#like they have already attracted everyone they could with this party line

[schrobrm]

me tomorrow at work

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Brat by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Spanking, Choking, Dom!Terry Richmond, BDE, Bisexual Female Partner, Compersion Fetish, BDSM Play, Urophilia/Watersports.

Summary: Sasha is a brat. On purpose. Now Terry is mad. Big mad.

Word Count: 6.7K

"I'm still, I'm still wet here tonight

So I will make you cum through the night

Will you touch me? Will you go deep in me?

I will in the sheets

I will, I will, I-I-I will"

Teyana Taylor – "WTP"

The cops were called to his home

Terry worked overnight duty on base, and his desk phone rang at ten-twenty. His neighbor Roderick, a fellow marine, hit him up with news that a noise complaint about his apartment brought out the local police. It was the second one that month.

"Your girlfriend has a bunch of women in your place again…the music is blasting and the cops are talking to her right now."

Terry rubbed his forehead. His jawline tightened. Sasha knew better than to have a bunch of people in his place when he wasn't there without letting him know about it ahead of time. He'd recently given her keys to his apartment six months ago as a reward for being a good girl. Here she was, fucking up the privilege already.

You see, Sasha is a brat.

On purpose.

It's a quality that titillates Terry, and yet it frustrates him, too. Sasha can't help it. Her nature is to be desirable, a supreme fuck, and well…a rule breaker.

Terry met Sasha at a wedding in Bayagoula Parrish, Louisiana. Both were part of the wedding party, he as a groomsman and she as a bridesmaid. He wore his military dress blues to match the groom. Sasha's beauty angered the bride who felt she eclipsed all the other women in the wedding party. He appreciated it because they'd been paired with different people to walk down the aisle, and he had the opportunity to watch her stroll in after him. Sasha displayed her shapely figure, which could be quite distracting. Her legs were fantastic, especially in heels and a high slit dress. She was top heavy too, and the off-the-shoulder dress made every attracted eye dart back and forth between thigh meat and the big juicy melons bouncing as she approached the altar. The tangerine orange of her dress enhanced the warm cognac color of her skin. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her. She was pure fap material for guys who couldn't pull her, which happened to be many at the reception. Samuel, who partnered walking down the aisle with her, strutted around thinking he was the shit with her displayed on his arm. But it was a wrap once Sasha lined her gaze with Terry's at the altar. Fireworks.

The two of them together oozed sex appeal and thoughts of sex. They complimented each other's energy. He had an assertive, domineering personality shaped by his years in the marines. Equal parts controlling and nurturing, he could overwhelm the ladies within seconds of meeting them. He already had the women there swooning over his voice. A gaze from his alluring eyes in any direction set hearts fluttering. Even the older women tee-heed with girlish enthusiasm interacting with him. He knew his power to attract and weaponized it as needed.

Sasha was a natural pleaser. Not to be mixed up with an overall people-pleaser, or a tiresome PickMe, her desire was to satisfy her lover, and they in turn would naturally gift her the moon, with a necklace of stars to match. She came off bubbly, warm, and endearing…the type of woman receptive to romance from an Alpha type. Male or female. He sensed she needed a little bit of spoiling with firm discipline to keep her in check. Pleasure and punishment. A heady combination he wanted to offer.

One bridesmaid joked about Terry and Sasha looking like human versions of Scar and Nala from The Lion King. His devilish green eyes and her equally cat-like eye shape gave testament to it. Their instant chemistry was like an electric current running through a socket. Everyone around them sensed the incredible magnetism they carried in proximity, like static electricity zapping them.

She sat down at the same table and immediately started flirting with Terry. After a few drinks, a deeper connection blossomed. Her voice turned him on. Everything sounded erotic the way she enunciated certain words, as if she wanted to make love to his ears. They chatted each other up, lightly touching hands and arms, whispering in each other's ears. Her breasts kept brushing against his arm, turning him on further as he fantasized about sucking on them with her sexy legs thrown over his shoulders. She brought out a feral competition in a lot of the men who interacted with her on the dance floor. What impressed him the most was how she complimented women there constantly, hyping them on their clothes and make-up. She was a girl's girl and danced with some who men passed over by streaking to the dance floor because the DJ was excellent. Sasha rallied a group of women into doing the YaYa, a Creole line-dance making a resurgence in those parts because of Beyonce's Cowboy Carter album.

He didn't want to get sweaty in his military uniform, but Terry couldn't resist a good, soulful line dance with a bunch of Black people. Bayagoula had some slim pickings for Black women since it was a majority white town, but since the bride was Black, Terry and a host of other Black soldiers hoped she had enough Black female friends coming to town available for some good times. He silently thanked the wedding planner for placing Sasha next to him. They shared a slow dance, and he loved having her breasts resting against his chest.

As the evening continued, they cozied up even more.

Sasha kissed him first right at the table. The lights in the venue had lowered for after-dinner partying, so Terry took advantage, purposely grazing his fingers against her right breast where he'd thrown his arm around her shoulder. Their table was empty and the dance floor was full tilt boogie. Nibbling on her earlobe, he whispered filthy things he wanted to do to her. He lowered his hand and slipped them up the slit in her dress, sliding her panties aside, fingering her with shallow thrusts. She let him finger fuck her, begging for him to go deeper.

Sasha started playing with Terry's dick under the tablecloth. Everyone else was too drunk and too occupied with dancing. No one paid attention to them. She got his dick so stiff that he dragged her to the nearest restroom and fucked her. Lifted her onto the sink, hiked up her dress, unfastened the upper part of her dress and released tits he now adored. It didn't take long for him to spill into the condom. Their foreplay at the table had them rearing to go.

His dick was too big and heavy to fit all the way inside her pussy. The last two inches, visible at the root, moved up and down as he ejaculated. He loved how she handled his meat. He packed so much length that her pussy squirted from the pressure of being stretched to capacity. She peed on him, too. He pinched her big nipples, obsessing over them already.

"I'm taking you home with me," he said.

His dick kept pulsing cum, and he shivered as the last orgasmic surge pushed through his dick. Even his nut sack jumped at the pleasure of release. Sasha gave off soft babygirl energy, and he wanted a woman like that. He'd only known her for five hours and already claimed her as his.

"Okay," she said, with her legs draped over his arms.

Terry turned her around and lifted her breasts. He watched his reflection in the mirror bounce them in his hands, getting off on the weight and size. His dick finally started going down, and Sasha peeled the condom off. He turned to urinate in the toilet and she held his dick for him, guiding the stream into the bowl.

"You like watching me do that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hmmm, into watersports?"

Her sloe eyes twinkled with delight.

"I used to watch my brother's college friends pee in our backyard when they were drunk. The sight of dicks out in the open like that…squirting everywhere…yummy. I get wet just thinking about it."

"What if I pissed on you? Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy…I would play with my pussy while you did it."

He grinned. She already understood his expectations. He whispered in her ear that he wanted a good girl, an obedient one, and she knew exactly what he meant. A submissive that catered to her man.

She shook his dick and used one of the soft paper towels to clean his tip. Then she dropped to her knees and sucked him off for a final cleaning. He wanted to bust a load on her face, but they'd been in the restroom long enough.

He scooped her up and drove back to his apartment.

They began a committed relationship soon after.

Terry dominated her life. Told her what to wear, what to cook for them when he worked hard all day supporting them both. Sasha flitted from part-time job to job like a bee gathering pollen whenever she was bored, not in a rush to find a career like Terry had done. He was a big bad marine with a jacked body, a tatted sleeve down one arm, and a sculpted face. He liked her being home, and she liked being there spoiled by him. His pay grade and rank allowed him to provide a comfortable life for her.

There were other rules, of course.

The apartment had to be pristine clean and her pussy had to be ready when he came home. He dealt with loud, tense, funky, gritty, and abrasive men all day. His home had to reflect the opposite vibe, and he needed to sink into her softness in the evening.

She greeted him at the door after work, looking dreamy in heels and clothes he liked to see her in, like short skirts and sexy dresses to show off those legs. With a cocktail in hand and deep welcoming tongue kisses, Sasha played her role. He brought home flowers every Friday, and at least once a week he bought her presents. She liked bracelets and expensive perfumes in fancy little bottles. He bought her books on whatever new hyper-fixation she had. One month it was soap-making. Another month it was origami, and he suffered through an apartment full of little flying cranes and odd-shaped butterflies. It made him feel good to bring her something special just to witness the sparkle in her eye and the squeal she let out each time. That was often more arousing than foreplay.

On the weekends, when he had to stay on base or travel out of state for additional work-related training, they agreed that she could have a female lover over for girl time. They'd brought other women into their bedroom on various occasions, and Terry sat next to Sasha as she had sex on the king-sized bed. He never indulged in the other women with her, preferring to watch and jerk off. Some might say he was a cuck, but that wasn't it. He had a compersion fetish. Sasha's happiness at having him as a boyfriend and still indulging in sex with another woman gave him pleasure mentally. It stimulated him, no doubt, to watch his woman go at it with another beautiful woman, but he never did a threesome by sticking his dick in someone else. Sasha was enough woman for him, plus, not every outsider was into the things that he liked to do to her. Like breath play with choking, and of course, the golden showers.

Sasha played the submissive well, pampering herself during the day in preparation for his coming home. Terry gave strong Daddy energy, and it brought out the softness in her. His father raised him to be a stern patriarch and southern gentleman. Women were to be taken care of and the expectation was for them to please their men like sweet southern belles.

Sasha was sweet and one hundred percent southern…but a brat, nonetheless. And brats don't always do what you tell them.

She'd purposely leave crumbs in the kitchen for him to find after work. Or she'd forget to make the bed the way he liked. Sometimes she ordered take out instead of making him the home-cooked meals he expected. That's when Terry would fume and take off his belt, lifting her up and taking her into the bedroom to get spanked until her ass cheeks were a deeper shade. When he finished striking her backside, he'd rub cooling blue gel all over her rump, simultaneously soothing her and chastising her.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he'd lament. "You know I don't like punishing you. I want to come home and have peace. You're my peace, Sasha."

Those searing green eyes would narrow and his brows stayed furrowed, correcting her behavior.

She loved that shit.

However, on the day he had to leave for a weekend base stay several hours before Roderick called him about the police at his place, Sasha (purposely):

1. Forgot to pick up his dry cleaned dress blues on time the night before when he asked.

2. Tossed his clean clothes in drawers without folding them.

3. And God forbid, mixed his unpaired socks in his underwear drawer.

His jaw grew rigid, and he spoke to her through gritted teeth.

"Didn't we talk about this?" he said with an exasperated tone.

"Who cares? Everything is clean. I'll get your dry cleaning today. Don't have a cow," she said, scrolling through pages of fashion on her tablet, hoping he'd snap.

He always took the bait.

His hand went gently around her throat, and he pushed her against the wall.

"What did I tell you about talking to me like that?"

A dangerous smirk twisted his lips to the side. Sasha pouted.

"It won't kill your clothes to not be perfect. I washed and dried them and put them away. That's good enough. Deal with it."

"You know we have to have order in this home. I tell you this every day, Sasha, an orderly home denotes an orderly mind. Fix it."

"You fix it."

He sighed and glanced over at the clock on the wall. His work day started in thirty minutes. He had to be on base in fifteen or risk being late. That was simply a no-no.

"Go straighten out those drawers," he insisted, with more bass in his voice.

He pushed her toward the dresser and hurriedly went to their walk-in closet to grab and fold his old dress blues. He liked to have them on him in case the upper brass needed him to appear ready at a moment's notice for any occasion. His new uniforms needed cleaning before he would wear them. Sasha strolled past their bureau.

"Sasha, I'm not playing!"

He buttoned up the shirt of his duty uniform. She sashayed toward the bedroom door, switching her hips in her babydoll nightie, big titties bouncing, not having any plans for the day except eating chocolate bon bons and shopping online or doing whatever she wanted at her whim because he wanted her to.

"Sasha!"

She ignored him. He snatched her up, throwing her across his lap on the bed. Yanking her nightie up, he pulled the matching panties down and swatted that ass. He gave an even number of spanks on each cheek, careful to soothe as well as punish so as not to harm her tender skin. She yelped and refused to apologize for back talking, making him more upset…and his dick hard.

He added some harder smacks under the jiggling booty cheeks, and she got the message, jerking on his lap and hissing from the sting of genuine pain settling in. He held her down with one arm and heated that ass up, stopping before she needed their safe word. Her disobedience and disrespect resulted in an unscheduled spanking session today, although they had scheduled sessions for weekdays and weekends.

He refused to use the cooling gel on her. She needed to feel the pain of punishment for at least an hour. He'd give her more after he returned home from work.

Terry looked down at his protruding dick nearly blasting a hole through his work pants. Sasha stared at it too, licking her lips. This was what she wanted. He'd ignored her earlier in bed when she wanted dick at four in the morning. The night before, he'd dragged home exhausted from combat drills. He chose to crash out instead of pleasing her. Her hand rubbed on his muscle-toned thighs and traced lines on his tatted bicep, but he was not in the mood.

She chose to make him late. Just to get back at him. He came harder when he was angry or irritated. Down went his zipper… and her knees. He fished out his dick and stroked hard and fast.

"Selfish little brat," he barked. "Making me fucking late!"

She pulled down her nightie, revealing his weakness, and he stared at her breasts. He moaned out loud when she plucked at her nipples and circled her pretty manicured nails around the edges of her dark areolas, reminding him visually of how big they were, and how much he loved that about her.

Pre-cum spilled out of his deep slit, and she used it as a lubricant to tease around her sizeable nipples that stood out like fat, juicy blueberries. His sack was heavy with cum. Sasha licked her lips. Smacked those big melons together, and he blew his load all over her pretty face. She brushed back her wild, wavy hair and continued shaking her titties for him.

He panted and shot another hot rope across her tongue. She jumped up and placed herself on the bed, spreading open her labia for him to see the wet pink of her dripping pussy.

"Fucking slut!"

His eyes became mere slits of angry jade. He grabbed his cell and called his boss while shaking off his pants. A credible lie fell out of his mouth as he plunged into her. He bought an hour pretending to have a dead battery in his car. Tossing the phone on the bed, he fucked Sasha as deep as she could take unsheathed. He grunted, and she threw her arms across his shoulders, satisfied that she got what she wanted.

Anger guided his thrusts. When he started getting too aggressive, he switched to eating her pussy. That helped calm him down. She was insatiable. He should've paid more attention to that quality about her after the first night he fucked her. Sasha loved his dick and craved it at all hours.

Terry sucked and licked her clit, forcing breathy moans out of his woman. She rocked and rolled her hips, her vulva laid out like a summer nectarine: smooth, juicy and sweet. Sasha soaked his lips and chin. His facial hair became a sticky mess with her excess.

He spooned her on his side and parted her cheeks with his dick alone, sliding in and stretching her properly. Terry fondled a breast and pounded her down until that juicy pussy clenched around him. He kept fucking because he knew she needed more.

"Oh, Daddy! I'm sorry! Don't punish me like this!" she screamed, clutching onto the covers.

She wasn't sorry. She wanted that deep Daddy dick.

Sasha said it like a mantra over and over, "Oh Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…"

He groaned and hit the side of her walls to really make her feel it, and spurt a geyser of cum, still angry that he was late. But busting a nut that hard was worth it in the end. She gasped, her legs jerking wildly at the intensity.

Rising from the bed, he looked down at his brat. She took her fingers and peeled back her labia, letting him see the big creamy mess he made inside of her.

"Wait until I get home Sunday!" he snapped, lifting his pants from the floor.

She pissed him off.

And he let her.

He grabbed his small work duffle, and the garment bag he stuffed his old uniform in and slapped her thigh.

"Fix those clothes in the drawers," he grumbled.

After he left, she teased him mercilessly with several bathroom selfies of her voluptuous breasts and pancake areolas. Her big nipples stuck out hard, and she knew he would suffer at work seeing them all weekend and unable to touch them. During his lunch break, he went into a restroom stall and recorded himself urinating. Using his pelvic muscles, he made his dick twitch and spill urine on the seat. His penis was still big while flaccid, and moving it as he splashed into the toilet would excite her. He shot off the clip to her and later, during another break in his car, she sent him video clips from her smartphone of herself fingering her wet pussy and sucking on her nipples while she watched his video on her tablet. Sex was their shared passion. Their best form of communication.

"You were mean to me today," she texted afterward.

He jerked off in the car, re-watching her squirt all over herself. His dick was the object of her affection when she watched him piss. To her, it was just as sexy as watching him ejaculate semen. It came from inside of him, therefore it was precious to her.

She sent more photos of herself looking down at the phone with her breasts hanging with her tongue partially sticking out. He fucking loved her, and immediately sent her a sweating face emoji with hearts, and couldn't wait to fuck her like a goddamn wild man.

Back at work, he did some emergency drills and then took his place at the duty station, overseeing lower ranked soldiers.

Roderick's phone call shattered the routine of his evening. He couldn't leave work to deal with her, so he had to suffer the entire weekend.

Sasha didn't know that Roderick notified him of the cops. She kept sending him loving texts. Asked him what he wanted for supper on his return home.

"I picked up your uniform, and I organized the drawers properly, Daddy," she texted.

He ignored it, pretending to be busy.

She never mentioned having a gathering at his place that weekend. Technically, it was their shared residence, but his name was the only one on the lease. That meant any problems that occurred with the cops reflected on him in the complex. It wasn't a rarity to have the police called around there for noise ordinances. It was predominately military living there, so close to the base. Lots of parties occurred. But he'd never had them called on him until Sasha moved in. He didn't want that reputation, and he didn't want to dump her like he did his last girlfriend, who stayed out of pocket with him until he had enough. She was disobedient in other ways, but not enough to bring the authorities his way. His reputation and moral character around town was everything to him. He'd hate to let go of amazing pussy and fat titties. Terry was already thinking of putting a ring on Sasha's finger after only six months of being together. Babygirl was that perfect.

Except for when she acted out in ways he didn't like.

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

He'd have Monday and Tuesday off. Plenty of time to course correct Sasha.

After showering and shaving on base, he drove to his complex in the early evening without telling her the exact time he was coming back.

He crept up the stairs to his second floor. The onsite apartment manager taped another yellow noise complaint notice to his door. He pulled it down and read the warning while sliding his key in. Stepping inside, the living room lights were off, but the bedroom and hall lights were on. She'd cooked something because the odor of something good still wafted in the apartment. He kicked off his shoes, already upset that she wasn't there to greet him.

Dropping his bags and the warning notice on the couch, he padded to their master bedroom.

Sasha was sucking down another woman's box on his bed.

Jasmine.

Both women were oblivious to him being there.

Terry sat down on the side chair in the room facing the bed and watched them go at it. Sasha had a small vibrator inserted into her vagina that also stimulated her clit. It was a cute little pink toy that hummed along to their sex play. His irritation from the notice simmered in the back of his mind. It took him a few minutes to settle into watching his woman and her side piece. Their moans and soft murmurings lulled him into arousal.

He started playing with his dick, pulled it out all the way along with his balls. Smearing pre-cum all around the bulbous head, he took slow strokes up and down, staying underneath the thick ridge. Sasha's pussy looked so pretty, with the pink toy snug inside of her. Her lover thrashed her head back and forth. He fisted his dick faster, smacking on his balls, wishing her pussy could go all the way down on him.

Jasmine came in Sasha's mouth and his lady love's pussy throbbed with a powerful orgasm. Sasha smacked her lips and moaned as her pussy took the internal vibrations. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Daddy," she sputtered, shocked to see him sitting in the room.

Jasmine lifted on her elbows and grinned.

Terry stood and dragged Sasha by her foot to the end of the bed. He pulled out the small vibrator from her pussy and jammed the tip of his dick against her vulva and nutted all over it. Sasha squealed with delight at the man-handling and Jasmine stared with envy. She longed to suck and fuck him, but that would never happen.

"Come lick up his cum," Sasha said.

She smeared it all over her clit and Jasmine settled between her thighs, lowering her head to lick like a cat lapping up milk.

Terry pulled off the rest of his clothes. Sasha kept her eyes locked on his, ignoring Jasmine licking her way to glory. When most of his semen went down Jasmine's throat, he climbed onto the bed. Jasmine scooted over, giving his large body precedence. His dick bobbed and Sasha whimpered in expectation.

"So glad you're home," Sasha said.

Terry carefully placed his thumb and fingers on the sides of her neck. She relaxed under him.

"Jasmine, I think it's time for you to go home," he said.

Sasha blinked twice and her eyes darted over to Jasmine, disappointed that he didn't want their favorite voyeur staying for their lovemaking.

"Now, Jasmine."

Jasmine quickly left the room. They heard her scramble into her clothes and leave the apartment.

"What's wrong?"

He liked the hesitant tone in her voice. It threw her off.

"Do you enjoy living here with me, Sasha?"

She tried to sit up. He held her down by the throat. Still gentle, but gripped tight enough to let her know she wasn't getting up. Pushing his tip into her, she sucked in a breath and he squeezed the sides of her neck, careful to count out the seconds she could handle before easing the pressure. The opening of her pussy throbbed around him. He slowly pushed in, each inch parting her slippery walls. Jasmine made Sasha frothy and wide open for him. He stopped and squeezed her neck again, giving shallow thrusts and counting to her limit before releasing the controlled grip.

"Can we keep going? Do you need a break?"

"No Daddy, I can take it a little more. I'll tap you when to stop."

He pushed in to her limit, thick and heavy. Her pussy lips looked like a swollen vise around his girth, with the last of his inches unable to go in. Each time he pushed forward or pulled back, she gripped him with her walls, giving him the friction he dreamed about all weekend waiting to come home.

He began fucking her slowly, his hand clamped on her neck.

"Ready?"

She nodded and he pressed his fingers in again with gentle pressure, heightening her pleasure. Her eyes went glassy with lust. Although he choked her with their breath play, her pussy choked his dick and he released her neck to rock his hips into her with a steady rhythm.

"You feel so fucking good…taking care of Daddy's dick…"

He started kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, letting hers slide against his until the erotic sensation of their lips feeling raw and sensitive to the connection overtook him. Kissing her was life itself. He pulled back from her, still stretching her pussy, but not pumping into her.

"Roderick called me about the cops being here again. There was a warning notice on the door. What do you have to say about that?"

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip.

"How come you didn't tell me before I left about having people over here?"

"It was impromptu. A few friends, and then…a few more friends of friends…it was a wine and cheese thing and then…the cops showed up."

Terry pulled all the way out of her and left the bed.

"Do we have to talk about this now? Can we finish this and talk later?"

She breathed heavily, upset that his dick wasn't plowing her.

"What do you think will happen if I get another notice?"

She pressed her lips together for a second.

"It won't happen again. I promise."

"You said that last time two weeks ago."

"You won't have to worry. If I want to have a gathering again, I'll do it at Jasmine's. Please, Terry, don't be upset."

"What do I like more than anything at home?"

His hard dick pointed toward her and Sasha's eyes kept losing track of his face by focusing on his erection she wanted back in her guts.

"Peace and calm."

"My neighbor shouldn't be calling me about you. That means it disturbed him, too, and probably a lot of other people. If I get a third notice, the manager will break my lease. You know what that means? He can ask me to move. I picked this complex because it's close to my job. The job that takes care of you, and allows you to be my good girl. You've put our housing in jeopardy. Before I left for work, you were acting out and I didn't have time to really put you in your place. I've been super busy this past month and I think I've been letting you get away with too much. But I'm going to get back to proper discipline. No physical contact at all."

Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" she said.

"Spanking won't do this time. You don't get to have me until I think you get your behavior together."

He walked to his side of the bureau and pulled out lounging pants and a t-shirt. He strolled into the bathroom. She followed with panic in her eyes. He stretched his back and stood in front of the toilet. She reached for his dick to help him urinate, but he slapped her hand away.

"No," he said. "You don't even get to watch."

He arched an angry eyebrow, and she pouted. He ignored her breasts and the fat pussy he'd just been inside of that enticed him to cave.

"Out!"

She scuttled away like a little crab who sensed danger on sand.

He relieved himself and changed into his house clothes.

"I would like my dinner in half an hour," he called out.

He went into the spare bedroom where he set up a mini-gym and desktop computer. He checked sports updates before opening a porn app. His balls ached wanting to cum inside Sasha, but he searched for Black women masturbating and found one using a vibrator with large pussy lips that excited him. Fisting himself, he left the door open so Sasha could hear him and seethe. She slammed the kitchen cabinet doors and let some silverware clatter onto the table to show her anger at not getting his dick. He chuckled.

"Fix that attitude. This is your fault for being irresponsible," he called out.

His porn play pal had nice tits and a soft belly. He came into his hand.

"Your dinner is ready," Sasha called out.

He cleaned his hands in the bathroom and walked into the dining area with his mouth salivating. Smothered chicken and rice with French green beans drenched in garlic butter. Homemade and piping hot.

"This looks good, baby. Thank you."

He sat down and she sat across from him. They said grace together, and he stuffed his face, licking his fingers and complimenting her cooking. That perked her up, and yet she still stared at his chest in the tight T-shirt, and admired the sleeve tats.

He punished her for a month.

Sasha stayed on her A-game. Clean house. Clothes put away properly. Bed made so perfect that he could bounce a quarter on it. Uniforms pressed and already placed in his garment bag. She'd gone to the apartment manager and explained the situation with the loud party. Sasha claimed to be his house sitter who didn't know the rules about no loud noises after nine at night. Terry was pretty sure she jiggled her tits and flirted with the male manager. Her legs in some stiletto heels would do the trick easy. The manager actually ignored the second noise warning…and the first, clearing Terry's apartment record.

In bed, she suffered from wanting to curl under or around him, but he stayed on his side with his back to her. She knew better than to seek out Jasmine for respite. It wouldn't be a satisfying, playful romp when she yearned only for her man's affections. She thought it best to accept the dry spell.

Meals…impeccable.

Cocktails at the door…refreshing.

Terry slowly started showing her physical affection with a kiss on the cheek goodbye in the morning. He brought home flowers and gifts again with kisses on the forehead.

He ended her punishment by walking into the bathroom as she smoothed unscented body butter all over her naked body after a shower. She stared at him in the mirror as he stood behind her. He circled his hand around her throat, forcing her to turn her face to the side so he could kiss her.

Sasha moaned into his mouth and broke into tears of joy.

"I won't disappoint you gain," she whispered into his mouth.

"That's all I want from you, baby. Follow my rules."

He continued kissing her, lifting those glorious breasts.

"Will you fuck me now?" she pleaded.

"Of course."

Sasha whimpered at the deep rasp of his morning voice. She leaned forward, and he entered her. Cupping her breasts, he fucked her hard and fast. Her pussy squelched, and she cried, her tears of happiness wetting her face.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…!"

