–"

"...like a date."

ni-ki braces himself for the teasing and for your usual sharp reply. he knows you'll probably laugh in a few seconds but right now, you're just staring at him, eyes wide in surprise and that alone slightly gave him a little hope.

and he thinks, if this is how he loses, then fine.

let's let it be you.

a/n: my biggest opp 3k notes special! thank you so much for all the love and good comments. the first part came out on march 1 so it's been three months... there's so much (an understatement lmao) drafts for this and lots of scenes did not make it. as you can see, it's not so much focused on the smut and i honestly don't know if anyone will see this or if this part two this is good enough.

i teared up writing this T_T burning blue - mariah the scientist

tagging: @asaheyow @n4mh0pe @sunghoonsarmpit

[flofaiiry]

Washington's Finest — Bucky Barnes x Reader

SUMMARY: Congressman Barnes has heard the stories from his colleagues on committee, he knows the stereotype that politicians in Washington often hire women to pursue their extracurricular activities- but he never expected to be the one to be in the need of such... services, much less the kind of man who'd actually seek them out

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is a sex worker (referred to as a call girl & hooker), age gap (reader is in law school so mid/late twenties), reader's parents are dead, most likely incorrect info about nda's & how they're used, swearing, probably an overuse of italics oopsie, so much kissing, breast&nipple play, oral f!receiving, reader attempts to fake an orgasm (spoiler it does not work), fingering, mentions of masturbation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bucky is kind of condescending, teeny bit of dacryphilia, big dick!bucky, little bit of manhandling, unprotected p in v sex (don't do that!!!), creampie. not proofread!!!

WC: ~7k

NOTE: sorry to all my Pitt & Shawn Hatosy followers that this isn’t your regularly scheduled content, I just got this idea after watching one too many Bucky edits and had to write it !!!😁😁 also I apologize if I portray sex workers in a negative light at all, that is not my intention at all!! I heavily based reader on Laurie from The West Wing, which is admittedly a pretty old show, but I tried my best & I hope you enjoy!!!

Bucky, the junior congressman from New York, knows the reputation that politicians have cultivated. He knows the stereotype of the dead-beat husband who steps out on his wife with a prostitute when he's in D.C., then acts all lovey dovey back in the home state.

He thought since he was single, he could avoid this dilemma. This career ending adultery and solicitation scandal that so many before him had walked into. He thought that he could find some girl to take home at a bar and get his rocks off that way, but that proved to be a harder task than he thought. Everyone in D.C., knew him. Everyone in Brooklyn knew him. Everyone everywhere knew him.

It was nice at first, but now it was starting to get annoying.

Fucking his fist in the shower quelled off the physical urges- and even that was starting to lose its efficacy. But what getting himself off didn't satisfy were his mental and emotional needs. The need to be seen, to be felt, to be touched, to be loved. Bucky wanted that.

But he wasn't going to get it anywhere in this town- or this country for that matter.

He'd heard enough stories through hushed conversations outside committee rooms & caucuses to know that Washington's Finest was the best, most reliable high end escort service in DC. The preferred choice for most politicians on Capitol Hill who dabbled in the art of the extramarital affair.

So, one afternoon when he was feeling especially in need- he made the call.

"Washington's Finest, you've reached Elena, how may I direct your call? The woman's voice is sweet and almost robotic sounding. Bucky isn't sure if it's actually a real person or one of those automated recordings until it starts speaking unprompted.

"Hello?"

He clears his throat, "Yeah. Hi. Um- booking."

Elena makes a little sound of acknowledgement before speaking again, "Alright sir, your call is being transferred, I'm going to place you on a brief hold, please stay on the line!"

As soon as she finishes talking, a smooth jazz music floods through the phone and into Bucky's ear. It's nice, familiar. Just as he thinks he might recognize the song, he's met with another woman's voice.

"Good evening this is Washington's Finest, you've reached booking! I'm Paulina how may I assist you?" She speaks, that same sort of uncanniness present in her tone.

"Hi. Yeah, uh I'd like to book- I guess."

"Great! Well then you're in the right place, may I just get a name to make the reservation?"

He hesitates, wondering if he should give his real name. Paulina seems to notice this.

"It doesn't have to be your name, sir. Just any name that we can refer to you by for the booking."

He doesn't say anything. Paulina fills the silence again.

"Rest assured sir, we deal with many high profile customers, our privacy policies are top notch to ensure that your proclivities are kept-"

"Steve." He blurts.

"I'm sorry?"

"Steve. My name is Steve."

Why he just offered the name of his best friend? He doesn't know. But at the moment it's the only name coming to mind so it's gonna have to do.

The woman on the other end smiles almost audibly.

"Alright then, Steve. What service would you like to book with us?"

"Shit, I uh- I don't know. What... services do you have?"

There's a ruffling of papers, a click of a mouse, then her voice again. "We offer three main packages: the One Night, the Weekend Getaway and the Week Long All-Inclusive. Many first-time customers choose to start with the One Night, helps them to find a girl they connect with to book longer services with in the future."

Bucky nods, then remembers she can't see him. "Right. Okay, sure, yeah- the One Night sounds good, let's do that."

"Great! Sounds good, let's get you all reserved - when were you thinking to book your service?"

"I, um- whenever?"

"How about tonight?" She asks, tapping away almost violently at the computer.

He nods, once, twice- like he's trying to convince himself to go through with this. To stoop down to a level he swore he'd never reach. "You know what- sure, let's do tonight."

Paulina continues with the booking, going over various policies regarding payment and acceptable conduct with the girl he books. Then, she gets to the names. There are three girls with availability tonight:

Anya.

Peggy.

And you.

Peggy's out immediately- way too much baggage associated with that name. He eliminates Anya next, sounds too harsh to him.

Leaving him with you. A girl with a name that rolls of the tongue, who will be showing up at his brownstone in a little over three hours

You get the call a few minutes after Bucky hangs up, Paulina tells you that someone named Steve has requested your company tonight, and you're to attend an address in Alexandria at 9pm sharp.

You get ready as usual, wondering if this Steve will be another senator or congressman stepping out on his wife- citing the 'stress of the job,' for pushing them apart, or if he'll be some rich old guy with nothing better to do with his money, or maybe- a secret third option. What that is, you're not sure yet- but a girl can dream, can't she?

Either way- the routine never strays. Makeup, hair, lingerie under an unassuming outfit (men love it when they get to feel like they're unwrapping you). You're out the door by 8:30 and catch the bus to the address sitting in your email.

You get there a few minutes early, so you sit on a bench a few doors down until your phone reads 8:59PM. Then you start down the street to your assigned place of business.

You climb the steps then knock on the door a few times. A second later the door's swinging open. You recognize the face from the news, and from the museum, the former World War 2 hero turned Congressman.

Bucky Barnes.

Not Steve.

You weren't surprised. Didn't feel catfished. 90% of the time the name you're given isn't legit, but one given by the customer to maintain certain degrees of separation.

"Congressman Barnes," you say, nodding your head slightly to greet him.

He says your name in the same tone, but different- like it's more foreign to him. "Please, call me Bucky." He half smiles, stepping aside in the doorway though still terribly unsure of himself.

"Bucky," you repeat, stepping into the house through the open space next to him. "This is a nice place," you hum, kicking off your shoes while he shuts the door behind you. "Thanks," he replies.

"You want something to drink?" He asks, beckoning you to follow him into the kitchen. You do. "Oh, just water is fine, thanks. And ice if you've got."

He nods, filing your preference away then walking over to the fridge to pull out a pitcher, then a cupboard for a glass.

"So," you say, walking around to the opposite side of the kitchen island as him, "what got you calling up Washington's Finest?" He shrugs, sliding a glass full of ice water to you. You mouth a thanks before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip.

"What's anyone looking for when they order a hooker." He says, blunt as ever. You almost choke on the drink, setting it down with a thunk before coughing the water from your windpipe.

"Sorry- is that not what you're called?"

You shake your head, "no, I mean- hooker's not wrong it's just, we prefer call girl. Evokes a nicer image."

"Right. Call girl." He repeats, nodding his head.

You take one more sip, washing down any stuck remnants of liquid from your earlier near-asphyxiation. "So sex?"

"I'm sorry?" He asks.

"That's what most people are looking for when they order a hooker." You repeat his words back to him, earning a smile from the man. He nods, "can't argue with that logic."

He still hasn't answered your question.

"So... sex?" You try again

He coughs, like he was caught off guard. "Yeah, sure. I guess."

He says the words like they're true, but the look in his eyes says they're anything but.

"Right, okay." You reach into your purse and pull out a thin stack of folded paper. “Got a pen?” You ask, setting them both down on the counter: one in front of you, the other in front of Bucky. He quirks an eyebrow, “yeah,” then opens a drawer to retrieve one, “what’s this?”

“NDA,” you say plainly. He scoffs, “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, “it’s nothing personal, just company policy.” You reach into your bag once more to take out your own pen, “it’s to cover both of our asses.”

He follows your lead, signing his name on the various lines and not bothering to read all the legal jargon. “Both our asses?” He questions, crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s.

You nod, not once looking up from the page. “Mhmm, that way if I get drunk and start blabbing about all the congressmen I’ve slept with and your name comes up, then you can sue or whatever.”

He watches as you flourish the pen along the paper, marking your name and initials down, then meets your eyes when you slide the forms away. His brows are furrowed, “you get drunk and run your mouth a lot?” He asks, tone half joking.

You smile, “I don’t, but some of the other girls aren’t as careful, like to brag about their customers ‘n such.” He hums, sliding his own papers forward to stack on top of yours.

“You good? Ready?” You ask, putting your pen and the papers back in your bag. Bucky replies with a borderline shaky sigh. You squint, not normally the reaction you get from customers. “Everything okay?”

He nods, slow and unsure. “How does this work exactly? Do we just… start?” You shrug. “It can work however you want it to work. We can do whatever you want to do.”

“What if I want to just… talk first.”

His behaviour is a refreshing contrast to the men you normally deal with- their minds are set on getting your clothes off the second you walk through the door.

“That’s fine,” you smile, “we can talk.”

He nods and exhales, like a weight’s just come off his shoulders. “So,” you start, “what do you want to talk about?”

“Right,” he says, like he forgot that having a conversation would require actual talking.

“Um. What got you into…” he trails off, looking for the right words, “this line of work.”

You laugh, “oh this is not my dream job, believe me. I’m just doing this to get through law school, only got one year left. I’m getting out of this business the second I pass the Bar.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, he clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. “Wow, law school. You go to GW?” You shake your head, “Georgetown.”

“Damn. They've got a good program over there.”

“I know,” you nod, “and expensive.”

“Ah,” he mouths, “hence the…” he gestures between the both of you, referring to the situation at hand.

“Exactly.”

“Parents can’t afford to help you out a little?”

You shake your head, “it’s not that they can’t afford it, they-” you stop yourself with a sigh. Any other customer would get a rehearsed answer about why you’re in this business, but any other customer wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. “My parents died a few years ago, bank gave me a hard time with the inheritance — not that it was a whole lot, and there wasn’t very much left over after I paid off their house & some debts.”

He gives you a sympathetic look, the same one everyone gives after you drop the dead parents bomb. You give him a look that brushes off whatever empathetic sentiment he's conjuring up before he can say it. You shrug, “wanted to go to law school, couldn’t afford it, found a way to afford it. That’s all it is.”

He still doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking into your eyes like they’ve got some answer he’s been looking for all his life.

“I’m not proud of it,” you add, starting to rationalize and he quickly starts to shake his head.

“Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you should be ashamed or anything- I mean, fuck I’m the one who- I don't know, hired you? if anything I should be ashamed.”

You huff, “don’t be, you’re... different.”

Bucky smiles at that. “Different?”

“Yeah, most other customers have one thing and one thing only on their mind when I’m around but,” you shrug, “I don’t know, you don’t? I guess? You care about more than just the sex, I mean. At least I think you do. I hope you do."

You add the last part under your breath- you're not even sure why you add it- you know better than to feel anything more than a tolerance for one of your customers.

“Call me old fashioned, I guess.” He jokes. Some of his nerves appear to slough off when you laugh.

“Yeah, something like that,” you reply.

The room falls into a sort of silence, coming about after your laughter fizzles out. It's not awkward though, just like you're both weighing the options of what to say next.

"How about you?" You fill the air with your voice, the question catches Bucky off guard. "What about me?" he answers.

"Why Congress?" You shrug, "being in the history book once isn't enough for you?" It's teasing, but the question behind it still stands: why politics?

He raises his eye brows, bringing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Okay. Calling me an attention seeker?"

You tilt your head, "most of you are. I don't know why else anyone would chose a job where your employer is the fucking general population."

"First of all," he starts, corner of his lip raising in a challenging smirk, "they're called constituents- I work for the great people of Brooklyn, thank you very much."

You laugh, "right, right, constituents. I ask again, why spend your life doing such... thankless work? I'm telling you, 90% of these congressmen & senators have some small dick insecurity or something and need some big, powerful job title to make up for it."

Bucky scoffs, taking a few steps around the kitchen island to stand beside you now, you turn to face him, leaning your side against the countertop.

"Well, I definitely don't have that problem," he says, leaning in close against your ear. His voice sends a pulse down your spine that's received between your legs- husky and low.

He pulls away from you and spots the way your eyes had fluttered just barely shut in response to his breath against your skin. You blink- once, twice- trying to adjust to his new proximity to you. "I guess I had just spent enough of my life hurting people, and I wanted what life I have left to be spent helping 'em instead." He mutters the words, searching through your eyes like he lost something in them and if he looks hard enough he'll find it.

Then his eyes flick down to your lips, for a split second- like he's wondering if he should kiss you or not. But when he shifts just marginally away from you- it seems like he's decided against it. Your breath catches in your throat when he shifts, a jolt of borderline disappointment passing through you.

"Kiss me."

The words leave you before your better judgement can tell you otherwise. He wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

You swallow. "Kiss me," you repeat- more sure this time.

"Kiss you?" He asks like he's trying to make 100% sure he heard you right.

You nod once. "Kiss me. Please."

Bucky absorbs the words, then brings a hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. He drags his fingers down your jaw, before cradling his hand there at the nape of your neck. His calloused fingertips sit just at the back of your head, then he presses them into your skin and draws you towards him. He pulls you in until your lips are just barely brushing against his.

His lips are dry- not chapped, not rough- but dry like they're looking for something to quench their thirst. They're a stark contrast to your own, meticulously glossed over in that perfect shade that brings out your eyes just right.

Then he kisses you- finally, he kisses you. It's painfully soft, and you're immediately craving more. You bring your own hand up to the side of his face, tangling your fingers into his chocolate brown hair as you deepen the kiss.

He hums into your mouth as his eyes fall shut, and brings his other hand- the metal one- to your waist, pulling your body flush against him. You thought it'd feel harsh, mechanical even, but somehow his touch still manages to be soft.

Suddenly all you can think about is what those fingers would feel like inside of you.

You take your other hand up to the other side of his face, pulling him impossibly closer to you, taking a deep inhale when you do. The air you bring in is mix of second hand smoke and vintage cologne, it's undeniably him.

That snaps the last strand of Bucky's control, the last little thread that had him holding on to any chivalrous sense of decency. He's desperate for you. He thought he was in need of connection- of touch, but the second you walked in his door?

He needed you.

More than he'd ever needed anything else before.

He travels both of his hands down to the backs of your thighs, and picks you up in one seamless motion. You're shocked at his strength at first, but them remember who you're dealing with: Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier- he could probably throw you around like it was nothing if he wanted to.

And God, you really hope he wants to.

You wrap your legs around his waist once he's lifted you, and he starts to maneuver you through his house. Walking masterfully through the expanse of hallways within the brownstone without breaking away from the kiss for so much as a breath.

He pushes the door open with your back, taking one hand from under you to flick on the lamp just enough so he can see where the bed is. The dark orange light from the fixture floods the room, bouncing off every available surface & enveloping your bodies in an auburn blanket of warmth.

He lowers you down onto the bed with ease and crawls over top of you. He presses one last firm kiss against your lips before pulling away. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and you can't help but notice the faint blush on his cheeks when you open your eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, his tone serious, "I know it's your job to say yes, but- do you want this?" If you say no he'd stop, of course he would, but right now he is praying to every higher power that you'll say yes.

No customer had ever asked you that before- asked the woman beneath the call girl what she wanted. And even if they did- it always came with the silent expectation that despite whatever you might want to say deep down, the answer would always be yes.

You nod, still breathless from the exchange earlier- but that's not enough for Bucky. "Words," he whispers, ducking his head down to the crook of your neck. "Tell me you want this, want me," he says, words muffled against your skin as he kisses it softly.

"Want this," you say, still nodding furiously, "want you."

He groans against your neck, raw and desperate. The vibrations ricochet down your body, landing with a throb between your thighs.

Bucky roams his hands down your body, and slides them under your shirt, splaying his fingers against your stomach. One hand's warm, inviting, sultry. The other- cool and unnaturally smooth. But both are soft, and the juxtaposing sensations makes you squirm.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," he mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shirt then pulling it up over your head. You raise your arms to allow him to slide it off of you, leaving your chest covered with just the skimpy black lace bra you picked out before you left.

He travels his kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, and across to the top of your ribcage. He moves down your chest, following along the geography of your sternum until his face is buried between your breasts.

One of his hands comes up to cup over the material, inner knuckle of his thumb brushing perfectly across your nipple. You gasp at the new contact, desperate to feel more of him- everywhere.

That sound only encourages him, emboldens him, and before you know it he's tucked his fingers underneath the thin material and is ripping the bra in half at the front seam. He pushes it aside and you shrug off the straps.

This bra was in your all star rotation- it was by far the most flattering one you owned. You should be upset, should scold him with something along the lines of making him buy you a new one, but right now you could not care less about that.

You're yanked from your train of thought when you feel Bucky's lips close around your nipple. His tongue swirling around the bud and teeth grazing it ever so gently. You arch your back, heaving your chest against him by consequence

He brings his hand to your unattended breast, squeezing and grasping at the flesh in just the right spots before pinching at that nipple.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper, rolling your head back into his mattress while your fingers tug at his long dark strands of hair.

You feel him smirk against your chest, before he picks back up his head and slots his lips onto yours again. “Wanna taste you,” he says through kissing you, “can I?”

“You don’t have to, I’m-“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, “please?”

You nod, slow- but incredibly sure.

“O- okay. Yeah. Sure,” you breathe.

He smiles- like really smiles, then kisses you again1 before descending once more down your body. He leaves wet open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your chest and torso, hands working on undoing the clasp of your pants so he can push them off once he reaches the waistband.

He tosses the garment haphazardly somewhere in the room, before hooking his fingers through the band of your panties.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes hooded with lust as he looks up at you for your consent.

You nod- pathetically quick. “Yes. Please.”

The ends of his lips quirk upwards as he pulls the thin lacy material from your legs. It’s too slow- painfully slow. You wish he’d rip them off like he did with the bra.

Once they’re off, Bucky kneels on the floor in front of you, and hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to your clit, leaving a tender kiss over it, before licking a long steep stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hands finding his hair again like there’s some kind of magnet drawing them there. You pull his face against your cunt, forcing his tongue into your hole and knocking his nose against your clit.

“Oh my god,” you moan, arching your hips off the bed and even further into him before he plants you by the hips back into the mattress. He delves his tongue inside you, prodding eagerly through your slick and fucking it in and out of you.

It feels good- feels so good- but it’s not enough.

Your instinct takes over though, months of experience in appeasing men and making them think they’re bringing you to the edge to stroke their ego.

You tone up the moans, raising your volume and repeating Bucky’s name like a mantra. All things to signal that you’re getting close. Your tugs at his hair turn to pulls, thighs pressing around his head, as you lean into the act of an impending orgasm.

It’s not that you didn’t think he could get you there- it’s that you didn’t want him to wait.

“Fuck, Bucky- ‘m gonna cum,” you whine, squirming under him relentlessly. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps lapping at your cunt with his tongue.

“Shit- I- fuck, I'm coming, Bucky I'm-" you cut yourself off with a pornographic moan. One perfected through numerous uses, it's always believable. Always makes the man feel good about himself that he 'made a woman cum.'

Bucky doesn't buy it though. Not for a second.

"No you're not," he says, voice stern and words getting muffled against your pussy. The stubble lining his jaw scrapes at your inner thighs when he speaks.

"Does this not work for you?" He asks, pulling away from you and caressing your thighs. You shake your head, "no- I'm sorry it's not that, I just- it doesn't matter if I feel good or not. You're the customer." You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

His hair is disheveled from your hands being rooted in it, his chin and lips coated with your slick.

"Who the hell told you that?"

You shrug, "just common sense I thought."

He scoffs, "yeah well fuck that. Tell me what you want me to do. What you need me to do to get you there- for real."

"To be honest- I don't really know," you start.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, "you don't know?"

You shrug again.

He sits back on his heels, sigh heaving from his chest. "Well, how 'bout this- when you touch yourself, what do you do that makes you cum?" The question's awkward, but for some reason you don't feel opposed to answering.

He traces his vibranium fingers up and down your inner thigh. The cool metal makes your muscles tense. "I want to make you feel good," he says, "but I can't do that if you don't tell me how to go about doing it."

You release a shaky exhale before you speak.

"I need something... inside."

Bucky smirks, "yeah? What's something?"

You shrug, "anything, really. Fingers, toy, dick."

He laughs at that, shaking his head before looking back up at you and leaning back in.

"Well how about," he starts, voice dangerously slow and fingers inching back towards your core, "I give you my fingers now, make you cum on those 'n get you all stretched out for me... Then, I give you the other thing."

You swallow hard, the anticipation building like a knot in your chest.

"Deal?" He asks, tip of his index finger brushing right above your clit. Your breath hitches when you nod. He smiles, "good girl. Now let me make you feel good."

And with that he disappears back between your legs.

Bucky wastes no time and gets right back to business. He wraps his lips around your clit like he never left, and pushes one finger into your tight cunt. He watches eagerly for your body's reaction, indulging in the way your head tilts into the mattress and your eyes roll back in the socket.

"That feel good?" He asks, the vibration against your pussy adds a new layer of pleasure. You nod quickly, "yes- fuck, feels good."

"Good," he smirks, adding a second finger into your hole and curling them inside you, then sucking harder at your clit. The moans slipping from your lips this time are angelic- ethereal, Bucky thinks. They're that beautiful because they're real. The sounds are a tangible demonstration of how good he's making you feel.

You don't notice when he adds a third finger, or when he brings his thumb to rub little circles at your clit, your senses are too bombarded with all the other inputs to register those little changes.

What you do notice, however, is how quickly you come tumbling towards the edge this time- the real edge, the brink of orgasm, not the metaphorical one you created to stroke the egos of your other customers.

Bucky notices too. Notices the way that when you're really close, you don't get louder, but get quieter- your jaw dropped open but no sounds to be heard. The way you clamp your eyes shut and grip onto his hair and the duvet for dear life. The way your hips writhe under him, desperately and subconsciously trying to create more friction for yourself.

He notices it all.

But his favourite thing he's noticed thus far, are the pretty noises you make when you do cum. No showy, perfectly defined moans, but little breathy whimpers that bleed into louder cries of his name as your release gushes out around his tongue.

Music to his ears.

"That's it, just like that, good girl," he coaxes, working you through the high. He gets lost in the way you taste, the noises you make- all of it.

What he doesn't notice that you've already come down from your first high, and so he doesn't stop. Just keeps laving at your slit, sucking at your clit and pumping three thick fingers inside your cunt until he's sending you hurdling towards a second orgasm.

"Oh my- fuckingGodBucky," the last words tumble from your lips in a single syllable as you cum again onto Bucky's tongue. He dips his mouth down, lapping up every last drop of your release like it could grant him eternal life.

When he finally pulls away, hands resting on your thighs to stop them from quaking, he sees the wet marks down your cheeks, and the new crystalline beads forming at the corners of your eyes.

He stands up quickly, a little concerned and hovers himself back over you again. "Hey," he speaks, voice soft, "you okay?" He brushes the hair from your face and the tears from your eyes.

All you can do is nod, breathing too heavy to form any words at the moment. After a second you speak, "felt too good." Bucky laughs, "too good? That sounds like a challenge."

You raise your eyebrows before tracing your eyes down his body, settling on the very evident bulge between his legs. "You did promise me something..." You trail, dragging one finger against him through the jeans. He lets out a strangled sigh at the tiniest bit of friction.

You smirk at your effect on him, before tugging him down to press your lips to his. You taste yourself on his tongue when he slips it into your mouth, you should be a little grossed out- but you could not care less.

The only thing on your mind right now is getting him inside of you.

You pull him to lie next to you, then roll yourself on top of him, straddling over his bulge and grinding your cunt against him. You moan into each others mouths, Bucky's hands find your ass, squeezing and groping at the flesh while yours move to the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them greedily- unapologetically eager to see what he looks like with nothing on.

He moves his arms to let you slide the shirt off of him, leaving him in just a white tank top which he sits up slightly to take off. You can't help but gawk when he's finally topless. Your eyes wander shamelessly over the expanse of his chest and you trace your fingers along the grooves of his muscles, lingering on the little scars and marks like you're trying to commit them to memory.