"Pussy so fucking good…I missed these big titties…tight pussy…oh babygirl…fuck Daddy's dick!"

He studied her expression in the mirror.

"Want Daddy to punish this pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Take this dick then…take it…take it babygirl…oh you're taking it deep…oh shit! Oh, shit!"

She still couldn't take him in all the way, but it truly felt like he got in deeper than he'd been before. Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, then rolled back. She squirted everywhere, soaking his dick.

He ejaculated hard enough to make him lift onto his toes. He dropped to his knees to smother his face in her ass and pussy, wanting to feel the back rush of his cum dripping out of her.

His bladder poked at him. He drank an extra glass of water for the occasion.

"Get in the tub, baby," he said.

Sasha yelped with excited anticipation. She climbed into the tub and he handed her a towel that she folded as a knee cushion. Once she was comfortable, he rested his balls on her mouth and she sucked them while playing with her clit and pussy lips.

"Let me hear that wet pussy, Sasha."

She flicked her clit and used her three middle fingers. He stared down at her, reaching for a heavy breast.

"You ready, baby?"

She hummed with his nuts in her mouth.

"You'll be my dirty little slut? Huh, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy…yes, I'll be your dirty little slut…"

"Oh, let me hear that pussy talk, Sasha!"

Sasha whimpered, and her tone was on the edge.

"Daddy's 'bout to give you what you want…get ready…oh…get ready…"

"I'm still your good girl!"

Her tongue slid up and down the underside of his dick, her words warm on his skin.

"Sasha…baby…fuck…dirty little slut letting me do whatever I want!"

Terry took a step back, and Sasha kept pleasuring her pussy. She tilted her head back. A hot stream of urine flew out of him and splashed all over her breasts. Holding his release for a longer period made the sensation of voiding his bladder sweeter. It felt almost as good as an orgasm soaking her.

Sasha's glassy eyes looked far away. She was in her pleasure zone, cumming so hard she couldn't even speak anymore. He drained himself all over her tits, and she slumped back with loud pants.

"Goddamn, that was fucking good!" he shouted to the ceiling.

His aftercare was tender with her.

He used the shower nozzle to rinse her off first before he cleaned her with honeysuckle body wash. Helping her stand up, he rubbed her vulva, thighs and backside, then lathered up her tits. He rinsed her off, then stuck the nozzle back up high and joined her in the shower for a long rinse with hotter water. They kissed as heat steamed around them, his arms cradling her.

"I don't like punishing you like that. It hurt me not to touch you for a month, baby," he hummed in her ear.

She hugged him tight.

Back in their bedroom, they made slow love on the bed. She rode him and he praised her…worshipped her body.

"I love you, Sasha."

"I love you, too, Terry. I want to make you happy."

"I want to make you happy every day. You're really the boss of me. Everything I do is for you."

"I know. I'm yours, Daddy. Let me take care of this dick."

He held his legs wide open, and she rode him backward, perched between his thighs at an angle. He let her slide up and down to the depths she could take and watched her pussy work his length. She slid back to sit on his face, where he slathered her folds with a wide, wet tongue.

They finished with him on top of her, declaring his undying love. He came all over her breasts, and hugged her tight under the covers, playing with her nipples and making plans for their future.

Terry cooked them a late brunch and cleaned the kitchen himself. Sasha washed clothes and looked up a movie for them to go see. All was well until he went to his sock drawer and found unmatched pairs with underwear mixed in.

"Sasha!"

She sauntered in, carrying one of his belts folded in her hand.

"Shall I assume the position?" she teased.

"Once a brat, always a brat," he said.

He chased Sasha around the room until he caught her, snatching the belt away and pushing her down on his lap.

Terry taught her a new lesson.

And, of course, she loved it.

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[chamisulgrape]

watch me, watch me party on you 𖤐 [p.sh] pt.2

Months later, it's Milan Fashion Week, and you get to be the one watching Sunghoon this time.

☆ part one | part two

☆ pairing → sunghoon x afab reader

☆ word count → 7.1k

☆ tags → fashion industry setting, model au, nyfw, rivalry, yearningyearningyearning, models in love, established relationship

☆ smut tags → pwp, closet sex, barebacking (unprotected sex), sunghoon munches on reader (he’s a huge munch), lots of spit and wetness, use of petnames aka baby/darling, they're nasty and in love, dirty talk/minor degradation, face-grabbing, floor sex at one point…, reader is still in her heels while they canoodle :3

☆ warnings → not proofread!

☆ a/n  → jungwon makes an appearance! pt.2 is finally posted, thank u to everyone who is supporting and loving them as much as i love them

minors dni.

♪ hands on your waist liquor is all that we taste your freckles lead the way i trace your constellations

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Sunghoon has always had a certain something about him. 

It’s one of the many reasons you fell for him during your younger years. Sunghoon glows, radiates, even. He’s always had a captivating aura. Sunghoon attracts, and even you: stubborn and strong-willed, were weak to Sunghoon’s many charms. 

You aren't surprised that you’re walking the same path, both being models for your respective fashion brands, because it just makes sense for Sunghoon to be in this line of work. Sunghoon is a natural, he belongs in the spotlight. Sunghoon is made for the runway, for the stage. 

Sunghoon will always be famous, and you’re just another victim to the gold and temptation that is Sunghoon Park. Moth to a flame, as Sunghoon likes to call it. You would scoff and brush him off, speaking about how Sunghoon is no better, but you can’t help but admit that Sunghoon is right. You believe that there was no possible way you could ever escape from the likes of him.

Sunghoon is a magnet, and you will always be weak to his pull.

“_____! Look over here!”

You aren't a stranger to the blinding lights and the yells of your name, reporters trying to get your attention for a seven second video and the cameras in your face. Over the years you’ve learned how to handle them with ease. Perfect smile, candid poses, practiced responses. 

A mic outstretched a few inches away from you, a reporter quickly spits out her question before you can walk too far and she misses her opening. 

“How are you feeling today?”

As you always do, you greet the camera with the sight of your perfected media-smile. “I’m doing great.”

The reporter smiles, satisfied. “What are you looking forward to this afternoon?”

“Ah,” you grin, “I hear Sunghoon Park is opening the show today, I’m very excited to see how he performs.”

“He’s always the star of the show, isn’t he?” There’s a glint of interest in the reporter's eyes now. The world is well aware of the feud between XO and PARADOXX, and there’s never a day that goes by that netizens don’t have something to say about their rivalry.

The reporter opens her mouth to ask another question, but your security is already ushering you forward. She grins like she knows something you don’t. “Thank you for your time.”

You nod, sending a wave to the camera behind her as you move on. You make it a few steps before another reporter is trying to grab your attention.

“_____!” 

You turn to see Jungwon Yang, a beloved journalist and writer for a small up-and-coming magazine. You’re not a stranger to Jungwon Yang, either. You’re well-versed in the world of media, and you’ve heard of, as well as read a handful of Jungwon’s works in ENHA’s magazines and online articles.

“Good afternoon, Jungwon,” your smile feels more real this time, easy and less forced than it usually is. 

Jungwon’s smile is bright in response. “We’re all hoping to see you at tonight’s afterparty, will you be there?”

“Of course,” You nod, hand slipping into the pocket of your pants to rest comfortably. You lean in an inch, voice dropping to a faux whisper. “I’ve heard many things about the party's PARADOXX hosts.”

Jungwon lets out a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I hope we get a chance to connect tonight, then, I’ve been very interested in speaking with you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Jungwon.”

“Would you mind taking a few pictures for our cameras?” Jungwon gestures to the side, and you nod again.

“It’d be my pleasure.” You say, stepping aside for Jungwon’s colleagues. 

The time flies by quickly, a blur of flashing lights and endless mini interviews. You’ve taken a few pictures for some big brands like Vogue and Elle, and before you know it, you’re seated along the front row waiting for PARADOXX’s show to start.

You’re buzzing with the anticipation of seeing PARADOXX’s new line. You know it’s going to be something worth the suspense since Heeseung, Jake, and Jay were adamant on keeping it under wraps this time. Aside from anticipation, your stomach is churning with the thought of seeing Sunghoon again. Sunghoon. Just the syllables of his name already has your heart thumping against your chest and your fingers twitching with the memory of Sunghoon’s body and how his skin feels underneath your fingertips. 

The moment the show starts, you feel it in your bones. The atmosphere becomes heavy with excitement and suspense, and the crowd settles down into silence, everybody holding their breath as low music plays overhead. You recognize the songs that Heeseung, Jake, and Jay constantly play in their studio, claiming it adds to their ambiance and vibes, and it’s so them that you have to suppress a smile.

You forget to breathe as the lights dim. It has you sitting a little straighter in your seat and leaning forward the slightest, your mind running on one recurring thought: Sunghoon. 

When Sunghoon steps out, all the air you were holding in your lungs is forced out of you, because Sunghoon is absolutely stunning. The trio have outdone themselves this time, and you might even battle that this outshines XO’s last New York Fashion Week show. Sunghoon is gorgeous underneath the fluorescent lighting, his skin glowing underneath the see-through fabric he’s wearing. 

The ombre of yellow to red tucked into the flowy pants he has on compliments his skin so well that you almost want to thank your friends for dressing Sunghoon in this specific outfit because God, you breathe out, Sunghoon is beautiful. 

Your mouth goes dry as you watch Sunghoon, so powerful, so charismatic and wordlessly charming that you wish you could get down on your knees and worship him for the man that he is—a God. Impure thoughts aside, you hold so much respect for Sunghoon. Sunghoon has been walking for a shorter time than you have, yet Sunghoon walks effortlessly, exuding so much grace and confidence that it seems like he’s been doing this for years more than you. 

You’re proud as you watch Sunghoon walk, and you find yourself gripping your phone a little tighter as the distance between them lessens. Sunghoon spots you, of course he does, and your hands tremble in your lap at the feeling of Sunghoon’s heavy gaze on you. It’s quick, Sunghoon glancing away faster than you can blink, but you catch the ghost of a smirk on his lips and it’s enough for you to know that Sunghoon saw you, that he’s thinking of you as much as you are him.

You release a breath as Sunghoon struts past you, and you can’t help the way you lick your dry lips with the anticipation of seeing Sunghoon later tonight.

They’ll have their moment when the time comes, and you will sit patiently, for the payoff is always very well worth the wait. 

“Did you see Sunghoon?” Sunoo breathes out once you’re at your hotel. “He’s amazing.”

Riki nods in agreement, ushering you into the suite so he can prepare you for your next outfit. “Of course he is, the people love him.”

“I see why you had a crush on him in high school now, he’s gorgeous,” Sunoo teases, lips pulling upwards, “we should’ve snagged him when we had the chance.”

“I—” You splutter. “Hey!”

“Sunoo, you know she gets embarrassed when you mention that,” Riki says, but he’s huffing out a laugh as he walks to the other side of the room. 

“It was so cute, though. You were always so smitten with Sunghoon,” Sunoo sighs. “Young love.”

You pout. “It was not cute, it was embarrassing.”

“Sunoo!” Riki calls out. “Come help me!”

Sunoo gives you another teasing look before going to help Riki with whatever it is that he needs. You huff, pulling out your phone from your pocket and opening Twitter. There’s already hundreds of pictures of you at the event, and you spend some time watching some of the clips that have been posted. You scroll through some hashtags aimlessly, before coming across pictures of Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon’s official Twitter account has already been updated with posts of him in his outfit from earlier today, as well as some behind the scene pictures taken before the event. You, embarrassingly enough, save a few of the pictures to your camera roll. You resist the urge to let out a squeak at a specific picture of Sunghoon, instead opting to close out of the app for the sake of your sanity. You’ll remember to text Sunghoon later and bring up these pictures and to ask for more.

When you throw your phone onto the bed, Sunoo and Riki have come back to lay an outfit next to you. It’s all black, that much you can tell, and the two seem excited to undress you and get you fitted as soon as possible.

“It’s perfect,” Sunoo says, and Riki hums. “You’re going to look amazing once we finish with your hair.”

You don't know why Sunoo and Riki opt for always styling you themselves without the help of a makeup or hair stylist, but you trust their vision and the two always argue that you're solely theirs to work on, and that it’s more personal this way. You are the face of their brand after all.

“Not that you don’t look amazing already,” Riki adds, “now strip.”

You obliged to Riki’s request, stripping down until you’re left in your undergarments. Sunoo and Riki give you a quick once-over, turning to each other and nodding. Sunoo helps you put your arms through the underside of the dress before tapping your ass lightly. 

“Sunghoon is so going to want a piece of you after this,” Sunoo says, and you make a squeaking noise.

“What the fuck, Sunoo!” You cry, covering yourself with your arms. “Am I just a piece of meat to you?”

“No! You’re a hot piece of meat,” Sunoo nods, satisfied once Riki finishes helping you through the dress. “You look good.”

“So good,” Riki finishes. The pair motion for you to put on your heels. Once you finish, Riki pulls out a small bottle of shimmering lotion to lather onto your chest. “Hold this open.”

You let them do their thing quietly, standing in silence until they finish. You get lost in your head for a bit, thinking of how you and Sunghoon have been fooling around for months in private, since the New York show, and how your friends are unaware about the whole situation. 

You’ve agreed to keep things under wraps, since the two of you don’t want it getting out to the media (and because you both agree that it’s a little more exciting this way), so you’ve been keeping it a secret. It’s fun to dance around your friends; hushed kisses in fitting rooms and closets when you’re at each other’s stores, silent looks that say more than you let on, quiet touches as you pass by one another. 

The two of you don’t feel a need to share this with the world, nor do they feel the pressure to put a label on what you have. You like knowing that Sunghoon is yours no matter your relationship, just you and Sunghoon. You’re Sunghoon’s, Sunghoon is yours. You’re only each other’s, and you like it this way. 

“_____?” Sunoo interrupts your thoughts. Dazed, you hum. “Head into the bathroom, we’re going to get started on your hair now.”

You can’t wait to see Sunghoon later tonight, and your mouth already waters with the expectancy of what’s to come. 

The afterparty tonight is hosted at a restaurant you’d never been to, given this is your first time in Milan. 

The only word to describe it is elegant. The lighting is dim and golden, and it’s bright enough that you can make out enough of a face of the people you’re talking to, and at least see his plate. Everything about today is so PARADOXXX, through and through. There’s glasses of champagne in front of every guest at every table, and Sunoo and Riki have already finished theirs and yours, minutes after you’re seated. 

You, Sunoo and Riki are seated at the same table as Heeseung, Jake, and Jay, and Sunghoon is still nowhere in sight. You imagine that Sunghoon is a busy man, having many guests to converse with tonight, so you don’t worry too much about him. 

You can’t help the way your mind wanders off as the five conversate at the table, but you pick up bits of their conversation; something about a new brand, studio, new location. When you come to, it’s by a nudge in your side.

“_____? Heeseung, Jake, and Jay were talking about their plans for the future. They're planning to open up a store here, what do you think?” Sunoo asks, reaching over to steal Jake’s glass from in front of him and replacing it with his empty one. Jake scowls at him, but makes no move to steal it back.

“Really?” You say, in awe. Jay, Jake and Heeseung have matching proud smiles on their faces. “That’s amazing, guys.”

“I know,” Heeseung says, puffing out his chest in pride. Jake scoffs with a small smile on his face, hitting Heeseung in the chest. Jake continues: “We’re thinking that everything will be finalized sometime later this year.”

“That’s great, seriously,” You smile, “don’t forget us when you throw that opening party.”

Jay rolls his eyes, “How could we ever? Those two,” he motions to Sunoo and Riki, “would never let us. Tried getting rid of them back in high school—the worst mistake of our lives—they’re like leeches.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Sunoo and Riki were always so enamored with the trio, following them around the world. You feel warm just thinking about it; how they’ve all been friends for years. You feel lucky to have found them, to have found your family. There’s nobody else you’d rather be working and spending time with. 

“Well, Heeseung, Jay and I have some interviews to do, but we’ll be back before the food is served.” Jake grins at them, already pulling Heeseung and Jay out of their chairs by the lapels on his blazer. “Look awake, dude.”

“I am!” Heeseung cries out as he follows Jake and Jay. 

The three of them watch as the trio get whisked away. Riki sighs, “I kinda… love it here.”

“Love what? Being in Milan, or being wherever they are?” Sunoo asks, curious.

“Both,” Riki decides after a second, and you turn to him at the same time that Sunoo leans in to pinch to his cheek.

“Me too,” Sunoo says, leaning so his arm rests on the arm of Riki’s chair. “Me too.”

You take this as your cue to leave, only after Sunoo and Riki make you pose for a few pictures, and you get up to wander around the venue. You make it to a more secluded area, when you’re stopped by someone whispering your name. You turn to see Jungwon Yang, dressed in a different suit than he was wearing earlier that day. 

“Hey! I thought it was you.”

You motion for Jungwon to take a seat on the couch next to you. “Hello, Jungwon.”

“I hope your day has been well, you look incredible.” Jungwon gives you a warm smile, and you return it. “If you’re not too busy, I’d like to talk to you. I wasn’t joking when I said that I’d like to write an article about you in our magazine.”

“Of course, Jungwon. There’s nothing I’d like more than to talk with you, article or not.” You reply, and Jungwon lets out a small laugh.

“You know, your reputation precedes you,” Jungwon says, tilting his head in curiosity. 

“I hope that’s a good thing,” you huff, still smiling. “What do they say?”

“Lots of things, you know how it is,” Jungwon just shrugs, not answering your question. “What matters more is the impression you leave on people, and the impression I have of you is a wonderful one.”

You purse your lips, features melting into something soft, nice. “I’m glad.”

“You’re interesting,” Jungwon’s eyes never stray from your, “I’m looking forward to writing that article.” Jungwon reaches into his suit jacket to pull out a little card. “Please contact me so we can set up a time and date to meet and talk. My colleagues would love to meet you as well.”

“Of course,” you say, again. “I’d love to. You know, you’re quite interesting yourself.”

“Am I?” Jungwon grins. “I hope that I’m interesting in the best possible way.”

“You are, your name is quite big in the world. You’re making a change, Jungwon.”

“Well,” Jungwon diverts his gaze to his lap, where he splays out his hands in front of him. Shy, a little bashful and honest, you perceive. “That’s the goal.”

“A good goal to have, there’s not many people like you,” you say after a moment. “Who wants to make a change for the better. Your writing says a lot about you already.”

“I’m glad,” Jungwon repeats your words from earlier, looking into your eyes again. “There’s not many people like you either.” “Good, I like to be different.” You say, and Jungwon laughs again.

You enjoy Jungwon’s company. Jungwon is like a breath of fresh air in this industry. There’s not many people you can talk to freely without the feeling of pressure and camouflage, but Jungwon seems like somebody you can trust and confide in. You trust Jungwon and his writing, and you have a feeling that you’ll be great friends in the future. Sunoo and Riki would love Jungwon, you think.

“You should meet my friends as well,” you break the silence. “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

Jungwon’s eyes light up at this. “Really? I’ve been wanting to talk to Sunoo and Riki for a while now, do you think they’re free at the moment?”

“Mm,” you purse your lips in thought. “I’m sure they can make time for you.”

Jungwon beams. “Great! Sorry to cut our conversation short, but contact me, I’ll keep in touch.”

You only nod, and Jungwon takes this as his cue to leave and most likely search out Sunoo and Riki. You watch him go with a smile, collecting your thoughts for a moment before standing up and stretching your limbs. You take a second to breathe, looking around at your surroundings. The place Jake, Jay and Heeseung chose is beautifully decorated, and you keep in mind to ask Sunoo and Riki to snap a few photos of you in different areas before the night is over.

You’re admiring one of the many paintings on the wall when you feel a light touch on your back.

“Tired already?” You turn to see Sunghoon, in the flesh.

“Sunghoon,” you breathe out. 

“_____,” Sunghoon echoes back. You can feel Sunghoon’s hand resting at the small of your back, touch burning through the fabric, heating your whole body. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” You smile, eyes roaming all over Sunghoon’s face. His makeup is different than it was at the show, now more soft and natural. “You were amazing today.”

“Thank you, you were too,” Sunghoon says, a smirk appearing on his lips.

“Me?” You question.

“Yes, you, you looked very pretty today.”

You hum. “Of course I did.”

“Of course you did,” Sunghoon shakes his head with a little laugh. “I’ve missed you.” “You said that already, Hoon,” your grin is soft, and you can see the soft look on your face mirrored in Sunghoon’s. “You saw me a couple weeks ago.”

“Weeks too many, I need to see you every day in order to function properly,” Sunghoon’s gaze rakes from your face to your feet, and back to your eyes. “Missed you so much.”

You can’t help the way your body practically melts at this. “You’re not good for my heart, Sunghoon.”

“You aren’t good for mine either,” Sunghoon licks over his lips, and your eyes follow the movement. “Sunoo and Riki have you all covered up today, don’t they?”

You let out a laugh, raising your arms to showcase the blazer you’re wearing over your dress. “Last time you thought I was wearing too little, now you think I’m wearing too much?”

“Well,” Sunghoon hums, “you have a body that deserves to be appreciated. How will I appreciate it when you’re all covered up like this, hm?”

“If you must know,” you lean in to press your lips to Sunghoon’s ear. “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

Sunghoon lets out a sound akin to a muffled groan, fingers pressing harder against your back. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you don't have to look to know that it’s Sunoo and Riki telling you to come back to the table. 

“Worship me later, hm?” You step back to put some space between you two. “I’ll see you at the table, Sunghoon Park.”

Sunghoon’s smirk widens into a smile, showcasing his perfect teeth, the teeth you want to be pressed against your lips and skin later. “As you wish.”

Your eyes drop to Sunghoon’s lips before you force yourself to raise them to meet Sunghoon’s gaze that hasn’t strayed from you once. 

You take another step back. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“I hope you do.” Sunghoon winks, letting you out of his grasp. 

As much as you love Jake, Jay and Heeseung, you feel a little bad to admit that you’re feeling quite… over the party now. The food is great and you’re still having a great time, but it’s just too hard to focus on anything but Sunghoon, the man sitting right across from you.

Sunghoon has been nothing but distracting since you sat down at the table, god, Sunghoon is so bad for your health. Sunghoon, who has been running the tip of his shoe up and down your calf. Sunghoon, who has just grazed his shoe high enough to fit right between your thighs, pressing delicately against your crotch. 

Now, you know that Sunoo and Riki would scream bloody murder if they saw anything, especially a footprint, on the clothes you’re wearing, but the feeling of Sunghoon’s shoe pressed against your already damp core drowns out all the thoughts of explaining this to the two later. There’s nothing more that you want to do than grind against the bottom of Sunghoon’s shoe, just for the smallest bit of friction, but you really don't want the next fire on the internet to be about you sporting a damp spot and a shoe print in public. 

So, you let Sunghoon have his fun, try your hardest not to get wet, and keep a nonchalant smile on your face as you talk with the others. You take sips of your champagne, not enough to feel a buzz since your alcohol tolerance is weak and you don't want to lose control of yourself, not without Sunghoon here to take control for you.  

You can tell that Sunghoon is enjoying this, if the smirk he keeps sending your way is enough of a sign. Sunghoon hasn’t removed his shoe for the past hour, just resting between your legs, pushing harder sometimes and then lightening the pressure. Sunghoon shows no other indications of, well, anything, but you know when Sunghoon is bluffing; know him well enough to know when Sunghoon wants something, when he wants more, when he wants you.

Sunghoon hasn’t touched any of his champagne or food all night, other than picking at the appetizers and eating a few bites of his meal, opting to just mess with you under the table the whole night. You can tell that Sunghoon doesn’t have much of an appetite for anything but you.

Sunghoon shifts suddenly, removing his shoe from you completely and sending you a secretive smile when the ghost of a frown creeps onto your features. 

“I’m going to use the washroom,” Sunghoon says, glancing at you one last time before pushing his chair back so he can stand. “Anyone want to join me?”

“No thanks,” Heeseung grimaces. “Nobody wants to see that again.”

Sunghoon grins widely, a teasing smirk on his lips. “We went to the restroom together once. Nice to know that you were that intimidated.”

“Just go!” Heeseung groans, dropping his fork.

The night is still young and you know that Jay, Jake and Heeseung have no intention of letting the party end so soon, but you don't think that they’ll have a problem with you slipping away for a few minutes, or hours.

You wait a few minutes before following Sunghoon.

“Actually, I need to go too,” you stand, pretending to stumble a little. “Had a little too much to drink.”

You already made sure that everyone is drunk enough not to notice that you’ve been switching the cups around so your cup appears empty. “I’ll be back,” a lie. “Don’t wait up.” The rest barely acknowledge you, waving you off with their hands. You smile, satisfied, before making your way to where the restrooms are. You find the restrooms easily, secluded in an area towards the back of the restaurant. You knock a few times before you’re tugged away by the wrist.

“Sunghoon? Where—” 

Sunghoon tugs you along silently, a few feet away from the bathroom to a closet. When Sunghoon closes and locks the door behind him, the space is filled with darkness. The only sliver of light filtering through is from the door sill, even with the glow, it’s not enough to see anything. You can’t make out any of Sunghoon’s features, or see him at all, but you can hear the quiet breaths Sunghoon is letting out.

“Hoon?” You reach out blindly. You can hear Sunghoon’s footsteps as he takes a few steps closer.

“I’m here,” Sunghoon says, just as your fingers come in contact with his shirt. The fabric is soft underneath your fingertips, and you grip the material lightly before trailing your fingers down to find Sunghoon’s waistband, then moving back up just to feel him, to know that Sunghoon is really there. “Is this okay? Is it too dark?”

“No, no,” you breathe out, hands resting on Sunghoon’s chest. You indulge yourself, sweeping your hands up to rest around Sunghoon’s shoulders, satisfied once your fingers are in the hair at Sunghoon’s nape. “It’s perfect.”

Sunghoon ghosts his fingers down your hands to your arms down to your waist, holding you tightly. “You’re perfect.”

“You can’t even see me, Hoon,” you laugh lightly, tugging Sunghoon forward a few inches. You can feel Sunghoon’s breath on your nose now. “How do you know?”

“You’re all I’ve been looking at all night,” Sunghoon says. You feel his hand leave your waist and a beat later, a fingertip trailing from your temple to your jaw, then a featherlight touch from your forehead to your nose. “I can see you just perfectly.”

“Creep,” you whisper, but your heart is already turning to a puddle of goo in your chest, melting at the fondness dripping from Sunghoon’s fingertips. “I missed you so badly, you don’t even know.”

Sunghoon snorts, the sound maximized in the small space of the closet. “You love me.”

“I’d love you more if you said you missed me back, hm?” You pull him closer, lips brushing against Sunghoon’s.

“You already know how much I miss you,” you can feel Sunghoon’s words against your lips, and you crave so badly to press your lips to Sunghoon’s and swallow each and every one of them down. “I miss you more every day that I don’t see you.”

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?” You smile, and you can feel Sunghoon mirroring it.

“It only makes me weaker,” Sunghoon brushes his nose against yours, and you can feel every bit of love through the gesture. “You make me weak.”

“Good, someone needs to be there to knock your pride down a notch,” you tease, and Sunghoon nips at your lips.

“I’ve missed this so much,” Sunghoon confesses for the millionth time that night. “Feeling you, talking to you, just—you.”

“Such nice words,” you hum, “how about you show me rather than telling me? I’ve been waiting for you to take this off of me the whole night.”

Sunghoon, like he just remembered that you’re completely bare under your blazer and dress, immediately takes the chance to start removing your coat. You shiver a little when Sunghoon finishes his ministrations, the air hitting your bare arms. 

Sunghoon’s touch is teasing as he reaches for the zipper of your dress, slowly unzipping it like you have all the time in the world. The sound of fabric hitting the floor makes your breath and stomach tense when Sunghoon runs his fingers along the planes of your now bare chest and down your stomach. 

“You feel so—unreal,” Sunghoon breathes out, as if he’s in awe. 

You laugh, stomach tensing against Sunghoon’s hand as you does. “You’re touching me, aren’t you? I think I’m pretty real.”

Sunghoon sighs through his nose and you feel it on your upper lip. “You’re still how I remember.”

“And how is that?” You ask, fingers still tangled in Sunghoon’s hair. “Mm,” Sunghoon pretends to think. “Snarky, cold, challenging.”

“Snarky?” You scoff. “I’m anything but snarky.”

“Sure, baby,” Sunghoon shakes his head a little before closing the gap between them, stealing the last bit of air right from your lungs, breathing it into his own. 

You melt into it, pressing forward so your chests are flush together. You shudder at the contact, your nipples rubbing against Sunghoon’s silky shirt. Sunghoon licks across the seam of your lips, biting down ever so lightly in the way he knows you like. You open your mouth to give him access, Sunghoon immediately licking across your teeth and the roof of your mouth, before sucking at your tongue.

Sunghoon’s hand roam from your waist to your bare chest to rest on your hips, rubbing shapes against the skin there. You sigh into Sunghoon’s mouth, reveling in the feeling of having Sunghoon’s hands all over you again. Sunghoon pulls back suddenly, the sounds of their lips disconnecting bouncing off the walls of the closet.

“Why—” you whine, pressing against Sunghoon harder. “Why?”

Sunghoon lets out a chuckle, squeezing your waist. “Nothing, just missed hearing you talk. Missed your voice.”

“I’ll be more vocal once you’re inside of me,” you purr, pressing your lips to what you hope is Sunghoon’s jaw, but is probably his cheek. You reach down between you to grope at Sunghoon’s bulge, preening once you feel that Sunghoon is as affected by this as you are. “Miss you inside of me more.”

You feels Sunghoon’s cock twitch at that, and arousal pools at your belly, shocks sending to the tips of your toes. Sunghoon lets out a breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek before moving down to press wet kisses to your neck. Sunghoon knows not to leave marks, so you tilt your head to bare your neck to him, humming in content as Sunghoon licks at your skin and collarbones. 

You squirm in Sunghoon’s hold once Sunghoon’s mouth reaches your chest, lips closing around a nipple and laving his tongue over it, sucking lightly. You let out a sigh, pressing your chest against Sunghoon’s mouth and pushing his head down with your hands. You tremble when Sunghoon sucks harder, tongue circling around the bud. 

“Ah, Sunghoon,” you breath out, mind already feeling fuzzy. The fact that you can’t see Sunghoon or see where his hands are going to go next is so hot to you. 

Sunghoon pulls back with a pop. “You’re so pretty.”

You whine, pushing Sunghoon’s head back down. “More—more.”

“More?” Sunghoon hums, amused, before going back down to suck at your other nipple, fingertips brushing the abused one. He rubs a finger over it, pressing down and making a content sound when you flinch.

Sunghoon sucks one last time before pressing kisses down to your stomach, and you hear Sunghoon’s pants crinkle as Sunghoon gets down on his knees. Your hands slip into Sunghoon’s hair instead, and you run your fingers through the strands until you can find a stable grip. You’re ruining Sunghoon’s hair, you know, but hopefully by the time they leave, everyone will have cleared out. Mostly.

You make a sound when you feel Sunghoon nose at your cunt, tongue laving over it and making you feel weak in the knees. Sunghoon runs his hands up your thighs, the touch leaving goosebumps in it’s wake.

You whine when you feel Sunghoon blowing his breath against you, hissing at the air. Sunghoon hums, the sound akin to a fucking cat, then repeats what he said earlier: “So pretty, baby.”

You can only reply with a shaky moan, nodding like Sunghoon can see you. You let out another moan, louder this time, when Sunghoon licks lightly at your clit, licking up the wetness you know is dripping from you like a faucet. Your voice breaks a little when Sunghoon puts his lips around your clit, and sucks.

“Fuck, Sunghoon,” you gasp out at the sensation, letting out another curse when Sunghoon presses his tongue closer against the bud, sucking at the same time. God, if this feels good, you wonder what it’d feel like if— “Shit.”

Sunghoon does this thing with his tongue, pressing it right under the hood of your clit and grazing his teeth just right against your skin, and you almost come on the spot. Sunghoon lets out an approving groan, the sound sending vibrations to your core, and you moan again.

“So—so good, Hoon, you’re so good,” you sigh softly, and Sunghoon lets out another sound. “Could come like this, just from this.”

Sunghoon pulls away then, and you almost whine at the loss of his mouth. “Just from this? I barely even did anything.”

“Shut up,” you grits out, jaw clenching, “you know what you do to me.”

“Do I?” Is Sunghoon’s reply, and then he’s taking you back into his mouth again, this time trailing a finger to your hole. Sunghoon taps your thigh a few times as he moves his head, then simultaneously presses two fingers into you at the same time he sucks your clit, and fuck, Sunghoon is so hot. 

You resist the urge to grind against him, not wanting to hurt Sunghoon, but Sunghoon is letting out a huff through his nose and pulling off again.

“Fuck my mouth,” Sunghoon says, voice hoarse already, and then he’s diving back down. 

“I don’t—don’t want to come too soon, I’m already so close,” you whimper when Sunghoon crooks his fingers just right, tongue still drawing shapes against your clit while doing so. 

Sunghoon doesn’t show any time of stopping soon, and you give into his temptations and grind against Sunghoon’s mouth, eyes rolling back and mouth dropping open in a silent moan at the feeling of Sunghoon’s mouth, wet and hot, against you. You can’t help the way you grind your hips forward, just testing. Sunghoon doesn’t make a single sound, no choking, nothing, and you lose it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you grind your hips down against Sunghoon’s face faster, chasing your high as you use Sunghoon’s mouth and nose as you please. “You’re so—shit—hot.”

Sunghoon makes an approving noise, moaning as you grind on his face. You let out a shaky moan, feeling the familiar clenching inside of you and around his fingers, and everything is just so much that your hips stutter and lose rhythm, the rope in your stomach snapping as you come. Your thighs shake at the intensity of your orgasm, the remnants of your come now getting lapped up by Sunghoon’s tongue. 

Sunghoon swallows it all, and when he pulls away, he sucks at your clit one last time, then stands to press his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on Sunghoon’s tongue, the last remnants of your come that didn’t get swallowed down being fed back into your mouth as Sunghoon pushes his tongue past your lips. 

You flinch in overstimulation when Sunghoon uses his fingers to rub at your swollen clit once again. 

“You’re so wet, fuck.” Sunghoon’s voice sounds strained. 

You nod, panting against Sunghoon’s lips. “Please, I’m ready.”

“God,” Sunghoon groans into your mouth, fingers dipping past the entrance of your hole and into you with little resistance. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Sunghoon slides another finger in between the two, scissoring his fingers and groaning when your hole stretches with ease. Your body shakes in overstimulation, having already come once, but you want to make Sunghoon feel good, to let Sunghoon use your body like he lets you use his. 

“C’mon, Hoon,” You throw your head back when Sunghoon presses his fingers further. “Fuck—ah—fuck me already.”

Sunghoon adds a fourth finger beside his others and hums. “Wanna take my time, especially when you’re such a good girl for me.”

“Sunghoon,” you whine, pushing down against Sunghoon’s fingers and clenching down on them when they graze a certain spot inside of you. “Fingered myself while thinking of you fucking me like this, I can’t wait anymore.”

Sunghoon lets out a small laugh, but it seems to do the trick because he’s pulling his fingers out of your hole in a quickness, flipping you around to press you against the wall. You vibrate with anticipation when you hears Sunghoon’s zipper being pulled down, then the telltale sound of his pants dropping to his ankles. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp when you feels Sunghoon’s cock, hard and wet, slide between your cheeks. Sunghoon is leaving a trail of wetness against your skin, and your mouth waters just picturing it; Sunghoon’s cock, thick and curved, leaking so prettily for you. God, you wonder if there’s a wet patch at the front of Sunghoon’s pants, and you want so badly to check, to lick the remnants of the precome there, to make Sunghoon’s pants and underwear damp and soaked with your saliva mixed and Sunghoon’s wetness. 

You keen when the head of Sunghoon’s cock grazes your hole, the tip slipping inside before it slips out again. You whine, “Sunghoon, no teasing, I want you too much.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon says, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Forgot how needy you are.”

You pout even though Sunghoon can’t see it, but it’s quickly replaced with a moan as Sunghoon pushes into you, all the way to the hilt. You don't have time to think or breathe as Sunghoon is pulling out again, just until his tip barely breaches you, and slams in again.

Your head lolls forward, cheek squished against the cold surface of the wall as Sunghoon fucks his cock into you, balls slapping against your cheeks and the sound echoing off of every corner of the room. You can only let out little sounds as Sunghoon uses you as he pleases.

“God, you feel so good,” Sunghoon breathes against your neck, shuffling forward so he can press his forehead against your shoulder. “So wet and tight.” You clench down at that, and Sunghoon chuckles. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

You can only whine, whimpering when you feel a little saliva drip out from the corner of your lips. Sunoo and Riki are going to kill him because you’re ruining your makeup, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Sunghoon is fucking you like this. 

Sunghoon laughs sardonically at your silence. “So fucked out you can’t even speak, hm, baby?”

You whine again, gasping when Sunghoon takes your face into a hand, pressing your cheeks together between his thumb and forefinger. Your face is smushed like this, and you lets out a surprised moan when Sunghoon pulls your head back, forcing you to lean against his chest with his fingers still on your face.

“Wish I could see how you looked right now,” Sunghoon groans out, hips flush against yours. He grinds into you slowly, and you can feel Sunghoon’s cock twitching inside of you as he speaks. “Bet you look even prettier like this, not even being able to think with a cock inside of you.”

“Sunghoon,” you whine out, clenching around Sunghoon sporadically. 

“Oh, so you can speak,” Sunghoon pauses, “guess I’m not doing good enough, then.” And then Sunghoon is lowering you to the floor, moving to brace your hands on the wall then gripping your hips to bend you over, the sounds of your heels clicking against the floor. “Don’t fall, baby.”

You let out choruses of moans that trail off into higher pitched noises as Sunghoon fucks you faster, harder this time. The sounds of your skin slapping against each other are so loud, it’s all you can focus on, and you fear that whoever walks by the closet will know what the both of you are doing, will hear you getting fucked like this, in a closet. The thought of it has you tightening up again, and before you know it, you’re coming a second time. 

Sunghoon lets out a surprised moan, groaning at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him. 

“Fuck, you—you’re so,” Sunghoon doesn’t finish his sentence, pressing forward another time to be as deep as he can as he comes. You tremble at the feeling of Sunghoon filling you up, and it only makes you come harder, body shaking as you falls forward, forehead resting against the wall.

Sunghoon presses kisses onto your shoulder and back as he helps you upright, still grinding his cock into you. You whine, clenching weakly around Sunghoon’s cock. Your breaths even out after a few minutes, and you yelp when Sunghoon experimentally thrusts his hips once, twice forward.

“No more, Hoon, I can’t—” you say, breathless again.

Sunghoon kisses your shoulder again, nuzzling his nose against your skin. “Come back to my hotel.”

“Was waiting for you to ask,” you reply, and you feels Sunghoon’s laugh against your skin. 

“Or, maybe I’ll go back to yours,” Sunghoon presses his cheek against your shoulder.

“That’s a first,” you joke, and Sunghoon grinds forward. “Sunghoon!”

“So, yes?” Sunghoon rubs soothing patterns onto your sides.

“When have I ever said no to you?” You say, fondly.

“Never.” Sunghoon concludes.

“Exactly,” you roll your eyes. “Clean me up.”

“I don’t think there’s anything in here…” Sunghoon trails off.

“Sunghoon!”

Your dress is going to be horribly ruined. You don’t know how you’re going to explain the mess to Sunoo and Riki, but when Sunghoon licks the come from your hole and thighs, and cleans your cunt with his tongue, you find that you don't care as much as you should.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

XO sunoo and riki's brand PARADOXXX heeseung, jake, and jay's brand

a/n: hope u enjoyed pt.2, thank u for taking the time to read this if u have gotten this far! pls like and reblog or leave any comments or asks for me hehe ♡ my taglist is currently open, pls lmk if you would like to be added to it :3 and pls let me know if u found any mistakes.. did not want to proofread this

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, toxic relationship, possessiveness

♡ fem reader

You’re not sure why you ever let it drag out this long…

In the beginning, it could be blamed on things outside your control. You were a pretty girl, and he was a bad boy – of course, that garnered tension – plus, the oncoming of puberty and its additional whirl of hormones – leaving you in the turmoil of strange feelings neither of you could understand – making you both panicked, embarrassed, confused and, most of all, in dire need of an outlet for it all.

One of which you surprisingly found in each other.

You’d been but foolish teenagers at a silly house party at the time – your first-ever shots of vodka buzzing through your system as you shared a kiss like none other. 

You’d stumbled up the stairs and gotten frisky in the bedroom while the family pictures of your shared friend witnessed you tearing at each other until the skin of childhood had shed and left you both as grown-ups.

You remember it well… how you’d practiced putting condoms on a banana and brought a few along but had no prior intention of treading one on him, of all people. 

But fuck, his hands were so big, and his tongue was so hot… and you hadn’t known he could look so pretty… cinched bushy brows and parted lips glossed with your name as he fucked you against the wall until all those onlooking family pictures came crashing down.

You woke up with a new special understanding of yourself and each other, one with a strange respect and newfound curiosity for the other’s body.

But why he hadn't grown bored of it since and why you’d never put your foot down and ended things was beyond you.

Sure, a drunk one-night stand with a person you’d otherwise avoid at all costs is life – opposites attract, after all – but to keep coming back to each other?

He’d explained it once, one of those times he'd come stumbling into your apartment, drunk and in the midst of buckling up his pants while pawing at you. Kissing you sloppy, he’d mumbled out something along the lines of how no one else knows him like you do. 

And you suppose that had mainly been the reason – that you just knew each other too well and had known each other too long, to which point everyone else just seemed alien – that there was a certain comfort, if one could call it that, in the familiarity of each other that just couldn't be replaced by anyone else. 

You thought it would go on forever like that… Not that you’d ever bothered to give it much thought. 

That is… until you had that very flirty encounter at the café where you worked – where in between being sweet-talked into a stuttering blushed mess and being asked out for coffee someplace where you wouldn't have to serve it yourself – you’d come to question your current relationship and started doubting your true obligations toward him as a partner.

You didn’t go on dates. You didn’t live together. You didn’t text or call one another. You didn’t eat dinner or plan things or visit each other’s parents. 

You didn’t have anything in his apartment, nor him in yours. You’d never washed any of his clothes. You’d never worn any of his clothes. You’d never even driven his car. 

You’d never given each other presents. You didn’t tell people about your relationship. You didn’t talk about work, your day, or your feelings. Actually… having given it a long thought… you didn’t really talk at all. 

In fact, when it came down to it, the only thing you’d been able to think of that you’d ever done together… was sex.

Sex and nothing more…

You don’t know if things would have ever changed if he hadn’t asked you what the number scrawled in blue ballpoint pen on your arm was...

But nevertheless, that’s when he started acting strange.

You’d never expected he’d get so upset by it – but you ended up apologizing that night while promising him that next time, you’d make it clear you already had a boyfriend.

You remember thinking how the way he fucked you that night had been nothing short of desperate. Having given you nearly no room to breathe with how tightly he’d held you, his face nuzzling into your neck with lovebites, thrusting into you in such a way he was barely even pulling out, pounding your womb more than your cunt to the point you’d feared it bruised, having had to pat his shoulder to tell him to calm down. 

He’d held your face then, and you’d realized that you hadn’t really had too much eye contact before. You remember that even then, you couldn’t really decide if you liked it or not. 

Or rather... you’re sure you’d found it unpleasant, though just hadn’t had the guts to give the feeling much thought. 

You regret it now that it’s too late. Maybe if you’d done or said something back then, you wouldn’t be in the situation you were trapped in now.

For lack of a better, more suitable word, you’d have to say he’d become clingy if only it didn’t sound too sweet and childish for someone so much larger than you. But maybe you’d just feared calling it what it had been.

And what it had really been… was threatening.

Overbearing and possessive, and needlessly protective. He’d quickly become paranoid with jealousy. Portraying strange obsessive emotions you hadn't known he harbored for you at all until then.

You hadn’t really been able to put your finger on it at the time.

It started out small – or small in comparison to now. Small pleasantries he’d never bothered with before. Small niceties you’d never imagined the two of them would do together. 

Thinking back, the first deviation aside from the triggering night he’d initially seen the phone number and felt the threat of you slipping from his graspwas the time he’d come and visited you at work when out on patrol. And though he hadn’t really asked, you’d come to realize rather hesitantly that he’d come there to eat lunch together with you.

Maybe you’d been too swept up in the embarrassing buzz to notice, caught in the paparazzi of hushed whispers and judgy stares – all of them asking who the Plain Jane thought she was, eating lunch with the up-and-coming pro-hero Dynamight– you hadn’t really the time nor mind to pay attention to him and all his newly awoken instincts regarding you.

It seemed fucking silly now… How you’d foolishly thought the bizarre lunch was an isolated incident that wouldn’t ever happen again, only to be schooled the next day and the day after that – coming to understand you were to expect it as a regular thing. And soon, it wasn’t even the strangest thing anymore.

Soon, he was driving you home every day, coming inside, eating dinner, watching the news until late, and staying the night. Soon, you found yourself waking up in his apartment alone, coming downstairs to find he’d made you breakfast before leaving, combined with a little note telling you when he’d be back. Soon, you weren’t spending a single week or weekend without him. Soon, you couldn’t find anything to wear that didn’t either remind her of him or smell like him or that downright didn’t belong to him completely.

And he’d started taking you places too – on dates – broadcasting your relationship to anyone who could snap a picture and send it to every gossip magazine in Japan. He’d introduced you to his colleagues – who you knew to be “friends” from some rather upsetting stories he’d told you when he was in a less and less rare mood for talking – and they’d seemed to know who you were just as intimately, giving you the sneaking suspicion that he’d been running his mouth and saying private things he ought not to.

But that had all been child’s play.

It got out of control when he’d ordered a delivery truck to pack down all your things and move them all to his apartment before you got home from work. Sure, he’d introduced the idea of living together in passing, but you couldn’t remember ever committing to it or being at all close to an understanding of where and when.

Thinking about it now, that was probably your last chance of escaping before things got ugly.

But then, it was already too late. You were living with him suddenly – sharing all his space while unable to shake that awfully crippling feeling of just being another medal or trophy up on the mantle. Just a decorative doll he’d locked behind glass.

You’d felt as though your head was in a cloud. And not in a nice way, but in the utmost hollow way. As though you’d put yourself on auto-pilot and just gone with the stream like jellyfish.

And now… now he was down on one knee, asking – no, demanding – that you give him everything. 

For life until due death.

Just the two of you. 

Together.

Forever.

You swallowed thickly, feeling your head prickle as though it had fallen asleep without taking you with it. 

Your lips are dry, your eyes are dry, feeling more sober than ever.

You took a breath and, on the next exhale, spoke, “No.”

You both just stared at each other for a while as though neither could decide who was more shell-shocked and had the right reserved to remain still the longest. You left – deciding it was the person on the floor with the expensive ring weighing down his hand – and walked towards the mudroom.

“What are you doing?” He asked then, hesitantly at first. Shaken from his spot, he’d resumed his full height again, loudly stomping across the floor to reach you.

“I’m sorry- I- I can’t stay here- I need to go.” You rushed, head spinning, only able to understand how you wanted to put shoes on and leave. Maybe get a drink at a bar by yourself and figure your shit out without being suffocated by him.

“Don’t do this.” He said then, sounding desperate and somewhat feeble if it weren’t for how he had you pushed against the wall in the same second.

You nearly decided against yourself when seeing the look on his face – warped into something truly fragile. Plead had his brows pinched together while his sharp red eyes, now doe-like, had glossed over and looked nothing short of hopeless and scared.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart twist and ache and feel a little guilty.

But nevertheless.

“I can’t marry you….”

You couldn’t keep doing this.

“I’m sorry- I don’t love-” 

You didn’t get to finish. The word taken, stifled, strangled in a fist closing around your throat.

“You do love me.” He refuted quickly, as though terrified to have let you finish. “You’ve always loved me.” Trembling while he said it, as though trying to force himself into believing it too. 

Shaking your collar in unstable hands – bearing down on you until you couldn’t be pushed flatter against the stone behind you, until his forehead rested against the wall, and his lips brushed the shell of your ear in hot, heavy, strained breaths. 

“You’re just confused.” He rasped, voice light and breathy and nearly amounting to a giggle or a sob – you weren’t sure which.

But you couldn’t care much when you couldn’t breathe. Head burning into wet cotton that was no longer able to tell you to push him off and instead let your hands go limp against his chest, knees going weak beneath you. 

You were convinced he’d kill you before the tiniest slither of air was allowed back in through your windpipe, gasping for it like a glutton until coughing it all up again when choking on your own desperate gulps. 

You held your throat in an act of soothing it from the forming bruises and shielding it from further attack. But he was ahead of you and had his sights on attacking something else.

He took you by the hair and started pulling, dragging you from the door and further into the apartment.

“Stop- stop it-” You gasped between hiccups and coughs, your hands clawing at his in an effort to free his grasp from your scalp. Your shins dragged to burns against the cold marble as your legs kicked in the struggle, hitting the floor in a series of sporadic thuds until he stopped.

He’d crossed the threshold of your bedroom and was now throwing you down on the mattress, pinning you in the same second with a hand gripping your jaw and eyes a searing cold that seemed to lash out at you like unstable fire, glaring at you with a look so blank and empty you felt it like the chill of death creep throughout your bones.

“If you want me to be nice, you should shut up.”

You knew you ought to listen, but still, one last prayer slipped off your tongue against your better judgment before you could think twice about it. “Please don’t do this-”

“Don’t do what!?” He barked – spit flying and teeth bared just like a rabid rottweiler – louder than you’d ever witnessed, loud enough to make you wince. “Break your heart!?” His voice cracked on the cry, and he paused, giving another gruesome and gut-wrenching chuckle. Head ducking to your chest with spikey hair nipping at your throat like a million needles. 

His hand tightened even more, clawing into your cheeks.

“I’m just making things even.”

You’d never realized just how hopeless you were if you’d ever needed to fend him off. But you’d never needed to before, never wanted to until now.

Now that he had you so helplessly beneath him, where the reality was slowly dawning on you and making you ever more hysteric, slowly settling upon you like dust. The ensuing violation and your utter defeat in fighting it, your failure in doing much more than make it worse.

He tugged his tie loose and threw it off his head, wrapping your wrists in the loop and tightening it into restraints.

Spreading your legs by positioning himself between them. Only now noticing just how brittle you were. So much smaller than him. So much so that tying your wrists to the bedpost seemed like overkill.

You were sobbing, gasping for breath with your chest rising and falling on beat with the deafening drums of your racing heart. You seemed less than nothing beneath him – just a defenseless pile of plush flesh soft against him and all his muscles.

You tried pulling your thighs shut, but it hardly mattered. His hands buried in the fine plume of the cakey fat had them both spread again with nearly no strength put into it at all. 

It was all right there – taken with no effort – only a cute pink cotton panty stopping him. 

His heart clenched at that, flickered and tugged with misery at the look of you crying into your own arm, trying to comfort yourself while your chest heaved, already tired of screaming and bawling – having resorted to soft sniffles and weak snivels while tiny quakes shook through you still, goosebumps adorning all your exposed flesh, which was every part of you sept for what your pretty silk dress kept hidden.

You were so beautiful… Precious and just… too good.

He knew that. He knew that you were too good for him and had always been too good for him – part of the reason why he used to act as though he hated you – when, in reality… he actually…

“I love you.” He cried. “I’ve always loved you….”

Hot tears splashed in big droplets, staining the silk with splotches that seeped into larger flecks on your stomach. 

“I can’t live without you-” He continued, his hands shaking where he held you apart while his body sagged forward, bowing down, donning soft kisses to your neck and jaw, upon the tears staining your cheeks with streaks, whispering in a voice close to breaking. “I can’t- I won’t-” Choked and pitiful, raw from shouting only a moment earlier.

One of his hands detached from its bruising grip, whilst the other loosened and slid higher – pulling your dress up with it– before rubbing loving circles into your midriff. 

You heard his buckle go undone a second later and offered another whimpering sob, your own hands jostling in their bonds on beat with your shaky breaths while trying to angle your face further away with the aim of avoiding the attack of his wet teary kisses.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, but I can’t… I can’t let you go.”

You felt him press against your clothed cunt with the weight of his swollen thickness and let out another whimper – your nose stuffed full of his breaths and eyes full of unyielding tears. 

His hand reached for your panty, hooking the trail and pulling it to the side, making you sink your teeth into the plump of your lip to suppress yet another whimper while you cringed with discomfort and the unanswered wishes for him to stop as he nibbled on the corner of your mouth with more teary proposals.

His fingers soon prodded your slit like they’d done nearly every day for years since they were but teens. Touching you with a perfected skill he’d learned would have you shiver with arousal. 

You yielded quickly, your sex turning puffy and wet sooner than you had the time to be embarrassed about it.

“No one knows you as well as I do. No one loves you as much as I do.” He chanted against your skin, entering you with both his longest digits, pumping them deep and scraping them in a cruel curl into that spot he knew had your toes doing the same. Smiling once your hips made an involuntary jolt in response. “No one else but me.” 

He pulled his hands to himself once you’d left three of his digits warm and soaking with slick, lathering his own arousal with it before nudging his cockhead against your opening in a sticky kiss and breaching it.