"Kids these days don't learn it's not polite to stare?" He says, snapping you out of the trance-like state his shirtless figure put you in.

You scoff, "what's not polite is looking like this and expecting me not to look." You lean down and press a kiss against his lips, "I'm just a girl. I see pretty abs & arms and I stare." You sit back up, shuffling down his legs to sit over his knees, then bringing your hands to undo the button and zipper on his pants.

He raises an eyebrow, "I have pretty abs and arms?" He asks, bending his knees to let you slide the slacks down and off of his legs. You stop dead in your tracks, fingers hooked into his boxers but not pulling them down yet- not when he just said that.

"You're joking, right?" He doesn't say anything, just stares at you with an amused look plastered onto his face, "Jesus Christ have you ever looked in a mirror, Bucky?" You shake your head through a laugh and finally pull his boxers down to free his cock.

You sigh at the sight of him. He's big- this you could assume from the way he carried himself. The confidence he exuded. The way he acted like he didn't have any physical detriments to compensate for.

But he's kind of- obscenely big.

You lick your lips and sweep your hair behind your ears and out of the way, before ducking down to take him in your mouth- but Bucky stops you before your lips even meet his tip.

"Not tonight," he says, "another time."

You raise an eyebrow, "another time?" He smirks, then pulls you up for a kiss, "yeah. Another time," he breathes, before pressing his lips to yours. Just from where you're straddling him, you can feel the head of his cock hitting dangerously close to your clit.

"I don't mean to inflate your ego anymore than it already is," you tease, pulling away to look down at him, "but- respectfully- how the fuck am I supposed to fit that inside of me?"

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, then brings one hand to your hip and the other to wrap around himself, tilting it slightly so it lines up with your entrance. "You can take it. Don't worry." He moves you down by the hip just barely, you gasp when the very first millimeter of his cock prods into your entrance.

"Just take it slow, yeah? Take it slow."

He loosens his grip on your hips, allowing you to take the lead and decide how quickly you want to sink yourself onto him. You nod and plant your hands on his lower abdomen to steady yourself, before slowly- so, so slowly- moving down his length.

The stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. A string of profanities floods out of your mouth and your head rolls back. Bucky's eyes threaten to close at the feeling of your walls hugging so tight around him, but he keeps them glued on where your bodies meet- watching intently at the way you swallow every inch of him inside of you.

"Just like that," he drawls, sucking in a breath and resisting every urge to buck his hips up and shove himself the rest of the way in.

"Holy shit, Bucky." Your breathing is ragged once you've finally sunk all the way down onto his length. The pads of his fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, you're sure they'll leave bruises behind but all you can think about right now is how it feels like his cock is about to split you open.

"I know, baby, I know," he stutters, trying to maintain his composure as best he can. "I can't- fuck- too full, I can't," you shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes once again.

He pulls you down by the arm, lacing his fingers through yours then kissing you. It's soft, but only for a second. Before you know it he's sliding his tongue in your mouth and rolling you both over so he's on top now. He braces his forearms on either side of your head, and pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

"You want this? Hm?" He pushes a strand of hair from your face, "want me to fuck you?" His tone is cocky, he knows you want him, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Yes, yes- fuck, please," you whimper, still wholly consumed by the feeling of his thick cock inside you. He smirks, "atta girl," he presses one last kiss to your lips- needy and desperate, before drawing his hips back, then slamming them back into you.

You practically scream at his sudden movement, the pleasure and pain of the stretch blending together and making your vision all fuzzy. The pace he sets is slow, but hard. Unrelenting.

Bucky drops his head to the crook of your neck, biting and kissing at your clavicle. Out of the corner of his eye he spots your hand, desperately gripping at the thin linen sheets to ground yourself. He takes it in his, before pulling it to rest on his back. You nails dig in to the musculature almost instantly, summoning a deep groan from within him.

With that same hand, he takes your leg to sit around his waist, pushing himself even deeper inside of you. The new tilt of his cock now knocks perfectly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars, drilling into it with every thrust.

The room is hot, your bodies sticky with sweat. The only thing you can hear is the sound of Bucky's hips smacking against yours, his breathy grunts in your ear with every rock of his body into yours, and your repetitive cries of his name.

The pleasure is everything. It's all consuming, earth shattering- but somehow it's still not enough.

"Please," you breathe, "need- fuck, go faster."

He picks his head up to look at you, "yeah?"

You nod, desperate- begging. "Need more, please."

Bucky scoffs, "need more?" He repeats- almost mocking you. You just keep nodding. "Well alright then," he grunts, and you can hear the smirk playing across his lips.

His next actions happen in a whirlwind. He pulls himself out of your pussy, coaxing a whine from your throat when you suddenly feel so empty. Then with one strong vibranium arm he's flipping you over, your face smushing into the pillow before you turn your head.

He brings the same hand underneath you, cool metal fingers splaying across your lower belly as he slams all the way back inside you. Your eyes go wide, accompanied by a load moan of his name before they're clamping down shut again.

His new rhythm is cruel. He looks down and watches the ripples of your ass with every thump of his hips into yours. Bucky presses the hand he has under you against your skin, he can literally feel himself sliding in and out of you. Can feel how deep he is inside of you.

"Oh my- God!" You choke out the last word when he pushes on your lower belly, walls immediately clenching around him.

He hisses out a breath, "you wanted this, hm? So take it. Be a good doll and take it."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky 'm gonna cum." Right as the words leave you, all your senses melt into a white hot static as your orgasm rips through your body.

"Yeahhh, atta girl. Just like that- cum on my cock just like that, huh?" His low voice coaches you through it, never once stopping his unrelenting hips against yours.

His hips finally start to stutter, right as his high starts creeping up on him. You can tell from his thrusts getting shallower that he plans on pulling out to finish- while it's the sensible thing to do- it's also the last thing you want him to do.

"Don't," you gasp.

"What?"

"Don't pull out. Wanna feel you, please God, need to feel you."

He wants to ask if you're sure, but before he can form the words he's falling over the edge. He groans your name and shoots his spend deep inside you, marking you- ruining you for anyone else.

Bucky's thrusts into you turn lazy, then coming to a complete halt right before he pulls out of you. One last whimper falls from your lips, your hole feeling both so empty yet so full of him.

"Holy shit," he huffs, sliding his hand from under you and rolling to lie down next to you.

You turn onto your side to look over at him, your eyes still find a way to linger on his chest. Once he cracks his eyes open and sees you ogling him again, he can't help but laugh.

"You've really got quite the staring habit, huh?"

Your lips turn up into a smile, "can't exactly help it."

He shakes his head, letting his eyes fall shut as his breathing finally comes back to a normal pace. The both of you are too tired to say anything, but really- there's nothing that needs to be said.

He wasn't expecting a girl like you to be the one that knocked on his door- nor were you expecting a man like him to answer. Both of you know this was more than just a business exchange. Even though there'd be money deposited in your account after this, it felt different.

This wasn't just a hook up- it was a reckoning.

When Bucky opens his eyes again, there's a different look in them. And when he stares at you, searching through your own eyes for the answer he's been looking for all night- it's like he's finally found it.

He pulls you into him, moving you so that you lay your head on his chest. He presses a kiss into your hair, and traces his hand up and down your shoulder.

Neither of you say anything more, his eyes said it all already- stay.

And you do.

please let me know what you think!!! reblogs & comments mean more than u know!!!

[radiance1]

"I need to find my darling husband!" Said Danny, dressed to the nines in a very elaborate royal dress with a lot of jewelry running through the ballroom after having been on the opposite end of a very worrying phone call.

"Seriously, what do you even see in that mortal!?" Screamed an observant and Danny stopped and leveled them with a glare cold enough to freeze over an active volcano and sharp enough to cut through obsidian.

"He makes me laugh."

Unlike those dead suitors went unsaid, but everyone at the ball (read: search for a bride/groom for the royal ghostling) practically heard it anyways.

Meanwhile over in the land of the living

Okay so Jason may have messed up. Now you see, he hasn't seen his platonic husband for tax benefits in a while, and he's been very careful to not let his identity as the Red Hood slip up before . Not even once in their relationship.

(He's not counting the time his in-laws sniffed him out as a Crime Lord, because Danny never believed them.)

Now, it wasn't exactly his fault he slipped up. You try to fight off an entire group after being pulled up on out of nowhere on the phone while trying to hide said noises of fighting.

Who was he calling? Danny of course since he said he was away for business. What business? Never specified and Jason wasn't going to pry.

So now here he was, bound 'helplessly' as Jason Todd along with a few other random civilians. Which, like, rude.

Wasn't he already good enough for this ancient ritual or whatever?

You know, he really should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device" he got that one time. Which honestly he feels like he should be surprised that such a thing exists but considering it was from Bruce. Well.

He's not surprised.

Oh, there's the Justice League now. Shame, he wanted to knock out a few guys himself- Oh, now he's being used to summon a ghost from the Infinite Realms of Royal Lineage.

Yea he probably should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device."

Wait a goddamn-

Is that-

"My darling husband!" Danny shouted, scooping him off the circle and away from the head cultist and swinging him around. "You had me worried sick!"

Now, he should ask the question anyone would in this situation when finding out your best friend and platonic husband for tax benefits was apparently a ghost of royal lineage.

"Why're you in a dress?"

"Okay, first of all I rock this thing." Danny huffed.

"That you do." Jason agreed rather easily.

"Second of all, blame those guys over there." He jerked his head in the direction of two very green floating eyeball people.

Not the weirdest he's seen, honestly.

The Observants were whispering to each other and leveling them-Jason in particular-a look.

"Now as you can see, I already have a spouse and I don't need another!" Danny hugged Jason closer for emphasis and he took the time to whisper in Danny's ear. "Did you really marry me to play the husband card?"

"Well, yes." Danny agreed. "But also because of taxes, because I love you and you're my best friend."

"So, we're still done for watching that movie right."

"Obviously."

A pained grunt came from below them and they both looked down to see Batman standing over a very unconscious cultist and looking up at them.

Hm.

He forgot they were there.

"So," Jason began, staring Bruce straight in the eyes. Batman's eyes narrowed. "Don't suppose we can push that forward to right now?"

"Yea, sure why not I'm not doing anything important." Danny leveled the Observants a look, and before either they, Batman, or the Justice League could do anything they both disappeared.

[shadowuponstorm]

He is Nothing Like You

Tim and Reader have been secretly married for three years, which has done them good, considering the risks of Tim's occupation. One day, while Tim was on shift, he never expected his secrets to start ripping at the seams and spill onto the floor.

MDNI 18+ since it involves sexual activities! I might do a second part

"I've been meaning to ask you, what's the ring around your neck?" Lucy asks, trying to break the silence in the shop.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's just a ring to me, no specific meaning," Tim responds while silently praying Lucy would end the conversation there, "Also it's safer if it's around my neck than on my finger."

"Grey wears his wedding band, and you don't see him having any trouble with it," Lucy mentions as Tim chuckles and reminds her that Luna would kill him if he ever took his ring off.

"Just let it go and focus on other important things, like that carjacker right there," Tim said, causing Lucy to jerk her attention back in front of her as he stopped the shop and the both of them get to work.

Once the carjacker was booked and processed, Tim and Lucy were on their way to get back on the road when Grey stopped them with a, "Bradford, my office real quick."

Lucy asks, "What is that all about?" Tim responds, "I don't know, just wait by the shop. I'll be there when I'm finished."

Tim enters Grey's office to see his wife, Y/N, sitting in one of the chairs. "She doesn't look pleased about something," Tim thought to himself before Grey excused himself to let the couple talk privately.

-Y/N's POV-

"Is everything okay?" Tim asked me while I got up from the seat to stand in front of him before I ask him, "Do you remember telling me when we first started dating that your dad died?"

Tim gulps before clearing his throat and answered, "Yes, why are you bringing that up?"

"I was cleaning the house up when the phone rang. It was a hospice nurse calling for you because Tom Bradford was asking for you," I responded before continuing, “Thinking it was the wrong number, I called Genny to ask her what was happening. She told me I needed to have that conversation with you."

Before Tim could answer me, Grey popped his head in to remind Tim about an old case regarding a family friend, Monica Ochoa.

"Do you need to go? I'm not mad. I'm just so confused," I said before Tim turned his head towards Grey and told him he was still on it before turning his attention back to me.

"I'll explain it later, I promise," Tim responds before I nod. Understanding his tone's urgency, I told him I'd be waiting with Kojo at home.

Hours passed before I heard the doorknob jiggle; Kojo had heard it since he had jumped off the couch to run to the door and greet Tim.

"Hey bud," I hear Tim say as his footsteps start toward the living room, bringing him into view.

"Hi," I say as Tim takes a seat next to me before he takes my hands in his.

"I haven't been honest with you about everything, and I am truly sorry. It wasn't fair of me to let you get whiplash from finding out I lied about my dad being dead," Tim responds as I notice tears brimming in his eyes, making me take my hands back and put one of them on his cheek, running my thumb along the bone.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I meant what I said. I'm not mad at you," I whisper, reassuring him before he sighs and responds, "I know, but it still wasn't right of me. So, I want to tell you everything."

"Okay," I say as Tim clears his throat to mention, "The reason I told you he was dead is because he's dead to me. He was abusive. To me and Genny, mostly me."

Before I can ask, he says, "When I was 7, he smashed my head into a wall. Another time, he left me at Griffith Park with only a compass to find my way home, said it's supposed to turn me into a man."

"Tim," I croak out before tears started to fall down my cheeks, "Now I feel bad that you had to reopen those wounds."

"No, no, don't you dare blame yourself," Tim said as he wiped the tears before continuing, "I should've been honest from the get-go, but instead, I wanted to keep that part of my past secret to spare you from the pain. And it was about time I told you since I have to see him."

"You don't need to see him if you don't want to. Don't let this hospice situation guilt you," I respond before Tim shook his head and told me it had to do with the Ochoa case.

"I think he had something to do with it; now I have to face him," Tim says, looking like the little boy who just wanted his dad's love, which prompts me to ask, "Want me to come with you?"

"No, you don't have to. I wouldn't force you," Tim started to say before I cut him off, "I want to. You're my husband, and my vows stated that I will be by your side for every obstacle in your path."

"Okay," Tim whispered as the both of us exited the house hand in hand, preparing to battle this demon together.

We arrived at the facility and entered the room to see my father-in-law lying in his hospital bed.

"Oh, man. Never thought I'd see your face again. Genny tell you to visit?" Tom says as I squeeze Tim's hand harder in comfort.

"Wow, liver really did a number on you, old man," Tim responds before Tom tells him he doesn't have it so bad.

"Nurses here all love me. It's just no one will bring me that shot of Patron I keep asking for," Tom says as he jesters toward the apple juice, saying it's a joke.

"A cruel joke if you ask me," I thought before glancing at Tim's face to see he thinks the same.

"You always seem to have someone looking after you, even when you don't deserve it," Tim responds, squeezing back my hand.

"Something on your mind, son?" Tom asked, clearly wanting this to be done and over with.

"Remember Frank Ochoa? Lived down the street. Shot to death 25 years ago. Well, I'm sure you remember his wife, Monica," Tim responds.

"Can't say I do," Tom deflects, obvious sign that he does remember.

"Come on. You were sleeping with her behind Mom's back," Tim says, making Tom laugh, and he asks where he got that from. Tim mentions that he saw the two of them together when he was 13.

"Oh, crap," Tom says before Tim continues, "For some reason that I still don't understand, I lied for you, lied to Mom."

"Poor little Tim-Tim," Tom degrades before spouting out, "What are you bitching about? You kept your mouth shut. You did good. Now get over it."

I feel my blood start to boil in anger at the audacity, the disrespect this son of a bitch in front of me had for the man I plan to spend forever with and have children with, but I keep quiet because he seems to not care about my presence.

"You know, I found the gun that you hid in the wall. I know you killed Frank. But why'd you do it? You wanted Monica all to yourself?" Tim asked before continuing, "Ruining one family wasn't just enough for you, was it?"

Tom takes his cannula out before getting off the bed and walking towards us. "And so what if I did?" What are you gonna do about it?"

"Get back in bed," Tim grits out as he moves me to stand more behind him for safety reasons, prompting Tom to challenge him with a "Make me."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're right. I killed Frank. But he had it coming. So screw him, and screw you," Tom says before telling Tim to put the cuffs on him and drag him away from his deathbed like a big man.

"This isn't over," Tim responds as he grabs my hand again, and we both leave Tom's room.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have heard all of that," Tim whispers before entering the truck, "I have to get to the station and type up that report. I'll drop you off at home before I do."

"No, take me with you, it would save gas," I said as I explained to Tim it wouldn't make sense to do that.

After arriving at the station, Tim heads to one of the computers while I follow him. I glance over to see his rookie, Lucy, walking over.

"My dad confessed to Frank Ochoa's murder. I'm typing up the report," Tim tells Lucy as she looks at me before gesturing there were ears listening, "She's my wife, she knows."

"Wait, wife?! As in ring on the finger?" Lucy asked in shock as I raised my left hand to show her my wedding band, "We'll get to that later, but Tim, while you were gone, I brought Monica Ochoa back in."

"Why?" Tim asks as Lucy explains, "Because I knew there was more to her story. You couldn't see past the version that you wanted to see."

"What'd she say?" Tim asks again, before Lucy tells him what was confessed.

The look on Tim's face tells me we're going straight back to that hospice facility. We walk back into the room and see Tom snoring in the chair, so Tim places the shot glass and pours Patron before placing the bottle on the table, waking Tom up.

"You brought me a present?" Tom asks before Tim tells him to think of it as a push.

"You didn't kill Frank," Tim says as Tom repeats that he did and tells Tim to cuff him, "Monica confessed."

"Leave her out of this," Tom responds.

"Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close and you needed to frame someone else," Tim says.

"He was a brutal, abusive bastard. She deserves a medal for what she did," Tom responds, making me and Tim look at him in shock.

"He was an abusive bastard?" Tim asked, testing Tom for what came out of his mouth.

Feigning confusion that was fake, Tom asked if he was like him, which prompted him to say he was nothing like Frank.

"I taught you what you needed to know, son. You're a man now because of me," Tom says before I finally let my voice be heard.

"No, absolutely not. You are not getting credit for how Tim turned out," I gritted through my teeth as Tom looked at me with disdain before asking me who I was, "I happen to be the woman your son is going to spend the rest of his life with. I'll be damned if I stand by and let his piece of shit father try to take what's rightfully his credit. You deserve nothing of the sort, he's nothing like you and he will never be like you."

"Tim, you're going to let your wife speak to me this way?" Tom asked before Tim scoffed and responds, "She's right. I'm who I am in spite of you."

As Tom sits there stunned, Tim says, "Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts."

We left the facility without looking back, and after we arrived home, I suddenly felt my body being moved to where my back faced the door and I craned my neck up to look into Tim's eyes.

"Thank you," Tim whispers as I look at him in confusion, "Thank you for being by my side for that. I know it wasn't easy, but you were right. I needed you there with me."

"You don't have to thank me for that, I will always be there for you," I say before Tim smiles and leans down to kiss me.

After kissing for what felt like minutes, Tim moves his mouth to be near my ear and he whispers, "I'm also really turned on by you defending me."

I laugh before asking, "Oh are you? What are you going to do about it?"

I feel Tim's hands move down to my ass before I squeak out in surprise as he hoists me up, causing me to wrap my legs around his waist and feel the outline of his dick through his jean.

"I think I'm going to give my beautiful wife a thank-you gift," Tim whispers before moving towards our bedroom and putting me down on the bed.

"Tim, you don't have to," I started to protest before he cuts me off, "Just let me do it, you deserve it."

My attention gets grabbed while I watch his hands curl around the collar of his shirt before he pulls it up off his body, which, I feel myself start to drool over my husband's abs. His hands then moved to his belt to unbuckle it before he walk up to me and get down on his knees so he can be on the same level as me. Tim pulls me into another kiss, one more passionate than the last, as I feel his hands unbutton my jeans before he pulls the materials down to my ankles to take them off, leaving me in my black panties. He then positions my body to lean back against the pillows before he moves himself to be above me, Tim asks, "Is this okay?"

Not trusting my voice, I nodded my head before Tim's fingers curled around the sides of the panties as he started pulling them down. He groans out in pleasure as he changes his position, his shoulders in between my thighs, keeping my legs where he wants them to be, his hands near the area I yearn for him to pay attention to. I shivered when I felt his breath before he placed his mouth on me, causing me to let out a shuttered moan. When I felt myself getting close, Tim pulled away, causing me to groan out in frustration, making him laugh.

"The only way you're cumming is around my dick," Tim whispered in my ear as he gets himself out of his pants and boxers while he pushes my shirt up to above my chest, showing the matching black bra.

The both of us let out a groan as Tim enters me and starts to thrust, his dick hitting all the right places. After minutes passed, the both of us came and Tim's body moves to his side of the bed as I tell him that was a great gift, making him he let out a soft laugh.

"Glad to be of service," Tim says getting out of bed and putting on clean boxers and pajama pants before he goes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean me up.

After Tim cleaned me up and helped me get dressed, he got back into the bed to pull me into him so we can cuddle.

"Tim?" I said after a moment of silence, causing him to say, "Yeah?"

"I have something for you," I respond before reaching over into my nightstand and pulling out a small box, "I was going to give you this later, but now feels right."

Tim opens the box and pulls out a onesie that says, "My daddy will arrest you if you mess with me."

"Babe, this is perfect for our future baby," Tim responds before he felt his voice stop short when he sees what else is in the box, reaching in to pull out the pregnancy test, "Are you really?"

"Yes, I found out two weeks ago, you're going to be a dad, Tim," I said as Tim pulled me into a tight embrace before kissing the top of my head, "And you're going to be the best dad, I just know it."

"I love you so much," Tim whispers before pulling me into the most loving kiss a girl could ask for.

Tim may have had the worst pick in the dad potluck, but no doubt in my mind he will never treat our children the way Tom treated him and Genny.

[borathae]

Pink Ribbons

“Pink ribbons around his dainty wrists, his pretty hair a mess and drool covering his puffy lips. Your husband has never looked cuter.”

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: sub!Jungkook, Mommy Dom!Reader, cozy BDSM, safe power play, a cute chicken & movie date, he is very snuggly and clingy <3, he is also very obedient and the goodest boy, praise, good boy kink, loving dirty talk, bondage with pink silk ribbons, she takes videos of him because he is the cutest, handjob as he sits on her lap, gentle movements with lots of love, lots of kisses and touches all over his pretty body, a lil bit of edging, he is in such a cozy & safe subspace, he cums all over himself, did i mention that this is incredibly soft & cozy?, did you know that this is cozy?

Wordcount: 4.9k

a/n: i love him so much!!!!! omfg i'm sobbing :( he is the cutest pookie ever 😭 this story made me feel very cozy as i was writing it, i hope you guys can feel cozy as well hehe 💗 did you know that this is cozy?

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Bunny, Bunny, Bunny”, you come running around the corner calling his name repeatedly.

Jungkook, who is in the middle of a relaxing yoga session next to the windows, lifts his head. 

“Yes?”

You plop down in front of him, holding your phone.

“I saw something.”

“Okay?” Jungkook sits back, knowing that he won’t be able to continue his exercises until you showed him whatever you saw.

“Do you have time? Is it okay?” you ask.

“Yes, show me”, he assures you, scooting closer to you so he can see better.

You recently downloaded some famous video app because your college friends all talk about it and you wanted to feel included. You told him that you are only doing it to be trendy and to actually know what the young people talk about, but Jungkook has a gist that you are finding a liking in the app yourself. Sometimes he catches you literally cackling at your phone because of something funny you saw on the app. Other times, like today, you come running to show him whatever delighted you.

“I just saw this and it’s so cute. Look.”

You flip the phone and show him the video. It is a video of a generally perceived as attractive man filmed in pink light. Jungkook’s heart tightens in jealousy, his stomach sinks.

“Isn’t it cute?” you ask him.

“Why do you think that other men are cute?” Jungkook throws back with a huge, massive, immense pout, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “hmpf.”

“What? No you stupid noodle, it’s about the ribbons. Look.” You repeat the video. “His girlfriend tied ribbons around his arms and his torso and his wrists. Isn’t that so cute? We could do that too.”

“Ooooooh” Jungkook’s lips form the perfect O-shape and his eyes widen, arms relaxing, “ooooh you mean thaaat.”

You slap his chest gently.

“Stupid noodle. Of course I do. He is not cute. You are.”

Jungkook grins, “course I am.”

You roll your eyes. He is such a jealous baby sometimes.

“Whatever, silly. What do you think of the idea? Should we play with ribbons?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to think for long.

“Yes, I love the idea”, he agrees, nodding his head. 

“Coolio as fuck.”

Jungkook laughs, “you don’t sound trendy when you talk like this. Just saying.”

“Whatever.” You stand up. “I’ll be going ribbon shopping. Should I get takeout?”

“Yes, god. I want chicken.”

“Alrighty right. I’m going now. See you later alligator.”