You stiffened, and he groaned into your neck at the feel of you clamping down even tighter as he bottomed out into your already taunt choke.

“No one else would know how to love you.” He hissed, setting a sweet tempo, lips still close, grazing on the peachfuzz of your cheek, ghosting your skin with hot breaths and even hotter words.  “No one else would know the first thing to do with you once they had you.”

You shook her head, more so in askance of space than anything else – needing air free of him – needing to clear your head off the building warmth you felt spread from your core – needing to shake the coil loose before it could knot itself further. But it seemed the more you tried fending it off, the faster it neared its end.

You always shook so prettily when cumming – when spilling over and moaning all flushed and cute for him with your hips riding it out against his until it left you panting, blushed, and adorned with a shiny sheen of dew, making you look golden in the glory of the after high.

You were his, and not even you could deny it. It almost makes him pity you, watching you writhe, unable to keep even this from him… laid completely bare to accept what he gave and give what he decided to take.

“You’re mine…”

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

holy water, m | myg

you could watch me pull up on your body like it's summer, take my clothes off in the water splash around and get you blessed like holy water i don't know what you were waiting for you know that I've been waiting for you – party 4 u by charli xcx

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for sexual tension in a hotel shower and a huge waste of water; shower smut (fem reader, mild use of a belt around neck, fingering, nipple play); implied previous relationship

--

“What now?”

The water fell down, down. Soaking through hair. Drenching clothes. Seeping into every crevice, saturating the air with steam, drumming onto slate grey hotel tiles that boasted false elegance. Those tiles had seen a variety of grime in their short lifetime. And they would only see more.

“I think you take off your clothes,” you murmured, your hair plastered to your face.

“I don’t think so,” Min Yoongi said slowly, watching you through the droplets with half-lidded eyes.

His normally straight black hair was molded to his cheeks in clumpy waves. The white dress shirt was being pelted by the showerhead above. You watched as the water turned the crisp fabric translucent, not that it mattered with how pale he was under the harsh white bathroom light through fogging glass walls. His designer tie was gone. You had no idea where he lost it. He probably didn’t care that he lost it.

Close up, he was more attractive.

You stared at him, your silk dress sticking to your skin.

His leather shoes were by the front door of the hotel room. His hotel room. He must have taken them off habitually. Your high heels had been kicked off by the sink. Patent black. Highly uncomfortable. Already scuffed. You honestly couldn’t wait to toss them in the trash.

You lacked decorum as the guest, apparently.

“Do you still feel drunk?” you asked.

His head tilted. Considering. “Maybe less.” His dark eyes slid back towards you. “Aren’t you cold?”

You admired the way the rivets of water framed his sharp features in a chaotic lattice. “You could turn the temperature up a bit.”

He reached back and ticked the metal dial a smidge. You stayed on your knees, hands in your lap, exhaling as the steam began to linger and warm your back. He seemed satisfied with your reaction and twisted back to face you. Close but not touching. His shirt stuck to him in ripples yet it was impossible to look away from his face. You memorized every line. The shape of his eyes. The way his lips formed your name.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Your gaze went back lashes laden. The cascading water was making your own eyelids heavy with droplets too. “Neither do you.”

His eyebrow raised. “This is my hotel room.”

“And you brought me here,” you reminded him. A second extended to a minute. You closed your eyes and lifted your face, drowning as you added, “To freshen up.”

His deep voice was calm. “You invited yourself.”

You corrected him. “You don’t want to be alone right now.”

You lowered your head, but kept your eyes closed. Breathed. Relaxed, because now you finally could. As fun as all that sound and bodies were, at some point you were ready for it to all die out. Impatient, even. Ready for everyone to leave you alone in the darkness with sparkling confetti that you could no longer see with the screams in your head eating through the ensuing silence. But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, now the sound was that of rain. Artificial rain from a hotel showerhead. Close enough.

You opened your eyes.

Yoongi had one elbow on his knee. His black slacks were turning glossy. He sat back up, noticing you noticing him. It seemed like he had lost weight recently. Troublesome. He was an adult now and still forgot to eat his meals. You knew it wasn’t because he was busy having fun.

“You wanna see the parts of me that are fake?”

He didn’t react.

Kept staring at you with vague interest.

You shrugged and unpeeled your silk dress from your body. Even though the fabric was black, it was thin. The water must have already revealed everything. You had to pry the sticky cups off your breasts. One by one. Tossed them aside, letting them roll to the corner and flop wetly like sad little chicken cutlets just separated from cellophane. You raised your head to watch his eye line follow the splashes.

“Sorry they’re not as big as you thought.”

He snorted. “I don’t have the brain capacity to notice the difference.”

“Well, you’re not looking at the after.”

His demeanor shifted. Viewing you from his periphery. You watched every detail of his facial features. They didn’t change. But he was looking. Dark orbs cast down and then back up, the eclipse dawning, and you didn’t shy away from the eye contact. His legs were open. Neither of you hiding. You chose to stare into his eyes since they always told the whole truth. Water collected on the edges of his closed lips.

“I’m wearing makeup too,” you admitted. “It’s probably running off ugly now.”

He didn’t hurry to answer you. “It’s not. You don’t know how to look ugly.” He said it as a fact rather than reassurance. His calm voice was a little rough, smoothed over by the sound of falling water.

The silence suspended.

“You are always beautiful.”

Yon wondered if he said it because he knew you wanted to hear it. But as you gazed into the abyss of his black-brown eyes, you remembered he only recalled how to sugarcoat when he disliked someone.

The side of his hand touched your collarbone.

You realized then that the distance between you and him had been decreasing. You retreated, leaning back to your original sitting position. Accepting the rejection. Yoongi lifted his hand away. He observed your reaction. There wasn’t much of one, considering you expected it.

“I decided to remove some of my clothes after all,” he said.

You shrugged again. “Go ahead.” You didn’t hold your breath.

It was impossible, but it was as if the water suspended in the air, slowing, revealing every glisten of light off his skin as Yoongi reached down. Hooked a finger under his belt. Undid the buckle. He pulled the end of the black leather from the silver. He gripped the buckle and tugged, his body following the fluid movement. It unraveled like a coiled snake, pulled from the loops of his slacks. He folded it on his hand as he eased it out. Caught the end with his other hand.

You waited.

His belt stayed in his hands.

You looked up at Yoongi’s face.

There were no shadows in these glass walls covered in condensation. Nothing hidden even though no one spoke. The roar of the thundering water from up above came back, but you were fixated on what was right in front of you. Him. It was just like that moment hours earlier at the party. The same scene but under flashing lights and cheering bodies, with you facing him and him facing you, not touching except for the eye contact, and in the silence Yoongi told you everything without a word.

He lifted his belt.

You didn’t flinch and didn’t look away.

He moved forward. The wide loop descended around your head like a falling dark halo. The weight touched your shoulders. He tucked the end into the buckle. Plenty of space. He held it like that, staying eye level. Not above nor below. Not bringing his face any closer. Fair skin except for his flushed lips and pink knuckles. He held the silver buckle and pulled on the end of the leather belt.

Your hand raised, sliding between the belt and your throat as he closed in.

He paused.

Hands unmoving.

You wanted to tell him it was you. You wanted him to know It was you who suggested the party. You who made the group chat. You who selected the venue. You knew his friends would take over and morph it into an overstimulating animal of a club night that Yoongi would want to escape sooner rather than later. You wanted him to know.

But you didn’t say anything.

He tilted his head at you, cat-like.

You tipped your chin down. Danced your manicure over your lips. You could only imagine what your face looked like. Either the makeup was working its magic or Yoongi didn’t care. His eyes tracked your movement with mute fascination. You slid two fingers in your mouth. Felt the warmth of your tongue. Moved them in and out.

Parted your lips to let him watch.

You waited. Wondered if he would look away, treating you like someone he never loved. And maybe that was the case. Maybe it was what it was. Maybe it was better to leave well enough alone. But you still made the choice to bruise your knees in Min Yoongi’s hotel shower. And he made that decision too, just like you.

He tightened the belt.

Brought his face closer.

You pulled your hand down. Too uncomfortable with the constricted space. He let go. The strip of leather smacked against your torso. You didn’t feel it at all because his wrist turned and he cupped your chin, pulling you into his kiss.

You kissed him for a long time.

Knees sore, but every breath shared between you and him was life. Tasting alcohol. Saliva mixing his water. Lips to lips. Kisses chained together just as they should be. You shifted your head the other way and he mirrored naturally. His fingernails against your skin, pushing hair away from your eyes. Your fingernails digging into his soaked pants, feeling his thigh flex underneath, falling into him, wet clothes and all. Tasting every memory and all the memories to come.

Yoongi pulled away, trailing his fingers down your collarbone.

The water made it impossible to open your eyes without stinging. So, you didn’t. There was no safer place to be, anyway. You turned your head. Your breath against the pulse of his neck. Caressed his thigh, tracing the wet wrinkles underneath. His fingertip brushed against your nipple through your dress. He listened to your breath catch. Rubbed slowly, agonizingly. Your lips found the side of his neck, parting, sliding your tongue out to trace the same languid circles right under his ear. You heard him shudder.

“Did you hate it?” you whispered, leaning against him.

“Hate what?” His voice remained calm even as his whole body trembled with pleasure.

“The party,” you chuckled. “You hate parties.”

“I don’t hate parties,” he corrected you, his other hand resting on the side of your thigh. “I recognize they’re necessary sometimes.”

He was lying. Especially about this party. This party was so damn unnecessary. It just gave validity for you and him to be in the same vicinity. It was doctored, structured, hinged on a hope that you didn’t really believe in. There had been some mild unrelated drama, even. A fight involved. You still didn’t know the cause of whatever that was but what you did know is that now you could reach up to pull Yoongi’s face back to yours, kissing him again. And again. He pulled you to him, separating his knees to give you space between them. One hand on your breasts and the other at your thigh, lightly tugging outwards.

You shuddered.

His fingers curled inward, snaking under the short hem of your dress. He deepened the kiss, tangling you with his tongue. Flicked your stiff nipples. Pinching. Rubbing. He locked one of his knuckles, skimming it over your heat. You rocked your hips accordingly, grinding your swelling clit into his hand. Moaning into his mouth just the way he liked it. Yoongi smiled against your lips. You smiled back, amused by his confidence, and slowly fucked his lips with your tongue as he shifted his fingers, unsticking your panties from your slick pussy, sighing into your mouth while pushing a finger upwards.

“Hm.” He freed himself simply to murmur. “Tighter than I remember.”

You opened your eyes halfway.

He felt you look at him and his gaze shifted to yours.

“Then fuck me loose,” you whispered.

The side of his lips curved upward. “I know better than to fight against the impossible.”

He slowly pulled his finger in and out. A familiar pace. You closed the distance again. He parted his lips in response. Your tongue slid in, in and out, beginning to kiss him again, closing your eyes and feeling the droplets skate down your cheeks. Pleasure pierced through your nerves from below to all your extremities. He slid another finger inside you. Your walls tightened around him, squeezing as he pushed in and out, at first matching your pace but then devolving into madness with every breath. The tongue-fucking turned into lasting kisses and then wispy gasps. He squeezed one of your breasts and rubbed his palm against your hard nipple. Your hips rolled into his hand below, following shared rhythm, hard and deep and wet. Your arms around his solid shoulders. Your hands in his wet hair. He let you do whatever you want. Your tongue pressed against his cheek. Dripping saliva mixing with raining water. He let you do it. He pinched your nipple and you exhaled by his ear, riding his hand with his belt still loosely around your neck.

You arched your back, breaking out of the circle of water.

Your hips locked and the rush flooded through you.

The orgasm made your body shiver and your nerves sing. Your fingernails curved inward. No words, inhale caught in your throat from the unmatched high. Every throb felt electric, reckless force slicing through you, and you welcomed it, basking in it, collapsing. Yoongi caught you, gracefully cushioning your descent. He raised a hand to shield over your eyes as you leaned back forward. Placed a fingertip on your forehead to guide you to his.

You leaned against him.

“I have to take this dress off,” you breathed, feeling your chest rise and fall with every thunderous heartbeat. “Hang it to dry or something.”

Yoongi let out a chuckle and tilted his face to yours, kissing you again while he plucked the thin straps from your shoulders, beginning to pull them away from your body. The water rained down, down, because somehow he had come through. For you.

“I love you,” he breathed into your lips.

Yes, for you.

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[dollfacefantasy]

THE LUCKY ONES ♡

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader x naoya zen'in

summary: after he disrespects you at a party, you and satoru teach naoya a little lesson in manners.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, p in v, oral sex (m + f receiving), misogyny, humiliation kink, orgasm delay/denial

a/n: comm for @nexysworld!! reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

Lanterns lined the stone pathway leading to the main hall of Jujutsu High. The decorated lights dangled from the trees and swayed in the light wind blowing across Jujutsu Tech’s courtyard. Naoya had never been to the Tokyo campus. His eyes scanned the decorations before taking in the large building before him. Swaths of people hovered around the entrance. He supposed the higher-ups wanted to make a big deal out of this event. It wasn’t every day that the three families struck a deal like they had last week.

Despite the joy plastered on the faces of everyone around him, his expression remained neutral. He walked in silence next to his father. In a way, he was excited. This was the first event he would be attending not as the son of Naobito, but instead, as the future leader of the Zen’in Clan. And future leaders didn’t walk around with goofy smiles or a lot of pep in their step. They stayed cool and calm, projected their strength through their presence alone. Naobito had done as much for Naoya’s entire life, so that was how the younger man planned on acting tonight.

The delicate hum of string music drifted through the air from the building ahead. It grew louder as they approached, though the chatter of sorcerers sprinkled all around drowned it out a decent amount.

A small group of students lingered near the main doors of the place. Naoya kept his golden eyes straight ahead. He hoped that because they were already outside that meant they would be leaving soon. That way he wouldn’t have to talk to his useless cousins. While he’d normally relish a chance to taunt the twins, soon-to-be clan heads didn’t engage in petty squabbles like that.

Naobito crossed the threshold into the party first, and Naoya followed right after. The lights inside burned brighter than the muted ones outdoors. Gatherings of people circled around tables set up throughout the place. They laughed and talked over plates of lavish food and glasses of expensive drinks.

There was also a bar set up to the side of the room. Even though it wasn’t the main attraction by any means, Naobito locked onto it after only a few seconds.

“If you need anything, you know where I’ll be,” he said with a grin, not even looking in Naoya’s direction before taking off the other way.

Grimacing at his father’s pathetic display, he crossed his arms. Not that he would admit it, but Naoya felt a little lost standing all by himself at the front of this event. He recognized a lot of these people, but he’d never spoken to them. His father was the one who was supposed to help weave him into the social fabric of this place. Everyone knew Naobito, and there was always something to talk about with the reigning head of the clan.

Naoya, on the other hand, took a few steps forward and honestly felt like he might be invisible. At home, people looked when he entered a room. They stood at attention and recognized the greatness that was their future patriarch.

Here no one spared him a glance.

He scratched at his elbow and continued on into the main part of the room where most of the people had conglomerated. At the very least, he could grab some food and figure out what to do from there. He slithered around statuesque men and women with cold eyes. 

The glare on his face grew more severe as all of them failed to acknowledge him. He was above every last one, and he knew it. They just couldn’t see that yet.

When he finally reached a clear spot near the railing of a large staircase, he heard a laugh that rang familiar to him. Turning his head, he spotted the source standing a few feet up on the landing. He wasn’t hard to find. Standing at six foot three put Satoru Gojo above most of the other heads in the crowd. And even though he hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade, Naoya recognized those snowy white locks right away.

A small smile bloomed across his face despite himself. Finally, he’d found someone here on his level. He stifled the look of happiness before rounding the bannister and making his way up the couple steps that separated them.

“Satoru,” he called out.

The other man paused his conversation to find who wanted his attention. A dark scrap of cloth covered his eyes now. Even with it there, Naoya could still picture the cerulean irises that lie beneath. They were impossible to forget. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so pure in color before or since.

He couldn’t see Satoru’s pupils either, but he felt them fixate on his form when the other man finally stopped the search for who had spoken his name. A second went by before his lips quirked up another inch.

“Naoya, right?” he asked in return.

Now the smile was truly gone from the younger sorcerer’s face.

Right?

Why was he asking ‘right’ like he wasn’t sure? Like he didn’t remember Naoya. He was the future head of the fucking Zen’in Clan for Heaven’s sake. He’d spoken to Satoru before. He’d asked him questions about leading a clan and holding that kind of power. He wasn’t just someone you let slip from your memory like a background actor you still didn’t know the name of after seeing them over and over again in movies.

He’d admired Satoru, but clearly, the sentiment had been one-sided.

Instead of pitching a fit though, he maintained his composure like a clan head should. 

“Of course,” he scoffed.

Satoru didn’t seem to take offense to the irritation in his tone. He just chuckled and shrugged.

“Sorry. Took me a second. You look pretty different,” he said.

A plume of heat rose to Naoya’s cheeks. He could only hope it didn’t show through his skin in a light tint of pink. While he wanted to continue to ruminate over this perceived injustice, he realized Satoru was right. Back when they’d seen each other last during his early days as head of the Gojo Clan, Naoya didn’t have all the piercings he now wore. His hair had been its natural inky black rather than the harsh blonde that covered his locks now. In the same way that he took a moment to recognize himself in old photos, Satoru needed a second to recall the man he probably hadn’t thought of in almost ten years.

However, the more irrational part of Naoya still felt like he should’ve known anyways.

“So do you,” he huffed. “You look older.”

That brought a laugh from Satoru. “Right,” he responded, clearly nothing but amused at the quip.

In truth, Naoya meant what he said. He just didn’t mean it as an insult. Satoru didn’t look old at all. He just looked older. Over the eight or nine years since he used to stop by the estate for talks with Naobito, he’d grown into his features. Back then, he appeared gangly, like his body had been made a size too big. He walked around on his skinny legs with exaggerated confidence. His large hands always seemed like they didn’t know whether to droop by his sides or stay shoved in his pockets.

Naoya remembered watching him strut by from the edges of the gardens. He couldn’t believe that was who everyone called the strongest. A guy whose pants didn’t even seem to fit him right. There was no way someone wearing trousers that left their deathly pale ankles in full view was considered king of the Jujutsu world.

But as he stood before him now, Satoru looked like the god everyone described him to be. His giant stature was accentuated by healthy amounts of muscle mass. Instead of lingering around with an awkward hunch, he kept his shoulders back. His chest puffed outwards, and his arms rested naturally by his hips. The violet suit he wore hung on his body without an imperfection in sight. It covered everything it should. Maybe even covered a little too much.

“Well how are you? I didn’t know you were coming tonight. What’s it been? Ten years?” Satoru asked, pulling the younger man from his thoughts.

“Something like that… I’m great, actually. You probably already know, but I’m head of the Hei. And I’m going to be head of the clan soon,” Naoya said.

Satoru’s brows rose a bit, but not with genuine surprise. “Soon, huh? Does Naobito know that?” he teased.

Naoya sneered, curling his lip like a provoked dog. “Of course he does. I’m his heir. That’s why he brought me here tonight. To learn how to associate with all of you,” he spat. “What is it that you do now? You’re a teacher, right?”

“Something like that,” Satoru answered, his own expression cocky as ever. He took a few seconds to just stare at the Zen’in before him. “You look different, Naoya, but you really haven’t changed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped. He had changed. He’d changed a lot in the years since he was eighteen. Back then he was an adult by age, but now he was a man in the truest sense of the word.

Before Satoru could explain his comment, a smaller hand wrapped around his bicep. The faint touch pulled his attention away from the conversation, and his body shifted to reveal who he’d been talking to previously.

You came into Naoya’s view. Some woman he’d never seen. Like everyone else in this place, you were shorter than the head of the Gojo Clan. Your eyes gazed up at the honored one with a bright twinkle of admiration. 

Naoya watched, expecting Satoru to dismiss you or even reprimand you for interrupting a conversation you had no place in. But that didn’t happen. Instead, the taller man smiled at you. He took your hand and pulled you closer, tucking you under his long arm against his side. The deep purple of his suit jacket complemented the lilac silk of your dress. For a moment, it almost looked as though the two of you were a couple…

“Naoya, there’s someone I should introduce you to,” he started.

“Is this your wife?” he interrupted immediately. He didn’t see any rings, but that would explain why Satoru was being so lenient with you. He thought better of the strongest sorcerer, yet to Naoya’s absolute dismay, he knew that most non-Zen’in men didn’t make an effort to control their women.

Satoru laughed at that assumption while you gave a timid smile and stood up a little straighter.

“No, not my wife. She may keep me in line like one, but officially, she’s my assistant. She just started working at the school. Yaga thought I needed some help with organization and that she needed a little extra instruction on her cursed energy,” he explained before shrugging. “Marriage or not, I guess we are kind of a match made in heaven.”

Naoya rolled his eyes at that. “Please. I doubt any divine being would pair you with a woman. Let alone one so below your status.”

Your features scrunched with indignation, and for the first time since arriving, Naoya felt in his element. Though he still couldn’t believe you actually worked at the school. You didn’t look like a sorcerer. You looked like a piece of arm-candy. Your shiny dress was too tight and revealing for an employee of the school. Your hair was too styled and pretty for anyone who wanted to be taken seriously. Really, your face was just too cute for a life of combat.

Despite your reaction to the words, Satoru remained composed. “The rest of the world doesn’t live by the Zen’in Clan’s backward rules, Naoya. While you’re here, you’ll speak about everyone with respect,” he said, cool as could be.

And that really lit Naoya’s fire. Not only was Satoru going to let you interrupt and masquerade as someone worth anything, he was going to defend you? He gritted his teeth and stared down the two of you.

“She hasn’t done anything to earn my respect,” he seethed, fist clenched.

“You’re not giving her the chance to. How is she supposed to earn your respect when you’ve already decided she doesn’t deserve it?” he asked.

The question left Naoya without an answer. Humiliation began to cloud his mind as he scrambled for a defense. He knew he was right. You didn’t deserve his respect by virtue of the very way you were acting. You could earn it by behaving how you were meant to, subservient and deferential. AKA looking pretty while standing silently by Satoru’s side.

However, he knew saying that would only worsen Satoru’s opinion of him, and as much as he disagreed with him on his treatment of the opposite sex, he still wanted his fellow clan head’s favor.

Luckily, Satoru saved him from stewing in his embarrassment any longer. “How about you try starting over?” he offered.

It was a gesture of compromise, but it only mortified Naoya further. Satoru was only one year older than him, yet he was speaking like he would to a misbehaving child. There was no other way out though, so he reluctantly nodded.

“There we go,” Satoru praised. He then spoke your name and title like it was the true beginning of the conversation. Naoya had been right. He’d never heard of you before.

You stuck out your hand with a cordial smile. “Pleased to meet you,” you said as if he hadn’t insulted you only a minute ago.

Seeing your outstretched limb nearly sent a wave of nausea through Naoya. The two of you really expected him to shake a woman’s hand. To act as though you were his equal.

He paused and hesitated, but the weight of the six eyes compelled him to grasp your palm and give it a shake.

“I’m sure you are,” he said. 

He gripped your hand as hard as he could, wishing he could break every bone beneath the smooth flesh. The smallest semblance of pain flickered in your eye, but you continued the shake just as long as he did. Part of him wished for you to cry out. To look towards Satoru for help, desperation swirling in your eyes as you realized you needed someone superior to save you.

But instead, the only subject of Satoru’s attention was Naoya. He watched as the younger man loosened his grip on you and allowed the interaction to end.

“Good boy,” he teased, “See how much better things are when you play nice?”

Obviously, it was meant to be a joke, but the words stoked the flames inside Naoya in a totally different way than before. Now the heat radiating in his chest didn’t come from anger, but rather something less ugly. The warmth that crawled up his neck and spread across his cheeks felt less harsh. It was something much sweeter.

“Whatever,” he grumbled and looked away in an effort to conceal his blush.

From the lofted walkway nearby, a deep voice called out for Satoru. The three of you looked toward it in sync, finding Masamichi Yaga waving for the white-haired sorcerer.

“Looks like I’m needed elsewhere. You two behave yourselves. I don’t want to be breaking up any fights later,” Satoru teased, patting you on the head before walking away.

Naoya stared at you so hard it seemed as though he was trying to burrow a hole in your head with his gaze alone. Why did YOU get the parting inside joke? Why did you get the friendly end of the warning while Naoya was left excluded? You were an assistant. Barely even a sorcerer, yet Satoru acted as though he respected you more. Ridiculous.

Once he had departed and begun his ascent to Yaga, you returned your focus to Naoya.

“So now that Naobito plans on working with the other families in a larger capacity, do you think you’ll be involved with the schools more? Maybe not here but in Kyoto?” you asked.

The question wasn’t backhanded or manipulative. Your eyes didn’t reflect with condescension or arrogance. It seemed as though you were genuinely trying to start over. To give Naoya the benefit of the doubt. To believe he could overcome the attitude that had been instilled in him since he learned to read. You spoke with a genuine effort to connect with this man who had so disregarded you.

Unfortunately, it was an effort he had no interest in.

Brushing you off with a wave of his hand, he started after Satoru. “Don’t speak to me unless it’s to ask if I want a drink,” he spat in parting, leaving you staring at his back in disbelief.

He kept his distance, taking the steps at an even pace to project the image of nonchalance. Satoru’s back was to him now, so it wasn’t like he would see. But he still wanted to avoid anyone thinking he was clingy. Or needy. Or desperate.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Satoru had already integrated with the group of higher-ups who summoned him. Naoya wondered what they could be talking about. It couldn’t be anything too important or else they would have asked for him too. But it didn’t look like anything fun either as Satoru’s plush pink lips rested in a bored line.

The blonde sorcerer stuck to walking along the railing that overlooked the lower level of the party. He played it off like he was just wandering, getting a better view of everything that was happening. But his peripheral kept Satoru in his line of sight at all times. 

He wanted so badly to interject and be included in whatever matters all of them were discussing. These were the leaders of the Jujutsu world. The people who made all the decisions. It was a conversation he deserved to be a part of.

They probably wrote the Zen’ins off on instinct, and he couldn’t really blame them with how Naobito was currently downstairs drinking himself blind. But he could show them that would all be changing soon if only they’d give him the chance. The Zen’ins would be strong once again. With him at the head, they’d have power and influence. Under his rule, they’d be a part of this world along with the other families. Him and Satoru, side by side could lead their clans into this new generation of Jujutsu and leave his father and company in the dust where they belonged.

In the midst of outlining this mental manifesto, he caught the end of the nearby conversation. Satoru turned away from the gaggle of old men, his shoulders relaxing slightly with the freedom. Naoya turned too. He faced the opposite direction and grabbed onto the wooden bannister. Hopefully Satoru wouldn’t suspect he’d been doing exactly what he had been, watching in envy.

Only a couple of seconds passed before he felt a hand clap over his shoulder. Satoru then followed, sliding into his left field of vision.

“You stalking me or something?” he quipped. “Thought I left you downstairs with my right hand.”

Naoya rolled his eyes, but he kept his tone neutral. “I got bored. I’ve never been here before. I thought I’d look around a bit and get to know the place better.”

“And you planned on doing that by lingering around me?” he smirked.

“No, I- I’m not lingering around you. I just-” he defended, shooting a glare towards Satoru. 

Oh, how Naoya hated this. How was it so easy for this man to twist things around and tie people into knots using only his words? It was horrible, like constantly walking into verbal traps he didn’t even know were set. Talking with Satoru meant accepting this constant feeling of embarrassment in his belly, coming to terms with the fact that every word he spoke amused the strongest sorcerer.

“It’s ok. It’s kind of funny. Reminds me of when we were younger. You used to trail after me when I’d visit the estate, ask me tons of questions and watch my every move. Felt like I was being studied,” he laughed.

“I did not ‘trail after you.’ You make me sound like a dog or something. I just wanted to talk to you because I knew we’d be rulers of our clans at the same time one day,” he responded, calming down a little at Satoru’s lenience with him.

“Heh. Yeah. Even back then you made it sound like Naobito was only days away from keeling over and leaving the whole thing to you,” he said.

That brought a slight frown to Naoya’s lips. He had been pining for leadership for all that time. For a second it made sense to him why he was left out. Why would the higher-ups take him seriously when it seemed like Naobito would never actually die? Why would they bother wasting their time with a potential leader who may never even come to fruition?

His grip around the railing tightened as his jaw clenched. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Not all of us were lucky like you. Born with enough power to be seen as the leader even as a child,” Naoya huffed.

“Really? Lucky? That’s what you think of me?” Satoru chuckled, a hint of bitterness lacing the sound.

Naoya’s golden eyes looked him over from the side. “Yes. You are lucky. You get to do whatever you want-”

Now it was Satoru’s turn to interject.

“You get to do whatever you want. Do you think anybody could just waltz in here and insult a grade one sorcerer with no consequences? Could they follow me around like a pouty kid because no one else will pay any attention to them?” he asked. “You’re lucky, Naoya. You get the promise of power without any of the responsibility.”

None of the words came out with true anger, and that might have been the worst part. Satoru wasn’t passionate about this. He wasn’t enraged or furious. He couldn’t even work up a scowl for Naoya. It was like he was stating simple facts.

“Like you have so much responsibility. You have an assistant! You’re supposed to be the strongest of us all, but you need a woman to help you with your work. Pathetic,” he spat.

Satoru looked unimpressed by his assessment, but before he could respond, his phone rang. Retrieving it from his jacket’s interior pocket, he glanced at the screen and scanned the caller ID.

“Ah, no fun. I have to take this. I guess we’ll have to finish our conversation later,” he said, not waiting for Naoya’s response to turn away.

He headed over to the other side of the hallway and slipped through a sliding door. Naoya remained in place, hands still locked onto the wooden rail in front of him. Waves of heated anger rolled off of him. His mood didn’t cool off any in the face of Satoru’s dismissal.

He stared down at the rest of the party in disgust. The other guests galavanted around, talking and laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. He hated them all.

One day there wouldn’t be a person in this room who didn’t know the name Naoya Zen’in. One day they’d vie for a chance to have his attention. He may never garner enough power to surpass Satoru, but he’d wield enough influence to provide some healthy competition. 

Now, he realized Naobito probably had the right idea in keeping the other families at arm’s length.

As he thought of his father, he wondered if the old man was still working his way through the party’s liquor supply. He glanced towards the bar, expecting to see Naobito throwing another glass back by himself, but instead, he found you sitting near his father.

It might have been ok if you didn’t look so pleasant. The sight of you resigned to numbing the sting of his demeaning words with booze probably would’ve made him happy. Your misery could have alleviated him of the humiliation Satoru had just inflicted upon him. But no. You sat one stool away from Naobito with a pretty smile spread across your face, nodding along to whatever bullshit he was feeding you.

In that moment so much fucking rage filled Naoya, he thought actual flames might erupt from his head.

He let go of the structure in front of him and started towards the stairs without a second thought. Going down he took them two at a time, bumping shoulders and brushing past everyone else without so much as a nod. None of them deserved an apology anyway.

As he crossed the floor, his mind operated on autopilot, motivated by nothing but the urge to destroy. All he wanted right now was to wound you. To tear you apart and leave you tattered in humiliated shreds.

“If your plan is to sleep your way to the top of a clan, you’d be much better off trying to get into bed with me,” he called when he was finally in range. He walked up to the bar, standing only a couple feet from you and his father.

The pair of you turned upon hearing the words. Confusion etched across your face. Obviously, you didn’t think he could be talking to you, but with the way Naoya stared into your eyes like they were mini-bullseyes, it was hard to believe he was speaking to anyone else.

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You can act innocent all you want to, but I know what you’re doing. Playing ‘assistant’ for Satoru, acting like you really care at all about anything my father has to say-” he began his list of accusations.

Naobito rolled his eyes at the display. He didn’t look confused at all. Simply unamused. “Will you give it a rest? For God’s sake, you always gotta bitch about something…” he grumbled before taking another swig of his drink.

“I wasn’t-” you tried to defend yourself simultaneously. But Naoya didn’t give you the time to say more.

“You were. And I can’t fault you. What are you to do? It’s not like you can get an advantage over any of us with actual skill,” he continued. “I’m just pointing out that your aim is off. I’m the one who will rule the Zen’in Clan in the long run. You shouldn’t bother with my drunken father who won’t remember your name come sunrise.”

“Shut yer trap already, Naoya. If she was getting into bed with anyone, she’d pick the guy she works for. The one already in power,” Naobito cut in again, attempting to silence his son.

“I’m not trying to sleep with anyone!” you finally declared. Swiveling around on your stool, you stand up to face Naoya. “I was being polite, which is what you’re supposed to do at things like these. Not sulk around and throw a fit cause people don’t wanna kiss your ass just for existing.”

“Liar. You don’t fool me. Unlike my father, batting your eyes won’t work on me. Showing yourself off in this thing won’t either,” he said, hooking his fingers beneath one of the straps of your dress and giving the thin material a tug.

Fury blazed through your eyes at the contact. You smacked his wrist away hard, the clap of skin on skin slashing through the background noise of happy chatter and pleasant music. Naobito had turned back to his drink again in irritation, but the attention of people nearby began to drift to the both of you.

“Don’t touch me,” you told him without any room for argument.

But he only smirked at you. This was helping him feel better; as if he was siphoning all of his own anger into you instead. He couldn’t work up any true passion from Satoru. Maybe you could be the next best thing.

Ignoring your command, he reached for your face and swept the bow of his index finger down your jawline.

“Women, such emotional creatures,” he tutted.

You slapped his hand away again. “What is your problem? We were just talking, and it had nothing to do with you.”

“It’s my clan, so it’s my business,” he retorted and stepped closer to you, letting the height difference between your frames show. He wasn’t as tall as Satoru, but he was still taller than you and that was enough for him.

To your credit, you didn’t back down. You continued to glare at him without letting his physical advantage intimidate you. “It’s not your clan. You don’t actually control anything.”

“I have more power now than you ever will,” he replied. “You’re Satoru’s little lap dog. You sit behind him and make sure he can do all the things you wish they’d let you try for yourself.”

“Are you really this desperate for attention? Or is it jealousy or something?” you snapped. “Someone actually wants my help. Satoru likes having me around. He chooses to teach me things. No one has ever chosen to be around you in your entire life. Everything you have is because your daddy gave it to you.”

That actually stung a little bit. Naoya suppressed his wince, and instead pursed his lips. A small part of him was exhilarated by the challenge your words brought, but he couldn’t let you win.

“Deflection, deflection, deflection. You know the only way for a woman to get anywhere in this world is to spread her legs. And you clearly lack the training to be a proper wife, so you’re trying the next best thing. I mean, being a slut comes so naturally to you, doesn’t it?”

Unlike him, you didn’t hide the sneer that came to your face. “You don’t even know me! How can you-” you started on the brink of exploding.

“I don’t have to know you to know the truth,” he spoke over you. “I’m just saying that if you plan on whoring yourself out, you should make sure you’re getting on your knees for the right man.”

You raised your hand for some kind of attack - maybe something with your technique, maybe a simple slap. Either way, he put a stop to it by grabbing your wrist with the force he wanted to use earlier. A hiss of pain slid from between your lips, and a surge of heat flooded the pit of his belly.

“You’re actually kind of pretty looking up at me like this. I wouldn’t mind being the one to show you how to behave,” he said in a lower tone.

“That’s enough.”

The cool sound of Satoru’s voice brought everything to a screeching halt. Not only did any other words die in Naoya’s throat, but the entire party seemed quieter, commanded into order by Satoru’s firm statement. His words came out even more monotonous than they’d been upstairs. A rare occasion where he spoke without any teasing or affection in his tone.

The assist from the other sorcerer didn’t pull your eyes out of your hateful stare, but Naoya’s head whipped around to look at him. There Satoru stood, arms folded across his chest like a disappointed parent.

Naoya blinked at him, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to back down. Not with a small crowd onlooking this confrontation. But he didn’t want to cause more of a scene either. He was never one to start fights he knew he would lose.

“Let go of her,” Satoru spoke again at the lack of response. He walked closer to the pair of you, tightening the scope of the drama so less people would feel inclined to watch. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Me?” Naoya sputtered, maintaining his tight grip on you. His full focus landed on Satoru now. “This entire thing is an embarrassment. What are we even celebrating? A deal that I’ll be sure to undo as soon as I’m head of the clan?”

“That’s what you’re pretending to be upset about? You hate that people are… having fun at a party? You’re mad that they’re not already planning for the hypothetical day where you undo it all?” Satoru asked. A hint of mocking returned to his words as another bid to get people less interested.

“It’s not a hypothetical. It’s going to happen whether you or anyone here likes it or not,” he seethed.

“Sure, sure. But my assistant has nothing to do with that, so like I said, take your hands off of her,” he said.

“She was disrespecting me,” Naoya defended. “I said one thing to her, and she talked back.”

“Isn’t that how a conversation’s supposed to work? One person speaks, and then the other talks back…” Satoru said, his mocking no longer hidden. 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it! She was out of line. Trying to tell me how I should act.”

“Well when you’re insulting her, I would say that’s within her right.”

Naoya narrowed his eyes. While he knew he was exaggerating a bit, he didn’t expect Satoru to accuse him so readily. He thought he hadn’t heard most of the conversation, if any. But you hadn’t piped up to deny his words either, almost as if you knew Satoru would take your side no matter what.

“I wasn’t insulting her. I was correcting her behavior. I was offering her some advice. That’s within my right,” he said coolly. “If you were any good at training her, I wouldn’t have to. She would know not to talk to her betters like that.”

“Her better?” Satoru laughed. He shook his head and took a couple steps closer. “You two are the same rank. You have basically the same position. What gives you the idea that you’re in any way her superior?”

It was a challenge. A dare for him to say what he truly meant, what Satoru had already told him to let go. Naoya ground his teeth together while glaring at that smug smile. Either option felt like losing. One was backing down, the other was walking into a trap. But he supposed there was no honor in giving up, so he kept going in pursuit of an honorable demise.

“I’m the heir to the Zen’in Clan. I’m better than some mouthy little bitch who thinks she knows everything because she sucks the strongest sorcerer’s cock for a living,” he spat.

That seemed to be your breaking point. This time around you didn’t wait for Satoru to handle it. Instead, you stomped on Naoya’s foot with your pointy heel. Hard.

He cried out at the sudden burst of pain and dropped your wrist in an instant. He stumbled back, giving you the opportunity to swing at him with your elbow. Even off balance, he managed to block the attack. It didn’t dissuade you any though. You lunged at him like a feral animal, only stopped by one of Satoru’s arms slipping around your waist.

“Mouthy? I’m mouthy? You’re the one who’s been yapping the whole night!” you snapped.

Satoru didn’t use much force with you. Truthfully, he had no interest in protecting Naoya from violence at your hands. His only interest was in minimizing the scuffle. He didn’t want to get any shit for this later.

He kept his hold around your waist, waiting until you settled enough to nudge you to his side.

“Keep your cool. Don’t do something that’ll get you in trouble with the higher-ups,” he instructed.

Naoya watched on with a scowl on his face. “Finally, you put a leash on her.”

“Only so I can deal with you myself. Figure you’ll go easier this way,” he shrugged.

Before Naoya could even get out a question to clarify what that meant, Satoru reached forward and cupped the back of his neck, leading him away like one would a disobedient puppy. While it was probably easier than if you had tried, he still struggled. His feet floundered against the floor as his arms flailed to try and peel the other man’s hand off. Naoya was strong, but it didn’t matter. Even with a forceful tug, Satoru’s hand stayed firmly clasped around him.

“What are you doing? Let go,” he said, trying to sound as masculine as he could while pleading for mercy.

“So you don’t like it when people grab you to show you your place, huh? Funny,” Satoru said.

Naoya’s cheeks burned a furious shade of crimson. How many times did he have to point out that comparisons between you and himself were moot because of one stark difference?

It seemed as though every set of eyes in the building were on the pair of them as Satoru forced him towards the exit. To make it look even a degree less humiliating, he tried to take a swipe at the other sorcerer like you had to him, but Satoru dodged it with ease, only adding to the frustration.

As they approached the door, he attempted one final time to get the advantage. He stuck his leg out to the side, hoping to trip the other man. If he could bring him to the ground, he could gain the upperhand. Satoru possessed more strength, but Naoya could counteract that with speed.

But all of that was irrelevant because he only slightly stumbled. The move did seem to actually irritate him though. His jaw clenched and he jerked Naoya by the neck before shoving the side exit door open with his shoulder.

The night air cooled Naoya’s flushed skin the second he was dragged out onto the stone. It seemed easier to breathe out here. The music and chatter alike had become muffled behind the walls and shutting doors. But to his dismay, as those sounds became more distant, another followed behind him and Satoru.

A pair of heels clicked against the hard ground in rapid succession. He tried spinning around to get at you. Without a crowd, he didn’t have to hide behind the veneer of civility. He didn’t have to grab and insult. He could go after you like he wanted.

“You really are like a fucking pet, following your master wherever he goes,” he snapped.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t get anywhere close to striking you. And also without the surveillance of onlookers, Satoru didn’t have to be polite. He flung Naoya forward, sending him crashing to the ground and into some stone fencing a few feet away.

“You’ve humiliated yourself enough for one night, don’t you think?” he asked.

Naoya winced against the sturdy structure, rubbing the back of his neck as if to get any remnants of Satoru off. He glared up at the other man who now towered above him like this. The sight sent a weird rush through him. A twisted, nausea-infused version of the heat that boiled inside him when he grabbed you.

“I gave you a warning. I thought I showed you that your night would be easier if you played nice,” Satoru said coolly. “You think anyone in there wants to deal with your shit? Your own fucking father couldn’t be bothered to take a break from the booze to tell you to cool it.”

“Because he knew I was right-”

“Because he knew you were acting like a spoiled brat and that other people could shut you up just as easy,” Satoru corrected. “I mean really. Your sixteen year old cousin has more maturity than you.”

The mention of Maki inflamed him more than anything else. He launched off the fence behind him, seeking to grab the skinny leg in front of him and wrangle the other man onto the pavement. But before he could, Satoru raised his foot and knocked it into Naoya’s shoulder. The contact sent him back into the rock with a thud.

Shaking his head, Satoru crouched so he was at Naoya’s level. “You’re lucky all I did was take you out of there. I could have done so much worse, taught you a real lesson.”

Naoya rolled his eyes and turned his head away. He refused to accept defeat even with no path to victory remaining. But only seconds later, those long, pale fingers grab his jaw, tugging his face back in line.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Satoru said. As if to make that easier, his other fingers rose to the blindfold on his face. A digit hooked beneath the scrap of cloth and tugged it up to rest on his head. The purple fabric pressed against his silky locks of hair, pushing them back out of his face.

A chill went through Naoya’s entire body at the sight of those piercing eyes. The bright blue irises glowed in the moonlight casting down from above. They completed Satoru’s face. They made him look human. But they also made him seem that much more terrifying. With his eyes exposed, his emotions became so much more accessible. That little blindfold’s adjustment exposed the frustration that had been building.

“You were struggling back there. You wanted to fight, yeah?” Satoru continued as the pads of his fingers dug into Naoya’s fleshy cheeks. “I should’ve let you. I should have let you think you had a chance at proving any kind of point, only to put you on the ground in front of everyone. I should’ve let you hear how tough that shit sounded coming from someone pinned underneath me.”

“You wouldn’t have won so easily. You think I’m the arrogant one, but-” he started to defend himself before being cut short.

“But look at you,” he replied, tightening his grasp. It felt as though he was mimicking the strength Naoya used on your wrist. “You think you’d have a shot? Look how easily I got you out here. You’re pitching a fit about this, but I could’ve done worse than that. I should have. I should’ve made you really apologize. To her. In front of everyone.”

“Satoru…” you said, your own voice much softer than before. It almost sounded like a gentle plea. Like you were telling him he didn’t need to ruin the rest of the night with something so dire. Like you didn’t want him to go too far. You stepped a few paces closer, your leg now inches from his side.

But he didn’t ease up any.

The hard stare. The uncompromising tone. The dull pain radiating in his cheeks. All while you watched on in pity. It was all starting to increase that sickening warmth in his stomach.

“I would never apologize to a woman,” he maintained.

Now you rolled your eyes, clearly regretting that you’d tried to intervene at all. You folded your arms across the satin material of your dress and looked at Naoya with distaste.

“Oh, you think so?” Satoru said, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. “You don’t think I could make you?”

And for a second, it felt like everything stopped. All the nearby crickets went silent. The breeze didn’t blow. Naoya’s heart stopped beating. He knew it was meant as a threat. A warning of violence if he didn’t comply. But with Satoru’s mouth so close, with his breath fanning onto his face, with his eyes looking into his very soul, it came across as a much more convincing method of persuasion.

As much as he tried to fight it, heat pooled in his belly and clustered in his lap. He could feel the appendage between his legs stiffening up a little.

Satoru caught the slightly widening eyes and hitched breath. His own brows furrowed in confusion for a moment.

“What? What’s that look for?” he asked. “You know I could.”

Naoya didn’t answer. Instead, he tried to think of the words that would make up one. In the bout of silence, your hand drifted forward and tugged Satoru’s blindfold the rest of the way off. You twisted the piece of material, wrapping it around your own wrist before running your fingers through his now loose strands of ghostly hair.

It made it worse in a way. Your touch looked so soft, so caring. Adoring and reverent. Almost loving but definitely familiar. It was a touch he craved.

“Nothing…” he said, swallowing to mask the dryness of his throat. “I’m just tired of your lecturing.”

“Really? You’ve been so desperate for attention the whole night, but now that you have it, it’s not good enough?” Satoru mocked. His voice came out a little lower than before, slightly breathier. It also didn’t help at all.

Suddenly you laughed. Both of the men’s heads snapped in your direction.

“He likes the attention,” you giggled, biting your lip as you grinned down at Satoru.

Both men remained bewildered for a few moments more, but Naoya caught onto your meaning first. He’d hoped it wasn’t visible or noticeable; though, that was proven unrealistic. You nodded towards his lap, guiding Satoru’s vision to the semi-hard bulge straining against his pants.

His brows raised for a second, and then a chuckle came from his lips. Naoya’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. From the way it felt, he’d bet the red tint glowed like a night light out here.

“You really like the idea of me forcing you, huh?” Satoru teased.

“Shut up,” Naoya said, though it came out closer to a plea.

“This is why you’re so miserable, you know. Maybe if you dropped the attitude, you could get a pretty girl to help you relax,” he mocked. You continued to snicker along to his words in the background, only making them sting all the more.

“I don’t need a girl. Women bring nothing but weakness,” he said. But his words came out less confident than earlier.

“I don’t think you could be any weaker than you are right now,” you simpered. “You’d probably cum in your pants from just this.”

You reached forward with your other hand to touch his hair as you’d done to Satoru. Your soft fingertips just barely grazed his scalp before he wrenched away like they were coated in acid. It only made you laugh more.

He glared at you, but his attention soon snapped back to the man in front of him. Satoru loosened his grip on Naoya’s jaw before skimming his thumb over his bottom lip. It felt soothing. A small method of quelling his anger.

“If you needed help with women, you could’ve just called me up. I would’ve helped you,” he taunted.

“Yeah, right,” Naoya scoffed on instinct before correcting himself. “I don’t need any help with that.”

“Mmmm, you definitely do. The stuff you say, all that anger you have towards them for just existing… those aren’t real panty-droppers,” he continued. “But you’re good looking. You’re sharp. You’re rich. It wouldn’t be so hard for you if you put in some real effort, Naoya.”

Satoru finally let go of his face, but not without patting his cheek. He then stood up again next to you. His arm swooped behind you, wrapping around the curve in your waist and pulling you to stand in front of him.

“It’s really not that hard. All it takes is some soft touches, sweet eyes, some sappy words,” he crooned while lowering his lips to your neck. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

His hands swept up and down your sides and settled on your hips while his mouth parted to lay some warm kisses on your skin. The only answer that came out of you was a delicate little moan. You took your bottom lip between your teeth again as your eyes fluttered.

Confusion slapped itself across Naoya’s face before angry realization dawned on him. He peeled himself off the ground, dusting some dirt off his clothes.

“So she is sleeping with you,” he hissed.

“Well… we don’t do much sleeping when we’re alone,” Satoru joked, his blue eyes flitting up from your neck. “It’s a good way to blow off steam after missions. Like I’m saying, you should give it a try.”

“I was right!” he seethed. “That’s the only reason you’re putting on this whole show. You gotta show your little whore that she’s more than that. She won’t keep spreading her legs if she knows you don’t respect her.”

Smooth as could be, Satoru slid around so that you were tucked to his side rather than pressed against his front.

“You know, it’s really hard to take you seriously when you still have a boner poking through your pants,” Satoru mocked.

That was all the humiliation Naoya could stomach. 

“I’m leaving,” he muttered, stomping past the pair of you with his eyes cast down and his face hot as a glowing ember.

But before he could get far, Satoru’s hand grabbed his wrist. He pulled him back in front of you two.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he dismissed. Even with his firm grip, his voice wasn’t menacing.

His fingertips trailed up Naoya’s arm, making the flesh break out into tiny bumps. They dragged up to his shoulder, coasted across his collarbone, before wrapping around his throat. With a little tug, he inched him closer.

“You think I’m putting on a show, right? Well I should at least get you to apologize then,” Satoru hummed.

He stared into Naoya’s golden eyes. His thumb smoothed back and forth across his neck, ghosting over the strong thump of his pulse.

“I’m not apologizing,” Naoya maintained.

“You really want me to force you?” he grinned.

“Satoru, I’m not-” he started, attempting to brush off the hand around his neck.

But Satoru kept his hold tight and pulled their faces even closer together. Naoya’s eyes widened as he felt an eruption of butterflies in his belly.

“Not even if I offer a little reward for it?” he purred.

Naoya nearly choked at the implication. His pupils scanned over Satoru’s face, trying to detect any signs of a joke or a trap. But he couldn’t find any. He then looked to you, to see if you would recoil at the suggestion. Only, there you stood, gazing up at Satoru like he was a statue to worship. Your fingers ran up and down the hem of his suit jacket.

“Don’t look at her. She’s not gonna help you,” Satoru teased. “She already doesn’t like you, and she can be just as bad as me. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, resting your cheek against his chest as you watched. Your voice oozed out smoother than before, almost a little dreamy. You were getting turned on too.

Satoru’s smile only spread further. “She’s like a cat sometimes, loves playing with mice.”

“I’m not a mouse,” Naoya denied.

“No? Then be a man and admit you were wrong. That’s the price of entry. Otherwise, you can try your luck in there again. See if anyone else will throw you out,” he said, letting go of the other man’s face.

His lips pursed. The very idea went against his entire being. “I wasn’t wrong.”

“No? Then at least say you’re sorry for being a dick and causing a scene,” Satoru said.

A few seconds passed. He folded his arms over his chest as his face settled into more of a pout. He really, really did not want to claim to be wrong. But he also didn’t want to be left at this stuffy party while you and Satoru went off together to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what.

“I didn’t mean for you to get so… angry at what I said…” he tried.

“That’s not an apology,” you frowned.

He rolled his eyes, about to grumble some words about how ungrateful you were, but Satoru stepped in.

“Be patient, baby. It’s a start, yeah? You can pull some more out of him in a little while,” Satoru teased, ducking down to peck your cheek.

You squirmed at the sudden smack of affection, but it did ease you up. “Whatever,” you huffed as you nestled back into his side.

“Don’t expect any more. I’m not gonna say it again,” Naoya corrected.

“Sure you won’t,” Satoru said.

“I won’t.”

“Mhm, mhm. I believe you,” he nodded, his canines sparkling under the moonlight. “But you are gonna come with us, right?”

“I guess…” he said, looking away. He tried his best to act casual, like he could take this or leave it. Like he wasn’t gonna have to jerk off behind some bushes if he ended up being left behind.

But neither of you did anything so cruel. Instead Satoru gave the collar of his shirt a little tug. “Good boy. Just follow along, and we’ll get you that reward I was talking about,” he praised.

With that, the two of you turned around and started walking away from the main building. Swallowing hard, Naoya followed as instructed and trudged along a few paces behind you.

By the time the three of you had made it back to Satoru’s quarter’s, Naoya felt his heart beating like it wanted to leap from his throat. What had been awkward reservation had morphed into full on anxiety.

Especially now that he sat at the end of the king sized bed, watching you and Satoru make out.

The two of you stood a few feet away. Your hands cupped his cheeks while he worked on sliding the straps of your dress down. He could hear the puffs of your breath, the ragged sighs as your body grew hotter and the pressure between your hips began to make you squirm.

Your mouth glided down onto Satoru’s throat, coaxing a groan from his lips. His head fell back and rolled to the side so that his lidded eyes landed on Naoya’s bored form. A lazy smile spread across his face.

“What’re you pouting for? You had no problem inserting yourself before,” he said.

In contrast to his previous attitude, Naoya didn’t snap or snarl. He didn’t even roll his eyes or huff. Now that you and Satoru had let loose, things were different. There was no mask to hide feelings behind. In this room, everything was laid bare. He didn’t know how to reconcile with that.

“I…” he tried to think of something sharp to say, but nothing was coming out.

“Get over here,” Satoru said with a wave of his hand, saving him from his own failing vocabulary.