“My love, please stop talking like this”, Jungkook laughs.

You merely grin at him and then leave, telling him that you won’t take long and that you love him.

Jungkook returns to his yoga session, finding great relaxation this way. His week was very stressful and yoga always calms him down.

He already finished his session, now getting tomorrow’s outfit ready, when you come back home. It is not a work outfit, but a date outfit because tomorrow is date day. Jungkook has been looking forward to date day the entire week. It is your turn to plan the activities and you hinted at bowling. Jungkook really loves bowling. 

“My love, I’m home!”

“I’m upstairs!” 

You appear in the dressing room soon, carrying the bags of your shopping tour.

“I got the stuff”, you tell him, grinning proudly.

“Yeah? That’s so cool, my love.” 

“Wanna eat the chicken on the sofa?” 

“Wanna watch a movie as we do?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, let’s do that then. I’m picking out an outfit for tomorrow.”

You smile at him, “very good. Make sure that you can move in it well.”

Jungkook giggles and nods his head obediently. He loves date day! 

“Good boy. Come downstairs once you’re done. I’m setting up the chicken.” 

“I understand. Thank you, Mommy.”

You sit on the floor, switching through your movie choices, when Jungkook joins you. He does so rather vigorously, plopping down next to you to wrap his limbs around you and pull you into the biggest cheek smooch ever.

“Mmmmmmwuah” he lets out, following the smooch with a nose nuzzle against your cheek. 

You chuckle fondly, caressing his lower arms, “you’re a cutie. Did you pick out a nice outfit?”

“Yes, you’ll like it a lot”, he says, resting his chin on your shoulder to gaze at you, “Mommy, you’re so pretty.”

You look at him, smile and kiss his forehead. 

“You’re feeling clingy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, really clingy.” Jungkook gives you a big squeeze and nuzzle. “It’s because tomorrow is date day. I love date days so much.”

“I love them too.” You say fondly. “Should we watch a horror movie or something romantic?”

“I want romantic. I feel too soft for horror tonight. Is that okay for you?” 

“Sure. Anything my soft Bunny wants. Should we watch this one?”

Jungkook, still snuggled against you, turns his head so he can look at the TV. A movie you both haven’t seen yet. You talked about watching it together.

“Yes, let’s do that. We haven’t seen that one yet.”

“I heard it’s great”, you say and press play. 

The movie starts, but you shift your attention to Jungkook. You put some distance so you could grab his sleeves and roll them up for him.

Jungkook lets you with a fluttering heart. His heart flutters even more when you put a paper bib around his neck so he wouldn’t get dirty. It came with the chicken and carries the restaurant’s logo. You finish the sweet gesture by pinching both his cheeks softly.

“There we go, now you’re proper”, you say, making him lift his shoulders shyly.

You turn to the front, rolling up your own sleeves and putting on a bib as well. You hand Jungkook a pair of plastic gloves, putting on your own. 

“I can’t wait to dig in”, you say, picking up the first chicken piece of many.

Jungkook needs a few moments before he can start eating. Moments like these are no big deal to you, but they are huge deals to him. Taking care of him comes so natural to you that he should already be used to it, but he truly isn’t. It always feels so special when you coddle him. 

He needs to hug you, even if you are already eating. 

“Hm?” you let out, eyes glued to the TV and mouth stuffed with delicious chicken.

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, Bunny. Now eat baby, before it gets cold.”

“Yes, okay”, Jungkook listens well, putting on his gloves to finally dig in. 

“Good boy. Do you like it? I went to your favourite place.”

“I love it so much. It’s so yummy”, Jungkook gushes, stuffing his mouth full of chicken.

“That’s good to hear. Eat as much as you want.”

You and he are silent as you eat, enjoying the movie fully. The chicken tastes delicious. You went for three different flavours. Natural in a crispy, crunchy breading. Honey soy garlic which tastes so rich and savoury. Spicy sweet chilly which is Jungkook’s favourite because he likes spicy food. You like it as well, but Jungkook seems to be truly obsessed with it tonight, so you let him have most of it while you stick to the other flavors. They are delicious as well and you want to see Jungkook happy. He is so adorable when he is happy from good food that you could never ever take this away from him, even if it meant missing out on your favourite chicken flavour. 

You clean up after finishing. Jungkook wanted to do it because you already did everything else but you told him to stay put. He listened very well. 

Tonight is a certain energy present between you and him. A sort of silent understanding that your roles are more prominent even in the mundane, domestic things. Granted, stuff like taking care of him and praising him, are your daily tasks, but tonight there is energy in them. Electric, warm energy. Jungkook gives you the same kind of energy back, letting you know that he is in a mild subspace just from the way he moves and talks around you. 

You return with chocolate cookies and cocoa as dessert. Jungkook is waiting for you on his knees and sitting on his crossed feet, hands folded on his lap. He stayed put. The position, he decided to do it in, is the last proof you needed to know that he feels the same energies you are feeling. This is a domestic, relaxing moment as much as it is also casual, soft power play. 

“I hope that you like cookies and cocoa for dessert. I was feeling cozy. Careful, the cup is hot.”

“Yes, this sounds yummy. Thank you for preparing it”, Jungkook says, accepting the cocoa with sweater paws. He blows on it to cool it down.

“Of course, anything for you.”

You sit down on the sofa and press play on the movie. There is still half an hour left. You bend forward and rake Jungkook’s hair gently. He shivers, tilting his head back and gazing at you. He sets the cup down on the table.

“Who’s my good boy?” you ask him.

“I am.” He lets out and exhales shakily, leaving his position so he could hug your legs and nuzzle his face into your lap. “I'm your good boy.”

“That’s right, my good boy”, you say, leaning back comfortably. You begin combing his hair with your fingers, scratching his scalp soothingly.

Jungkook stays seated by your feet, resting his cheek on your thigh. He watches the movie with heavy lids, tingling each time you scratch him behind his ear. Only when he takes a sip of the cocoa, he sits up for a vast moment. 

After around ten minutes you bend down again, kissing the side of his neck. Jungkook shivers, letting out a surprised gasp. 

“My good boy”, you says softly and straighten up, scratching his undercut gently. From the corners of your eyes, you watch how he is squirming. 

Another ten minutes pass and you both have finished the cocoa and cookies. Jungkook stays seated after setting his empty cup down, shimmying in discomfort. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“My butt hurts.”

“What? No way, come up here immediately.”

Jungkook leaves the floor, climbing onto the sofa with you. He lies down on his side, resting his head on your lap. Then he sighs, melting in relaxation.

“Is that better?” you ask him, rubbing his hip gently.

“Yeah, it’s so comfy.”

“That’s good.”

You slide your hand to his butt, eliciting a gasp from him. 

“Relax. I’m just gonna get rid of the ache, okay?” you assure him.

He giggles, wiggling his butt against your hand.

The rest of the movie is spent like this. By the end of it, Jungkook can barely keep his eyes open. He is so relaxed in your presence that the word stress doesn’t even exist in his mind anymore. Like most romance movies, it makes him cry when the couple is falling into each other’s arms happily.

You watch it happen fondly, providing him comfort by scratching his back slowly while he sniffles and whimpers in happy tears. You are so immensely in love with him. He brought out the real you, the you who is so happy to be soft and who loves to watch cheesy romance movies.

Jungkook lets out an especially loud sniffle, shoulders shaking. 

“Gosh Bunny, are you alright?” 

“Yes”, he is talking in a pout, “they’re so in love. I’m so happy”, he whines and sobs, hugging your legs to hide away in them. 

“You’re the cutest”, you coo, ruffling his hair. 

“They’re so in love. I love this movie so much.”

“Me too, Bunny. It’s a very cute ending.”

“Yes. So cute.” He flips over, looking up at you sniffly and teary eyed. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bunny”, you say softly, wiping his tears. He always gets like this after a romantic movie. He cries in happiness, then needs to look at you and tell you his feelings. It is as if the love in the movie filled his heart with too many feelings of its own and the only remedy is the view of you. 

“I love you so much that, that if we were both bunnies and we were cuddling, I’d put one ear over you to keep you warm.”

Your heart flutters, bursting in giddiness. You let out a squeal of too much cuteness and drag him into a kiss by squishing both his cheeks. 

He stumbles to his knees, ending up on your lap soon after with his hands on the nape of your neck and his flushed cheeks under your fingertips. 

You always get like this after a romantic movie. He tells you cute things and you get so overwhelmed by them that you need to kiss him until his head is foggy and his lips are tender. You are starving and the only taste you crave is his kiss. 

The hunger was especially unbearable tonight. The silent understanding of the power dynamic added craving to the starvation. Oh, you cannot get enough of him. 

Your fingers, once tasked with cradling his face, fall to his dainty waist. Jungkook gasps, breaking the kiss with parted lips.

“You’re mine”, you lull the words, eyes still closed. He is wearing an oversized jumper but when you hold him like this, it exposes the real size of his waist. It makes you a little crazy.

“Yes, Mommy. I am”, he whimpers, squirming in your possessive touch. 

“I’ll make you mine even more with the ribbons.”

He giggles, nodding his head.

“Yes, Mommy. You can do whatever you want to.”

“What if I wanna keep going until you made a mess?”

Jungkook exhales shakily, nodding his head. 

“Please…”

“Yes? You’d want that?” 

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Fuck, Bunny. I don’t know if I can control myself any longer.”

Jungkook rolls his hips on your lap, sighing his words, “don’t control yourself please.”

“But I have to. You’re so soft, I’d only break you.” 

Jungkook exhales shakily, falling around your neck. Your words are so strong. Your voice does the rest. Jungkook with his obvious and immense voice kink is broken.

“Please Mommy, please don’t hold back please”, he begs.

“You’re lucky that you’re so cute”, you say and stand up with him in your arms. Jungkook wraps his legs around, moaning happily because he thinks that you will carry him to bed. 

You, however, set him down on the sofa, keeping his eyes on you by guiding his head. 

“Can you stay put for me?” 

“Yes, Mommy. I can”, Jungkook promises, nodding his head obediently.

“Good boy. Be patient, I’ll be back soon”, you tell him, giving him one last forehead kiss before you leave him to prepare everything.

You clean the coffee table of the dessert and disappear upstairs to get the ribbons, jogging down with them.

Jungkook stayed put the entire time, sitting up straight and with his eyes focused on the wall before him. He turned the television off.

“Look at you.”

His eyes are instantly on you. 

“You’re such a good boy. You stayed put.”

He exhales shakily, following you with his eyes as you return to him. You stand in front of him, combing your fingers through his hair. His eyes fall closed, his lips part. He lets out a quiet moan, sounding so sweet. 

“You’re so handsome”, you speak softly and will continue to do so for the rest of this moment. It feels right to do. It is such a comfortable and healing moment, which can only be enjoyed when whispered.

Jungkook is in heaven because of it. There is nothing more comforting to him than being spoken to softly. He feels so safe in your presence. So incredibly safe.

“Keep your head like this”, you order him and because Jungkook has no ounce of brattiness in his bones, he listens well.

“Good boy.”

Your praise makes his entire body tingle. It is the main reason why he could never disobey you. Why would he, if the reward for being good is your praise in your voice? 

His eyes are still closed which means that the sudden soft ribbon around his neck surprises him. He opens his eyes, coming face to face with your features as you tie a loose bow around his neck. His heart flutters.

You give the ribbon a gentle tug once tied, making him sigh in bliss and tilt his head back to reveal more of his adorned neck. 

“What a pretty little present you are”, you say, caressing his chin before you move on to another part of his body.

Jungkook feels so warm in his chest. He swears that he could touch the stars right now. He is yours and he is it gladly.

The next ribbon you wrap around his chest, ending it with a surprise kiss on his lips because the position allows it. Jungkook scrunches his entire face in giddiness, gazing at you as he giggles. 

You giggle with him, caressing his cheeks because he deserves it. 

“It’s funny. I’m calling you a present but I’m wrapping you up instead of unwrapping you.” 

“It’s so nice”, he sighs, kicking his feet. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty epic. Now next. Arms.” 

Jungkook shifts them into the correct position all on his own, earning himself yet another praise. And yet again, it leaves him tingly. 

You decorate his left arm first, then his right, ending it by giving his arms gentle rub downs. Jungkook shivers, flexing his muscles for you.

“So strong. Have you been increasing the weights?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“I can really tell. What a strong Bunny you are.”

“Thanks, Mommy”, Jungkook croaks, voice trembling. Is it possible to orgasm from too much praise? Because if he gets praised any more, he might actually cum. 

“Now, wrists.”

He presents them proudly, palms facing up and next to each other. It is a given that you have to kiss each of them. It would be a crime if you didn’t. 

Afterwards, you guide them together, tying a ribbon around them. You make sure that they wouldn’t pinch or cut off blood flow but still keep him in place, finishing it with a pretty bow. 

“Wow, look at you”, you have to squeak because the view of him makes you so giddy. 

Jungkook giggles and shimmies on the couch, kicking his feet. 

“You are so fucking adorable. Gosh”, you cradle his face. “I could eat you.” 

He smiles dreamily, leaning into your touch. He gets kissed on his forehead and feels eternal. He loves you so very much.

“Now stay like this. I need to take a video like she did”, you say and pick up your phone. You scroll on it with two hands, scrunching your brows. 

Jungkook has to giggle, gazing up at you.

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s just, when you’re using your phone like this, you’re really channeling your Mommy energy. You look like you never used a phone before.”

“Wow, rude”, you laugh, nudging his cheek, “it’s not my fault that new technology uses such tiny fonts. Oh here, found you camera app.”

Jungkook snickers and shifts back into position. His heart is racing so much. You make him so happy. 

“Now look the prettiest for me”, you say and press record. 

Jungkook does his very, very best to pose for you. He keeps his back straight, his wrist presented, he gives you puppy eyes and even does a little lip bite. If you want him looking the prettiest for the cameras, then he will look the prettiest.

“Wow, look at you”, you gush, replaying the video, “you’re so handsome.”

“Can I see too, please?” 

“Of course. Look.” 

You show him the video. Jungkook watches intently, having to squirm on the sofa. The ribbons look so good on his body, he looks so owned. 

“Aren’t you adorable?” 

“Yeah”, he gets out shakily, biting his lower lip afterwards.

You watch it happening, feeling tingly. You put the phone aside and sit down next to him, patting your lap.

“Come here. I’ve got one more ribbon I want to put on you.” 

Jungkook gladly obeys, climbing on your lap in a way so that he was facing you. He squirms at the feeling of your touch on his body, trying his hardest not to moan. It would be so embarrassing if he already moaned before you even as much as played with his cock. 

Judging by the hungry glimmer in your eyes, this is exactly what you are planning to do. And Jungkook can barely breathe because of it. He misses your touch so much. 

“Lift your butt.” 

He obeys. You hook your fingers in his sweats and tug them over his perky butt. 

“Wait. I can help.” 

“Do it.”

Jungkook stands up for the time being, letting you undress him. He steps out of his sweats and later his briefs, then climbs back on your lap. His oversized jumper still adorns his torso, looking so pretty. 

You tug it from his cock, letting it pool behind it. He is already hard, throbbing when the fabric brushes his tip. 

"Aw, look at you. Is someone really needy for my touch?” 

“Yes, so needy. Please.” 

“Mhm, soon. Just gotta get you pretty for me.”

Jungkook giggles. You are wrapping the last ribbon around the base of his cock. You snicker because hearing him laugh makes you want to join him.

“How’s that for a last place?”

“Sexy…oh god, I can feel it aahmm.”

You give it a gentle tug, then finish it off with a bow. Jungkook definitely feels the pressure, but it isn’t as intense as a cockring would be. He likes it so much that he is biting his lower lip again, furrowing his brows. 

“How’s the pressure?”

“Good. Gentle.”

“That’s good. Let me know if it gets uncomfortable.”

“I will.” He squirms. “Please. Can you touch me?” 

“How can I refuse you when you’re so polite?” 

You close your hand around his adorned base and dance it up to his tip.

“Ah, Mommy”, Jungkook moans loudly, arching his back and throwing his head back. 

You watch his reaction with a tingling stomach, having to chuckle. Jungkook hears it, rolling his head to the front to look at you nervously. Your hand is around his tip, motionless and driving him insane.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks quietly.

“It’s just that I literally only put my hand around your cock and you’re already moaning so much. It’s adorable.”

“Mommy, don’t tease me please. I can’t help it”, he whines, pouting.

“Aw, I’m sorry Bunny. Here, let me make it up to you”, you say and finally pick up a rhythm.

“Woah”, Jungkook gasps, eyes widening and cock twitching between your fingers. Next he bites his lower lip - again - and mewls, furrowing his brows. Lastly, he arches his back and drops his head. His mouth opens, his high-pitched moans escape.

“So good. Such a good boy”, you rasp, hand moving around his cock in a constant rhythm. Slow and dragged out because you want him aware of every single movement. “You sound so sweet for me.”

“Feels….so….good….aaahmmm.”

“It does, Bunny. I love touching your cock. You’re so pretty and perfect.” 

He twitches each time you praise him, tip glistening between your fingertips and shaft pulsating needily. You want to be everywhere at the same time. It is so addicting to touch his cock.

“Oh god, it feels so good”, he croaks and throws his head back, dropping his tied up hands against your chest. He is clutching whatever small amount of fabric his constricted hands can grasp, moaning your nickname like it is all that he can do. 

“There we go, hold onto me. Good boy.”

“Please, seriously, please don’t stop”, he begs, legs tightened around your thighs.

“Mhm, you must feel so good right now”, you whisper mindlessly.

He nods his head vigorously, hips shaking on your lap. He moans just for you, delighting you even more. He does. He feels so good right now. So, so good. Nobody, not even himself, could touch him like you are able to.  

“Of course you do. It would be a shame if I just…” you trail off, removing your hand from his cock.

“No please”, he whines, rolling his head to the front. He gives you the most lethal puppy eyes, pouting. “Please, Mommy. I-I was a good boy.”

“Yeah, that’s true. You were.” 

“Please?” 

He is so adorable. Pink ribbons around his dainty wrists, his pretty hair a mess and drool covering his puffy lips. Your husband has never looked cuter before. You can’t say no to him. You just can’t.

“Put your arms behind my head.”

He obeys.

“Good boy, now let me taste your moans.”

Jungkook moans, leaning in to kiss you. He instantly uses tongue, moaning louder when you wrap your hand around his cock again to pump it. He throbs between your fingers, leaking all over them. 

You pick it up and use it to increase the speed of your touch. He was such a good boy tonight and you want to make him feel good. No more teasing, he is supposed to feel in heaven from now on. 

And you know that he does. He moans and whimpers, breaking the kiss every now and then when he needs to gasp for air or be a little louder. You talk sweet words to him whenever he has to, playing with his hair or rubbing circles into his neck. 

It isn’t long after that Jungkook can’t kiss you back anymore, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“Mommy please”, he sobs, convulsing on your lap. His entire weight is on you right now, also pressing on your chest because he is currently squeezing himself against you. 

His arms are restless, tensing and flexing as his shaky hands try to break free from their constraints. He could easily break free, but you ruined him enough that his muscles feel weak. 

“Do you like this?”

“Like it. Ah” he sobs, “ahmmmm Mommy…”

“My sweet Bunny. Lean into me, that’s good.”

“I have to…soon… please can I?”

“Yes, my baby, you can. Just let me do it for you. Make a mess for me, baby”, you encourage him, pumping his weeping tip. 

His veins are bulging by now, his base is stretching the ribbon. He is so restless on your lap that he constantly rubs his balls on you as well. It feels so good. Jungkook is entirely and utterly in your hands.

Quite literally. 

And it only takes him three mores strokes to make a total mess of them.

He squeaks, tenses up and then you feel it. Warm, messy cum shoots from his cock  covering your hand and parts of your bodies. He sobs your name when the shakes finally set in, holding you close as best as possible. 

“Good boy. Cum for me. Fuck, you’re such a good boy”, you talk him through it, keeping your touches focused on his tip because he is most sensitive there. 

Jungkook is able to handle nine pumps and then overstimulation sets in, instantly making him beg and whine. 

“Stop please. No more, please.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Thank you, Mommy. Thank you!” 

“There we go, good boy.” 

Now satisfied, you release him of his pleasurable hell. You keep the messy hand between his legs for now, hugging him with your other arm. 

And Jungkook falls into a trance of gratefulness, afterglow and adoration. He sighs and whimpers, gasps and sighs some more as his body recovers from the intense high.

“Thank you Mommy. I love you.” The two sentences repeat themselves, growing quieter and quieter the deeper he falls into the relaxing afterglow.

“You’re welcome, Bunny. I love you too”, you answer him every single time, feeling entirely content. Honestly, you could play with him for hours. Being with him like this, makes you so happy. 

It is Jungkook who breaks the cozy hug, running his eyes over your features. He is smiling with them, cheeks flushed and bangs sticking to his forehead. 

“I made a mess”, he confesses and snickers.

“You made a mess. A pretty big one actually. You really needed that orgasm, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I think I did. I feel so submissive tonight and so soft and then you dressed me up in the ribbons and praised me and yeah…” he grins goofily. “I love being your sub, Mommy.”

“And I love being your Domme, Bunnybaby.” 

“Can we do this again one day? Please? Oh, I feel so cozy right now”, he says and snuggles into you. “I don’t want to leave this space.”

“Of course we can do this again. Maybe I’ll tie you to something when we do.”

“Yes please. Please do this”, he sighs and melts into a total weak mess of limbs on your lap.

His heart is racing. You hold him close, snuggling your nose into the crook of his neck. He smells like a good orgasm and his floral shower gel. You love his scent. 

“My Bunny”, you whisper, melting into him as well.

Date day is going to be extra romantic tomorrow. After such a night, it will be difficult not to stick to him at all times.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah!  You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey. 

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this. 

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible. 

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”. 

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands. 

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.  

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance. 

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip. 

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold. 

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller. 

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car. 

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight. 

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists. 

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another. 

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something. 

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany. 

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms. 

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his. 

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again. 

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss. 

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands. 

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic. 

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way. 

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there. 

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle. 

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours. 

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him? 

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms. 

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.” 

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?” 

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.  

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.” 

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him. 

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right? 

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier. 

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you. 

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings. 

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now? 

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music. 

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers. 

I love you. 

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder. 

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him. 

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song. 

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart. 

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.  

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?” 

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.” 

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore. 

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller. 

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over. 

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it. 

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.” 

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage. 

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.  

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage. 

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar. 

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?” 

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage. 

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with. 

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar. 

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords. 

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place. 

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel. 

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games  No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see  Our future days  Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing. 

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women. 

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?” 

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.” 

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you. 

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints. 

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit. 

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once. 

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane. 

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him. 

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him. 

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties. 

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you. 

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him. 

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you. 

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady. 

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours. 

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are. 

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you. 

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?” 

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office. 

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused. 

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful. 

I love you. 

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side. 

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.” 

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright. 

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego. 

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet. 

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.” 

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?” 

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.” 

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him. 

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours. 

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy. 

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants. 

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric. 

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!” 

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.” 

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.” 

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently. 

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” 

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back. 

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

 The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says,  “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips. 

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”. 

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now. 

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does. 

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.” 

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers. 

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece. 

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen. 

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel. 

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat. 

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

  He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.” 

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling. 

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip. 

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you. 

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way. 

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl. 

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips. 

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk. 

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…” 

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating. 

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you. 

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.” 

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask. 

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.” 

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep. 

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed. 

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his. 

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany. 

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

Next Chapter

[sirenasmodeus]

national anthem

Harry Castillo x fem!reader

next

synopsis: You were a very busy woman, working as a full-time assistant for your best friend, Lucy, and as a part-time CEO for your father's security agency. Both your jobs brought you a wedding contract, coming highly recommended from the couple's close friend and their matchmaker. The night ends up going well for the bride and groom. And especially well for you.

a/n: This was actually an OC (whose name was Layla Ansari, for anyone curious. Layla because I got the idea for this on Laylatul Qadr) fic before I changed my mind after getting like 600 words in lol, and as such, the reader does have a last name and is Indian and coming from an Islamic upbringing even though the reader does not particularly care about religion anymore (can you tell I've become disillusioned with religion?). This is also my first ever published fic!!! I am so excited and so goddamn nervous, I really hope you enjoy it

thanks to: @myownwholewildworld for the Spanish translation, you really came in clutch and I'm forever grateful and @mushgloomz for checking over the smut to make sure it wasn't atrocious and made some modicum of sense, your encouragement really eased my nerves about it 🩵🩵

word count: 9.6k

content warnings: 18+ mdni, brief mentions of death and cheating, brief angst, smut, fluff, domesticity, oral (f!receiving), fingering, begging ??, reader is 28 years old, Harry is 50, reader is part-time assistant and ceo and the head of wedding security, reader is short (in relation to Harry's height but not by much really)

Lucy was at the peak of her career as a matchmaker and you, well, you had been discharged from the military after serving four years in active duty; you had been on the cusp of becoming a Lieutenant when your mother had died. Her sudden death had left your father sick with grief, barely capable of functioning, and so you had elected to serve the next four years in the Reserves to make it easier to take care of him.