As if possessed, Naoya found himself rising off the luxurious mattress. He stepped towards the pair of you. His legs felt as though they might dissolve and leave him crumpled up on the floor in a pathetic heap. A small puddle that would remain dormant while you and Satoru simply stepped over him and got on with things as usual.

But nothing so dramatic happened. He made it to your sides and stood there for a moment. Satoru chuckled lowly before grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

“See? You do need my help,” he teased.

Before Naoya could even think of replying, the hand latched onto his top tugged hard, yanking him closer. His eyes widened as his lips crashed into Satoru. It was weird, almost unsettling at first. He was too cognizant of how wet his lips were, probably with your saliva. They were too squishy too. Too soft on his own.

After a few seconds though, the initial shock wore off. Satoru’s mouth moved, parting against his own. He sucked on Naoya’s lips. His tongue swiped over the skin in a small teasing stroke. Just like that, Naoya was melting into the sensation. He was stepping closer and leaning in, looking for more.

In no time, his nose was bumping Satoru’s and soft moans were trickling from his lips. His hand came up to hook over Satoru’s bicep. It was a way to get more contact, but it was also a method of balance to ensure he wasn’t going to faint.

It was as if all the repressed need that had shrouded him for so long was blossoming into a beautiful meadow of desire. The ache for attention, the desperation for care; it didn’t feel so ugly anymore. It felt vibrant and sweet. Like if the warmth he felt earlier on the balcony was given a doubled dosage of steroids.

Satoru reciprocated the enthusiasm while still managing to hold you close and encourage your efforts on his neck. After a few kisses more, he pulled back. His lips gleamed now. A soft dusky pink coated his cheeks while the black of his pupils blew so wide it nearly masked the blue of his irises.

His fingers came up, wiping a fleck of drool off Naoya’s chin.

“You know, I always liked you. Back then… you had so much potential. I thought you’d leave the rest of that clan in the dust. Shame you turned out to be such a brat,” he panted.

A surge of something close to panic washed over Naoya. Right now, he wanted- no, he needed Satoru to like him.

“But you said I hadn’t changed,” he said.

Satoru smirked at the clear yearning written all over his face. “You haven’t. But being a brat isn’t as cute as it was all those years ago.”

“It’s annoying now,” you mumbled as you pulled off Satoru’s neck and looked up at the both of them.

Naoya’s expression instantly soured. His hand came up to shove your head, but Satoru grabbed his wrist, flexing his fingers around the limb as a reminder of his strength.

“Be nice,” he said. “You’re running out of warnings.”

Naoya sputtered almost petulantly. “She’s the one who said it. You didn’t say anything to her-”

“Quiet,” Satoru commanded softly. “You’re gonna try to behave yourself right now, or you won’t get anything, alright?”

“Alright,” Naoya agreed quietly. He looked down. Accepting defeat was easier if he didn’t have to look at you as he did it.

“Atta boy,” Satoru praised. “Now I want you to kiss her.”

Naoya’s head rose back up, eyes wary. With a quiet chuckle and gentle nudge, Satoru guided him to stand behind you. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes met with his golden ones. For the first time, he didn’t feel automatic disdain. He took a second to look at you. Really look at you. His eyes ran over the curve of your nose and the fullness of your cheeks down to your silken lips.

“Are you gonna stare all-” you started to ask, but he cut you off. Not with an insult this time. Instead he used his own lips.

The kisses weren’t rough or mean. He actually put in a little effort. His hands settled on your waist while your free one came up to tangle in his bleached locks.

Satoru looked on. The approval in his eyes was palpable. “Look at you two…” he cooed playfully. “Getting along so well for me.”

He ducked back in to attach his lips to your neck. Naoya could feel your body relax backwards against him. As you moaned into his mouth, he groaned at your fingers twisting and playing with the dark ends of his hair.

His lips fell from your own and pecked over your jaw to the opposite side of your neck. With each man laving over one side of your throat, the three of you stumbled over towards Satoru’s king sized bed. On the way there, you kicked your heels off, leaving them discarded on the plush gray rug covering the floor.

Both of them sat down first. You stood before them, chest puffing with heavy breaths and eyes lidded with your desire. Naoya still held your waist while Satoru finished removing your dress.

The thin lavender straps descended your arms before the entire garment pooled around your ankles. Naoya sucked in a quiet breath as his eyes drank in every detail of your figure. He tried to look ambivalent, as if he’d possibly seen better. But the one girl he had fumbled through sex with a few years ago didn’t make him feel anything like this. His cock swelled to full hardness in his trousers as his hands gripped your hips with a little extra firmness.

Satoru didn’t have such a reaction, obviously having seen your body more than a few times. He was more focused on the now-exposed lacy lingerie. His fingertips dragged over the frilled material lining your breasts. Your nipple pebbled beneath the fabric in response, practically calling out for his digit to venture further.

“You know these are my favorite,” he murmured, skimming his hands along the border of the bralette.

You nodded, shifting on the balls of your feet slightly. “Wanted to give you a little surprise.”

He chuckled at the coy nature with which you spoke and then leaned in to plant a kiss on your sternum.

“Lucky for you, I think Naoya likes it too. Don’t you?” he asked and glanced over at the other man.

Words of praise tangled into knots in his throat. Only a weird sound of agreement made it out before he managed a nod of his own and then a quiet “Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Nice?” Satoru repeated, scooting closer. “Is this what nice does to you?”

His palm slid into Naoya’s lap, cupping his bulge with a firm squeeze. An embarrassing whine burst from his lips, his pelvis bucking up into the sensation on instinct.

Satoru laughed softly as he leaned in. He pecked Naoya’s soft lips, planting a few gentle kisses on his pout. His mouth moved to the corner of those lips, then onto his sharp jawline.

“You know, maybe your problem isn’t getting girls… maybe the trouble starts once you already got ‘em hooked,” Satoru teased. “Is that why you’re so angry all the time? Did you cum too early with the first one? Blow your load before she could even get you outta your pants?”

A shaky breath left Naoya. That burning inside was making it hard to register or respond to anything. He pulled back, giving his best shot at a glare.

“No. I didn’t. My first time was fine. We-”

Satoru, not interested in the actual story, ground the heel of his palm down onto the rigid length. A symphony of needy whimpers from Naoya cut his own words short. His head fell onto Satoru’s shoulder while he thumbed at the tip of the shaft through the material of his pants.

“You sure about that? Maybe she made fun of you for all these cute noises then, huh?” he murmured.

Before Naoya could offer up another legitimate answer, he kissed him again. He swallowed up all logic and reason, replacing it with the pure passion blazing between them.

Meanwhile, you unhooked your bra and let it fall to the ground with your party dress. Your panties went next, kicked to the side as well. Both men could see in their peripheral vision that you were now fully nude.

Naoya reached out for your wrist, his greed becoming more pronounced amidst the fog of his lust. He tugged you forward and then gave another yank in the direction of the floor, clearly expecting you would drop to your knees. But Satoru put a stop to it by grabbing your other forearm.

Retreating from the other man’s mouth, he grinned. “You’re crazy if you think she’s getting on her knees for you,” he breathed.

“Wha-what?” he stuttered.

“You’re still making it up to her. You wouldn’t even say sorry, but you expect her to suck your dick? Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Satoru tutted.

He guided you to sit at his other side while placing a hand on Naoya’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna be the one on your knees for now,” he said with a solid pull.

Naoya toppled from the edge of the mattress onto the wooden planks at Satoru’s feet. They were hard against his knees, but the sight of Satoru above him softened the blow. You were already lifting his shirt, peeling it from his toned form. Once the garment was discarded, Naoya truly felt like the heavens had opened. Like he’d seen God himself gazing down at him.

Of course, Satoru’s physique was as expected - muscular, fit, sculpted. But knowing something and bearing witness to it are two separate things. Seeing Satoru’s smooth skin and ripped torso stole the breath from Naoya’s lungs. He had to remember to keep his mouth closed so he wouldn’t drool.

And to make matters worse, your nimble fingers went to his fly next. You tugged the zipper on his pants open, and he boosted his hips, giving the clearance for you to shove the fabric down his legs. His v-line came into view first. That sparse happy trail starting at his navel thickened up the farther South it went, leading to a swath of snowy white hair at the base of his thick cock.

Satoru’s long fingers came to wrap around the veiny shaft. The digits curled around his length and gave it a few good strokes, beckoning it to fill out completely. He relished the way Naoya’s pupils bounced in sync with each motion.

“I’ve been putting up with your shit all night too. Think you should suck my dick as a real apology while I get her warmed up for yours,” he said.

“You want me to-”

“Suck it,” Satoru finished with a smirk. “C’mon. You got a big mouth. I’m sure you can take it.”

He gawked at it for a few more seconds but then tentatively scooted in. There was really no point in resisting now. His lust overpowered his pride, and he wrapped his fingers around Satoru’s cock, feeling the pulsating warmth in his grasp. He stroked it a couple times, almost in an exploratory way, like he couldn’t believe it was real.

Without having to be told, he took the tip into his mouth. His tongue gently flicked at the silken head. Satoru sighed up above. His posture relaxed, and you leaned in closer. Your hand smoothed over Naoya’s hair as he took more into his mouth. This time he didn’t pull away. He let you pet him while he tasted the essence of Satoru’s skin.

His hand stayed wrapped around what wouldn’t fit in his mouth so far. He bobbed back and forth, letting his saliva coat the length.

“Fuck…” Satoru breathed, his white lashes fluttering. “You look so much better like this, with your mouth full instead of doing all that bitching and moaning.”

The words didn’t get to him this time, not while his brain was fully focused on the task of pleasuring the strongest sorcerer. He shut his eyes and kept sucking on him. His lips caressed over the ridge, across the veins towards the base. He wanted to take more, to go all the way, but the urge to gag was already tickling the back of his throat.

Maybe you could see that ambition on his face. Or maybe you still held a grudge from earlier. Either way, your hand slid to the back of his head and pushed. You didn’t shove, but you were firm with your move to get him to take more of Satoru’s cock down his throat.

Some words came garbled out around the length, totally incoherent to you or Satoru. But it didn’t matter because they were then replaced by a whine. You smiled at the little noises, tugging on his hair. His head slid nearly all the way till his nose nestled against those coarse white hairs. A gag rolled through his body. Strings of saliva seeped from his mouth.

You giggled at the sight, dragging him back and then sliding him down till he was bracing himself on Satoru’s thighs.

“Be nice,” he chastised affectionately, guiding your hand off Naoya’s hair.

The two of you kissed while the man between his legs came up for air again. He receded onto his haunches and sucked in a few breaths. His head had nearly begun to spin from the reduced amount of oxygen.

“He was the one being mean to me earlier,” you said softly against Satoru’s lips.

“Hmmm… I guess he was… Are you saying you deserve a little reward for putting up with that?” he asked.

“Maybe…” you said, brushing a lock of white hair out of his face.

He broke out into a smile at the affectionate touch. “I think I can manage that,” he said. 

His hand reached out for Naoya’s hair and tugged his face against his cock again. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he teased.

He laid back on the bed, patting your hip for you to climb up. You swung your leg over his abdomen to straddle his chest. But he didn’t wait for you to readjust yourself. Grabbing the backs of your thighs, he dragged you up so that your cunt hovered above his face.

“You know what to do, princess,” he said.

And you did. While Satoru taught you tons of tricks about Jujutsu, he’d also trained you in a few other arenas as well. You lowered yourself and let your head fall back in bliss as his tongue swiped over your pussy.

Naoya’s eyes widened as he suckled on the head of Satoru’s cock. He’d never seen anything like this spare some cheesy pornos, but those always looked fake. This was real. The way you rocked your hips on his mouth, the sounds of sucking and slurping from between your legs, the sight of your flesh dimpling under Satoru’s strong fingers - all of that was very much real.

He sucked at a much more leisurely pace now that the both of you weren’t watching his every move. It gave him the added awareness he needed to observe the action in front of him.

You yelped as Satoru sucked on your clit nice and hard. Your hips jerked, and your hands flew to his hair to grip the soft tresses. He groaned against your cunt at the sensation, his own hips bucking into Naoya’s mouth a bit.

With all of you connected like this, it was easy to get lost in the hazy atmosphere of euphoria. Nothing had to exist right now besides the three people in this room. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to do except make each other feel good.

In no time at all, you’re ready to cum. Satoru had seemingly inhuman stamina and discipline that meant he was faring ok, but you, on the other hand, were getting ready to burst. Both men could tell from how pitchy your moans were getting and how erratic your movements became.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. ‘Toru, ‘Toruuuu,” you whined. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum.”

“Mhm, that’s right, pretty girl. Let it all out for me. Be a good girl and cum,” he coaxed lazily between laps at your entrance. His tongue worked its way inside, fucking into you as you started to reach the high.

You squeaked and basically doubled over, your body spasming with the ecstasy his tongue brought you.

Naoya let his mouth slip off of Satoru’s length so he could just watch. He sat there in awe as your body shuddered atop the head below. It was like a flame dancing in a strong gust of wind. He couldn’t remember ever seeing something so raw. When he’d been with that girl a couple years ago, nothing like that happened. She moaned off and on until he came and then they laid there in silence.

She certainly didn’t squeal when overstimulation started to set in like you did. She didn’t leap off to the safety of the headboard with a big goofy smile on her face either. He didn’t follow, crawling over her and peppering her face with kisses like he saw Satoru do just now.

He could feel himself leaking inside his pants as he watched the two of you. He wanted that. If only to prove to himself that he was capable of it, he wanted to experience something like that.

Rising from the ground, he made quick work of his shirt and tossed it to the side with your discarded clothes. He then pulled his pants off, letting his cock spring free.

“Eager for your turn, huh?” Satoru asked, a knowing look on his face.

“I’m just tired of kneeling,” he said with a shrug.

Neither of you believed that, but you didn’t press. Instead, Satoru patted the open space next to him on the mattress.

“Come lie down,” he instructed. 

His brows furrowed, yet he didn’t risk the path of resistance. Instead, he followed Satoru’s instructions and rolled over onto his back.

“Why does she get to be on top?” he grumbled.

Satoru laughed. “You’re about to get laid, and you’re still complaining?”

At the same time, you made your way to Naoya and straddled him just as you’d done to the other man before. Only this time, your pussy sat a few inches up from his flushed, leaky cock.

“I get to be on top cause I wanna be. You’ll do this my way or not at all,” you told him simply.

Normally, he would have objected to your attitude or tried to flip you over anyways, but right now he was laser focused on the tiny gap between you two. His chest shuddered with every rise and fall. All of his muscles tingled in anticipation. He swore he felt actual electricity when you planted your hands on the firm muscles in his chest.

He expected you to get to work. A quick slide inside and then some bouncing. But you didn’t do that. You brought your hips down and dragged your soaked folds over his length at an agonizingly slow pace.

A strangled groan fell from his lips as his head tilted back against the pillows. You worked your cunt back and forth on him, coating his cock with your slick. His eyes drooped while your velvety flesh brushed against him over and over and over.

He had to bite his lip to stay composed. The last thing he wanted to do was finish before you’d really started. He grabbed your hips hard, but despite his hold, you maintained control of the pace. Every time you’d boost yourself up, he thought you’d finally let him in. But every single time, you slid right back down and left him out in the cold.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” he pleaded.

“I’m not. I’m warming up,” you defended. But the expression on your face clued him in to the fact that your innocence was feigned.

“It’s not nice to rush a lady, Naoya,” Satoru added from where he laid propped on his elbow next to the both of you.

Naoya shot him a look, but it lost all malice when he saw how Satoru lazily jerked his cock to the show in front of him. Heat flared inside him. He had to shut his eyes to keep a handle on himself.

And it was then that you lifted yourself up and sunk down on him.

He moaned, his back arching off the bed. You giggled as your ass made contact with his thighs. Time stood still as you did. Both of you just got used to the feeling of him inside your pussy. You swiveled your hips slightly, bringing some whimpers out of him.

Leaning forward, you stroked his cheek. “You don’t seem to have a problem with me being above you anymore,” you cooed.

His eyes opened again before rolling back. You looked like a fucking angel above him. The dim light of Satoru’s room cast shadows over your body that contoured you like a work of art. Your eyes, nowhere near as bright as Satoru’s, struck him all the same. Even your voice sounded like that of a siren’s.

Naoya remembered the last and only time he had sex as mediocre. It felt good. Definitely not bad. Something he would do to pass the time for sure. But he never understood the pull it seemed to have over other men. The way they would let themselves be ruled by it.

Now he did. With every twitch of your tight, warm walls around his shaft, he became increasingly convinced that he would let you ruin his life to feel like this for only a few minutes more.

“Please-” he begged, his voice cracking, “Please move. Fuck, I can’t take it…”

“Awww, you said please all on your own. I think he’s learning, Satoru,” you crooned. But you did indulge him by beginning to ride, and that was all he could ask for.

“I knew he’d come around. You make a pretty convincing case,” Satoru agreed, still languidly stroking himself.

While you started off slow, you began picking up speed pretty fast. You moved like you were on a mission. With every bounce, you had a goal in mind.

It felt good to you, sure. You’d moan or let out a little mewl every so often. But for Naoya, if his noises were anything to go off of, he was in some version of paradise. His face looked almost dazed. He couldn’t get one syllable out without his voice breaking, and everything he did manage to say was some incoherent whine or an expletive. His fingers stayed locked onto your waist, holding on for dear life as you rode him with everything you had.

“I think you like being beneath me,” you purred, placing one of your hands on his throat. “You talk a big game, but that’s only cause you’re so desperate for someone to prove you wrong, huh?”

He nodded without even thinking about it. At the moment, he’d agree to damn near anything you said if it meant you would just keep going.

You had him.

Shifting around, you repositioned so that your feet were planted on the mattress next to each of his hips. You kept rising and falling, taking his cock to the hilt. But at this angle, you could get him so much deeper. You felt it right away, but so did he. His hips bucked up as he whimpered again.

His hands actually started to offer some help now. They kept you stable and balanced while making sure you maintained a steady pace. You continued to thrust yourself on him while accepting the assist.

“Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck me, fuck me, keep fucking me,” he babbled.

“Yeah? Are you getting close, baby?” you asked.

From the side, Satoru couldn’t take just watching anymore. He swooped in to kiss at Naoya’s neck. “Look at you. So fucking pussydrunk. Are you gonna cum, pretty boy?” he asked lowly.

The added attention shot him so much closer to release. He nodded, teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard he thought he might draw blood.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum,” he whimpered like a broken record.

His cock kicked inside you. His balls drew up. His muscles tensed. Every part of him was ready for that sweet relief.

But then you pulled off.

You rose up just a little too high and popped his dick right out of you. 

He cried out like he was in pain, his hips bucking and thrusting into the air fruitlessly. His eyes snapped open. The golden irises swirled like vicious tornadoes of anger and humiliation and raw need.

“You little fucking-”

“What’s that?” you asked, cocking your head to the side playfully.

He stopped himself short, his features contorting into a look of frustration before melting down to desperation instead. “Why?” he whimpered.

“Cause I want you to say sorry,” you said.

His eyes widened as if you were insane. Inside, his pride clawed at him, telling him to push you right off of him and storm out. But on his stomach, his cock wept for release. It glowed red and shimmered with a combination of your juices.

In the end, the tangible option won out.

“I’m sorry, ok? There,” he said.

“For what?” you prodded.

“For everything,” he answered, practically pouting.

“Not good enough. Say it like you mean it, say exactly what you’re sorry for,” you ordered.

“Fuck, ok. I’m sorry for calling you a whore. And a slut. And a bitch. And anything else. I’m sorry for saying you sucked Satoru’s dick. I’m sorry for grabbing you. I’m sorry for saying you should get me a drink or whatever. I’m just sorry, ok? Please, I’m so sorry. I… I was wrong,” he whimpered.

Reaching down, you grabbed his length and guided it back to your entrance. You slowly sank down as you had before.

“Keep going,” you said.

Instant relief flooded him as your cunt embraced him yet again. Release would have to build up again, but at least it wasn’t unattainable. And he’d do anything to keep it that way.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered as you bounced up and down on him.

You went hard and fast now. Relentless in your pursuit of pleasure. Satoru kept kissing his neck, bringing more noises out amongst the slew of apologies.

Your legs started to wobble as you hit the high yourself, but somehow you managed to keep yourself upright. You threw your head back and screwed your eyes shut, letting that intense pleasure wash over you for the second time.

Naoya was much in the same boat. His heels dug into the mattress as release finally overtook him. No longer did his hands just serve to balance you. They actively pulled you down, gave him the leverage he needed to slam up into your cunt.

You both rode out the waves together until melting down into a boneless heap. You slid off of him and rolled to the side, resting your head on his bicep. He laid there, completely still for a moment. His chest heaved as he caught his breath.

“You two did so good. I’m so proud,” Satoru crooned mockingly from the same spot. 

Each of your heads lazily turned in that direction to find the strongest sorcerer smiling at the two of you with his cock, still fully-hard, in his hand.

“But don’t you think you’re forgetting about something?” he asked teasingly.

The two of you were absolutely spent by this point, but in both of you, the adoration for Satoru ran deeper than physical exhaustion. You dragged your body to lie between his thighs first, and then Naoya came behind you.

Your fingers curled around the shaft before you planted a lazy kiss on the head. You began tracing the veins with your tongue from base to tip.

Naoya watched you for a moment before bringing his lips to the top. He suckled on the head for a moment, letting the precum smear on his lips. His golden eyes gazed up at Satoru. He watched as he softly moaned.

Both of Satoru’s hands came to pet your heads. “See what happens when you behave, Naoya?” he teased. “You two make such a good team.”

Naoya rolled his eyes, but he didn’t disagree. He kept at work on the shiny tip of Satoru’s length. After a few more laps of your tongue, you drifted up there too. Your lips brushed his own. The soft skin grazed by as each of you lavished attention upon the cock between you.

It felt good.

So Naoya went for it again. He kissed you with Satoru at the site of your connection. And then he did it again and again.

The sight of you two making out around a piece of him was what drove him to the edge. He couldn’t hold on after seeing that. His fingers clutched the bedding beneath him while his head lolled back between his shoulders.

Pearly ropes of cum fired from Satoru. Some spurted onto your hand, more landed on Naoya’s cheek. Satoru let out a groan as he drained himself. He wasn’t as reactive as the two of you, but the look on his face made his enjoyment undisputed.

When he seemingly finished, you reached over to the bedside table to grab some kleenex. You wiped the mess from your hand and Satoru’s belly, and then with a fresh one, tended to Naoya’s face. For a second, you would have sworn his eyes looked a little softer, less harsh than they usually were.

After the three of you were taken care of, you curled up to Satoru’s side. Naoya observed the closeness between the two of you. The unspoken intimacy that he had no part in.

He made his way towards the end of the bed, planning on putting himself back together and then hightailing it out of here. But before he could, Satoru’s fingers wrapped around his wrist again.

“Where are you going? Now that you’re not acting like a total jackass, you wanna leave?” he asked.

Naoya paused. He still hadn’t returned to his normal self. He didn’t have a snappy reply or an insult to hurl at the two of you.

“Oh… I thought… I thought you would want me to leave,” he said.

“Please, what do you take me for? I’m not the hit it and quit it type,” Satoru teased.

It was a stupid joke, but it made things less tense between everyone. Hesitantly, Naoya eased back up towards the top of the bed, taking up the side of Satoru you didn’t occupy.

You watched him as he did. He half-expected you to protest him staying. He’d probably do that if he was in your place. Wouldn’t the ultimate satisfaction come from demeaning the person who’d tried to do exactly that to you?

But you didn’t. You didn’t utter a mean word as he let his body rest against Satoru’s. Instead, you reached over and tucked a piece of two-toned hair behind his ear.

And he let you.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being honest about what I would change about my boyfriend?

🥊🥊

I’m a cis guy (22m) and I have a boyfriend that’s transgender (20m). We’ve been together for 2 years.

My boyfriend is a very cute guy and he gets hit on a lot in queer spaces tbh. even by lesbians, and they fully see him as a guy. He’s just very sweet and approachable I guess. A lot of people tell him he’s super attractive and I agree, but there are just certain things about his body that don’t appeal to me.

We were at a friend’s birthday party. People got drunk, I was tipsy. We played this game that was like cards with questions about relationships/love/intimacy on them and the whole group would discuss.

One of the questions was something along the lines of "If you could change anything about your partner, what would it be?" Or whatever.

Now, I went first and said I’d probably make him less hairy and get rid of the dark spots in his crotch area and his acne scars. He has some discoloration around his private areas from a rash he got when he was like 13 and some faint scarring from pimples I guess. It’s not an issue, but definitely not my preference. Plus he can’t really shave clean down there because he has thick hair and it always makes him get those razor burn bumps or whatever. Fine by me, he’s hot as hell either way.

Plus, he has a lot of discoloration around his shoulders, back, chest and face from severe acne outbreaks from his puberty and then later again when he started taking testosterone. It’s calmed down a lot, but the scarring is still very prominent. It’s not an issue, just not very pretty to look at.

Please don’t get me wrong. He’s an incredibly attractive person, I just wish his skin was a little prettier. It’s a bit of a turnoff, that’s all. It never stopped me from being absolutely enamored with him.

But when I explained this, a little less explicitly than this of course, the group went dead silent. Everyone was staring at me, some of the girls even clasped their hands over their mouths etc.

When I looked at my boyfriend he was completely pale and was just blankly staring at me before getting up and saying he needs to pee. I just said okay and then gave the card to the person next to me. She very quietly said she’d take away her girlfriend’s anxiety because it hurts her to see the person she loves like that. That’s when it sort of dawned on me that I messed up and that I was way out of line for saying these things in front of our friends.

He apparently left soon after that, which I only found out through a friend. I was a little confused but figured he was just a little embarrassed. We don’t live together, so it isn’t unusual for one of us to leave before the other. But then I found out that his best friend left with him because he was sobbing and couldn’t stop.

I tried calling him and texting him for multiple hours and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by just popping up at his home, so I gave up and eventually went home. That was two days ago and I still haven’t heard from him. He’s usually a very clingy and noisy person and always sends me small updates throughout the day, but I haven’t heard anything from him the entire time.

I’m so scared. I love this guy so much, he’s the sweetest and the single most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I know he has a lot of severe insecurity issues around his body, especially regarding his scarring. But it’s all gotten a lot better in recent months and he even began to love how hairy he is because it makes him feel euphoric.

Now I can’t help but feel like I took that away from him because of some stupid game. But at the same time, I don’t think it was fair for him to just up and leave without talking to me. We could’ve talked it out and I just wish he would communicate with me.

I already know I was a bit out of line for this, but I just tend to be uncomfortably honest. He knows this and loves me for it, so I’m confused why he’s THIS upset about this one. He’s never gone this long without talking to me.

Am I the asshole? I was just playing the game. I don’t think it’s fair to call me cruel for this just because other people are scared to be honest and say shit like they’d take away their partner’s mental illness. It’s so fake and that shit just pisses me off. Everyone has something they would change about their partner’s appearance.

[erose-this-name]

Kabru is such a brilliantly written character, one of the best in Dungeon Meshi (which is a high bar as it is, most of the main cast are similarly genius). 

His thing is that he is very friendly and nice confident and maxed out his charisma stat, but is also kinda ambitious and manipulative. But not in an overtly malicious way. Which kinda scares me.

The most impressive thing about him, writing wise, is that it’s all show-don’t-tell. He very frequently uses his charm and empathy and understanding of how people think in really clever ways.

We’re often walked through his thought process of how he does these social deductions. We’re never told he’s scarily charismatic, besides other characters reacting to him being scarily charismatic.

Kabru is a natural-born leader and social engineer with superlative skills in both, which makes him the perfect foil for Laios, who’s too autistic and unambitious that he’s not even the de facto leader of his own party that he’s the official leader of. He’s so bad at leadership that his party just, sort of, doesn’t have a leader. They just kinda argue and do stuff.

What’s also neat, and perfectly inline with Meshi’s general theme of clever and logical subversions of fantasy tropes, is that Kabru’s character design in no way clues us in on this fundamental character trait of his.

He’s sort of a human fighter / knight archetype, which in the language of fantasy RPGs is a class most would associate with being a white bread jock, chivalrousness optional.

(Laios subverts the same trope in the same way. It’s really funny that the walking exposition dump of the group looks like the character creator default preset spec’d as the most generic class available.)

If Kabru was a bard or noble and Laios a wizard, their character traits would be far less interesting

Even better is that we would expect someone who looks like Laios to have Kabru’s personality, and vice versa. Their character designs are flipped; the confident super charismatic leader is a short wide-eyed twink, while the slightly naive and very autistic monster enthusiast is a tall conventionally attractive Aryan lookin’ mf.

(see what I mean by Kabru being such a good foil for Laios?? No wonder everyone ships them, they’re perfect for each other!)

Yet, their designs also work for them. Kabru just has a face that’s easy to talk to, his piercing blue eyes and curly hair gives him a false sense of naïveté, while his iconic 👁️👁️ expression hints that there’s actually quite a bit going on inside his head. Meanwhile, Laios believably looks like someone who doesn’t know what hair conditioner is. His armor’s collar gorget thing is also pretty dorky.

You can’t trust people like that (I mean overly charismatic people with a manipulative streak, not blue-eyed twinks) because you can’t know what their real motives are. You can’t know they aren’t pretending, you can’t know they aren’t trying to or haven’t already manipulated you. How could you? When he has so much more social intelligence than you do, average socially awkward Tumblr user? He’s touched all the grass!

In episode 16 (spoilers, btw) Kabru finally meets Laios’s party, who he’s been trying to find and fight for the better part of the season, and he just decides that no confrontation is necessary. Like, immediately upon meeting the guy. Just from how Laios looked at him. He figures that since Laios didn’t seem to recognize him, they either have never met meaning he has the wrong guy, or Laios forgot meaning he didn’t think it’d be a big deal, meaning the treasure was a trap or something. Which is pretty in line with Kabru’s established ability to always roll nat 20s for every charisma and deductive reasoning check, so cool.

But he doesn’t even seem curious about which of those cases is true. (He might be interested to find out some of the treasure wasn’t dangerous, but accidentally got thrown off a bridge). Much to Rin’s dismay, he’d rather just not bring it up because that could upset the leader of the party he might be working with for the foreseeable future.

Actions speak louder than words. So, all we really learn in this scene is that Kabru’s goals and M.O. can change on a dime, and that he values reputation and political capital more than money and vengeance. More than his own party’s desire for those things. Not only is he someone with a silver tongue, but he knows its value and is determined to use it at every opportunity.

Kabru and his party might not be very good at fighting or surviving in the dungeon, in fact their frequent TPKs are a running gag. But, he also doesn’t need to be when he can just manipulate Laios’ and Shuro’s much more proficient parties into helping him.

So far, Kabru seems like the most likely one to become king of the dungeon or whatever the mcguffin is. He is the only protagonist so far who has said that’s an actual goal of his. He’s said that he doesn’t think someone like Laios who isn’t a born leader should get it.

In fact, Kabru seems to have very strong opinions on what kinds of people should be allowed to adventure in the dungeon, evidenced by the fact that he murdered an entire party over it, justified or not. Kabru seems to think that Kabru is such a leader, and he’s probably right about that, but what kind of leader? 

What would Kabru do with that kind of power if he gets it? Because I’m not sure. All I know is that he is the kind of person with the ability to use real political power to its full potential. For good, or for very, very bad.

I’m not saying that Kabru is evil or that he’s secretly gonna be the surprise villain. I dunno, I haven’t read the manga. He could just be a nice guy that’s just, like, is like that. Everything he’s done could be justified by the explanations he’s given. He actually reminds me a lot of one of my IRL friends, and I’d trust him with my life.

But, I can’t help but feel a distinct sense of unease whenever he’s on-screen. I try not to trust confident natural-born leaders like him right out of the gate. I don’t like that our instinct as humans is to blindly follow them without thinking about it.

Tyrants and psychopaths also use confidence and charm and a friendly demeanor to make people think they’re a good guy, while manipulating everyone into thinking their self-serving actions are altruistic. Benevolent, confident, skilled leaders do exist. But there exists many more snakes wearing their skin. Wolves rarely bother with sheep’s clothing, they dress as shepherds and sheepdogs.

Anyway, my point is that I think it’s kinda neat that it’s possible to overthink this much about a character whose probably just a nice guy that is the mirror opposite of an autistic person. Writing that kind of ambiguity is hard, and employing it in this way is inspired.

[moonstruckme]

mae, congratulations on 8k and happy holidays ahhh!!! if you have the time, i could totally see something fun with tasm! peter and the prompt office christmas party. like coworkers to friends to pining and confessions? basically it’s giving jim and pam teapot, BUT i would love to see where your brain takes it

Thank you for requesting! Happy holidays :)

cw: jokes are made about Peter's appearance, but they're very, very sarcastic

coworker!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You never usually wear red. It’s not like it’s one of Peter’s favorite colors either—he only really wears it for one thing, even if that’s pretty much every day—but he feels suddenly robbed having never seen it on you before. As if you’re not eye-catching enough already, your holiday sweater makes you the brightest thing in the room. 

Peter goes to it like a moth to a flame. Though, in fairness, that’s your usual effect on him, sweater or no. 

“Oh, wow, you lucked out,” he says, raising his eyebrows at your white elephant gift. 

You look up from your desk, grinning when you see Peter. “I know, right?” You hold your prize up enthusiastically, like they’re the keys to your new car and not slippers designed to look like giant man feet with a bow slapped on top of them. “Can you believe I started with a bluetooth shower speaker and worked my way up to these? I mean, Christmas is over at this point. Everyone else can go home.” 

“Those will probably be the best gift you’ll ever get,” Peter agrees. He leans against your desk, careful not to disturb the pens lined up neatly by your laptop. “You really managed to land on a personalized one, too. Did you already know they made slippers that match your feet, or did you just find out today?” 

Your shoulders hitch with a laugh, pretty eyes sparkling. Peter feels a warm tug in his gut. Any day he can make you smile is a good one. 

“What did you get?” you ask him. 

“Oh, mine came from the boss man himself.” Peter reaches into his small gift bag, pulling out his prize. “Check this baby out.” 

Your smile stays in place, but you look genuinely perplexed. “A toothbrush?” 

“Not just any toothbrush.” He presses a button on the side, watching your face as a song begins to play from a small speaker. Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…

Your mouth actually drops open before you cover it with a hand, giggles muffled into your palm. “Okay, wait, wait. I actually want that one now.” 

Peter hisses through his teeth, shrugging remorsefully. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can part with it. It’s too important to me. Anyway, you’ve got your slippers, and they suit you so well…” 

“Right, but” —You school your expression into solemnity. Peter has to work hard to suppress his own grin, thinking to himself that you look like a contestant on that Shark Tank show— “have you considered the potential of these slippers in your love life? I mean, I’ve already basically got it covered with my feet, but Peter…” You hold the slippers up, letting them dangle from a single finger. “These could be a real babe magnet.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, pretending to consider it. “That’s true. I could use a little help on the dating front…” 

“You could,” you say sympathetically. 

“I mean, my looks on their own are hardly doing the job.” 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t all born naturally attractive.” 

“I am pretty plain…” 

“Homely, even. But that’s alright.” You hold the slippers out again. “That’s where these come in.” 

“Okay.” Peter feigns reluctance, handing over the toothbrush. “You’ve got a deal.” 

“Yes!” Every hair on his leg stands at attention when you put your hand on his knee, squeezing. You’re smiling beatifically. “Thank you, Peter. This means the world.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing me a favor too.” He sets his hand on top of yours, squeezing also. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Your eyes drop to your hand as if realizing where it is for the first time, and Peter pretends not to notice when your eyes flicker up to his, the teasing in them giving way momentarily to bashfulness. He got the best gift today, for sure. 

[artsninspo]

007 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 006

♠ summary: Lorence navigates the high-stakes world of elite private security under her enigmatic boss, Terry Richmond. But when Terry’s watchful gaze turns unexpectedly intimate, the tension between them ignites—blurring the lines. This ones fluffy 🧸.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~3.2K

⌖ - Monte Carlo, Monaco

I’ve never flown private before, nor have I ever been on such a lively flight. The champagne flows freely, and the chatter is so loud I crank my headphones to maximum volume just to drown it out. The last time I was aboard a plane, I was tossing back flutes of champagne to numb the sting of losing my job. Weeks later, I’m flying private at an elevated position—my new reality. Unlike my more seasoned colleagues, I’m more unnerved than excited.

I check the ETA on one of the screens and go over the expected hotel arrival time, counting down the hours until the big race is over and I can finally relax. I take out my tablet, reviewing my plans for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for any holes in my outline. I replay the live feeds at an accelerated speed, scanning for anything that could derail my emergency plans.

“Lorence.”

Cassandra smiles, placing a flute of champagne in front of me.

“Cassandra.”

She folds her arms, giving me a knowing look.

“Please tell me you're talking to someone handsome and not reviewing your plans again.”

“I’m talking to someone handsome,” I reply, telling her what she wants to hear. She sighs, satisfied.

“Emergencies almost never happen, and you’ve planned for so many types—it’ll be fine.”

“Well, partying isn't going to help my nerves,” I explain.

“You’re almost as bad as Terry.” She powers off my tablet and takes the open seat beside me.

“Now I’m insulted.”

She giggles, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Also, never suggest staggered flights for operatives again. Your extra effort is already making you unpopular with the weaker links.”

“Unpopular? As if I have the boss’s ear or give a flying fuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” She nudges me playfully. “It wasn’t the majority, but Emerson tried to stir up trouble. Richmond shut it down quickly. That weasel is always looking for a win. Must’ve heard there’s no warmth between you and Terry.”

“The blind know that.”

“Good thing my mouth isn't big. Cause that suit try-on definitely was more Dubai heat than Antarctica frigid.”

I give her a warning look, but she only squeaks, enjoying my discomfort.

“I’m glad you're amused.”

“Ladies.”

Emerson approaches with a drink in hand and that cavalier smile. He’s one of the company’s top ten most attractive male directors—probably the best-looking among the single ones.

“Emerson.” Cassandra acknowledges him, but his attention shifts to me.

“Lorence, why don’t you come mingle with the rest of us?”

I blink, caught off guard. The only colleague I’m on a first-name basis with is Cassandra. I’ve known Joel long enough to consider him more of a friend.

“I’m a nervous flyer. I’m fine here with my headphones and Gordon.”

“Cassandra didn’t tell you we use first names?”

“Not everyone. It’s Cole's choice.” Cassandra interjects quickly, sensing my discomfort. “Cole, what would you like to be called?”

“Cole.”

“Cole it is.” Emerson forces a smile. “You make your friends call you Cole?”

“I didn't realize the two of you were friends.” Cassandra leans in with a smirk.

“I’m friends with all of my colleagues.”

“Hmm.” Cassandra’s brow raises with condescension.

“Well, Cole, we’ll chat once we touchdown.” Emerson flashes another smile before returning to the back of the plane.

“What was that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Emerson and I may or may not have had a few rendezvous. It also may have ended badly.” she shrugs.

I’m not surprised.

“How did it end badly - hypothetically?” I ask.

“I felt like he was trying to use me to get on Terry’s good side, and when that didn’t work, suddenly Terry and I were too close. Blah, blah, blah. I know how much he makes, and it is NOT enough to afford me full time. So I went cold. Hypothetically.”

Cassandra shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Don’t hmm me. We’re all gorgeous—you’re the only one who hasn't dipped in the office pot.”

We spend the rest of the flight gossiping about who’s been with who, and I’m astounded by the level of secrecy and professionalism. Five office flings had gone entirely under my radar. When the party dies down I turn back on my music and relax dozing off a little. I’ve memorized my routes down to the detail and the timing windows play in my subconscious in a loop. Twenty minutes until clearance, an hour until our clients are safe. I wake with the sun warming the Mediterranean coastline below.

The weight of my responsibilities dampens any excitement. The drive to our accommodations is short, and I snap photos for my parents. The group dinner is the last thing I want to attend, but the chefs' live show and five-star cuisine prove to be a welcome distraction. Afterward, I slip away to the terrace with a glass of wine in hand.

“Still going over the routes?” Richmond’s voice cuts through the night air. I know it’s him by the shift in energy.

“Yeah” I respond.

“If you don't trust yourself—and you should—you should trust the agents on the ground, the drivers, the armed agents, helicopters, and tech. And if you don't trust all that, there's still the local PD, Fire, EMS... and human nature. After that, it's an act of God, and none of us can contend with that.”

I exhale slowly.

“I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“When something goes wrong tomorrow, it won’t be because of you.”

“When?”

“When. It's inevitable.” His confidence is oddly reassuring, though I know better than to assign sentimentality to Richmond. “One of our clients could get wasted, fall over and break their nose, or have food poisoning, require medical attention or be robbed by hookers they’ve hired or local thieves. Something happens here every single year. Transport’s never been an issue and no one has approached it like you have” he says.

I nod, sighing deeply. “That’s some peace of mind.”

“It’s not flattery, it's the truth,” he responds.

“Has to be, flattery seems highly unlikely” I confess. “Maybe now I understand why you’re always so uptight - this is a lot on someone’s shoulders” I sigh looking back down into the city. I swear he snickers but by the time the lights flicker on above us signaling night is here it's gone from his expression.

“I’m the last person you need to worry about,” he says. Looking him over I concur - he’s probably experienced things my nightmares would have trouble conceiving of.

“So if it isn't stress then what is it? Just your natural disposition?” I ask looking away just in case his face shows disapproval.

“I can never tell if you're joking” he responds unappreciative of my sarcasm. The feeling is mutual, I can never read him either. There are too many things at play, this sizzling tension between us born of disdain, or misunderstanding, or the unbalanced power dynamic. His resistance to letting his guard down. Smiling, small talk, pleasantries or being kind. The silence lingers mostly because none of my responses are safe and could put us back at odds. “I’m not uptight,” he says finally.

“Pigs fly. Now we’re both lying” I remark.

“I’m not uptight, I’m what my position requires of me as the lead, founder and CEO” he explains. 

“Look, I'd better get some rest. I'm a mess of nerves and we already don’t get along well” I sigh, not wanting to get into it with him. He smirks this time.

“You’ll toss and turn all night if you head in now. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and meet me in the lobby in ten?” he says, stopping me in my tracks. He looks harmless when he smiles. It withdraws into his usual disposition and when I turn Emerson is walking up behind me.

“Ok” I agree and he nods giving me a half smile that I know Emerson sees. I wonder if it’s to get my blood out of shark infested waters.

“Emerson” I nod, taking leave. I slip my heels back on once I'm off of the grassy terrace and head in. There’s a sprinkling of people, less than half of those who were at dinner. I head to my room and look myself over. I curse Cassandra when all of the outfits I have packed are transitional, appropriate for the beach, boat, dinner and anything else that may arise in a place like this. Blowing out a deep breath I opt for a black maxi dress. I grab a small purse and fill it with necessities. My reflection is date worthy, not following your boss around appropriate. I tie a scarf around my purse just in case it gets cool. When I arrive in the lobby Richmond is checking his watch and stands up like I've stood him up. He’s changed too into something more relaxed. 

“Sorry I’m late” I tell him once I've crossed the room. His eyes scan over me, his tense demeanour has returned.  “Am I dressed okay?” I ask.

“Fine” he nods. “I just thought we’d take a walk, go over your routes in person, put your mind at ease, tire the body, help you rest” he explains and it is such a simple approach I wonder why I haven't thought of it.

“I can walk in this” I nod and he leads the way. We walk alongside each other. It takes us about ten minutes to make it to the primary route we decided on. “Cassandra said, always look better than you need to while in Monaco” I tell him when the silence has stretched too long.

“That’s what that bill was about” he mutters to himself shaking his head. “I dont think you and Cassandra have the same objectives”

“I don't follow”

“Cassandra likes causing a stir and hooking big fish” he says without condescension or condemnation in his tone as we walk. “Wherever we go” he adds, making a left. I see he’s memorized the route as well as I have.

“I bet she’s a great decoy” I think out loud.

“She is,” he nods, leading us onto the main road. It’s brighter along this path, I smell food and hear music and chatter which is a good sign. We pass souvenir shops, restaurants, boutiques and tourists. There’s so much to see, it's distracting and I don't remember the last time I was in Europe so carefree. I take pictures of postcards and restaurants and send them to my parents. My mom will tell me what to try and my dad will tell me what cheesy thing they want.

“So, are you and your parents very close?” Richmond asks and I realize he has a birds eye view into my phone and no boundaries.

“Yeah” I nod. “They love to travel and my mom runs a food blog” I explain my actions.

“I’ve seen the food blog - she’s very good,” he remarks. Of course he has.

“She’d be happy to hear that” I say with a smile.

“How’d she get into it?” he asks.

“She had an empty nest, she put everything on hold to be a mom and wife. She retired early and I told her to go. It was like we both went to college together. She’s always been great but since it started she’s really happy.” I reflect feeling calmer at the thought of my folks. 

“We have contacts and so many unused vouchers, tickets, everything. You should ask Cassandra and use them up. Go with them too.” he says giving unconventional advice for a boss.

“Are your parents still around?” I ask and he tenses.

“My mom passed. Pops is still around. He’s married to Cassandra’s mom” Richmond says and it's a shock at first then it makes sense. “I was sure she told you.”

“She didn’t and I’m sorry about your mom” I respond he nods.

“It  was a long time ago,” he says. We approach a live band and he guides me in front of him. “Hold your purse close, it's a distraction for pickpockets” he explains, keeping me close until we’re out the crowd. We’re lower down now and closer to the water at one of the intersections I thought would have the most trouble. I assess it quickly before relaxing into my decisions.

“So is this what you recommend before a big gig?” I ask.

“No, I don't advise you to walk around at night in a foreign country,” he says.

“Now it's you who needs faith. We go through too much training to not be fine anywhere in the world that isn't war torn.” I remind him crossing the road. 

“If the richest men in the world need protection, what makes you think you're above danger?” he asks.

“I don’t think I’m above anything, I just dont think danger is likely.”

“You’re naive,” he comments.

“You're a pessimist” I respond.

“Realist. Men jeopardise their livelihoods and lives all around the world for women and sometimes men. Being alone at night is an unnecessary risk” he says, sounding like my father. When we make it to the beach the sound of the ocean is calming.

“Can we stay awhile?” I ask and he nods. I step onto the sand. My dress is too long so I take down my hair and use my hair tie to hike it up to my knees. There’s a breeze in the air but after all that walking it's not too chilly. My nerves are worlds better. I find a spot and sit down, feeling safe. I close my eyes and block out everything aside from the sound of the waves crashing and crackling sea foam. The air shifts and I catch Richmonds cologne as he sits beside me. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep mine closed. He probably thinks I’m crazy, maybe even too trusting given our history but I don't open my eyes until I'm ready. When I do his eyes are on me.

“Jameson told me you dont value your life” he says and I scoff.

“You can't care too much about yours if you joined the military” I shoot back.

“My father was decorated, he had me in mixed martial arts since I was five. I can take care of myself”

“So we have daddy to thank for this personality” I jest and he shakes his head instead of silencing me with a look.

“You really don't like it” he says, looking up at the sky.

“No I don’t, this is the most normal you’ve ever been with me since we met” I tell him.

“I’ve tried but you’re always running”

“Why were you so mean that first day?” I ask.

“It’s complicated,” he says, hardening.

“More complicated than using my trauma as a test?” I ask and he sighs.

“That wasn't my idea to push you and yes, that complicated” he affirms. “I was in a bad state, looked my worst and I found out my new recruit Lorence Cole is a woman,” he explains. 

“That’s a sexist admission”

“No. You’re my type Lorence. Cassandra knew that and didn’t tell me ahead of time. I was upset with her to make a point and short with you” he confesses and the way my cheeks burn im thankful for the nights forgiving lighting. Not was, not one of my preferences, you’re present tense my type.

“The next time your type walks in, try being kind. Most women don't like being barked at, frowned at, scolded. Do I need to continue?” I ask.

“I get the picture” he nods. Then there’s laughter down the beach and I see people laughing around a photograph.

“We should go see” I suggest getting up. I pat the sand off my dress and we make our way over to see caricature artists seated. 

“Come on, beautiful couple,” One of the women artists say.

“I don't want to” Richmond says motioning for me to sit alone.

“Not my boyfriend's bodyguard” I tell the woman in french and she smiles. Mischief lights in her eyes and I smile bracing for the worst.

“First time in Monaco?” she asks with a thick accent.

“Yes”

“Welcome! here for the races?” she asks.

“Yeah, a few friends wanted to check it out” I explain using my cover story and she continues drawing.

“Are you famous?” she asks.

“No” I laugh.

“Then why bodyguard?” she asks.

“He’s a friend who didn't want me out walking alone” I explain in french and she nods complimenting my speaking ability. I sit for another ten minutes and she stands finished. They count me down and when I get the photo I have to stop myself from laughing. I fold the photo immediately as the other artists cackle and pray Richmond hasn't seen it. If he didn't speak French too I’m sure he’d think I put her up to it. We leave the beach heading back on the path back to the accommodation when Richmond snatches it from my hand as I let my dress back down. He gets a full look of the photo of me looking like an angel in caricature form while he looks like an angry muscle man with ears so big they span to the margins. I giggle and he gives me a look of warning handing the drawing back. I’m surprised he doesn't rip it into pieces.

“Aside from the ears it's an accurate depiction of how scary your scowl is” I joke.

“Good to know” he mutters, the streets are more lively now and the party crowds are out. Leading the way gets too challenging. Richmond holds his hand back and I take it following him through the crows he can see over. He's a gentle guide parting the crowd for me with his size. My brain starts to run away with the information I’ve learned aided by the hand holding and a replay of the past few weeks. My realization shouldn't be as charming as it is. Richmond the decorated veteran and impeccably polished CEO has a crush … on me? He’s not to be played with, tall, handsome, well off ….. My boss. My thoughts hit a roadblock there. The uphill trek starts to become a battle and he crosses the street finding a cab stand. His French is impeccable as he orders us a cab barely fitting in the small European car with me. I get my hand back and find myself missing the contact. The ride back to the accommodation is short. When RIchmond and I clear the lobby he’s right I’m no longer worried about tomorrow or my work. This elevator ride is far less tense than last trip. 

“Thanks for walking me through my route” I tell him as he walks me from the elevator to my door. 

“No problem” he nods. “Last call is at noon if you want to see the parade and the royals otherwise you can leave at two” he reminds me of the schedule. I check my watch and see I have a lot of beauty rest to catch up on.

“Sounds good.” I nod heading in my room. I stop turning to face him. “Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow? My type is nice” I tell him and he gives me his first genuine smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cole” 

“Good night Richmond.” I smile, shutting the door. I call Sin thankful for time differences and we talk for an hour about what it all means before I fall asleep.

Authors note: thanks for reading loves. things are heading up and these interactions are getting more and more fun to write. Are we here for the new developments?

008 ⇛

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

[straycolours]

‧˚₊•┈୨୧ KANE X READER: "99% QUIT" ୨୧┈•‧˚₊

Fandom: ENA Dream BBQ; Kane and above image belongs to JoelG

10 Headcanons on Kane X Reader

Inspired by @pukefactory and their amazing work in the fandom.

‧˚₊•┈୨୧┈•‧˚₊

First things first, it's important to remember that Kane is a party animal first and foremost. As a result, he ends up pulling you along to whatever celebrations are going on. Quality time is definitely his love language, and partying hard is what he spends the most time doing. What could be better than mixing the two things he loves most? Dancing while drunk, getting lost in the moment and in each other... This is what the relationship is all about to him: passion and good times.

He really perks up when you tag along with him to whatever (potentially illegal) event he's had his eyes on. "Just let them know that you're with me! They know me. AAAH, this is going to be amazing! Are you ready to party hearty?!" When you arrive at the event he not-so-subtly shows you off to everyone you two meet like you're an attraction. "Look closely! Observe the sparkling eyes and beautiful hair of a rare creature from faraway lands! And they're all mine! HA! Suckers!"

If you're an introvert, he'll be the kind of person who works at coaxing you out of your shell. He won't say it to you this way, but he'll feel responsible, oddly enough, for you living an exhilarating life, and he firmly believes that's worth any amount of trouble you two end up getting into. "The book will still be sleeping like a sluggard when you get back. But a party runs when you approach. Let's go! Let's chase that wild animal!" He'll take your hand and pull you through whatever portal leads to something exciting. If you're feeling like staying in, he's gonna literally carry you there. Kane can be kind of insensitive towards your desires to recharge your social batteries, but at the end of the day he just wants to save you from becoming a wallflower. And not the ones that grow in holy gardens and talk to you about sharing a spot of tea with them.

If you don't wanna go with him and you really dig your heels in, he really will just go without you. But he'll hesitate with his coin-hand on the door handle. "Last chance! Last last chance! I'm really gonna be going now. Fun is calling. I'm really gonna be going." He'll get to the event that he wanted to go to so bad but he won't be having as much fun as he thought he would without you. He'll be dancing with moth breakdancers and challenging an origami jester to a party popper eating contest and he'll win, coin-arms held triumphantly in the air and dancing, but his mouth will be a straight line the whole time. He’ll get home to find you asleep already and he’ll woozily sit next to the bed without saying anything, feeling like there's something he should be learning from this, but struggling to grasp it due to his being slightly… “sedated”.