It was in those years that you had rekindled your friendship with Lucy, your deployments made keeping the friendship alive a bit difficult, who was making headway in her own career. Lucy had begun to become more busy and as such had needed an assistant to handle the more menial tasks. Lucy and you had been having dinner one night when she had brought it up after complaining about her boyfriend, John. You had always liked being helpful, so you offered to be her assistant until she had a chance to find someone more permanent.

You did the work without payment, not needing the abysmal pay, mostly because your father's private security company had been getting high-end clients from the year before the passing of your mother. You took over most of the operations, mostly replacing your father as CEO. You were glad that most of the duties you had taken over were capable of being run remotely.

Lucy, however, had grown lax in trying to find a permanent primary assistant having become comfortable with your help, who better to assist than a life-long friend.

Now, it's been four years since you became her assistant, and everything was on the up and up for the both of you. "Did you get confirmation from Wesley and Hannah for their meeting?" Lucy asked as she typed away at her phone.

You placed a to-go cup of Lucy's coffee order on her desk. "Yep," She replied. "Hannah was a bit nervous about it though. She said she wasn't sure if she wanted a guy named Wesley."

Lucy had reached over to grab the cup, her eyes never leaving her phone screen. "She'll still show, though, right?" She questioned absentmindedly.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I talked her through her nerves," you assure her. "Apparently, she went shopping for a new outfit to really impress him."

"That's nice," Lucy replied.

You pressed my lips together in a thin line, shaking your head. You plopped down onto the sofa she had in her office with a tired sigh. "I've been thinking," you start tentatively. "Since I'm turning 28, I might cut back on the hours I work with you."

Lucy's head snapped up, eyes wide in shock. "But why?" She pressed. "We work so well together. I'd probably lose my mind if it weren't for you."

"My dad's thinking of 6 he wants me to take over his position," you explain. "I'll still help you out, obviously. I'm not gonna disappear off the face of the earth." You add with a chuckle.

Lucy remained silent for a moment as she took a sip of her coffee before setting it back down and rising from her chair. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she made her way over to the sofa to sit beside you. "Okay," she said with an accepting nod.

"Okay?" You question slowly.

"Yeah, you can do so much more than just be an assistant," She said, taking my hand into hers. "This will be great for you. And maybe now since you'll be less busy enough for me to set you up with someone."

You shake your head as you smile at her persistence to try to work her matchmaking magic on you. "Sure," you said. "If you can find me someone obscenely rich and handsome."

"Pretty smile, kind eyes and romantic?" She continued with a smile and a raised brow.

"Exactly," you confirm. "You find a man like that, and I might consider going on a date."

In all honesty, you had already met the man of your dreams— unattainable, yes, but a girl can dream. He was sweet, at least that's the overall vibe you got from him on the few occasions that interacting was necessary. You swore his smile could light up a whole room. His warm brown eyes were light and welcoming, pulling you into his spell. Just thinking about him had your face heating up.

But he was strictly off limits. No if's, and's or but's about it. He was a client and almost old enough to be your father. The latter wasn't really all that much of an issue. You've had flings during deployments, with men pushing sixty. The former, however, would certainly be an issue. He was a big client for your father's company; he was always reaching out for security for galas and company parties, he was satisfied with the work and so you really did not want to fuck it all up because you couldn't let a fantasy stay a fantasy.

"I'm going to find you the most perfect man ever in all of New York," Lucy vowed, that determined look in her eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh at her eagerness. It was sweet, certainly, but you couldn't help but feel off. It just didn't feel right. Lucy has tried several times throughout the years to set you up. None were successful, as indicated by your lack of a wedding ring.

As cliché as it sounded, you loved love. Growing up, you would play house with the dolls your parents bought you whenever you all went shopping. All you had to do was point and ask, and they would get it. You never wanted for anything, at least not really. You had the love of both your parents, their unwavering support, a good education, a good home, great vacations, and birthday parties.

The only thing you didn't have was the someone to love you like your parents loved each other.

Maybe it was about time you really took dating seriously. Maybe it was about time you found someone you could settle down with if only to ease your father's worry for you.

"Thank you for considering Ansari Security," I said to the beaming couple sitting opposite my father's mahogany desk. "We're so glad you considered us for your big day."

"Well, you do come highly recommended," the bride says cheerfully, holding onto her fiancé's hand. "Our matchmaker, she pointed us in your direction. His friend as well."

You give them an appreciative smile and mentally make a note to thank Lucy. It is then that you begin detailing the measures you will take to protect their wedding from anything and everything. It takes all of forty-five minutes to go over everything, a record amount of time.

You escorted them out of the building after they signed the necessary paperwork, smiling and once again thanking them for the trust they have put in us. Soon after, you texted Lucy to thank her for pointing the couple to your father's company and inviting her out for dinner this Friday to the new restaurant that opened last week.

It was a really fancy sort of place, open concept with postmodern lighting fixtures and a dark colour palette with exotic foods from all over the world made by artisanal chefs with an excellent wine list, which you couldn’t drink. Normally you wouldn't have bothered with such a thing, making a reservation at some over-priced pseudo-classy place, having always preferred homemade food when you were growing up and then practical and quick nutritional meals when you were in service, and you still did.

The only time you didn't eat a quick meal was when you found yourself missing your mother. She had left you pretty much everything of hers; most of her clothes, her wedding dress, all of her jewellery and books— her recipe book that was passed down to her by her own mother.

It was a great regret of yours for not being there when she passed, unable to perform her ghusl mayyit. Unable to be there for anything, all because you wanted to rebel and join the military, to be just like your parents, to continue that ultimately meaningless legacy.

You drove home that night, mind and heart heavy from remembering your mother, your guilt, your envy. In moments like these, you felt as if you couldn't do anything right, as if no matter the choices you make, you're doomed to make a mess of things.

You drop your apartment and car keys into the crystal bowl as you enter your apartment, toeing off your kitten heels. A heavy sigh leaves you as you drop your handbag on your coffee table, grabbing the TV remote and putting on the news as you head to the kitchen to prepare some yellow potato curry.

"Fortune 500 CEO, Harry Castillo, have released a statement in regards to the rumors circulating the business world about his acquisition plans for Reed and Vine, a publishing house that has seen—," the news anchors voice droning on as you chop your potatoes, onions, green chillies— only because you were in the mood for a bit of spice.

After chopping everything you needed, you toss the cumin seeds with the onions, green chillies, and turmeric into the sunflower oil and let it until the onions are translucent. While you wait, you open a can of your favourite soft drink as you lean on your kitchen counter, lazily listening to the news— more horrible things happening in the States and abroad.

With a shake of your head, you add in your potatoes and water, letting it simmer until the potatoes are cooked, stirring it every so often. You check in your fridge for dhania and retrieve your jar of carrot pickle for when your curry is done.

"Be sure to wear plenty of sunscreen and stay hydrated as the week starts to heat up," the weatherman says cheerfully. You grab the remote to switch the channel now that the news and weather have concluded. You didn't know why you watched the news and weather forecast on your TV when you could easily do so on your phone, but you supposed your parent's habits rubbed off on you.

With the food done you pile a good portion of it onto your favourite white and blue floral plate, pouring yourself a glass of water before you make your way to your living room to sit on your plush pink sofa while you watch an episode of 'House M.D' as you eat.

You did some tidying up before you hopped into the shower. You turned on the hot water, letting it scald your skin before you soaped up your body and loofah before you scrubbed away the day. The vanilla and honey scent wafted through your shower and bathroom. You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly as your eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

After a good twenty-five minutes, you stepped out, towelled yourself off dressing in your favourite champagne coloured silk nightdress with branches blooming from your waist and across your torso. Normally, on such a blistering hot night, you would've just thrown on one of your many linen pyjamas, but you felt tonight deserved something more... sexy, despite your previously dour mood.

Before hopping into your queen sized bed, you made sure to turn on your ceiling fan to mitigate the midnight heat that was sure to descend upon the city. You sighed as you lay on your back for a moment, contemplating if you should read a chapter or two from 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Dantés had just just been arrested at his on engagement party for heaven's sake, you should continue reading but you weren't certain that your eyes wouldn't droop and you wouldn't fall asleep on your book— you always hated damaging any books, purposefully or not.

You were relieved when the hotel manager allowed you to gallivant up and down its halls to get a feel for the layout, all the possible entry and exit points, the in house security. Everything was fine, up to code. With the clientele that the hotel saw their security was top-notch, designed to put the minds of societies elite at ease.

But you liked going the extra mile, so you had brought it a few more of your own personnel than you had initially intended to. Your guys with pair up with the hotel's guards, much stricter protocols put in place as well. When you did a job, you made sure to do it right— half-assing things wasn't in your nature.

The day of the wedding had arrived sooner than you had liked, just three weeks after your meeting with the happy couple. It was sweet, how eager they were— their faces constantly pulled taut from the smiling.

"Did all the guests arrive?" You question Anton, whom you had placed in charge of checking the arrivals.

"A few missing, likely just stragglers," he replies, his voice gruff from decades of smoking. "No wedding crashers yet."

You nod, patting his back. "Let me know if you need to get off your feet," you remind him before walking away to check with the rest of your staff.

Guests milled about, chattering about anything and everything, taking pictures of the decor and themselves as they sipped their alcohol of choice. Your eyes scanned over the crowd as you moved from one guard to the next. Lucy catching your eye in her blue dress, giving you a thumbs up and a smile. You return the smile with a wave before she's pulled into a conversation with one of the guests just as you bump into someone.

"I'm so sorry," you hurriedly say, instinctively grabbing onto them to steady yourself. "I should've watched where I was going."

Large hands grip you forearm and waist, firm and yet somehow gentle. You glance up at him, your eyes widening in just a fraction. "Mister Castillo," you breathe out, surprised. You knew he was good friend of the groom, that he was on the guest list and yet somehow it felt crazy to see him here in his suit with a calla lily pinned to his lapel.

"Miss Ansari," he drawls in a teasing tone, his lips pulled up in a smile as his eyes shined down at you.

"Sorry," you apologise once more, not really sure you were capable of saying anything more with him close looking so… striking.

"Nothing to apologise for," he dismisses. "How are you?" He asked, his voice dipping into that dizzying baritone register.

Your voice gets trapped in your throat, as you inhaled sharply your lips parted trying your best to get any words out. A second then two passed, feeling more like an infinity, before you pressed your lips closed as you blinked up at him before you nodded.

He raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging a corner of his lips. It's just then that you come back into your mind, regaining some sense as you feel his thumb idly brushing back and forth on the curve of your waist. "I'm fine," you say breathlessly.

"Yeah?" He questioned softly.

You nod, your head tilting as you stare up at him. It was stupid— you were stupid. You shouldn’t be falling quiet every other moment when speaking to him. You shouldn’t be all doe-eyed and breathless as if you were still a teenager with their first full-fledged crush. But here you were. Doing exactly that. Like a fool.

It wasn't your fault that he was attractive with his deep brown soulful eyes, his soft salt and pepper curls, his broad stature, his voice— his everything. It was impossible not to dissolve into a pining, lovesick idiot.

You take a step back, his hands leaving your waist and forearm. Your skin smoldering, aching. Even beneath the fabric of your dress shirt, you skin felt as if it was on fire, setting your nerve-ending on edge.

"And you?" You whisper, despite yourself. "Are you…okay?"

Harry— Mister Castillo, you force yourself to remember. You could not be on a first name basis with him, knowing you would rationalise it by considering him a friend and then read too much into everything— tilts his head just a fraction, his brows furrowing. A soft, thoughtful hum left him before he righted himself. "I'm doing wonderful," he answers, using your given name sending your heart racing.

You had never felt one way or the other about your name. It was just your name, a simple gift given to you by your parents showing their adoration to you. You've heard your name countless times, seen it written just as many. But there was something in the way he said it, a whisper of devotion. Of hunger.

"That's great," you say, the epitome of awkward.

"How's your father?" He inquires, one hand slipping into his trousers pockets as the other fiddles with the button on his jacket.

"He's doing good," you reply. "He's more active nowadays."

The conversation goes on for a few minutes; though it's mostly idle chatter, Harry listens intently as he guides you over to the open bar ordering a whiskey for himself and cranberry juice for you, which you take with soft thanks.

It blew your mind how easy it was to talk to him, it was one of the easiest conversations you've had with another person in a long time. You didn't have to think, didn't have to pretend to be easy-going and fun. You didn't have to pick and choose your words or soften your voice and past.

Despite being in a room full of people, you were at ease. Your mind wasn't racing to solve what-if's, over-analyzing every single blink and twitch. Your mind was at ease and you wondered why. Why with him? What was so special or different about that put you at ease? Why was it that the one person you shouldn’t want made you feel so tranquil?

Why, why why?

One thing you didn't expect was for him to be such a melancholic drunk. Well, tipsy, but the point still stood. After you had been pulled away from him to do your job, you had spotted him sitting on his own in the farthest corner of the room sipping listlessly on his whiskey as music blared and people laughed and danced.

You were being brainless as you hurried through your check-ins, desperate to speak to him again knowing after tonight you wouldn't see much of him for a long time. So, in your infatuated state you had excused yourself and beelined to him. You were nearly to him when—

"John's here," Lucy whisper yelled, gripping your upper arm. Your laser focused eyes left his form and settled on her with a sigh.

"I know," you say plainly, there wasn't anything else you could say and you weren't about to act surprised.

"You know?" She questioned, her lips pulled down in a frown.

"Yeah, I had to vet everyone," you shrug.

Lucy linked her arm with yours, all but dragging you to the open bar, settling onto on one of the stools while you remained standing. You're farther away from him now and throughly annoyed. "A rum and coke for me and a," she said to the bartender before turning to me. "What sort of cocktail do you want?"

You grimaced at her question, which served only to aggravate you further. "Just a cranberry juice," you tell the bartender with a forced smile.

"Right," she shakes her head, seeming to remember you don't drink. "Anyways, why didn't you tell me he would be here?"

"Because, I didn't think it would matter," you say with a sigh as you take your juice, give the bartender a nod of thanks. "I figured he would have enough sense to not bother you. Seems like I was wrong."

You take a deep sip, unbuttoning your suit jacket as you lean on the bar counter. You tuck the few strands of her that escaped you plait behind your ear, glancing across the room for a glimpse of Harry who was now in a conversation with one of the groomsmen who was gesticulating wildly as he spoke.

"A heads up would have been nice," Lucy reasoned.

"You're right, I should have told you," you acquiesced, not wanting this to become an issue and then an argument.

"He looked good though," she said as she sipped her rum and coke, a thoughtful looked in her eyes.

"No," you say immediately.

"What?" She chuckled. "I was just making an observation."

"You weren't," you say sternly. "You said you were done with him. You can't entertain this musing. You're gonna get hurt. Again."

"I'm not," she insists. " I just… it was just nice seeming him again. He looked like he got it together. Mostly, at least."

You level her with a knowing look. This happened just about every year like clockwork since university. They get together, have a wonderful few months before they both start seeing cracks and every tiny issue begin to pile up and then they're arguing day in and day out before they call it quits. That is, until they cross paths again.

It was a cosmic pain in your ass.

And you did not want to be consoling her, yet again, after the fallout. After you've told her it was a monumentally bad idea. You loved her, of course you did, she was your friend. But you've had enough with Lucy and John's childish on-again off-again whatever-the-hell-ship.

"Lucy," you begin, hoping your voice carried the same seriousness you felt. "If you pursue things again with John, I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces again."

You hated having to say that, having to draw the line, but it needed to be done. There needed to be some consequence, no matter how farcical it seemed.

"I know," she said, heaving a sigh. "I'm not going to pursue things with him again. I learnt my lesson last time."

You didn't believe her, not one bit, but you nodded in acceptance anyway because there wasn’t much else you could do. Lucy downed the rest of her rum and coke before taking her leave, claiming to want to get in early.

After you watched her leave you turned back to the bartender ordering a whiskey neat and water. Nervousness bubbled up in you as you gripped both glasses making your way to the table he sat at, alone once again.

"Hi," you say softly, placing the whiskey it front of him. "You looked like you could use another drink."

He looked up at you, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He takes the glass, tilting it in a toast before taking a sip. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk," he quips.

"I can't take credit for that," you say as you pull out the chair opposite him and sitting down, crossing one leg over the other and resting an arm on the table, your finger tracing idle patterns onto the table cloth. "You were doing so good on your own."

He laughed at that, you were certain it was most likely because his whiskey-addled mind found just about anything amusing. It was a pretty sound, nevertheless. Low and rumbling, sending a shiver down your spine and setting your cheeks ablaze.

Harry's perfectly slicked back hair was now a mess, soft curls falling over his forehead. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back but the graying curls have a mind of their own. You down the rest of your water, your mouth feeling too dry, too empty.

You let out an unsteady breath as you glance down at his hand gripping his glass, his finger tapping absentmindedly against it, and you couldn't help your straying thoughts; curious what his hands would feel like holding your wrists together, pressing down between your shoulders, or what his fingers would feel like digging into your hips, maybe even around your throat. You wonder if he would be rough, taking whatever he pleased with little regard for you.

"Why are you here?" He asks, his voice pulling you back to reality.

You clear your throat, sitting just a little straighter. "What do you mean?" Your brows furrowing in confusion.

"I mean, why are you here talking to me?" He elaborates. "The wedding's over. Most of the guests have left, so has your friend. And yet you're here with me. Why?"

A second, then two, passes before you answer him in the only way you know you can. "I don't know," you lie with a nonchalant shrug.

His eyes narrows as he stares at you intently, much longer than what would be considered polite. His gaze flickers across your face, examing every little detail— committing it to memory. He sighs muttering something in Spanish that you don't understand but you do your best to remember the few words you catch.

Ubícate, es demasiado joven para ti.

Harry downs the last bit of his whiskey, reaching to take your glass from you as well before rising from his seat. He inclines his head to the bar, silently asking you to follow him. He places the glasses in the counter, a bill under it, thanking the bartender before turning back to you.

"Come on, I'll walk out with you," he says, his hand carding through his hair once again.

"You don't need to do that," you protest.

"It's dark out," he shrugs. "At least let me do this one thing."

You bit your lip in a moment of hesitation before your nod, letting him lead you out of the hotel. You dig out your ticket for the valet who takes it from you, retrieving your keys to bring out your car.

Harry waits with you, his hands tucked away in his pockets. He looks up at the night sky, the new moon peeking out from behind the clouds. He remained quiet, almost reticent, as he looked on, eyeing everything in your vicinity except you.

Just as you turn to question him your car pulls up, the valet getting out and handing you the keys as you give a twenty dollar bill. You walk to your car, pausing before you get in. You turn around, your breath getting tucked out of you as you find him staring at you.

His heated gaze dragging across your face, from your eyes down your nose before getting stuck on your lips. His eyes fixates on your lips, it's cupid bow and it's plumpness. You compulsively lick your lips, your tongue darting out no more than a second and an almost pained looked flashed through his eyes before he drags them back up to your eyes.

"Do you-" you start, taking in a sharp breath as a shiver racks through your body. "Do you need a ride home?"

Say yes. Please, say yes. Your mind begged silently and stupidly. But despite your rationalisation you hoped he would say yes. You wanted to see what would happen if he did, to satisfy your endless curiosity and need to know all possible outcomes if nothing else.

Your fingers curled over the top of the driver's side door, willing your desired response from him into existence.

His lips parted to something before he pressed them together again and nodded. "Yeah," he replied after a moment. "Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks."

You smile at his answer, relief and a sense of victory flooding you. You jerk your head to car, telling him to get in.

The drive to his apartment was a silent one except for the radio you turned on half way through, your radio connecting to your Bluetooth and you played your most recent playlist. You left the volume low as Harry gave you the directions to his apartment.

It wasn't all that out of the way, ten minutes from the hotel and fifteen minutes from yours you realised as you pulled up to his apartment complex. A tired steel and glass skyscraper marring the navy sky. Harry lingered in the passenger seat as you awkwardly tapped on the steering wheel.

"Do you want to come up?" He asked, his voice soft.

"Sure," you reply impulsively, wanting to do something stupid. You drive into the building's underground parking, turning off your car and joining him as you both walk to the elevator.

The elevator ride up was much like the drive there, silent and tense. It was clear to you that he didn't know what he was doing, but you couldn't truly claim to know either. The elevator dinged, opeening up into a hallway made up of dark wood and protuding light fixtures.

He dug into the inner pocket of his jacket, retrieving his keys, swiftly unlocking the door allowing you through first. As he entered behind you he flicked the light switch on, revealing the expanse of his place. You looked around, taking it all in.

The minimalist appearance of it all wasn't something you would have expected from him, though you didn't really know what to expect. It felt too clinical in a way, too cold for someone so warm. It didn't feel right for someone as old as him to have such a bare residence.

"Nice place," you comment lightly, standing in the middle of his living room.

"Thanks," he says, gesturing to you to follow him. "Can I get anything? Water, coffee, tea?"

"No, I'm good," you reply, leaning against the kitchen counter watching him put on the kettle before grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge.

"Can I make you something to eat?" He asks next, retrieving a mug and all the things he would need for tea. "You're probably starving."

You raise an eyebrow at that, almost amused. "Why would I be starving?" You ask with a smile.

"You didn't eat anything at the wedding," he explained, his eyes not meeting yours. "Figured you would be hungry."

"I had some canapés," you shrug.

He paused at that, a spoonful of sugar frozen hovering over his mug as he looked at you. He dropped the spoon into the mug before he spoke, "That hardly seems enough."

"I ate before work," you wave it off, unbothered.

"Right," he said slowly before turning back to his fridge and rummaging through it. "I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich."

"You don't have to," you say quickly, not wanting to be a bother but you found his offer sweet nonetheless.

As he was grabbing the cheeses and biutter from the fridge, the kettle began to whistle on the stove. You moved around the counter to it, grabbing a dish towel to remove the kettle, pouring the boiling water into his mug. You placed the kettle on the cold stove plate before mixing his tea for him. Harry placed the carton of milk next to you as he moved about to prepare the grilled cheese.

"How much milk do you take?" You asked, unscrewing the cap.

"Just don't let it spill over," he replied. "Is sliced cheese okay for you?"

You scrunched your nose at that but elected to not comment on how much milk he took with his tea. "No sliced cheese," you say, mixing the milk in before putting it away. "Tea's ready."

You watched as he placed the first sandwich on the frying pan. He had removed his jacket and bowtie while your back was turned, throwing it on one of the chairs in his kitchen. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, his lips pouting just a bit as he arranged the cheese on the second sandwich. You couldn't help the little giggle that escaped you.

You had never seen someone look so serious over a grilled cheese before. It was just as cute as it was amusing. You grabbed his tea and walked over to where he stood, half hunched over, and presented the mug to him. "Drink your tea before it gets cold," you said firmly.

"Right," he blinked as he corrected his posture before taking the mug from you, taking a healthy sip. "Sorry."

You smiled up at him. "I'll finish this up," you say as you take over finishing up the second sandwich before flipping the first one to toast the other side. Harry's hand had reached out to tuck your hair that had come loose, yet again, behind your ear.

You freeze at the gesture, not having expected it. The action was so tender that you brain misfired, short circuiting itself for a bit longer than a singular moment. It was a soft, fleeting thing that felt all to familiar, a wave of nostalgia hitting you rather unexpectedly.

Your parents were just like this, seemlessly moving about the kitchen as you sat at the counter, your feet swinging from the chair that was too high for you as a kid. Your father would do all the prep work for all the meals when he was at home, never letting your mother touch a single utensil that he deemed too dangerous. Your mother promptly hitting him upside the head before taking over some of the work.

Harry gently moved you aside and took over. He removed the first sandwich cutting it in half and handing the plate to you before toasting the second one. You sat at the end of the counter, eating in silence mostly because you didn't know what to say to fill the silence.

You were half way through your first slice when he reached into one of the upper cabinets to retrieve a glass. "Do you want water or some strawberry juice?" He asked.

"Water's fine," you reply, your voice softer than you intended. In fact, you had not intended it to sound soft at all. You mentally cursed yourself for sounding almost airy. You needed to act normal but that seemed to be such a far away concept to you then, nothing about this situation was normal; you sitting in his kitchen eating a grilled cheese sandwich at past eleven in the night no less was not normal, you fantasing about him before driving him home was not normal, this almost wistful domesticity was not normal.

He got you the glass of water before removing his own sandwich and joing you at the counter. "This is crazy," you mumbled to yourself.

"Why?" He asked, biting into his grilled cheese.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, chewing languidly as you thought up a response. "You're a client," you say, your voice rising in uncertainty as if you didn't believe the words you said. "It's not standard practice to be eating at your place so late in the night."

"You could consider it a business dinner," he shrugged, entirely unbothered by the situation.

"Speaking of business," you started, swiftly changing the topic. "I heard you acquired a publishing house."

"I did," he said plainly, rolling his shoulder back in discomfort.

"Why?" You take a sip of water, waiting for his answer patiently.

"They weren't doing so well so I bought them out," he say quietly, finishing off his sandwich.

You hummed in acknowledgement, accepting his answer. You both promptly fell back into silence, though this time around it wasn't nearly as awkward bordering on stifling.

Harry had taken your plate and glass along with his and deposited it in the sink, turning on the tap and began washing the dishes even though he had a dish washer. You joined him by the sink, a dish towel in hand ready to wipe down the dishes. He handed them to you without protest.

Once you both were done, you and Harry stood there, the silence stretched on. Now though, you couldn't stand it. It was too quiet, too still, reminding you of the times you had to lie in wait for your targets.

Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips, in contemplation. Weighing the risks of a rash decision, would whatever choice you make right then irreparably damage your working relationship with 'Mister Castillo' should you pursue a hare-brained moment of lust with 'Harry'? And that was if he was not only okay with this but wanted it just as much as you did.

You took in a fortifying breath before you spoke, hoping that you didn't monstrously fuck this up. "I really want to kiss you," you say, boldly, instantly wanting to run away from this if only to escape the embarrassment of what you had said.

His eye's widened a fraction, lips parting in shock as he took an unconscious step fback. He didn't reach for you, didn't say anything either for the longest time. And you weren't a fool, you knew when you were being rejected. You nod once in acceptance, taking a step then two back. "Right, well, I'm going to go," you say quietly, your voice small. "Thanks for the grilled cheese."

You turn away, making your way out of the kitchen. You were disappointed but not surprised, most everything you saw tonight was unexpected but his silent rejection made sense. Everything you knew about him from the fleeting moments you ran into him at your father's office over the past four years told you that he wasn't the sort to seek out women significantly younger than him.

When your father returned home from the few times he had joined Harry on an actual business dinner he told you about how the pretty young waitresses had blushed and paid extra attention to him. You didn't entirely believe your father, he was prone to exaggeration, but there had to be some truth to it and so when your father told you how he always politely turned those women down. A small part of you was glad at the time that he was an upstanding man who seemingly didn't use his wealth and prominence to be a creep, it settled a part of you that desperate to believe that there were still good people— good men— in higher up positions. Though now you were a bit saddened by it.

You were half out of the living room when a hand grabbed your's, bringing you to a stop. You turn, confusion creasing the space between your brows as you stare up at him. He stepped in closer, your hand encapsulated in the warmth of his. His face contorted into something between pain and lust.

"You know we shouldn't," he whispered with a shake of his head.

"I know," you whispered back, not having the strength to speak any louder.

"We can't," he replied, insistent while desperation undercut his words. You weren't entirely sure who he was trying to convince, you or himself because regardless, his body drifted closer to you.

You stood toe to toe, your neck craning back ever so slightly to meet his eyes. You were trapped in this moment with him until he made a decision. His eyes flickered between yours before settling on your lips, his own parted, his head inching closer before stopping. You willed him to make a decision, there were limits to your patience and it was beginning to wear thin. If he didn't decide then you would.

Your lifted your free hand to cup his face, the scruff from his patchy beard tickling your palm, you were about to lean in when he let out breath than sat the fence between a sigh and a moan as his eyes fluttered closed. The only sign of any inner turmoil was the deep furrow of his brows.

"I'm going to kiss you," you say, giving him a moment to pull away if he truly did not want this. You leaned in, your breath brushing his lips, another opportunity for him to pull away. You glanced at his closed eyes, admiring his face, committing this moment to memory before you captured his lips in yours.

A pleased hum escaping you as you slowly kiss him, your thumb stroking his cheek before your hand trailed down his jaw and neck. Your nails dragging gently across his sensitive skin eliciting a suplicating hum from him. You smile against his lips as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in impossibly close.

You pulled your hand from his to guide his hand to join his other around your waist. Now with your other hand free, you card your fingers through his soft salt and pepper hair, tugging gently as you nipped at his bottom lip.

His grip tightened around you as he groan. Pressed so close to him you couldn't help but feel him hardening in trousers.

Just a kiss.

A slow a gentle kiss was all it took to get him hard. You weren't expecting him to sprout an erection, you were content with just a kiss but now you could hardly walk away. It would plague your mind for days, if not weeks, as you toss and turned in bed wanting nothing more than to have his cock.

When you pulled back, desperate for air, Harry whined following after your lips. He was the needy sort, you realised. "We shouldn't," you repeat his words with a smirk, your hand running down his arm.

"Fuck," he cursed, closing his eyes tightly. He loosened his grip on you, shaking his head as took a step back. "I shouldn't have done that."

You tilt your head, observing him and the guilt that was marring his beautiful face. "I kissed you," you remind him firmly, taking a step towards him. "Because I wanted to."

He shook his head, guilt-ridden and in denial. His hands making a mess of his hair. "I should've stopped you," he reasoned. "You're half my age. You're technically my employee. I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry."

You roll your eyes, letting out a deep sigh. "I'm not your employee, I'm a contractor," he point out. "Whatever working relationship we have ends the moment a contract is fulfilled. And just because I'm half your age doesn't mean I'm somehow too stupid to realise how fucked this is. If you don't want to kiss me or fuck me, you're going to have to say that."

It was a miracle that you hadn't yelled, knowing that would've likely made you seem petulant. He said nothing in return, just stared down at his hands looking throughly berated. You couldn't help your crooked smile, enjoying how he looked repentant. You step closer to him, getting in his line of sight, covering his hands with yours. "If you really don't want this, then I'll go," you say softly. "And we can forget this ever happened."

His hands left yours, settling on your hips as he whispered, "Don't go."

You were relieved, to say the least. You didn't want to go, didn't want to forget the kiss or the collage of moments leading up to it. "You won't regret this?" You question him softly.

A shake of his head was all you needed before you leaned in once more, kissing him soundly and fiercely. He was going to regret it come morning, it was a simple fact, he was too tender-hearted not to. And so, you resolved to make this good for him, hoping the memory of pleasure would override his guilty conscious.

"Bedroom," you instruct him between kisses. He pulled away from the kiss, taken your hand in his, leading you to his bedroom that was just as minimalistic as the rest of his apartment. His lack of knick-knacks had your brows furrowing, his place seeming more like a showroom than an actual home.

You guide him to down on the edge of the bed, moving to stand between his legs. Your kisses turn gentle once more as his hands tentatively curve around your thighs. You let out a pleased hum, pushing his hair back, peppering his face with kisses.

"I'm going to take my shirt off, don't panic," you whisper with a chuckle. You undo your tie, pulling it out from under your collar and tossing it aside. His eyes flickered from yours to your hands as you unbutton you lazily unbutton your shirt.

"Now you," you say, as you push your dress shirt off your shoulders, standing in front of him in just your bra and trousers. He does as told, eyes fixated on your tit's and the lace edge of your bra.

He hurriedly took off his shirt, chucking it away from him. His hands where back on you in an instant, caressing your waist as he pulled back in for a kiss. It was desperate, forsaking his need for air as begged for entrance.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you parted your lips granting him the entrance he wanted, a grateful moan leaving him as his tongue tangled with yours. He was gentle in his exploration of your mouth. You played with the ends of his hair at his nape.

He pulled away suddenly, taking in deep breaths as he stared at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you down and turning you over so that you were lying on your back in his bed. A surprised yelp escaping you.

Without a word, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses there. You held his head there as he nipped at the spot just below your ear, earning him a gasping moan as your eyes fluttered shut. He did it again, a bit harder this time. A shudder wracked through you as you dragged his tongue over it to soothe the pain.

Your breath grew unsteady as he lavished your neck with kisses and little nips, trailing down to your collarbone giving it the same attention. He slid his arm beneath your body, tracing the edge of bra, silently asking permission to take it off. You lifted your body up a few inches, making it easier for him to unhook the black fabric.

His hands pulling the straps from your shoulder as he sought out your lips. As soon as he divested you if your bra his hands covered them, fondling them for a moment before his thumb and index finger pinched your nipples.

"Fuck," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut, tossing your head back.

He kissed his way down your throat, squeezing your tit's before lips met the swell of them. He wasted no time in taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. It didn't do much for you, having never had sensitive nipples but his wet tongue laving at it felt pleasant enough that you didn't stop him.

As he lost himself in your tit's, you felt his erection pressing into your hip, twitching in the confines of his trousers. You drag your fingers through his hair, gripping it and pulling him off. He resisted, a low growl escaping him.

"Your pants, take it off," you say, your voice breathy, pushing him off you as you unbutton and push yours off as well, only your panty still on.

In that moment, you regret not having worn your fancier undergarments but the feeling quickly leaves as Harry crawled back to you, with every inch of skin bared for you, settling between your legs. Your eyes travel down the length of his body, your cheeks heating up as it catches the trail of hair leading to his rather sizable cock. At least in comparison to the ones you've had before.

You but your lip in anticipation. Harry runs his hands up your calf, stopping at the bend of your knees to pull you a bit closer. You gasp in pleasant surprise, glad to see his inhibitions about this leaving him as confidence filled him. You sigh as he presses a kiss to the side of your knee, his eyes never one leaving yours.

You reach above you, searching blindly for a pillow to support you lower back as ravished your thigh with reverent kisses as his other hand ran up and on your other leg leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

As he neared your apex of your thigh, he paused, glancing up at you with hooded eyes, resting his head at your hip. His fingers toyed with the edge of your panty, his touch was light, a whisper in the dimness of his bedroom.

You caressed his cheek, a content sigh leaving you as you see how serene he looked. You bit your lip as a familiar heat ignited between your thighs, the feeling of a bead of wetness dripping out of you. "Harry," you began, voice soft— idyllic— as you moved your hand to cup his jaw. "Do you plan on fucking me tonight or not?" You asked with a raised brow, unbothered if you you sounded a bit too forward or harsh, you just wanted to get fucked.

It had been too long since you had gotten your pussy ate out, almost a year now if you remembered right. And it had been months since you last had sex with anyone, too tired to hook up with some guy off a dating app.

With renewed vigour, Harry hooked his arms under your thighs, burying his face in your core. His tongue darting out, dragging over your clothed heat. You exhaled in relief, glad for the stimulation; if he had denied you this you would have fingered yourself right then just for the sake of being petulant.

You gave him an approving hum, your hand in his hair keeping him there. "I'm not made of glass," you comment. "No need to be so gentle."

He pulled his head away, much to your frustration, a questioning look in his dark brown eyes. "You sure?" He voiced.

"Yes, goddammit," you say. "I don't want gentle."

He nodded once in acceptance, promptly burying his head back between your thighs, pulling your panties to the side wasting no time in licking a long strip up your slit stopping at your clit, sucking at it gently.

You shudder at the feeling, closing your eyes to let everything that wasn't him fade out of existence. You distantly heard the hum of the fridge, the ticking of a clock, the late night wind howling outside. You heard him hum against your pussy as he reached over your thigh, his thumb rubbing your clit slow circles as his tongue dipped between your lips.

He pace quickly grew relentless, unforgiving, as you tugged at his hair as the vibrations from his moans had you squirming. You whimper at the sudden intrusion of his fingers, you hadn't even noticed him removing his other from your thigh.

Your pussy had to stretch to accommodate just two of his fingers, the thought of what his cock would feel like left you feeling dizzy. Your hips rolled to meet the thrusts of his fingers, one hand keeping a firm grip in his hair— if you weren't so desperate to come you would feel bad for the headache you were giving him.

A chorus of moans and whimpers left you as his fingers hit the spongy little spot in your pussy with a steady rhythm, his mouth never once leaving your clit. "Harry," you moan, breathless as you tensed up feeling the familiar coil of your impending orgasm. "Don't stop." You command.

He hummed in acknowledgement, keeping the same pace as you tossed a leg over his shoulder, your calf holding his head in place leaving no chance for him to pull back.

His thrusts became shorter, more insistent. Just as your moans became more whiny, desperate for a release. "Please," you beg. "Please, baby, I'm so close."

The wet squelch of your pussy was deafening as you begged for your orgasm, wanting— needing— it more than anything else in that moment. You could feel the slow drip of sweat down your spine, the mix of his spit and your juice on your skin.

You shut eyes, mindlessly rolling your hips in tone with his thrusts. You were so close you wanted to cry, the coil pulled so taut that it was bound it snap any minute.

A groan escape you as your body shook with a mind melting orgasm. Every muscle in your body feeling too tight and loose at the same time. You whimpered as you felt Harry slowly pull his fingers out, dragging his tongue over your quivering slit as his thumb stroked your clit slowly, working you through the after shocks of your orgasm as you whined, too sensitive for even the barest of touches.

You removed your leg from over his shoulder, tiredly tugging him up by his hair. He stopped intermittently to pepper kisses up your body, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. When he was face to face with you, you cradle his face in both hands as you fought to catch your breath. You look at him, eyes half lidded, taking in his almost pussy drunk expression.

You pulled him down, pressing you lips to his that were still glistening with your slick. You licked at his lips, seeking entrance which he gladly granted, wrapping an arm around you as he turned you over so that you laid on top of him.

You braced yourself with your forearm, your lips never leaving his. You enjoyed the taste of yourself on him too much to pull away. The twitch of his cock against your ass slowly brought you out of your post-orgasm delirium. You let out a soft hum, lifting your hips to let his cock settle between the both of you.

His arms, wrapped around your waist, held you still against him as he pulled his lips away from yours. "You don't have to do that," he said, his voice husky.

You smile down at him, as you dragged your drenched pussy against his length, the movement was too little to really do much for him. A disapproving groan left him as his hands moved to grip your hips, effectively stopping you. "Don't, querida," he drawled without elaboration.

"Why not?" You question, resting both hands over his chest and placing your chin on the back of you hand.

"Because, I would like to not embarrass myself," he sighs, loosening his grip on your hips.

You let out an amused huff as you kiss his cheek. "It's completely normal to come too fast at your age," you tease, kissing and sucking at his neck.

"Very funny," he said flatly, letting his hand trace your spine unconsciously. "But you're not entirely off." He concedes.

Your curiosity was piqued, wanting to know more, swiftly forgetting about getting him to properly fuck you. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh, indicative about the possible sensitivity of his explanation. "You don't have to tell me," you give him an out, not wanting to sour the moment.

"I haven't been with anyone for a long time," his hand stopping it's journey up and down your spine. "Not since my divorce."

Divorce? You were speechless, stunned beyond belief. How had you not known that? He was practically everywhere, on the covers of business magazines and tabloids that recounted every moment from his life, speculating about everything even if it were unfounded.

"You were married?" You asked dumbly.

The look on your face must've been ridiculous if his chuckle was anything to go by. "Yeah, for fifteen years," he divulged. "Married my high school sweetheart when we were twenty. She was eveything to me."

His eye's grew distant, no doubt recalling every moment they spent together. You wondered what could possibly have caused the divorce. Did one of them want kids but the other didn't? Did he work too much? Or did the love just disappear? You didn't know the answers to those question and you were sure as hell not going to ask, but you did know that sombreness did not suit him.

"You want to know why, don't you?" He guessed. Your face heating up in embarrassment, you used to not be so transparent with your thoughts, never letting anything show unless it served a purpose.

"Am I that obvious?" you shake your head, resting your forehead against his chest.

He let out a laugh, his hand coming up to stroke your head, smoothing down your hair in the process. "I'm just good at guessing," he comforted you. "And everyone's curious."

"If you loved her why get divorced?" You wondered.

He took in a fortifying breath before he spoke. "I," he started, his voice faltering for a second. "I came home early from a business trip, wanted to surprise her for out anniversary. She… she was in bed with my cousin."

"Oh,"

"Yeah," he chuckled sardonically. "She said he was the love of her life."

That was a pain you were glad you did not know, but your heart broke nonetheless for him. You never understood why people cheated, if you had fallen in love with someone else just break up. If it was about sex just say that, speak to them about your desires. It was a cruelty that you saw no logical reason for.

Harry turned on his side, taking you with him. His arms never left you, keeping you enveloped in his warmth, his head rested above yours. Your neck was cradle by his arm as you buried your face in his chest. You snuggled closer to him, enjoying the softness of his body. "At least I get to be here with you now," you whisper, your eyes beginning to feel heavy and your breaths grow shallow as the quiet and his warmth lulls you to sleep.

[tortillamastersblog]

Where Light Bends Wrong - Part 7 | Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Warnings: mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve kept your secret buried and your power quiet, until Wednesday Addams came to Nevermore and turned your whole world upside down.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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"Lookin' good, Y/N," Yoko compliments when she rounds the canoe, eyeing the cat I just painted onto the side.

It's not a masterpiece by any stretch, and I don't consider myself a painter, but I have to admit it looks pretty good.

I smile gently. "Thanks."

Enid rounds the canoe too and beams. "Oh, we're so going to win this year," she boasts, which makes me chuckle.

She did try to ask me about what exactly happened last night over lunch, just like I expected, but when I told her I wasn't sure myself, she accepted it even though I know she knows there's more to the story.

Fact is though, no one believes Rowan's dead. Enid told me she and Yoko saw him just before I joined them for lunch, but I know what I saw.

I also know I'm not going crazy and that Wednesday is right, someone's trying to cover this up, but I have no interest in getting involved any more than I already have.

"I sure hope so," Yoko says with a snort.

Bianca and her team have won three or four years in a row now because they somehow play dirtier than everyone else, so the chances of the Black Cats winning are pretty slim, but I don't want to put a damper on their mood, especially not Enid's, so ljust hum in agreement before glancing at my watch.

Our lunch is almost over, so I put my paintbrush down and place the lid on the paint I was using. "We better get going, guys."

Enid, Yoko, and Mina, one of the other girls on their team, check their phones for the time to see that I'm right and start packing up too.

Some students have a free period now to focus on their extracurricular activities, like Bianca and her a cappella group or Xavier practicing his archery, but Enid, Yoko, Mina, and I don't.

We'll have time to work on the canoe some more before dinner later, so I don't square my stuff away perfectly. I just make sure the paint won't dry out and wrap some plastic wrap around the tip of my paintbrush before heading to the school before the others.

I left my bag in my room, so l'll have to get it before we head to class together. I effortlessly skip up the stairs to my room and grab my bag, making sure I have everything I need before heading to class. As I round a corner though, I run into someone, and after apologizing and stepping back, I freeze when I realize who it is.

It's Rowan, and he's wearing the exact same thing he wore yesterday - brown jacket, green hoodie, glasses and all.

"Sorry," he apologizes, not looking up and trying to get past me, but I grab his arm.

"Rowan," I breathe.

He stops and looks up, and the moment our eyes meet, a shiver runs down my spine because Wednesday was right.

This isn't Rowan.

It's someone else pretending to be him. I can tell by the look in his eyes, how calmly he takes me in when just last night he staggered away from me in fear.

I also sense his emotions, and although there is some anxiety there, he's mostly calm, and for some reason it feels familiar. Not in the way he felt when I used to be around him, but in the way l've felt around someone else before, I just can't say who.

I let go of him without another word and simply nod when he asks if I'm okay, and then he's off, lugging his trunk with him.

Wait, what? Where is he going?

He's already vanished amidst the other students before I can ask, so I swallow the sense of dread that dares to claw its way up my throat and make my way to class.

Rowan is dead. I know it and I know someone is covering up his murder and I swore to myself to stay out of it, but the more I think about it—how he looked at me when I ran into him and how I knew it wasn't him instantly—the more I feel my resolve slip.

It's dangerous getting involved, even more so because Wednesday is involved, but I have a feeling I will be involved no matter what.

"Oh, hey."

I snap out of my thoughts and look over my shoulder to see Ajax stepping into the small shed. It's right next to the school and usually used by the gardeners to store their tools, but it also holds a bunch of paints and art supplies specifically for the Poe Cup.

"Hi."

He smiles and gestures at the black paint can in my hand. "Is there any left of that or is that the last one?"

"Uh, I dunno." I turn back and pull the cardboard box with all the paints off the shelf and place it on the floor between us.

Ajax sends me another smile and crouches down to look through it. I go to leave, but then he speaks up which makes me stop in my tracks. "So, I see Enid has convinced you to help her and her team again?"

I chuckle softly and nod. "You could say that although forced is probably a more accurate word to describe it."

He lets out a laugh and glances at me. "Well, either way, you're doing it which is nice. And she seems to appreciate it… she's been smiling all day."

I raise an eyebrow at that, which makes Ajax avert his eyes, flustered. His heartbeat stumbles slightly and the embarrassment radiating off him makes a smirk pull at my lips.

Oh.

I usually don't get involved in other people's lives because if I stay out of theirs, they stay out of mine, but for once I can't help but state the obvious.

"You like her."

"What? No!" Ajax's wide eyes snap back to me and he gets to his feet, having found another black paint can.

I just cross my arms and watch how he gets flustered. "Right…"

Enid has been hinting about liking Ajax for some time now, even going out of her way to buy him the newest gorgon shampoo that is gentle on his snake's eyes, but she has yet to make a real move. She said she doesn't know if he likes her back, which is fair because he doesn't talk much and like me he's a bit of a loner, but I just got the proof I needed.

"I— well, you see—"

"Don't worry, I won't tell her," I cut him off when his embarrassment makes way for panic.

He meets my eyes hesitantly, his heart still beating rapidly in his chest. "You won't?"

I shake my head and let my smirk melt into a gentle smile. "No. It's not my secret to tell."

"Thank you." He sighs in relief and I step past him, patting his shoulder and adding, "But just so you know, if you ever wanna do something about it, I think you'd have a pretty good chance," before stepping outside again.

It's half past three now and we don't have any more classes today, which gives us a bunch of time to put the finishing touches on the canoe.

I round the corner of the school, enjoying the feeling of the afternoon sun on my face before stopping when I see Wednesday talking to Enid next to the canoe.

I groan mentally because of all the places, this is the last one I expected her to be, but then my ears pick up on their conversation and I'm intrigued.

"… you want me to cover so you can return to the scene of a crime that didn't happen?" Enid asks with a raised eyebrow, kneeling next to the canoe to put a finishing touch on one of the fangs painted on the side.

Wednesday huffs in exasperation. "I have beekeeping club this afternoon and need you as decoy."

I snort. Beekeeping club? That does not sound like something Wednesday would willingly participate in, especially not with Eugene, who is sweet and bubbly—the complete opposite of her—but I guess she's full of surprises.

"Sorry. Two strikes," Enid declines with a cringe. "I'm busy and bees totally creep me out."

That's true. Last year, one landed on her shoulder and she literally started crying even though the bees probably just thought she was a flower because of the neon yellow sweater she was wearing.

"Why don't you ask Thing?" Enid goes on as I slowly approach them. I don't want to talk to Wednesday again, but I know Enid needs the paint. "Oh that's right, you can't because he's mad at you," she answers her own question sarcastically, which makes me frown.

Thing is mad at Wednesday? Why? Just this morning when Wednesday came to my room, they were fine.

"Why's he mad? He's the one who screwed up with Rowan," Wednesday asks, genuinely confused.

Wait, what? How could he screw up with Rowan? Or should I say not-Rowan. Unless… of course. Wednesday probably had him follow not-Rowan and he must have lost him.

Enid just shrugs. "All I know is that we spent an hour giving each other manis and he really opened up. He feels like you don't respect him as a person."

A somewhat disgusted frown pulls at Wednesday's lips at the mention of manicures, even though she literally has impeccable black nails. I guess the whole social aspect must be tripping her up.

"Well, technically he's only a hand," she deadpans which, once again, weren't it for the circumstances, I would actually laugh at even though she's being dead serious.

Enid shoots her a bored glare. "Wednesday, he's your family. And he would do anything for you." Her face softens slightly and she adds, "Go apologize and I'll reconsider helping you."

Wednesday, much to my surprise, actually considers it. A thoughtful look crosses her face and then she exhales softly, resigned, and turns to leave.

Her step falters slightly when she spots me but she doesn't stop. She just eyes me for a moment with an unreadable expression before averting her eyes and making her way up to the school.

Good. She got the message. I don't want to be involved.

I can't help but think about what she's getting herself into though. Going back into the forest all alone… I don't like it. Not after I saw that monster last night.

"What was that all about?" I ask Enid as soon as I'm within earshot.

"Oh nothing. Just Wednesday being Wednesday," she says casually. "Did you get the paint?"

I nod and hold it out to her, noting how she not so subtly looks past me. By the way her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, I can tell she's spotted Ajax and I feel myself smiling gently, but then my eyes land on Wednesday's still retreating figure and my stomach churns as if forebodingly.

I pace my room, not knowing what to do. It's almost dinner now and the sun is starting to set and although the sun was out just an hour earlier, the sky is overcast now and I can see a blanket of fog drifting over the forest outside my window.

Wednesday is out there. Alone. Looking for clues and although her heartbeat is steady so far, I don't like the thought of her out there. It's getting dark and with the fog she could get lost if she's not careful.

I stop pacing and stare out of the window for a second, hearing Enid squeal somewhere in the distance, covering for Wednesday so Weems doesn't find out she's off school grounds.

She came by earlier and told me what she was going to do since Wednesday actually apologized to Thing. She asked me if maybe I wanted to take her place, but Weems would know it was me under the beekeepers outfit because I'm so much taller than both Wednesday and Enid so I had to decline.

Which leaves me here, worried about someone I should be staying away from.

I hear a twig snap somewhere in the forest which makes me flinch slightly and move before I know what's going on. I grab my jacket, having changed out of my uniform earlier, and head out. I make sure to stay in the shadow until I make it to the edge of the forest so Weems doesn't see me and then I start jogging in the direction of Wednesday's heartbeat.

The air is damp and smells like dead leaves and rain, and for a moment I think I even smell the coppery scent of blood but the next second it's gone.

When my pendant heats up, somehow signaling I'm nearing Wednesday, I slow down and push through the underbrush until I see her rounding a tree, her dark eyes scanning the ground.

Then, I hear another snap and look to my left, seeing Sheriff Galpin and his German shepherd. I quickly move behind a tree before I realize he's about to see Wednesday but then before I can move an arm wraps around her from behind a nearby tree and pulls her out of sight.

I frown and focus my hearing, only now realizing there's another steady heartbeat close to Wednesday. Hers stays calm so I'm assuming she's not in any danger.

I look around the tree to see Galpin scanning the ground like Wednesday just did and clench my jaw.

So he believes something happened after all, otherwise he wouldn't be out here.

It makes my head spin a little because if even he believes something is up, there must be more to this monster than just Rowan's murder and all the other killings recently.

Although the press keeps saying it must have been a bear, I doubt it and he being here just confirms it.

He goes on searching, using his boot to sometimes swipe away some leaves, until he's out of sight. I can still hear him and his dog panting and whining every now and then, but he's too far gone to hear or see me, so I step out from behind my tree and hurry to the tree Wednesday and the other person are hiding behind.

Unsurprisingly, it turns out to be Tyler, holding Wednesday against him with his hand over her mouth and a worried look on his face.

When he sees me his eyes widen but he doesn't move. Wednesday does though, shoving him off immediately and grumbling something under her breath along the lines of don't touch me.

Her dark eyes settle on me and she pauses for a moment before turning to Tyler who immediately raises his hands in apology. 

“Sorry,” he says with a wince. “I didn’t want Elvis to pick up on your scent.”

“Thanks,” she says, which makes something twist in my stomach. I literally saved her life twice now and neither time has she thanked me, but when Tyler helps her not get caught doing something she shouldn’t be doing she can say it?

I’m honestly not jealous, just a little hurt which makes me wonder when I started caring so much about what she does, or, in my case, doesn’t do. 

I don’t speak up though and simply listen halfheartedly when Wednesday asks how Tyler managed to throw the dog off and he pulls out some coffee grounds with a wry smile and explains how it’s a deer hunting hack.

She goes on to ask about why his dad brought the dog and he tells her he doesn’t know but that he must suspect something which is why he followed him in the first place. I surmise that Wednesday told him about what happened last night because she doesn’t question it. When she could have told him, I’m not sure, but I’m guessing it was earlier today while I was in class and she was in town for her therapy appointment.

“You must think it’s weird I’m stalking him,” he says, completely ignoring me.

“No,” Wednesday deadpans. “I consistently stalk my parents.”

She turns and eyes me again for a moment, probably wondering why I’m here after I told her I didn’t want to get involved before brushing past me and going back to inspecting the ground.

“So, what are you doing here?” Tyler asks, finally acknowledging me. He has the audacity to raise a challenging eyebrow, making me scoff.

I don't have to explain myself to him, but he continues to stare me down as though trying to get some kind of confession of wrongdoing out of me. So I draw myself up to my full height and cross my arms.

"Am I not allowed to be here?"

"I don't know, you tell me," he says calmly, which makes me brush him off with an eye roll and turn to Wednesday.

I don’t have much of a problem with him, but he did help Lucas Walker and his goons destroy Xavier’s mural on Outreach Day last year, and he’s acting super weird right now which is throwing me off a little, and not in a good way.

“These are Rowan’s,” Wednesday mumbles.

I frown and take a step toward her when she bends down and picks something up from between the leaves. Her back is turned to me, so it's a little hard to see what she found, but then something glints in the dim light and I realize it's Rowan's glasses. The glass is cracked, and there’s a little blood on the lens. It’s the ultimate proof that his death is being covered up… just like Wednesday said.

I take another step forward, intrigued, only for my stomach to drop in the next second when Wednesday suddenly freezes up, her eyes widening and her head snapping back in a grotesque way.

“Oh my God,” Tyler exclaims behind me, voicing my exact thoughts while I’m too busy closing the little distance left between Wednesday and me to catch her just as she begins tipping.

She’s even smaller in my arms than I remember from when I tackled her out of the way when the gargoyle almost fell on her, and when my hand brushes against hers, I actually shiver from how cool her skin feels.

It’s a stark contrast to how my pendant heats up at the contact, but I ignore it, my sudden worry for her overshadowing everything else.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I shake her gently, but she doesn’t react. Her unblinking eyes continue to stare up at the tree tops traced against the darkening sky.

“What’s wrong with her?” Tyler asks, bewildered, hurrying to my side.

“I—I don’t know,” I stammer. I focus on her heartbeat, but it’s calm, and my pendant is pulsing steadily, putting somewhat of a damper on my worry, almost as if it knows something I don’t.

Tyler and I share a confused look while I hold Wednesday, until she suddenly goes limp in my arms and starts blinking rapidly. I tighten my grip on her to make sure she doesn’t sink to the ground and help her stand when she slowly starts to come to properly. She grips one of my forearms with her hand while the other keeps a hold on the glasses before looking around, confused.

“Are you okay?” I ask when our eyes meet.

“I… Yes.” She says after a moment, gulping.

I tentatively lessen my grip on her, and she gets the memo, letting go of my forearm so I can let go of her completely once I’m sure she’s stable again. She doesn’t brush me off the way she did with Tyler earlier, but that could just be because she’s still recovering from whatever the hell just happened.

“What happened?” Tyler asks, reaching for her to touch her elbow in a comforting manner, but she shifts away ever so slightly.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, slowly but surely returning to her old self. “I have to get back to the school.”

And then she simply turns and starts marching off in the direction of the school. Tyler shoots me one last questioning look, but I just shrug before following her, leaving him behind.

I catch up with her in a few quick strides. She’s deep in thought, eyes on the ground so she doesn’t trip while turning Rowan’s glasses over and over in one hand. Her other hand absently plays with a silver necklace around her neck I hadn’t noticed before. There’s a round pendant with a wiry W in the middle, and she keeps running her thumb over it until she suddenly stops and looks at me.

“I had a vision,” she says, tucking the necklace back under her uniform.

“A vision?” I repeat quietly, which makes her exhale impatiently.

“Yes, a vision.” She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper with a pencil drawing on it, holding it out to me. “Have you seen this before?”

I take the paper and have to force myself not to react visibly when I see that it’s a drawing of the Nightshades’ symbol. I study it for a second before looking back up to find her already watching me, expectant.

“Why?” I ask.

She hesitates, working her jaw before reaching into her pocket again. She pulls out another paper, this one more worn. As she unfolds it, she’s careful not to damage it before handing it over too.

“Rowan showed me this right before attacking me,” she says.

I frown and look at it, only for my eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. It’s a drawing of what I’m assuming is supposed to be Wednesday, standing in the destroyed and burning Quad of the school.

“He said his mother drew it. Supposedly she was a seer, and she said I’d destroy the school…”

“So he tried to kill you to stop it from happening,” I finish, looking up to see her nod.

“The symbol is a watermark. Right here.” She steps closer to tap the top right corner of the drawing. I squint and bring the paper closer. She’s right.

“I need to know what book the page was torn out of. I need to know how I’m going to destroy the school so I can try to prevent it,” she says, and the way her voice drops makes me believe she’s actually being sincere.

But telling her about the Nightshades and their library, which is obviously where the page came from, would mean leading her closer to finding out what I am, and I can’t let that happen.

I take one last look at the picture before folding it up and handing it back, along with the drawing of the Nightshades’ symbol.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know,” I lie, which makes her deflate.

She stuffs the papers back into her pocket and huffs.

I want to say something else, but nothing comes to mind, so when she starts walking again, I just follow her in silence.

I keep an eye and ear out for any signs of the monster, but we’re alone until we get back to the school.

Wednesday doesn’t ask for more help, or question why I followed her into the forest again, but she says, “Someone’s covering up Rowan’s murder,” looking me dead in the eye as she slips his glasses into her pocket.

She probably expects me to deny it, or say she’s wrong, but I just nod once and say, “I know,” before turning and heading off to dinner.

Seek where silence is etched in stone

And light bends wrong when left alone

What you search for is out of sight

Until you ask the dark for light

I check the slip of paper again and mutter the riddle beneath my breath, skimming through the shelves at the back of the Nightshades’ library.

I left dinner early and went to my room, letting the events of the last twenty-four hours wash over me again before remembering how my pendant lit up like a Christmas tree, and sneaking out when I was sure everyone had retreated to their rooms. I kept an ear out for Wednesday’s heartbeat specifically when I made my way to the library, but she was all the way across the school, so I knew I was in the clear.

That doesn’t help me now though, because I’ve been searching for that damned book for over ten minutes. Weems really hid it well, and I wish I’d paid more attention when she told me where she put it all this time ago, but I just couldn’t.

“Where light bends wrong when left alone,” I whisper, pausing when I look down one row of shelves and see a beam of moonlight streaming in through a window in the ceiling and bending unnaturally across the stone wall.

Where light bends wrong...

I squeeze in between the dusty bookshelves, lined with books full of misprints and bad omens, until I step into the soft light and get a good look at the small stone panel that shouldn’t be part of the wall and is causing the light to misbehave. I touch it and get even closer when I feel something small etched into it, gasping when I realize it’s the same symbol as on my pendant… three parallel lines cutting through a single circle with the one in the middle slightly longer than the others.

“Of course,” I mumble, pressing my fingers against it, but nothing happens. I try again, but again, nothing happens, so I take another look at the riddle. “Until you ask the dark for light,” I read out loud, and much to my surprise, that does the trick. Something clicks faintly, and then the stone sinks inward and moves to the side, opening just wide enough for me to reach inside and pull out the leather-bound book. There’s no title on the spine or the cover, but there is an inscription inside the front cover.

De Velatis et Evanidis

“Of the Veiled and the Vanished,” I translate out loud, feeling a weight settle on my chest. I close it for a moment and take a deep breath, composing myself before opening it again and flipping to the first page.

The Ægiryn: Children of the Mirrorheart

~Of Origins and Essence~

The Ægiryn are a fading lineage of supernatural blood, their existence now little more than a whisper. Once revered as Oracles of Emotion and healers of unseen wounds, they bore the rare gift of feeling truth. But reverence turned to fear. As human and supernatural powers rose, the Ægiryn were quietly hunted for the very empathy that once made them sacred. To feel too much became a threat. Some say the last of them perished in the Year of Flame, though fragments may still linger, hidden in shadow.

~Etymology and Pronunciation~

The name Ægiryn stems from an Old Northern dialect, believed to mean “stone of truth” or “guardian of grief.” Some link it to a rare black gemstone, others to a forgotten title once bestowed upon their kind. Pronounced AY-gee-rin with a long A, as in fate.

~Classification~

Rarity: Myth-bound

Bloodline Status: Uncertain, possibly extinct

Nature: Empathic, soul-bound, reflective, dangerous.

The Ægiryn are catalogued in older Bestiaries not as beasts, but as anima viva (living emotion). The Pallid Veil called them Mirrorbloods. The Sentinels of Stillmarch labeled them Oracles of Madness. The truth lies somewhere in between.

~Core Traits and Abilities Overview~

It is widely accepted that the Ægiryn possessed five defining gifts.

Invulnerability In their guarded state, the Ægiryn are nearly impervious to harm. Their bodies heal swiftly, their skin resists blades, their bones do not break. Yet this strength is conditional. Should an Ægiryn form a soulbond or lay their emotional guard bare, their body mirrors this vulnerability.

Supernatural Physiology Gifted with the instincts of both prey and predator, they move fast enough to outrun arrows and strike with the power of stone. Their senses border on predatory…hearing tuned to whispers through doors, vision sharpened to silhouettes in fog.

The Mirrorheart An Ægiryn can feel the emotional state of others with painful clarity. It is said they don’t read minds, but echo hearts and—

My head snaps up and my heart drops when I hear light footsteps on the stairs down into the library. I’m not a Nightshade, so I shouldn’t be here, even though they all know I sneak in from time to time to borrow a rare book, but I know this person is not a Nightshade. No, it’s the owner of the heartbeat I can’t stop hearing.

Wednesday.

‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆ ⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧

The layout at the end is a little messy because I pasted the text from Google Docs but oh well…

Tag list: @sunshinez4 @protozoario @automaticpatroltragedy @mamas-evil-hag @theallseer97 @hellenheaven

[lukolathoughts]

Miss Nicola - supporting LGBTQI rights

Dearest gentle reader,

I have been itching to write a blog post now for a few weeks, but not really knowing where to begin. There have been frenzied weeks and days of activity, but then silence and the fandom meanders like a lost boat at sea. We are often rudderless without the reassuring presence of our ship captains - Luke and Nicola. This also tends to get the sub fandoms spouting nonsense claiming to have seen Nicola in Birmingham or some ridiculous crap. I didn't want to bother her by asking for a photo! No photo, no proof my friend.

I'll talk about me for a moment. I had a week from hell last week. There was something so upsetting for me to deal with, I couldn't go into work as I was crying that much. Try to explain this to your manager: that nasty comments on YouTube made you late for work. Luckily, she is an understanding person and I have told her about my YT channel. Saying some things out loud to real life people make me sound barking mad. But it is the price you pay for being public on YouTube. It also makes me an easy target. I am used to online trolls and people who hate me for saying that Jake is gay and believing in Lukola, but when the stab in the back comes from a supposed friend, it really is the ten of swords. My phone blew up that much, I opened my eyes that morning genuinely thinking Lukola had launched. My hope turned to ash, when I saw what was really happening. I share this with you all because, I have had to have a reckoning with myself the last week. My online life and my real life are not the same. My real life is way more important and I actually need my job, so messing it up because I've got people I don't really know online saying mean things about me, that are not true, shouldn't matter. But it still hurts. But I also realise, they are trying to stop me sharing and trying to ruin my credibility and reputation in order to send me off into my discord crying never to return again.

Well think again. No one tells a Sagittarius woman what they can and can't do. I am made of stronger stuff. Love will always conquer hate. No one puts Baby in the corner, and I will not stand for it. I have scaled back most of my online life now. It had helped me cope with the last year and losing my friend, but sometimes you have to go back into reality. I'm never leaving the ship though. You'll have to chuck me overboard and I'll still jump back on like Rose from Titanic. "I couldn't go, Jack! You jump, I jump, right?"

Anyway, enough about me. Let's talk about Nic. I love Nicola by the way and nothing I say here is a criticism of her or her choices. I see what you're doing though, miss Nicola. I said in my last blog that the shit would hit the fan when Jake has to start press for his new upcoming BBC3 drama What it feels like for a girl. I will admit I have not read the book. Regardless of who Jake is playing, it is reportedly an all queer cast, a queer director and at least one queer writer that I know of. Why would the director of an all queer cast hire a straight man in a homosexual role? If this show is as big as It's a Sin, that aired on Channel 4 a few years ago, then there will be press and a lot of it. There will be press from queer magazines also. Jake is currently in an awkward position, because some press believe he is in a romantic relationship with Nicola Coughlan, a woman who is also 14 years his senior. So, what will Nicola and Jake do?

Jake is holding onto his cash cow with both hands and Nicola needs Jake to continue to pose as her boyfriend to stop the media digging. But honey, they know. It was clear all the press at the SAG awards knew exactly what was going on and they were not afraid to say it. The 'happy ending' comment levelled at them directly by a reporter, had Nicola stunned and Luke smiling like all his Christmases' had come at once.

Nicola knows what is going on. She knows there is a deadline and she knows if she doesn't extricate herself from the narrative she is dating a gay man, she is screwed basically. What is she doing? She's getting out her, I love gays!! T-shirt, hats, scarfs, sunglasses, whatever. She is doing it. Look at me, I love queers! I love her for this and I already know she is an advocate for LGBTQI rights. She has a ton of gay friends. The fandom knows this of course, but do the general public?

At the Neutrogena event on 27th March 2025, there was a very tall drag queen doing some MCing. We know Nic loves drag queens and has been to many shows, so this is nothing new to us. I'm not being overly cynical that the drag queen might have been there for a reason, right? Neutrogena is a product that is targeted at women mostly for their skin products. What has that got to do with a drag queen? I just found it odd.

Next up we have Nicola's Pink Pony Club Post that she shared to both her Instagram stories and grid last Thursday 10th April. The song by Chappell Roan is synonymous with the gay community and one that Jake danced to at her concert last year in a pink cowboy hat. "You guys, remember when my old flat was a gay hotspot!" Nicola, posts 4 polaroid's of her looking fabulous in pink and lays them on a pink blanket. What made you feel so nostalgic, Nic? Or are you sending a message? Look at me, I have loved my gay besties for donkey's years. Prominent gay friends such as JVN and Jack Rooke commented all in agreement, that indeed, Nic's flat was the place to be. And, no I do not think Nicola is coming out herself as gay. Get real, she is supporting her friends and peers.

Then there was yesterday's selfie of Nicola wearing her black - 'I just wanted to say if you are trans and reading this, I love you and so do all my mates' T-shirt. There a few other details in that post that other bloggers such as @toriaaniin have covered beautifully, so I won't go into it here. My eyes sprung wide when I saw this post. I know she advocates for the charity Notaphase.org and I commend her for doing this, but two queer posts in a few days seems to be a lot for Nic, when lately she hasn't been posting at all.

There is also the male hairdresser Halley Brisker in her Opalex video on her Instagram, They make a big deal of letting us know he flirts with male makeup artists. Nicola is clearly good friends with Halley and it is an endearing watch. But to me this seems like a lot of overkill in the last few days for the general public to look at her Instagram and instantly know, yes Nicola does love the girls, the gays and Luke Newton. (FYI Halley Brisker is married to a woman and has children, but to the general public this conversation is implying Nic is comfortable with these conversations).

This, in my opinion, is setting the stage for the final act. I can see Nicola doing some sort of article or interview where she clears a certain narrative up. If you notice, Douglas has also been quite forceful again in implying certain things about Jake and Jake himself does not stop others from posting suggestive posts and videos of him. Nicola must remove herself from this mess in order to move forward with her own career and life. Hanging onto old connections are no longer serving her personally and professionally. Her engagement on Instagram is down by a lot, so I'm told and she is losing followers. She has done all she can career-wise for Jake now, he has to make his own way.

If this does not happen and we remain in this weird heteronormative bubble, I fear the press for What it feels like for a girl, will be a shit show. The truth will come out eventually and it will drag both Jake and Nicola down with it.

[gothhabiba]

@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

[bloomzone]

sooo y’all, let me tell you… these past 10 days I've been locking in and i reallyyy achieved a lot, and honestly i learned even more. i was still in my lil reflection era overthinking, analyzing, you know the usual but i also caught myself before i made some big mistakes. like i literally saved myself right before things could’ve gone bad and i wanna share this with y’all because i know someone needs to hear it too, especially if you’re stressed about exams right now.

lesson 1: please don’t change your study method last minute.

y’all, please, if you have finals or big exams coming up, do not start experimenting with new study methods. i made that mistake, fr. i saw this "easier" method on YouTube and was like omg this sounds perfect, maybe this is my new main way to study. but nooo, babe. that’s a trap. because when you change things up right before exams, you’re gonna end up confused, stressed, and behind. you'll start thinking like “omg time is running out and i still don’t get this” or “i haven’t memorized anything yet.” and that spiral is so real. so pls, stick to your main method the one that has worked for you so far. yeah, you can try adding small things or testing new tricks lightly on the side, but don’t fully switch everything right before big exams. keep your foundation strong, okay? trust me on this.

lesson 2: take meaningful breaks.

this one hit me hard. so when you’re taking breaks while studying, make them useful breaks, y’all. not the kind where you scroll on your phone for an hour and then feel worse. not the breaks where you just lay there thinking “what if i fail” because omg we’ve all done that and it never helps.

instead, do something that actually resets your brain. like cook yourself a meal, go out for a walk, change your environment, tidy your space a bit, or even journal your thoughts. for me, cooking during my breaks literally saves me i get food and i feel productive cuz like sometimes my brain hurt and when I get up to take a break and eat something THE FIRST BITE and I'm like "damn bro I was hungry" and then I eat and I feel better again but honestly, the best kind of break is stepping outside, grabbing a little snack or coffee, and breathing fresh air. just doing something small but active that makes you feel human again before you go back to your books.

lesson 3: slowly build your study stamina.

i used to be someone who could never study more than 3 hours a day, max. but these past 10 days? i actually pushed myself to study 5 to even 7 hours a day. which is crazy for me, honestly. and no, i’m not saying you have to study for hours nonstop because same, my usual safe goal is 3 hours too. but when you’ve got a pile of exams and subjects waiting, sometimes you really do need to go for those longer sessions.what helped me a lot is the pomodoro technique. and let me say this pomodoro is a technique, not a study method so you can still study your way but use pomodoro to manage your time.there’s this YouTube channel i found that reallyyyy helps. the videos are so cozy and calming they have these little lo-fi vibes with cats moving on the screen, and even tho i don’t really listen to music when i study, i just let those videos play for the background sound aside in my laptop. it kinda makes me feel like i’m studying with someone else and i stay productive for longer. usually it’s like 3-hour study sessions with three 5-minute breaks, and that structure really helped me go from my usual short sessions to longer, more focused study days. and let’s be honest, the cute cats motivate me more than they should lol. [The link of the channel ]

lesson 4: don’t panic (even if everything feels overwhelming).

and this is coming from someone who still panics before every exam lol. but sometimes, you just gotta tell yourself: enough. like, i will study, i will do my part, and the results will come how they come.especially if you’re someone like me who has 8+ subjects to juggle it can feel impossible to manage everything. i even tried that method i saw on YouTube where you study 3 subjects a day. thought it would save me, but honestly it didn’t work. i just ended up feeling like i was tripping around, lost and stressed.so now, i kinda made my own little method. i call it the 80/20 rule where you focus 80% of your day on your main subject, and 20% on a side subject. idk but 80/20 rule exist but I change it lmao like, let’s say you wake up at 8am and study till sunset. you spend the whole day focusing on your main subject (like history or math or whatever’s urgent). then in the evening, maybe from like 6pm to 8pm, you switch and study a different subject for a bit. and the next day, you make that second subject your new main focus. so you’re rotating, but still giving serious time to each one. i don’t even know if this is an actual a method, but it works for me, and that’s what matters.and again, please don’t try completely new study methods when you’re close to exams. you will only stress yourself out more. stick to what you know works, trust the process, and stay consistent. i promise, you got this.

lesson 5: please please please… don’t go on a diet during school season.

like i swear i should’ve put this one first, because it’s that serious. and no i didn’t make this mistake myself (and i never will), but i just need to say this to you right now. like please don’t go on a diet during school or exam season. i beg you.i don’t know who needs to hear this today, but you are a student. your brain, your body, needs food. you need fuel to even survive school days, let alone study and pass exams. so whatever you’re doing right now whether it's weight loss, calorie counting, fasting please, stop and pause . if you wanna follow a diet, i get it, but wait until a time when you’re not under this much stress. because dieting during school will only make things worse. no summer body is worth feeling dizzy, tired, and unfocused during your exams babe. like, i promise you you will literally feel like you’re dying if you try to diet hard right now.

i know some people started their diets months ago and maybe they’re used to it by now, and that’s fine. but please if you’re thinking of starting, or if you’re already cutting down too much don’t be harsh on yourself. like, please don’t fall into that mindset where you think eating one egg and drinking black coffee is enough for the day. bro, that won’t help you focus. food is also focus. food is energy. food is survival.you’re not a robot who can just skip meals and still function at 100%. you’re a human, and your body needs real nutrition to help your brain stay sharp and your body stay strong during this season.especially if you’re in the middle of exams, or have big deadlines coming please don’t starve yourself. eat, babe. and no ofc i’m not saying go eat just anything. like, don’t only munch on junk food either because that won’t make you feel fresh and alive eat meals that actually fuel you something that makes your body feel clean, your mind clear, and your energy steady.

and omg, don’t forget water. like, i’m so serious about this always, always, keep a water bottle next to you while studying. sometimes you think you’re tired, but your body is just dehydrated. water helps your brain focus, helps you avoid headaches, and just keeps everything running smoothly. trust me on this.

so please, please…

don’t go into diet culture mode while you’re in your student grind season. your body and brain are already under enough stress. don’t add more. eat, stay hydrated, fuel yourself right and you’ll actually perform better. save the weight loss plans for days when you can do it gently, without risking your health . i love you and i just wanna see you win not collapse. so please, eat food and drink your water and don't be harsh on yourself

@bloomzone

[sulkingheichou012]

Into the Dungeon with You

Pairing: Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: RomCom, Action, Smut

Warning: Description of violence and profanity.

Summary: Jinwoo frowned as a new system notification appeared before him.

[Special Reward Successfully Claimed.]

Author's note: I'm happy that some of you are enjoying my silly work! Yes, if you're asking to be tagged—sure! 😊

Chapter 17

Y/N stood on the balcony, the early dawn breeze tugging gently at her hair. Beside her, Jinwoo was still half-asleep, one arm lazily draped around her waist, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. But she didn’t mind. She was too busy staring at her hand.

The sun was rising slowly, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink. And when the light hit the stone on her finger— It shimmered. Not just pretty, but alive, as if it was holding a little piece of the sun itself.

Y/N turned her hand, watching it glow. Her chest felt strangely warm, like something quietly settled into place.

“…You okay?” Jinwoo murmured into her ear; his voice still rough from sleep.

Y/N smiled softly, still staring at the ring. “Yeah. It’s just… when I look at this, I feel safe. Like I belong somewhere. Like I’m… loved.”

Jinwoo squeezed her waist, tugging her closer, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You are,” he whispered.

She blushed furiously but didn’t look away from the ring. It sparkled again. “…Also, it’s really shiny. I might blind someone if I flex hard enough.”

Jinwoo chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder again. “I’ll make sure they live.”

By the time they got back home, Y/N was still admiring the way the sunlight caught on her ring. She flexed it in front of random shiny things. The toaster. The window. Even Igris’ chest plate when he emerged briefly from the shadows to deliver coffee.

“I am powerful,” she whispered dramatically.

Jinwoo was too amused to stop her. But as soon as they stepped through the front door—

“THERE SHE IS!!” A shriek erupted from the living room. Y/N froze.

Jinah and Mrs. Sung appeared like they’d rappelled down from the ceiling. SWAT-mode: Activated. Y/N barely managed to squeak before they closed in.

“Hand,” Jinah demanded. Y/N instinctively held it up. Both of them gasped in unison like they were evaluating the crown jewels.

“Oh-hoh-hoh,” Mrs. Sung murmured, already dialing her phone. “The dress designer is getting a call right now,” Jinah said, eyes gleaming. “I’ll handle the venue,” Mrs. Sung nodded. “Florist is mine!” “Catering!” “GUEST LIST—”

Y/N stood there, completely blindsided. “Wait—wait!! We just got engaged! We haven’t even picked a date! Or—or—” “You snooze, you lose!” Jinah shouted. “Fast weddings are the trend now!” Mrs. Sung agreed.

Y/N gave Jinwoo a look of pure betrayal, who was… Just watching them with his arms crossed, clearly entertained. “Help me!” she mouthed at him.

He raised his mug in salute. “Good luck.”

Y/N groaned dramatically as Jinah and Mrs. Sung dragged her toward the kitchen table already covered in wedding magazines and fabric swatches.

The grand conference room of the Korean Hunter Association was filled to capacity. Not just with Korea’s strongest hunters, but with representatives and guild leaders from around the world. Some sat in person, others attending through massive holographic screens surrounding the room.

It was a historic event. The final debriefing after the largest and most terrifying threat the world had ever known. The Primordial Hunger—a cataclysm that nearly consumed existence itself—had been defeated.

And standing before them was the man who had made that possible. Sung Jinwoo. The Shadow Monarch. And beside him… Y/N. A mystery to many, but someone whose role was undeniable.

Chairman Go Gunhee cleared his throat to begin. But he did not speak. He gestured to Jinwoo instead.

Jinwoo stepped forward. He didn’t need notes. His voice carried across the entire room, steady and sure.

“The Primordial Hunger has been eliminated.”

“Its destruction halted the collapse of dimensional barriers. The rifts that threatened to devour our world have sealed. The balance between realms has been restored.”

He paused, letting his words resonate through the chamber.

“For now… there are no further threats.”

His gaze swept over the hunters gathered.

“Many of you felt the change. The unnatural silence that followed the chaos. You have asked whether this peace is genuine. I am here to tell you… it is.”

His tone softened, but his words remained resolute.

“For the first time in years, we are not standing at the edge of extinction. No Monarchs remain. No Rulers are moving behind the scenes. There is no enemy in hiding. And if anything changes… I’ll be the first to know.”

He looked down at his hands for a moment, as if weighing something unseen.

“The sacrifices made… were not in vain.”

Jinwoo’s eyes shifted to Y/N briefly before continuing.

“Peace has returned. But peace, as I have learned, is not simply the absence of war. It’s the presence of something worth protecting. Family. Friends. Loved ones. This world.”

Another breath. A heavier pause.

“As hunters, we fight. We bleed. And sometimes we fall. But we do it to protect what matters.”

Jinwoo lifted his head fully now, his presence filling the room.

“And now… it’s time we live for it.”

There was silence at first. Then Go Gunhee stood. And he began to clap.

One by one, everyone in the room rose to their feet. Applause swelled from a ripple into a wave. A standing ovation that spanned countries and continents. Even the hunters online could be seen applauding on the holographic screens, some even saluting.

Y/N sat still. The thunder of applause washing over her like ocean waves. But her mind was somewhere else entirely.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She remembered the manhwa so clearly. Jinwoo had struggled for years alone. He had sacrificed everything—his humanity, his future—for the sake of victory. And he had found peace, yes… but only after losing so much.

Now he stood tall, smiling, surrounded by people who respected him and by shadows who adored him. He wasn’t alone. And she was here. By his side.

Her fingers brushed over the ring Jinwoo had placed there. Warm. Solid. Steady. A promise that wasn’t in the original story.

Maybe this isn’t how it was supposed to be, she thought. But she turned to look at him anyway. And he was already smiling at her. As if to say: This is how it should be.

She smiled back. Even if she didn’t quite believe it yet… She wanted to.

As the room calmed, hunters slowly gathered their things. Many came forward to shake Jinwoo’s hand. Baek Yoonho clapped him on the back with his usual grin. Choi Jongin nodded respectfully, though his eyes lingered curiously on Y/N. Even Cha Hae In gave a polite bow.

“Thank you,” one of the international guild masters said. “Without you, none of this would have been possible.”

Another chuckled. “You two are heroes.” He glanced at Y/N. “You’ve both earned your peace.”

Jinwoo gave a small, polite smile. Then— “Thank you,” he said. “…We’ll be celebrating soon.” He paused. “I’m getting married.”

The room stilled for one stunned beat. Y/N’ head whipped toward him so fast it was a wonder her neck didn’t snap. “WHAT?” Her voice cracked in disbelief.

Jinwoo blinked at her, completely calm. “You said yes, didn’t you?” He lifted his hand, showing the matching ring on his finger. “Seems clear to me.”

Baek Yoonho barked out a laugh so loud it echoed. Choi Jongin smirked faintly, arms crossed. Even Chairman Go Gunhee smiled, rubbing his temple like a tired dad witnessing his kids’ antics.

Another wave of applause erupted—this one lighter, warmer, and mixed with cheers and laughter.

As they exited the room, Y/N noticed Cha Hae In and Choi Jongin standing together. For a second, she panicked. Weren’t they supposed to be endgame?! She glanced at Jinwoo. Was she stealing someone else’s future?!

But Cha Hae In was calm. And Choi Jongin… Well, he was watching Jinwoo with professional curiosity, not personal jealousy.

Y/N shook it off. She smiled sweetly. And subtly held up her hand. The ring caught the light. Flex.

Cha Hae In noticed. She tilted her head, amused. “A good choice, You are lucky.” she said softly. Y/N nearly tripped over her own feet.

No broken heart? No jealousy? Just a sisterly approval?

After the conference and the sudden wedding announcement chaos, Jinwoo gets approached by one of the high-ranking officials from the Hunter Bureau or the Rulers’ envoy.

Jinwoo doesn’t know if this portal is another threat. He tells himself they’ll investigate it together, but deep down…

Y/N notices him getting quieter and more serious as they prepare to leave. She thinks it’s him being careful—she doesn’t realize it’s him being torn apart inside. He’s always been in control, but this? This makes him anxious. He never gets anxious.

They stood in front of it.

An arch of weathered stone, half-sunken into the forest clearing, humming softly with ancient magic. Pale, crystalline blue light swirled inside its frame—calm. Stable. Peaceful in a way most portals never were.

It wasn’t a gate to danger. It wasn’t a dungeon. They both knew it.

This was a door. Her door.

Y/N exhaled slowly, her hand tightening around Jinwoo’s. Neither spoke. There wasn’t a need. The knowledge settled between them like gravity.

This was her way home.

He couldn’t speak. His throat was tight, his heartbeat loud in his ears. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at the portal as it shimmered like glass, like water… like a goodbye.

And then— He moved.

Quietly, Jinwoo stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Not tightly. Not possessively.

But his hands trembled when they rested against her waist. And his forehead lowered to her shoulder, hiding the war in his eyes.

Y/N froze at first, then gently laid her hands over his. She could feel the tension running through him like a current.

Jinwoo didn’t trust his voice. If he spoke, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from begging.

She could hear him breathing, slow and uneven against her neck. Feel his grip, warm and grounding and terrified all at once.

The portal in front of them shimmered again, ripples of light flickering softly in invitation. It was ready.

But was she?

Y/N glanced down at his hands holding her, then at the ring on her finger—glinting faintly in the portal’s light. It wasn’t just an object. It was a promise.

Y/N sighed. Then… she laughed. Soft at first, but it grew louder, spilling out of her like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Jinwoo tensed behind her. “What?” She reached up and patted his arm—more like a playful smack. “You idiot,” she said, voice warm and teasing. “You really thought I’d leave you?”

He blinked, stunned by her tone. She half-turned in his arms to look at him properly, grinning up at him despite the shimmer in her eyes. “I already told you,” she said. “You’re my home now.” She tapped her ring against his chest for emphasis. “There’s no one waiting for me on the other side of that portal,” she went on, her voice gentler now. “No family. No adventure better than this. Nothing I want more than what I have right here.”

Jinwoo’s breath hitched as her words sank in, steady and sure, like an anchor pulling him back from the edge. For a moment, his usual calm shattered. A single tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.

He blinked, surprised at himself, and quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to have let it show. But it was too late. The weight he’d carried for so long—the fear that she would leave, that she would disappear from his life—unraveled in an instant. Ever since he realized he’d fallen for her, that quiet fear had lived in the back of his mind, gnawing at him in every silent moment.

And now? She’d cut through it like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Without thinking, his hand reached for hers, fingers threading through like it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was warm, solid, grounding.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, voice rougher than he expected. His dark eyes softened, the unreadable mask slipping just enough for her to catch the rarest thing—his heart wide open. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

He smiled then. Not the polite, distant curve of his lips everyone else knew. This one was different—bright, unguarded. Like a golden retriever that had just been told they were a good boy after waiting forever to hear it.

And for once, Jinwoo didn’t care that he looked like a fool. Not if it was for her.

Together, hand in hand, they turned away from the portal. No second glances. No hesitation.

But then—

A ripple of energy made the ground hum beneath their feet. Jinwoo instinctively shifted, shielding her, shadows rising at his feet as they both turned sharply back to the arch.

From the blue light of the portal, a figure stepped through. Clad in muted silver and white, their presence was quiet but undeniable. Not threatening, but heavy with something ancient. Their face was calm—too calm, like they had seen too many futures to be surprised anymore.

Y/N gripped Jinwoo’s arm. “Friend or foe?” “Neither,” the figure said, their voice deep but kind. “Only a witness.”

They regarded Jinwoo first, then Y/N. “You both chose well.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” “A remnant of balance,” they replied simply. “My time here is brief.”

They gestured toward the portal, which flickered softly behind them. “You were right not to cross. That world has already moved on. Your thread belongs here now.” Y/N squeezed Jinwoo’s hand, steady.

But then the figure’s expression darkened slightly. “You’ve brought peace to this world… but do not mistake peace for safety.” Their gaze fixed on Jinwoo. “Even in the stillness, the future stirs. You cannot predict what lies beyond the veil of time.”

Jinwoo met their stare without flinching. “Then I’ll protect this world. No matter what comes.”

A faint smile crossed the stranger’s face. “I know.”

The figure turned back toward the portal. It pulsed once with light—then dimmed completely. The portal stone cracked down its middle, splitting cleanly as if its purpose was finished.

The figure vanished with it. Gone. No trace.

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “Okay, that was intense.” Jinwoo didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled her close again, holding her for a long, silent moment.

Then— “We’re getting married,” Jinwoo said suddenly, voice firm. Y/N blinked. “I mean… yes?” “No waiting,” he added. “No more portals. No more interruptions.”

Y/N laughed. “Deal.”

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting molten gold across the obsidian towers of the Shadow Castle. Everything gleamed, every corner alive with warm light and laughter. It was a day no one ever imagined would come. Not Jinwoo. Not Y/N. And certainly not the army of shadows who had spent weeks preparing for it like it was a royal coronation.

In a way, it was.

Y/N stood at the grand entrance, a soft breeze teasing her veil as she tightened her grip on her bouquet. Her gown shimmered like woven starlight, delicate embroidery reminiscent of shadow wisps curling along the hem. At her back, her scythe leaned casually against the wall, because she absolutely insisted on a candid with it later.

“Ready?” Jinwoo’s voice was warm at her ear. She turned, catching his smile—the rare, one he only ever showed her. He looked devastatingly handsome in a black-on-black suit, subtly lined with silver thread. His tie? Crooked. She fixed it with a smirk, tugging him down by the lapels. His ears went pink.

Their friends and comrades filled the massive courtyard. Cha Hae-In wiped a stray tear, pretending she wasn’t crying as she stood beside Jinah, who was a blubbering mess already. Jinwoo’s mother held Jinah’s hand, her own eyes bright with tears as she watched her son standing proud, waiting for his bride.

And the shadows? Oh, the shadows were thrilled. Igris stood like a stoic knight… except his usually rigid posture was now just a little too puffed up with pride. Beru buzzed in place, making a chittering sound like he was holding in a scream. Even Iron polished his helmet to a mirror shine.

A band of orc shadows played music. Badly. But no one cared.

As Y/N walked down the aisle, her gaze locked with Jinwoo’s, and everything else melted away. His hand found hers when she reached him, his fingers trembling the slightest bit. When he said his vows, his voice was steady—but there was that hitch, that one breath that caught when he said, “You’re my world now.”

And when the priest declared them husband and wife?

Jinwoo kissed her like he couldn’t believe this was real. Like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go.

Chaos.

Glorious, ridiculous chaos.

Jinah launched herself after the bouquet, tackling Hae-In like a linebacker. She popped up with it in her hands, cheering like she’d won the Hunter Association Lottery. Before anyone could stop him, Jinho scrambled under Y/N’ gown during the garter toss (with permission, obviously), and came out with the stocking in hand, beaming. He made direct eye contact with Jinah as he slipped it onto her leg. She turned red.

Everyone screamed.

Selfies were taken everywhere. The giants huddled awkwardly behind Y/N and Jinwoo for one, causing the balcony to creak dangerously. Y/N’ favorite photo? A completely candid shot of her leaning on her scythe in her wedding dress, sunglasses on, with Beru photobombing in the background, flashing peace signs with his claw-hands.

The shadows outdid themselves on the decorations—black roses, floating candles, and obsidian tables covered in elegant food spreads. There was even a chocolate fountain. Beru dipped a strawberry in it, offered it to Jinwoo, and Jinwoo (to everyone’s horror and delight) actually ate it. The crowd lost their minds.

Later, as the sun set in a blaze of red and gold, Jinwoo and Y/N stood on their balcony, away from the noise.

She leaned into him, their fingers tangled loosely. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his expression soft, that warmth slipping through again as if it was the most natural thing in the world now.

“We did it,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Yeah. We did.”

Below them, the courtyard still echoed with laughter and celebration. Shadows danced clumsily in pairs; Jinah and Jinho were now inseparable; his mom had somehow convinced Igris to teach her sword stances.

But up here, it was just them.

He turned her gently, arms sliding around her waist. “Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever leave me,” he said quietly, his forehead resting against hers.

She grinned. “You’re stuck with me, dummy.”

His answering laugh was low, warm. “Good.”

And as the sky burned with colors, Jinwoo kissed his wife again, while their world celebrated below.

The world faded away the moment the castle gates closed behind them.

No armies. No Guild business. No ancient Monarch wars to prepare for.

Just Jinwoo and Y/N.

He had carried her over the threshold—because of course he had—ignoring her playful swats and laughter. They’d arrived at a secluded villa Jinwoo had personally reconstructed in his Shadow Domain. It was something out of a dream. Warm sunlight filtered through sheer curtains. The walls were carved from smooth obsidian, lined with silvery etchings that shimmered faintly when touched. A private garden surrounded them, its flowers blooming in colors impossible anywhere else.

And the silence… was peaceful.

“I thought we’d just… rest here,” Jinwoo murmured as he set her down gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “No one can bother us.”

Y/N smiled, still holding his hand like she might float away if she let go. “You’re sure Beru won’t show up offering strawberries?”

Jinwoo’s grin was crooked. “I left him strict orders. He’s patrolling the castle walls for the next week.”

They both laughed, the sound soft and easy. It was still new—this comfort between them—but it was theirs. She watched him as he moved around the villa, taking his jacket off, rolling his sleeves up, undoing his tie. All casual, but something about him was still so effortlessly magnetic.

They ended up on the couch first. Just sitting. Talking. Her feet tucked under her as he leaned into the cushions, his hand never straying far from hers. He told her stories of his mom and Jinah when they were younger. She told him about her world—her old world—and all the things she missed. They laughed. A lot.

And when the sky turned pink, they found themselves in the garden. He had set up lanterns, their lights glowing like tiny stars. They ate dinner under them, Y/N having somehow learned to cook one decent dish. Just one. Jinwoo teased her, but ate every bite.

Afterward, they danced.

Slow, unpracticed, clumsy at first. But he held her close, his hands warm on her waist, his forehead pressed to hers as if he needed to feel her there. She laughed quietly when he stepped on her toes. He just pulled her closer and muttered, “Sorry,” against her hair.

It was like that all night. Quiet, sweet moments strung together like pearls.

By the time they were back inside, standing by the huge window watching stars spill across the sky, Jinwoo’s arms were wrapped around her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and for a long time, they said nothing.

“You’re my home now,” he whispered eventually.

Y/N turned in his arms, and whatever she said next was lost in the kiss they shared. Slow, tender, and full of everything they couldn’t say with words.

The rest of the night was theirs.

The stars outside the window shimmered, mirrored faintly in the reflection of the obsidian walls. But Jinwoo wasn’t looking at the stars.

He was looking at her.

Y/N stood at the center of their room, bathed in moonlight, her veil set aside hours ago, her dress replaced with something softer, simpler. Something that was just for him. But to him, she would have been beautiful in anything. Or nothing. He couldn’t decide which stole his breath more—her laughter earlier in the garden or the quiet way she was looking at him now.

Like he was the only thing in her world.

His steps were slow as he crossed the room. Deliberate. But his hands were gentle when he touched her, as if she was made of light. Fingers brushed her cheek, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled at him, a small, knowing curve of her lips, and leaned into his palm.

"You're staring," she whispered, her voice soft, playful.

"I’m memorizing," Jinwoo murmured back. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, slow and reverent. "Every time I think I’ve got you all figured out… you do something that makes me fall harder."

Her laugh was quiet, but her cheeks flushed warm. She closed the distance between them with a step, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers fisting lightly in his shirt.

"Good," she whispered. "I plan to keep surprising you."

He bent down then, his forehead resting against hers. For a moment, they just breathed each other in. His hands found her waist, then her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The warmth of her body, the soft sigh she gave when he touched her—it was intoxicating.

Their lips met softly at first. A gentle press. Familiar, sweet. But it didn’t stay that way.

Jinwoo deepened the kiss, his hands moving up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing over the apples of her cheeks as if he wanted to commit every detail of her to memory. She melted into him, her hands sliding up to frame his jaw. Their kisses became slower, but heavier, each one saying what words couldn’t.

"I love you," she breathed against his mouth.

His breath shuddered out of him as he whispered it back, his voice rough, "I love you more."

He didn’t give her time to argue. He kissed her again, slow and thorough, his lips dragging over hers like he had all the time in the world. And he did. This was their time. For once, there was no war waiting for them. No portals. No shadows in the dark.

Only them.

When his hands found the hem of her robe, he paused, his dark eyes searching hers for permission. She answered with a nod, her hands guiding his. She was warm under his fingers, softer than he ever imagined someone like him deserved. But she was here. She chose him.

And he intended to worship every inch of her.

They moved together toward the bed, stumbling a little as they laughed into each other’s mouths. His hands never left her skin, slow and reverent, memorizing the shape of her hips, the delicate curve of her spine. Her fingers were in his hair, tangling as she pulled him closer.

They lay down tangled in sheets and shadows. His touch was patient. His hands wondering around her body, finding a sensitive spot that made her arch forward and whine.

“You’re sensitive.” Jinwoo mumbled against her neck, trailing kisses down to her collar bone. His mouth moving down, his tongue licking the space between her breasts. “Only for me.”

He brought his large hands to her breasts lovingly cupping and massaging them. Goosebumps rose against his skin at the sound of her soft moans.

“Jinwoo.” Y/N whispered. She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair without thinking.

He chuckled and brought his lips to her nipple, his dark hair, tousled and soft, brushed her bare skin with every movement.

He stilled for just a second, and then sighed against her skin, the sound so content and low it made her chest ache.

“I love your hair,” she whispered between moans, running her fingers through it again, slow and gentle. She let her nails graze lightly over his scalp, and Jinwoo’s entire body shivered, just faintly. “It’s so soft.”

“You do?” he murmured, lips brushing over the hollow of her throat.

“Mm, it calms you,” she said with a small smile. “And I like when you melt.”

He chuckled softly, the vibration of it sinking into her skin. “I don’t melt.”

“You do,” she insisted, dragging her nails lightly again. He exhaled a deep, shaky breath, pressing a kiss over her heart.

Jinwoo looked at her with mixture or awe and hunger – a deep lust filled hunger.

He brought his index and middle finger to her entrance, smiling when he felt how wet she was.

“How about I make you melt this time?”

Y/N nodded “Mmm’, yes please. I need you, Jinwoo.” She whined feeling him circle her entrance.

Jinwoo didn’t make her wait as he plugged his fingers in. Her back arched as she gasped, spreading her legs desperate for him deeper. Feeling his fingers arch against her walls.

Still Y/N wanted more.

“Please, Jinwoo.” She whimpered.

Her body whined when Jinwoo stopped and pulled his fingers out.

“What is it, my wife? Tell me what you want.” his voice purred, he brought his fingers to his lips, rolling his tongue over her sweetness.

“You,” Her lip quivered as she shuddered from the cool air of the room. “Please, Jinwoo.” As her hands held him.

He brought his large, hard cock out of his pants, stroking lightly. She swallowed at the sight wondering how she could ever take them.

Jinwoo lined his tip against her entrance, soaking himself in her juices and teasing her a little.

“Are you ready, my wife? I will take it slow so you will feel everything.” He whispered a for the first time tonight she heard his voice start to shake.

Y/N bit her lip as she nodded. “Yes, I’m all yours.”

Jinwoo slowly slid himself in as she let out a moan of tight, firey pressure. The moment he was fully inside her both let out a gasp; they both waited so long for this moment. Y/N wrapped her arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck while she got used to the feeling of all inside.

He waited for her to nod and give him the signal to continue. He planted a kiss on her cheek as he pulled out slightly before thrusting in again. Y/N spread her legs further apart, moaning at the next deeper thrust. She grasped at the muscles of his back for an anchor.

He slowly begins with a slow and steady thrusts. She feels hot around him, her walls sliding up and down his shaft, her canal moist and inviting as he goes back and forth. Her walls are tight around him, making Jinwoo grunt lowly as he places kisses on whatever part of her body he can reach. He drives his cock into her, making her breath hitch, every now and then, her body meeting his thrust, trying to make him go faster.

“Just like that, Y/N”. Jinwoo kept his eyes on Y/N as he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Uhhh – “ Y/N grunts, her eyes squeezed tightly, her legs are shaky,

He thrusted again, harder and faster as he felt her pleasure start to build. He kept a lovely, steady pace.

“Ohh, Jinwoo!” Y/N moaned, making him shiver.

“You like that, my wife?” Jinwoo asks, thrusting in a little harder, his cock coming almost completely out of her and then ramming back inside her.

“YES –!” Y/N hisses sharply. She looked at Jinwoo, meeting his penetrating eyes. ‘Harder” eyes beg, and he goes harder. “Ohh, Fu – “, she cries, out in a yell, eyes shutting again, her legs trying their hardest not to close.

“How’s that feel, my wife?” Jinwoo asked again, when his hand on her neck moves to her breast, cupping it, his palm grinding against her nipple.

She grasped and scratched at his back desperate to have more of him. His heavy breaths and grunts sent electricity through her while his cock pressed lovingly against that sweet spot.

They’re caught somewhere between a purr and a growl, both soft and hungry, needy.

“Hold on.” His voice was quiet whimper while Y/N held him.

Hearing him whimper always sent her feral but she did her best to keep still while Jinwoo pounded into her tight cunt. Her back arched as the waves of pleasure crashed down into a lovely orgasm.

“You feel so good. I love you, Y/N” Jinwoo whispered in her ears while panting, sucking the lobe into his hot mouth. Y/N walls tighten around Jinwoo as he does this and he pushes his hips a little harder. He suck on her ear, his lips and teeth pulling on it, making her moan loudly. He grunt loudly in her ear, “Arrghhh, Y/N” sound filing her ear. He moves one of his hand on top of her, lacing their fingers together, He can feel her shallow breaths, hear he pants. Her hips rolling back against him, his rock pushing in and out, making her croon.

Y/N knew he was close, and she wrapped her legs around him not letting him go.

“I’m, I’m – so close,” she whispers, voice dripping with arousal.

Jinwoo grins against her ear, “I know,” he rasps, pushing harder. He moves into her slowly, but hard, making her grunt and gasp at the same time.

Y/N’s heart is racing, her body on the edge, being thrust a little more each time. “Jinwoo!” she moans loudly, his name coming out with a deep, throaty groan. “Jinwoo,” she whimpers, breathy.

“I’m right here, my love,” Jinwoo tells her, grunting into her ear, squeezing her hand tightly. His pace picks up again, his cock penetrating her.

“Come for me, my wife.” Jinwoo whisper in her ear, his words barely being understood through his deep grunts.

“Yes” Y/N whimpers.

“My wife,” he says again, tasting it like something forbidden and precious at the same time.

Every time he calls her that, her breath hitches, and he feels her heart race beneath his touch. It makes him want more. Makes him need more. Because he’s waited—waited so long, fought through worlds, sacrificed everything—and in the end, she chose him. She stayed.

Jinwoo’s close, his hips working faster and faster, their bodies molding together against the bed.

“Mmmmm – “ Y/N hums again from her throat. She can feel the rush of blood in her body, the scorching heat flowing through her. She hears Jinwoo’s loud grunts in her ear, feels him jerking quickly, and then there’s a rush of hot fluids pushing into her, the delicious feeling throwing her right over the edge. “Jinwoo,” is the last word to come out from her mouth before she’s spiraling, falling into a blissful place of ecstasy.

“My wife,” he says again, voice rough against her skin. “Mine.”

Jinwoo’s arms held her tightly to him as she were wrapped around him lovingly. The heat of their bodies, the feeling of his heart beating and the rise and fall of his chest as he heavily breathed.

“I love you, Y/N” his voice was a husky whisper as he pressed a soft yet deep kiss against her lips.

Her kisses were soft. They spoke quietly between kisses—sometimes teasing, sometimes serious. Promises made. Futures dreamed. It was messy and tender, clumsy and perfect.

He traced the line of her collarbone with his lips. She pressed her hand over his heart, feeling it race under her palm. They were both breathing hard but smiling. Always smiling.

Afterward, they stayed wrapped up in each other, her head on his chest, his hand drawing lazy circles on her shoulder.

"You’re shaking," she teased softly.

He huffed a laugh. "I’m trying not to pass out."

Y/N laughed too, pressing a kiss over his heart. "We’ve fought dragons and Monarchs. But this is what knocks you out?"

Jinwoo smiled, sleepy but happy. "You’re a different kind of dangerous."

She rolled her eyes but snuggled closer. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"It was."

And they drifted to sleep like that, tangled together, their breathing slow and steady. Safe. Home.

Y/N had always suspected Jinwoo had an unfair advantage.

He was a Monarch. The Shadow Monarch. He could fight for days without rest, command legions with a thought, and tear through entire battlefields without so much as breaking a sweat.

But nothing—nothing—had prepared her for what that meant on their wedding night.

It had started gentle, slow and sweet. Reverent. Worshipful.

But now, hours later, she was pretty sure her legs no longer worked properly.

She lay sprawled across their bed, the sheets twisted, her hair an absolute mess, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Jinwoo hovered over her, dark hair falling in his eyes, his smile that rare, devastatingly soft one he reserved only for her.

And he was still looking at her like he was starving.

“Jinwoo,” she managed, her voice hoarse and breathless, “I… I think I need a break.”

He tilted his head at her, amused. “A break?” His fingers traced a lazy path along her collarbone, down to the curve of her waist. “I thought you said you could handle anything.”

“I was… clearly overestimating myself,” she groaned, flopping her arm over her face. “I’m not built like you, okay? You have a cheat code. You can regenerate stamina like a machine.”

He chuckled. A deep, low sound that made her toes curl, even now. “That’s true,” he agreed shamelessly. “But you don’t hear me complaining.”

Y/N cracked one eye open to glare at him. “Complaining?! Because you’re not the one who’s going to die from this.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss her forehead, then her temple, then the shell of her ear. “I’m taking it easy on you.”

“Taking easy???! You are not,” she huffed, but the way her body shivered under his lips betrayed her.

“Hmm.” He nipped gently at her earlobe, and she bit her lip hard to keep from making a sound. “Then maybe I should slow down.”

Her heart jumped into her throat as he kissed his way down the column of her throat, his hand sliding down her hip again, fingers warm and possessive. She squirmed, but there was no escaping his hands. Not that she really wanted to.

“I… I need water,” she tried again, weakly.

His grin was wicked this time. “I’ll get you water after this round.”

“Jinwoo—!”

But he was already moving, catching her wrist and bringing her hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes dark and full of a heat that made her stomach flip. "You’re glowing," he murmured, tracing her wrist with his thumb. “I could look at you forever.”

“You are looking,” she gasped as he leaned back over her, their noses brushing. “Nonstop. For hours.”

“And I’m not even close to done,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers in a maddening tease. “You’re my wife now. I have the rest of forever.”

Y/N groaned again, sinking into the sheets as he kissed her thoroughly, slow and deep, stealing the last of her energy. She dragged her nails over his shoulder weakly. “You’re relentless.”

“You love it,” he said with a grin against her mouth.

“I might not survive it,” she breathed.

He chuckled again, low and warm. “You’re stronger than you think.”

She didn’t answer this time—mostly because she was too busy kissing him back, even if her body felt like jelly and her legs were about to mutiny. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. He touched her like she was something precious, even when his control frayed. Every kiss, every whispered promise made her fall harder.

And even as she gasped his name again, even as she clung to him and lost count of how many times he stole her breath, one thing was very, very clear.

“Jinwoo… Wait – Noooo! Let me – ”

....

“JINWOO! YEEEESSSS!!”

Jinwoo could outlast anything.

<< Chapter 16 | Chapter 18 >>

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[bunny-jpeg]

deep touch

capt. john price

cw: smut & fluff, chronic pain, soft dom!price, comfort fic, husband!price, wife!reader, massages, price is a good man, side by side/spooning position, wife kink

bunny says: chronic pain nation rise!!! i've been battling some pretty bad pains in my legs, thank god that writing is a sedentary activity!

you knew you had chronic pain, the thing about it was that you could go days feeling decent but, out of nowhere it would all change and you'd be achy all over. with it largely concentrated in your legs.

the rain only made it worse, it was july in the sleepy seaside town you lived in with your husband and there were very few tourists due to the frequent rain. the rain also brought a new challenge, the sleepiness.

you wanted to be awake to spend as much time with your husband now that he was home from his most recent deployment. but at shreds of sunlight were cast between the gaps in rain clouds, you felt lethargic.

you stirred a little and rolled to your side to get your phone. the bed felt welcoming against the aches in your bones. the joints and the muscles wanted nothing else to do but lie there. but you knew that you couldn't be there all day.

you forced yourself up, and put on your slippers before you headed to the kitchen. before you left the bedroom, you put one of price's sweatshirts on yourself as a form of a comfort blanket.

you hobbled to the kitchen and got yourself a cup of ginger tea. it was a little hot for it, so you often let it sit until the cup grew cold. once it poured, you left it and went to go find your husband.

price looked from the morning news to you, he had a cup of coffee in hand which he quickly put down, "hey there, baby girl." he said, "someone's a little stiff this mornin'?"

you chuckled a little, "yeah, you know how it is. rains for three days and suddenly all my joints are mad at me. i thought after all this time, my body would get used to rainy england." you sat down on the couch next to your husband and he pulled you into his chest. you relaxed a little, feeling the soft strength of your husband's chest. even the old shirt he was wearing felt nice.

"well, i guess that means i have to take care of my wife today."

you sighed, "you're supposed to be relaxing, john. you were away for almost three months. let me spoil you."

he kissed the top of your head, "no need to, love. you let me take care of everything, you save your strength."

you sighed, "tomorrow, it'll be better. and then i can make those muffins for you that gladys across the road really liked. and i can also make dinner for you, and you can just sit on the couch with a beer and watch football."

he kissed your head once more to keep you down, "love. if it gets better and you better not lie to me about the pain. i'm going to be home for six months, you have more than enough time to make me every recipe from that little cook book of yours."

"i just wanna make being home feel special." you huffed.

he chuckled, "don't worry, love. just bein' able to be here with you is more than enough to make it special. to have a home."

he just held you for a while, letting you be close to him. the pain was a discomfort that lingered in your body. you wish you could like detach parts of your body and like run them through the wash so they'd stop hurting.

"i hate the pain."

"and i hate seein' ya in pain, love. now why don't i get you some breakfast."

you sighed, "can you rub my legs first, you always know how to help it." your voice sounded so small.

"of course." he said, "i'd love nothing more." he gave you that sweet smile of his as he carefully moved you so he could put your legs on his lap. you noticed that he checked for anything swollen or discoloration. he was too good at this sometimes.

he wanted to make sure his woman was in tip-top shape. he then started to gently rub at your calves. his strong fingers worked into the muscles of your legs. you let out a whimpering noise every time he hit just the right spot. he would stop and you'd give him a thumbs up to assure him that you were a-okay.

"it just feels good." you said as he moved up into your thighs. the noises were almost erotic if it weren't for the pain you were in. that was one thing about dating an army man, was that you would never have to pay for a massage ever again!

"good girl." he praised, "you are always so strong. i'm so proud of you."

he worked the limbs and you were thankful for it. by the time he was finished, you were practically asleep on the couch. price chuckled and grabbed the throw blanket

it wasn't easy, but love wasn't meant to be the easiest thing in the world. and price was going nowhere.

-

the next morning, you were feeling better. and when you turned over, you were greeted to the sight of your husband laid out beside you. he had his glasses on and his phone too close to his face.

you shifted closer to him and kissed him on the cheek, "good morning."

he looked over, he looked like such an old man with those glasses on. he put his phone down and took them off to get closer to you. he wrapped his strong arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you towards him so he could kiss you, "there's the most beautiful woman in the world."

"oh shush."

"how ya feelin'?" he asked.

you looked up at him, "can i be honest?" you felt heat in your cheeks.

price held your face and replied, "i wouldn't want anythin' else." then smiled at you. he was such a comforting presence in your life. your husband was a good few years older than you, but he was as gentle as a lamb with you.

"i'm.. i'm in less pain. the knees are still a little bothersome. but i am actually really horny." you wanted to look away but price had his grasp on you.

"oh really?" he asked, "my little wife is all turned on?"

you replied, "i am. i always get turned on after you dote on me all day. it's like my brain is making up for the hurt it put me through by giving me those feel good chemicals." you laughed a little.

"well, then." he said as he pulled away a little to take off his white t-shirt. you got a good look at his bare toned, hairy chest. he said, "get on your other side, facing away from me. then you don't have to be on your knees."

you face went hotter as you said, "i love you so much."

he chuckled as he pushed the blankets off of the both of you, "my love, i'm never gonna deny my wife what she needs. if that's massages or a good fuckin' then i'm there. because that's what a husband does."

you gave him a quick kiss before you turned over and got your bottom half naked. you felt him get behind you, his cock was stiffening at the feeling of your ass.

his big hands took a hold of you and lifted your right leg so he could have access to your pussy. you could feel his hairy chest through the fabric of your t-shirt.

it was like a comofrting hug, a peaceful feeling of you and your husband making love. you relaxed against the bed and held onto the pillow under your head.

"does it hurt?" he asked softly.

"no, no. none of the pain was in my hips."

he kissed you neck tenderly, "good, good. tell me if it started hurting. i need you to communicate with me."

your other hand held his arm that was draped over your waist. slowly he sank his cock into you, you felt so protected and the pain was minimal. price was such a giving lover, that was the kind of man he was. he wanted to make sure that you felt loved even when he was away.

he rested his chin on your shoulder as bother arms got around you and he started to softly hump against you. his cock felt snug in your cunt. his thrusts were light and quick, but it still built pleasure in both of you.

you held on tightly to your husband as he rutted against you. you could feel the excitement in your chest as your husband made love to you.

"this is how a husband should treat his wife. treat her like the perfect woman she is." he kissed the shell of your ear, "you're perfect. i lucked out, i don't know what god put you in my arms but i hope he is being worshiped till the end of time." he chuckled as he gave you another series of kisses up against the nape of your neck.

"please, john." you moaned, "you're making me hot all over."

he replied softly, "good, i love when you're all hot in the face." his pace was a bit faster now. the pleasure coursed through his veins at the feeling of his beautiful wife's sweet pussy.

the sex was tender. it was soft. it felt good for your aching body and it felt amazing to be loved so tenderly by your husband. you moaned softly against the pillow.

price pressed his forehead against your back as he thrusted into you. his grip on you was firm but light. you weren't getting out of his grasp. he panted against your heated skin.

"i'm close, honey." you whimpered.

he nodded, "me too, love." he picked up the pace a little further, keeping an ear out for your noises so he could make sure he wasn't hurting you.

with a few more thrusts of his hips, you both came at the same time. your heightened sounds paired with the low groan your husband made as the two of you finished.

"my woman." he said as he kissed the center of his back.

he pulled out, but his softening cock rested against your ass as you got comfortable in his burly arms. it was such a protective force all that muscle and fuzz up against your back.

"that's my girl." he mumbled closely into your ear. his facial hair brushed against it.

"i love you, john."

"and i love you, even with all your aches and pains. you know i'm no spring chicken either." he chuckled softly as he laid there close to you, feeling your heated body next to him.

"neither of us are." you chuckled as you turned over a little to kiss him on the lips. <3

[bigwishes]

Big Man on Campus

(a trade with @alphajocklover)

Trent had been going to college for almost 4 years at this point, he was 21 and steadily approaching his 22nd birthday and approaching his graduation even faster. He had spent most of his time inside, working on his computer engineering degree or gaming. He didn't really care for the college party scene, he'd much rather stay in his tidy little single all weekend until monday classes.

but when it finally sank in how close it was to being over Trent couldn't help but have a little bit of regret, should he have hit the gym with the other guys on his floor? should he have joined the casual rowing team just for some fun and exercise? was computer science really what he wanted a degree in? Senior doubt and regret flooded his mind, but there was still an upside. 4 months were left, 4 months he'd make the most of.

Trent went on the college forums looking for something to do, he thought about a few of the options but found two that he really liked. The first was a dungeons and dragons club the second was listen as an exercise club but it also seemed to be a project for two sport science students.

Transformation Experiment Ground: "Our names are Brody and Clark, we are looking for young males on campus who are out of shape looking to get in shape and help with our experiment. Come form a sense of community, get the body you desire and help us with our research!" Monday came and classes went. Normally Trent would go home and smash out a few ours gaming but it was time for his clubs to start. First he had the sport experiment thing, the only issue was he only had a few minutes to get to the dnd club across campus, but he wasn't sure how sweaty he'd get or if he'd need a shower. He just had to hope there was a shower at the campus gym.

Trent checked his phone, he thought he was going to the campus gym but the address was for a room in the athlete scholarship dorms. Trent walked passed the gym and into the building next to it. The halls had photos of previous college athletes plastered up between the doors.

Finally he arrived, right on time, room 223. Trent raised his hand to knock when the door suddenly swung open. Standing before him was a jacked guy with spiked blonde hair in a black tank and grey sweat pants and standing next to him just slightly down the hall was an equally jacked dude with shaggy brown hair in the same outfit.

"hey bro what's up I'm Brody and just over there is Clark"

Brody stuck out his hand but when Trent went to shake it he realised Brody was waiting for a fist bump not a hand shake, Trent awkwardly closed up his hand and bumped Brody's fist. Clark let out a douchey laugh that echoed out the door.

"Come in man, come in"

"You are, the only one comin" Clark sighed

"oh, was I the only one who signed up?"

Trent started to get anxious, guys who looked like this normally bullied him and now he was going to be on his own with them for an hour. Trent made his way into the room, following Brody and Clark.

The athlete dorms were so much bigger than the other rooms he'd been in. There was a large lounge space with a small kitchen, a door to a private bathroom and two bedrooms either side of the lounge.

In the corner of the lounge there was a small fold out chair and table. On the table were 5 green vials and what looked to be an oculus rift stripped down to its basic components.

"so ummm, where do we start with like a workout plan?"

"nah dude, I mean I can totally write you one but this is a bit more of a series of practice experiments" Brody said as he walked over to the small table

"get him hooked up man, I'm gonna grab my laptop with the video"

Trent followed Brody over to the small fold out chair

"its nothing too fancy but our class mates got the actual sports lab, apparently our experiment is pseudo-science"

"what exactly are you guys studying?"

"we are trying to see if active suggestion and nutrients redirection can get people to actively pursue fitness"

"oh damn, I just thought this was like, a workout class" Trent sat down as Brody began setting up the make shift visor. "if you don't mind me asking, what are you guys majoring in?"

"well I'm getting a double major in bio-chemistry and psychology"

"and I'm getting a double major in computer engineering and software development" Clark said as he walked back in carrying an open laptop

Trent's jaw almost dropped to the floor, he'd come here thinking he was going to be made to workout by two dumb jocks who were just going to scribble times on a napkin, but instead he's participating in a proper experiment designed by two people probably leagues smarter than him.

"okay man its real easy, we are gonna hook up an image display for a few minutes and you'll take a shot of this" Clark said as he handed over one of the small green vials.

"errrr, is it safe?"

Clark burst out laughing and Brody couldn't help but crack a smile.

"yeah man, its just a diet supplement you can get offline, fda approved, basically it tells your muscles they want to hold water and your fat cells to burn"

Trent downed the green liquid as Clark flicked the visor down over his eyes. There was a short beep sound before images began to flash on the visor. Flashes of guys working out, of dumbbells and the words you are a jock and you love working out and muscle.

Trent couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry guys this is so corny" He laughed.

The other two began to chuckle as well as the room filled with laughter.

"Look dude, Its the closest thing I could find on YouTube, its about the suggestions" Clark laughed

Suddenly the lights in the room began to flicker and all 3 globes in the lounge burnt out at once.

"what the-" Brody and Clark said in unison, but they were interrupted when sparks began to fly off the oculus. They rushed to try and take it off Trent but were shocked by the electricity. Sparks shout out of the power point in the wall and the two boys watched helplessly as Trent began to convulse in his seat.

Trent let out a painful and stalled out moan as the electricity travelled over the oculus and shocked his temples.

The room was dark was illuminated every few seconds by a shock or spark and the two boys could swear they could see something, something happening to Trent's body. A few more seconds passed before it finally stopped.

Brody and Clark stood there stunned, the sound of beeping could be heard from the kitchen as the oven entered safety mode, but a more concerning noise echoed in the boys ears. The sound of sizzling. Clark carefully walked over to the curtains and opened them, the room filling with light and showing them what had happened to Trent.

He sat in the chair with his head slumped forward, his chin hitting his chest as smoke was rising off the device on his head and all over his body. But what the two saw in the dark wasn't a trick of the light, Trent had indeed gotten bigger. His skinny fat body had expanded, he'd become more lean, his muscles more pronounced and most of the fat on his body had melted away.

Trent let out a moan as a string of drool fell from his mouth

"OH THANK FUCK HE'S ALIVE" Clark cried out with a sigh of relief.

The two rushed over and pulled the device off his head. Trent's eyes instantly responded as he looked up at the two of them.

"wooahh bro, huhu, that was intence" Trent mumbled

"yeah, thank god you're okay" said Brody.

Trent lifted his arm to the side and flexed his bicep and let out a dumb chuckle.

"errr, dude, real quick, what's your name?"

"Trent, duuuhuhuhu, you fuckin forgetful bro?"

Trent seemed okay but something was wrong, even with the short interaction the three of them had, Clark and Brody knew something had happened to him.

"hey Trent, what are you" Brody asked

Trent smirked as he lifted his other arm, completing a double bicep pose.

"a jock, duuuhuhuhu"

Trent stood up and effortlessly pushed passed the two as he started heading towards the door.

"well at least we know his motor functions weren't damaged"

Clark and Brody quickly followed him

"Dude, I really think you should go to the medical centre"

"Nah bro, I got dnd like NOW I gotta boost"

"wait Trent!" Clark yelled out "err, dnd thats an interesting hobbie for a jock, what else are you into"

Trent spun around on the spot with a big smirk on his face

"glad you asked dude, I love three things, gymmin, gamin, dndenin..dndin.....dndining....." Trent's voice trailed off as he tried to finish forming his catchy sentence

"and, what about your major? what are you studying?" Brody asked

"errr huhuhu, like, what's a major?" Trent said turning around to leave again

"FUCK DUDE I THINK WE ACTUALLY FRIED HIS BRAIN" Clark started to panic

"I mean, yeah, but it seems like his core interests and that jock hypno video have combined into a new personality, I dunno if we friend his brain more, re-wrote it"

"DUDE NOW IS NOT THE FUCKING TIME FOR YOUR INTEREST IN THE HUMAN BRAIN WE FUCKING CREATED GYM BRO FRANKENSTIEN"

Trent walked out the door into the crowded hallway. Students were all talking over the top of each other in front of their dorm rooms trying to work out what was going on. The two boys raced out to follow Trent.

"Trent dude wait!, errr, tell me about your dnd character" Brody called out desperately trying to stop him from leaving

Trent continued to power forward through the crowd, pushing through them like water with his new powerful body.

"well bro, I was gonna play some like, lil spell caster dude, but like, i dunno bro, numbers are hard, so like, I think I'm just gonna play, like, some sick fucking, roided out minotaur with a huge axe"

Brody was struggling to keep up with Trent, they both had already lost Clark to the sea of students. Brody grabbed onto the back of Trent's shirt which caused him to stop and turn around.

"woah lil dude, if you wanted some action all you had to do was ask, I got an 8 inch python with your na-"

"WHAT!, ha, oh, no dude, errr, that's" Brody's face turned bright red as he got flustered.

"no? damn too bad, you lil fuckin, science dudes are kinda cute"

Brody was stunned, some how all this muscle and new persona had also added a level of charm to Trent that dug right through to his core. But it was too late to grab his attention again. Trent had already pulled away and gone off out of Brody's sight...

One week had passed since the extreme power surge that had hit the Athlete Scholarship Dorms. There almost wasn't a single incident other than a few blown light bulbs and some damaged electronics....almost. The college had found out about Trent, no matter how hard Brody and Clark tried to hide it. However the two got off lucky. Both the College and the investigation into what happened deemed it was an accident that unfortunately resulted in what was being called "Personality Death". Trent had an entirely healthy body and brain with no signs of damages, but something had happen to completely re-write who and what he was.

The college couldn't let Trent graduate, he couldn't even remember what he had enrolled for, but the college still found a purpose for him. The hid the extreme and sudden body transformation from the investigation and gave Trent a 'job'. His official title was research assistant but he was too stupid for any serious work. His real job was to sit there and be injected with experimental steroids. Forced to grow like some roided out lab rat. Not that he cared, every time Trent put on even an ounce of muscle he'd spend hours in the mirror flexing. He was the biggest guy on campus.

[6 years later]

"okay babe, just hold still"

"aahhh, fuck, it feels so good when it goes in"

"you are so weird, I hate getting injections"

"well huhuhu, when you got a sexy lil piece of meat to do em, its a huge fuckin turn on dude"

Brody stood up from the kitchen table and began to clean up the injection kit, chuckling as he did it.

"Trent, that's so cheesy"

Trent stood up, the sound of wood scraping against the floor filled the room as he effortlessly and accidentally moved the entire dining table.

"will it make me look like Captain America huhuhu?"

"babe...seriously, I think we passed the Captain America stage about 150 pounds ago"

"then hit me with all 6 and make me the hulk" Trent pressed his body against Brody and the table.

Brody was no stranger to 300+ pounds pressing against him "I said no Trent" a slight grin cracked across Brody's face, 'besides, for all I know that one shot will add another 50 pounds, we gotta wait and see."

Trent stood there staring into Brody's eyes with an expression that could only be described as a computer failing to load a basic program 10 times in a row.

"Then jab me with all 6 and give me" Trent stopped to count on his fingers, "120 pounds of muscle" a large smirk crept across his face, proud he was able to do the math in his head.

Brody rolled his eyes and chuckled

"that'd be 300 pounds babe" Brody packed up the rest of the kit and left the kitchen.

Trent went to follow after him, he had hit the gym already today so no other thoughts existed in his mind other than getting attention for how big he was from Brody, but as he walked out the kitchen he caught a glimpse of himself and began flexing in the lounge room mirror, completely forgetting what he had been doing just 2 seconds again...

He was so proud of the roided lab rat he had become...