From then on, he tries to make you feel more included in the activities you two do together. If you want to stay home, he's learned to adjust to that now. But you have to remember that he's an energetic guy and you’ll have to meet him there or he will go crazy. He'll be busting out playing cards, dice or some sort of polyhedron with glowing dots on it and meet you halfway. If you have work to do then he will always be fiddling with something, throwing a ball at the wall over and over or eating something illegal.

If you’re an extrovert, you and Kane feed off each other’s energy. When the sky is dark, you two will run around and take turns trying to be louder than each other. Kane will try to make you laugh as he approaches strangers and confuses them with parlor tricks. Once in a while, he’ll pull a nasty trick and con someone out of some money or a magical sandwich, or something. You know that it’s serious once he does it, but it’s hard to be strait-laced about it; Kane makes some seriously ridiculous faces when he’s nervous. When things get dangerous, Kane takes you by the hand and runs. You two bolt through secret passageways and climb through windows, laughing like maniacs all the way home while the entity who was about to turn you two into corpses has no choice but to take their licks and move on.

Kane doesn’t outright say it, but he loves teaching you things. Something about the way your face lights up in surprise when he shows you a secret shortcut to an illegal casino or tricks you with a four-sided playing card tickles him like that bowl of dragon punch he drank at the Rain Gathering, but deeper, like something about this is good for him. Making him strong, and healthy, and rich in ways he never could’ve gambled for. If you’re not familiar, expect to learn many games of chance. This also means that he always brings extra “goods” back from his “affable conspirators” so that you can try some. One time he returned with a black, ribboned lollipop with a tiny version of your face in the middle. “Don’t take too many licks like a simpleton. Next thing you know you’ll wake up as a fairy. Trust me, you wouldn’t do well as one. Take your time.” You still had wings for a few days after that regardless. “Alright, I guess the dosage was a lot stronger than I was told. Live and learn!” Kane turned his head and sneezed some pixie dust. “W-wait, mine too?!”

Kane claims to have "the blessing of the DOORS!" when you play against him in poker, but you usually beat him because his eyes not-so-subtly shift to the side when he bluffs. Is he really that bad at poker? Is he letting you win? You’ll never know, and that’s the real trick. Once in a while he'll fold back into his piggy-bank form and challenge you to hit as many coin tosses into him as you can, which is admittedly difficult since his coins are huge. Normally he doesn’t let anybody touch him or pick him up in his piggy-bank form, but if it’s his beloved then he’s fine with you carrying him around. Just don’t drop him. If you have a habit of being a klutz, don’t feel too offended by his apprehension. “You know that you’re my good luck charm, right? It’s just… picking up my effigy and stuff… It’s a bit too much of a gamble even for me, eheheh!”

Kane has three days: OK days, where he does what he wants to do but you can’t hang out; great days, where he gets to spend a lot of time with you; and meteor days. Some days the meteors are really gunning for him. It’s like a sickness that flares up, a fever that leaves asymptomatic and returns with a vengeance. He claims to be made of tough stuff and he prides himself on his lawless luck, but there are times where he gets hit and taken out before coming to a few hours later. One of your worst experiences with him was when you two first started dating and one of the flaming chunks of space-rock hit him and took him out. You were shocked beyond words. Not knowing what to do, you called one of his contacts named, simply, “Doctor”. The shady character arrived, clearly unhinged, and insisted that you had very little time to “harvest his coins”. Thankfully, Kane pulled himself together and zipped away with you in tow. You spent over an hour thinking he was dead, and he was mortified that he had forgotten to mention the “being blown to space-dust” part.

If one of his meteors is ever hurtling your way, you can guarantee that despite Kane’s ditzy, slightly selfish personality, he will always push you out of the way and make sure you’re safe. If he can sense that he’s going to be having a flare-up day, he stays away and hides in his piggy-bank form. He can’t bear to see you hurt. Unfortunately, if you want to speak to him, you’ll have to go on a scavenger hunt for him. He can be pretty creative with places to nestle into when in his smaller form. If you find him, tell him you love him and that you’re not gonna leave him alone to deal with whatever this meteor curse thing is. He needs to hear what you're going to say. And bring a reinforced metal umbrella. If you do these things, he’ll be stunned with gratitude, but above all else, he’ll be reassured that being yours was never a gamble at all; you’ll know that you’re truly his lifetime good luck charm, and he's yours.

[rosieswriting]

The Chemistry of Chaos

Barty Crouch Jr x reader

Summary: Amidst teasing and undeniable chemistry, a party celebration leads to unexpected encounters that blur the lines between annoyance and attraction

Note: engllish is not my first language so probably it has some mistakes!

Words: 1,5K

The library was more crowded than usual, with the exams being next week, and it seemed like students had only just now started to take their studying seriously. By students, of course, you meant you. You’d always managed top grades in every subject—except Potions. It was the bane of your academic existence. Thankfully, Remus, and Lily Evans, your ever-supportive best friends, were currently helping you with that very subject. 

“I just don’t understand why I need to know how to make it! It´s not like I need it to know who I fancy!” you groaned in frustration, having recited the steps to make Amortentia about a dozen times but always forgetting one.

Remus and Lily chuckled softly.

“C´mon, you are almost there” Lily encouraged you. So once again, you started to say the steps. But before you could finish, Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier and Regulus Black entered the library.

You immediately recognised Barty´s voice and rolled your eyes. “Just a second” you excused yourself from your friends before standing up from the table with a book in hand and going to the slytherins.

“Junior” you called out shortly.

Barty turned around, a cocky smirk already spreading across his face. “Treasure” he greeted smoothly. “Missed me already?”

 “You wish” you scoffed and hand him the book “next time don’t be too stuck up in your ass and actually pay attention to where you leave your things”

The boy just kept smirking as he grabbed his herbology book that he had given up for lost.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty girl that can return it to me?”

“If you call me pretty girl again i´ll hex you” 

As you turned to walk back, you heard his voice, teasing and smug as ever. “Looking forward to it!” Though you didn’t turn around, you could practically feel the grin plastered on his face, and it took every ounce of restraint not to give him that hex he so richly deserved.

As soon as you sat down, you caught the amused looks on both Remus and Lily´s faces. “What?” you asked them confused and with furrowed eyebrows.

Remus raised an eyebrow, his expression half-amused, half-intrigued. “So…Junior huh?”

Lily smiled, leaning in slightly. “You practically ran over there to give him his book, Treasure”

You shoot her a glance at the nickname. "I did not ‘run.’ He just left it behind and—"

"And you, being the kind, considerate person you are, couldn’t wait to get it back to him, right?" Remus finished, exchanging a glance with Lily. “You’ve been talking to him a lot lately, haven’t you?"

"Not by choice," you insisted, crossing your arms. "He’s always around, and it’s not like I can just ignore him when he’s that loud."

Lily tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief. "And what was that? ‘Pretty girl’? Seems like he’s got a little nickname for you."

You shrugged,. "He calls everyone names. It’s not a big deal”

"Uh-huh," Remus said, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Lily giggled, nudging your arm. "Admit it, you think he’s cute”

Was Barty Crouch Jr. an idiot? Absolutely. 

Was he the cockiest person you had ever met? Without question. 

Was he the most insufferable student in Hogwarts? Definitely.

 Was he also the hottest student in Hogwarts? Yes, but you would never say that out aloud.

"I do not," you huffed. You focused on the Potions notes in front of you, determined to shift the conversation away from Barty and his stupid, handsome face. "Besides, I’ve got better things to worry about."

Remus raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright. We’ll let it go. For now."

But you knew they weren’t convinced. They could see through you, even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. You were stubborn, yes, but not blind. 

Two nights later, exams were finally over, and the Ravenclaws had organized a party in their common room. The air was buzzing with excitement as students from all houses snuck in, celebrating the relief of another term well done. You made your way inside with Lily and Mary and went directly to greet your other friends.

"Looking good," Remus greeted you, handing over a Butterbeer with an approving look. He raised an eyebrow. "Too good, actually. You didn’t dress up for someone, did you?" he teased.

“Oh god” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you took a sip

But Lily quickly jumped in, recounting the story of your recent run-in with Barty, complete with dramatic embellishments.

“Barty Crouch Junior? Of all people?” James asked you with raised eyebrows

“Remus and Lily are dramatic, nothing is going to happen” you shrugged, trying to brush it off.

“Well, you may want to tell him that, sweetheart” Sirius told you, throwing an arm around your shoulders and gently steering you to face the other side of the room.

Barty was leaning against the wall, talking to his friends, but his eyes were locked on you. When you caught his gaze, he gave a slow wink, his lips curving into that annoyingly smug smirk. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your friends.

“Alright, can we drop this now?” you said, taking another swig of your Butterbeer. “Let’s all just enjoy a perfectly nice and irresponsibly drunk party, yeah?”

Your friends laughed, dropping the topic for now, and soon you found yourself in the middle of the dance floor, laughing and spinning with Lily and Mary. After a while, your drink ran out, so you left your friends to grab a refill.

But to your luck, Barty was also getting another drink over the table

“Didn’t know you could clean up this well, Treasure” he drawled, his eyes roaming over you “You sure seem nice when you are not being a smartass” he said looking at you with a devilish grin.

“I wish I could say the same to you, but you look as hideous as always” you said walking pass him and over the table to grab another beer.

You felt his presence behind you and you froze for a second, his body really close to you

“We both know you don’t mean that” he whisper over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze for a second as his presence surrounded you, the warmth of him far too close for comfort. Turning to face him, you found him leaning into your space, his smirk deepening as he watched you, utterly unbothered by the fire in your gaze. You were trying to hold your ground, but your gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest second, which he noticed. His grin widened a glint of triumph in his eyes.

“See?” he murmured his voice barely above a whisper. “You find me irresistible”

You gave a short, exasperated laugh. “Junior,” you said, taking a breath, “the only thing I find irresistible is the urge to slap that grin off your face.”

“Oh really?” he said and without warning wrapped his arms around your waist. You gasped and quickly rested your hands on his chest, trying to separate your bodies at least a bit “Because it doesn’t seem like it, in fact you look like if you-“

You didn’t let him finish. Closing the distance, you pressed your lips to his, determined to silence him for once. You could feel his smirk even as he returned the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands slid to his shoulders and then tangled into his hair, deepening the kiss as he nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp. He took advantage, his tongue teasing against yours, and despite yourself, you found yourself getting lost in the heat of it.

You don’t know how long you have been kissing until you both needed some oxygen and pulled away. His smug expression was maddeningly back in place

“Just wanted to shut up, so don’t let it go to your head” you said as you gave him a playfully pat on his cheek and walk away over to your friends, who had watched what happened.

“What was that about ‘nothing happening’?” Sirius teased, unable to contain a snicker.

You rolled your eyes and grab his beer, having completely forgotten to grab your own thanks to the distraction.

You rolled your eyes. “He wouldn’t shut up,” you mumbled, taking a long sip to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks.

Your friends exchanged knowing glances but decided to save their teasing—for now. But you had a feeling you’d be answering a lot of questions come morning. Still, as you turned one last time and caught Barty’s gaze from across the room, you saw him wink at you again, but this time, you didn’t roll your eyes. Instead, you felt the slightest blush bloom on your cheeks, along with a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

Damn you, Junior.

[florihaei]

• ౨ৎ ────── WHERE THE ROSES BLOOM ₊ ˖ ་.

( 이동혁 ) ꒰ lee!donghyuck x fem!reader

in which .. ꒰ in a city where secrets grow faster than roses, you find yourself entangled with the one boy everyone says you should stay away from.. lee haechan. the boy who was hiding more than he lets on, he’s everything you shouldn’t want… and exactly what your heart keeps reaching for. but as midnight talks linger longer than they should have , and his laughter hides even heavier truths, you realize sometimes the most beautiful things are born from chaos. and love? it blooms where you least expect it. ⟡ 🌹

⟡ 🌹 .ᐟ - drama au!, fluff/suggestive/angst, humor, friends to lovers!, fake dating!(briefly), jealousy!(misunderstandings, rumors!) slow burn romance!, mild alcoholic mentions!, arguments!, happy ending!- names : pretty, rose girl, sweetheart, angel!

౨ৎ … NOT PROOFREAD ! ( FLORIHAEI’S VALUT )

秋のメモ… ︵ ︵ ིྀ - this wasn’t planned out just thought of this randomly😭!, like and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!, comment to be in the taglist for parts 2 and 3!! please enjoy reading!!

— ꒰ part 1! .ᐟ ✦

— ꒰ part 2 coming soon.ᐟ ✦

— ꒰ part 3 coming soon.ᐟ ✦

©florihaei 2025 ꒰ do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without permission ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

“love is a little reckless like that, it never ask if your ready - it just blooms”

you weren’t even supposed to be at this party. it was the last place you wanted to be, a cramped, overheated house packed with bodies, the music was way to loud , and the air was thick with the smell of beer and sweat and cheap cheap cologne. you tugged yourself consciously at the sleeve of your jacket, wishing you could just disappear into the wall, but your best friend just looped her arm through yours and yanked you deeper into the chaos.

“come on” she says brightly over the music, “just live a little!”

you gave her a look. “you said this was going to be a “small hangout.”

she laughed, not even pretending to feel bad. “same difference.”

you sighed, resigning yourself to your fate. fine, just an hour. then you could sneak out and spend the rest of the night in bed, pretending none of this ever even happened. you just had to survive until then.

you trailed after her towards the kitchen, dodging the occasional tipsy papergoer. that’s when you saw him ..

lee haechan.

he was impossible to miss, perched up on the counter like it was a throne, swinging his legs and laughing with a group of friends. his messy brown hair caught the light every time he tipped his head back, flashing that obnoxiously attractive smile that you absolutely refused to think it was charming.

god, he was insufferable.

your best friend caught your line of sight and groaned. “ugh he’s here.”

“who?” you said, playing dumb.

“haechan” she muttered like a curse word. “don’t look, he’s already cocky enough without you giving him attention.”

you snorted. “relax.. he’s not my type.”

but even as you said it, haechan’s gaze flickered across the room, and locked straight onto you.

you stiffened.

his mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk, like he could hear every thought you had just had about him. you looked away immediately, heart rushing from your cheeks, cursing yourself for even noticing him.

great. just great.

-

the night dragged on painfully slow. you sipped a questionable drink, wandered aimlessly through the house, and tried desperately to blend into the background. your best friend had already disappeared, probably off flirting somewhere, leaving your stranded.

you were about five minutes from faking an emergency call to get yourself out of here but that’s when you felt it. a shift in the air, a prickling at the back of your neck.

you turned and of course there he was, lee haechan and that stupid smile of his he always wore.

you consider just making a run for it.

but .. too late.

“hey rose girl” he drawled , coming to a stop right in front of you.

you blinked. “what?”

he pointed lazily at your wrist, where the edge of your rose tattoo peaked out under your sleeve.

“thought i saw you earlier, guess i was right.” his eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark, he was definitely up to no good, you could see the mischief right through him. “you look like trouble.”

you rolled your eyes. “that’s rich coming from you.”

“ouch” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “wounding me on sight, and here i thought we could be friends.”

you snorted. “doubtful.”

he grin widened, unfazed. “you don’t even know me, pretty girl.”

“i know enough.”

he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip. “wanna know more?”

you opened your mouth to shut him down, but before you could, someone called out across the room.

“truth or dare!”

there was a a crowd, people cheering and whoops. someone dragged a circle of chairs into the living room, and bodies began collapsing into them with wild, drunken energy.

you turned backed to haechan, ready to make your escape.

he just smiled wider.

“come on rose girl.” he said, offering you his hand, wanting you to take it. “let’s go make some bad decisions.”

-

against all better judgment, you let him lead you over to the circle.

you ended up sitting next to him, of course. he sprawled in his seat like he owned the place, one knee bumping lightly against yours, every casual brush of contact making your skin buzz.

the game started tame enough, a few silly questions, some dares that seemed very questionable. but it didn’t take long before the attention swung your way.

“truth or dare new girl?” someone from the circle said.

you hesitated, haechan leaned in, whispering “pick dare, i’ll save you if it’s lame.”

you rolled your eyes but you said. “dare.”

there was a devilish glint in the guys eye. “i dare you to sit on haechans lap for the next round.”

the circle erupted in laughter and whistles.

you gasped. “no way..”

“a dare is a dare!” someone yelled.

you turned to haechan, ready to protest, but he just opened his arms invitingly, that stupid cocky grin on his face.

“come on rose girl.” he teased. “i don’t bite ..”

you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

muttering curses under your breath, you reluctantly stood and dropped yourself onto his lap, carful not to out any weight. his hands immediately find your waist, steadying you.

you stiffened. “don’t get comfortable.”

“too late” he said, voice low against your ear.

you hated the way your heart jumped.

-

the game blurred around you after that. you barely registered the questions or the dares, to aware of every place your body touches his, the solid warmth against your hair.

at some point, haechan learned in again, his breath warm against your hair.

“you’re terrible at hiding when you’re nervous” he murmured.

“im not nervous” you lied instantly.

“sure rose girl” he said, laughing softly. “whatever helps you sleep at night..”

you huffed and shifted, meaning to get off of him, but his hands tightened gently on your hips.

“stay.” he said, and for once there was no teasing his voice, just something warm and rough that made your stomach flip.

you stayed.

-

later, after the game had finally ended and people stared dispersing, too probably drink more, you slipped outside onto the porch from some fresh air. your heart was racing and your head was spinning, not from the drinking you were doing but from him.

you leaned against the railing, closing your eyes and breathing deep.

“you always run away when things get good?”

you opened your eyes to find haechan leaning lazily against the porch column, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you with that unreadable expression.

“needed air” you said shortly

he hummed, unconvince, but he didn’t push it.

for a long moment, you just stood there in silence, the night heavy and warm around you. the faint scent of roses from the bushes lining the yard, mixed with the rain that feel from the sky.

“you know..” he said finally, casual like he was commenting on the weather. “you’re the only person here who doesn’t look at me like a prize to win.”

you glanced at him. “is that a compliment or an insult?”

he smiled crookedly. “both.”

you stared at him, really stared, and saw something flicker behind the cocky face, some tired and raw that tugged at your chest before you could stop it.

“you’re not as annoying as i thought” you said, almost grudgingly.

“wow” he said, throwing his hands up. “high praise coming from you, should i frame that?”

“don’t push your luck.”

he grinned.

-

you might have stayed in that strange, almost comfortable silence longer, but then you saw her.

haechan’s ex.

she was standing just inside the doorway, watching you both with a look that could cut glass, she didn’t even try to hide her envy. she whispered something to her friend, and they both laughed, loud enough so both of you could hear.

you shifted instinctively.

haechan followed your gaze, his body tensing beside you.

and before you could process it, he turned to you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“wanna make a bet?”

you frowned. “what kind of bet?”

“for the next two week” he said, stepping closer, “you pretend to be my girlfriend.”

you blinked. “what?”

“come on rose girl” he coaxed. “it’ll be fun, piss her off .. have a little adventure, you might even start liking me.”

you opened your mouth to say no, but just then, someone inside shouted. “are they dating?!” followed by another burst of laughter.

you whipped your head around, and found at least three people watching you from the window, grinning and edging you on.

your cheeks flamed.

haechan leaned in, his voice low. “don’t leave me hanging baby.”

you should have said no.

you really, really should have said no.

but with everyone watching, and haechan looking at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered, you found yourself doing something stupid.

you reached out, and took his hand.

“fine” you muttered. “but if this blows up, it’s your fault.”

he squeezed your fingers lightly, a victorious grin lighting up his whole face.

“trust me pretty girl” he said winking. “you won’t regret it”

-

and he pulled you back inside, your heart hammered against your ribs , too loud, too reckless.

somewhere deep down, a part of you knew, this was a terrible idea.

but another part of you, the wild part you usually kept buried.

maybe the most beautiful things only bloom when you stop being careful

and standing there, holding haechan’s hand, feeling the whole world tilt just a little to a side.

you realize you might be about to find out exactly what that meant.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet Masterlist

18+ Panty Dropping

Stark parties were always extravagant affairs. Black ties and cocktail dresses. Everyone was decked out to the nines. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off your sultry dress. The way it clung to your curves, accentuating every dip and swell. The shiny red material sparkled as you moved, swinging your hips to the beat of the tune that was playing. You had begged him to join you, fingers hooked into his belt loops as you urged him forwards. But Bucky was a soldier, trained to resist temptation. So, with determination, you stepped onto the dance floor, a solitary figure bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights.

“You go ahead, I'll watch.”

Bucky’s gaze traced the delicate line of your collarbones, the gentle curve of your waist. The crimson hue of the dress set his loins on fire, igniting a longing he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just the color, it was the way it whispered secrets against your skin. You were a vision. And oh, how you moved. Fluid, like water coursing through a hidden stream. As the music swirled around you, you moved with grace, lost in the rhythm. The halter neck of the dress revealed just enough - the elegant slope of your shoulders, the arch of your back, the skin of your thighs.

Bucky clenched his fists, torn between the desire to join you versus the desire to carry you out of the building over his shoulder. He shoved his hands in his pockets, to hide his agitation. The last thing he needed was for Steve or Sam to come over and fuss over him. But the action didn’t bring about the result he expected. There was something unexpected as he slipped his hand into the concealed compartment of his pants. Bucky’s fingers closed around the silky material and he pulled out a lacy black thong. 

He stroked his thumb over the skimpy piece of lingerie, noting that it felt slightly damp. In a swift movement, he closed the item into his fist and brought it up to his nose, taking a whiff of your unique scent. Bucky felt a heat rise inside him and he felt his cock twitch dangerously. How dare you tease him?

You could feel his eyes on you. Almost like a sixth sense. You knew he had discovered the little gift you had left him. He beckoned you with the smallest gesture. You smiled, sauntering over.

“What do you think you're doing? Anyone could have seen this! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Bucky hissed in your ear, your underwear now in his metal fist. Never had he met another person who knew how to push his buttons. Your pokes and prods were so aptly timed and precisely calculated. When he was feeling sad, mad, excited or turned on. It was you - you held all the answers he had been seeking. The warmth of companionship, the thrill of surrender to his carnal urges. Wherever you led, he would follow.

“Where you going, Doll? Do you have any idea what you do to me? Dressed in this scrap of a dress? Is this turning you on? Teasing me with this? Getting me hard? Denying me the pleasure of ripping these off your pretty little pussy?”

A plant. Multiple large pots filled with bamboo shoots. Dense enough to hide two people. That is where he found himself. His hands all over you, on your waist, behind your neck, under the hem of your short skirt, between your soaked and uncovered folds. The candles that adorned the walls flickered and threatened to reveal your hideaway.

“Your cunt feels so good. Dripping for me already, Doll? And I haven't even let you get a taste of my cock yet. Want me to rub your clit, darling?”

Your whines were getting louder and louder. They had the potential to attract attention, despite the thumping music. Bucky spun you around, clamping a vibranium hand over your sinful mouth, keeping his flesh one nestled comfortably over your sensitive nub.

“My my, such a needy little thing, aren't we? Trying to get me all worked up by leaving your panties in my pocket? Well, darling, it worked. I'm going to fuck you right here, behind this plant. And unless you want to get caught, you're going to take it without making a sound. Got that, Doll?”

Bucky unzipped his pants. The fear of being seen suppressed by the flame of desire that engulfed him. He didn't hesitate in thrusting into you, reveling in the way your walls hugged him in the perfect way. He could hear his name tumbling from your lips, the sound vibrating through the metal. It didn't take long for him to spill his hot seed into your clenching cunt, as it begged for its own release. Bucky pulled out his cock as soon as he was done, pressing your thighs together as you moaned with frustration at being denied your climax.

“Now, now, darling. What did I say about making noise, huh? You don't get to cum until I say you do. Getting me all good and riled up at this stupid party. You'll have to suffer the consequences.”

You held out your hand for him to return your panties. But instead you were met with a devilish grin as Bucky stuffed them back into his pocket.

“No, Doll. These are mine. You’re coming home with me and I had better not see any mess spilling down your legs, or you'll be sorry you ever gave me these.”

[strwbiris]

you'll be like everyone else.

yandere! popular! boy x average! fem reader trigger warning: dark themes, emotional abuse, stalking, psychological manipulation, obsessive behavior, god complex, power imbalance, paranoia, subtle descriptions of suicide. note: this story is focused more on the mental toll of psychological manipulation, obsession, and stalking of the reader. read at your own discretion.

yandere! popular! boy is the kind of guy everyone in school knows. If you haven’t heard of him by now, are you living under a rock? With his keen good looks, charming words, and annoyingly perfect smile, he has the entire student wrapped around his finger. Girls swoon, and boys either admire him or silently wish they were him.

yandere! popular! boy isn't downright cruel, but he's far from a saint. He skips detention without hesitation to attend his basketball practices, he steals a look at someone's paper during a test, and he attends every party, frequently leaving with someone on his arm. It's just who he is: irresponsible in a way that only adds to his appeal.

He's a natural extrovert who exudes charm. With a single flash of his pearly whites, people fell in line. He can turn strangers into friends in minutes, as if it were second nature. If he even acknowledges your presence, let alone speaks to you, consider yourself lucky.

As captain of the basketball team, the school's pride and the bringer of every trophy and medal, he’s practically a hero in the eyes of the staff. The coach treats him like a golden child, and his teammates envy or admire him. He wasn't chosen as a captain for no reason after all.

And then there’s you. A typical student, slipping into the background as you always have. You're not a loner; you have a small group of friends and participate in a few extracurricular activities after school.

Everything about you is average. Your looks, your grades, your hobbies, even your personality—nothing too special. You’re not the type people turn their heads for, and you’ve grown used to it. You’re content floating under the radar, doing your own thing while the more noticeable people take the spotlight.

You do not worship the said boy. Sure, you can agree that he's fairly attractive, but you're well aware that there's probably something deeper going on behind that charming smile and polished appearance. Hell, you won't even be surprised if he's doing drugs behind everyone's back. It’s just human nature—no matter how flawless someone appears, there’s often something far less admirable lurking beneath the surface. But for some reason, he noticed you.

It all started when you bumped into him in an empty hallway on Saturday afternoon. He came to school because he still has basketball practices despite the weekend, and you were supposed to pass an essay that you did for one of your clubs to the president. Absorbed on your phone, messaging your friend, you just suddenly collided with something or rather someone.

You immediately apologized, feeling a little intimidated under his gaze. You’d never interacted with the yandere! popular! boy before—only heard a few scattered rumors, so you had no idea what to expect. To your surprise, he just offered a quick smile, helped you to your feet, and gathered the papers you’d dropped without a complaint.

You thanked him and walked away, rushing because you were short on time. All you wanted was to get home, collapse into your bed, and indulge in your favorite snacks and shows. Behind you, he watched, his eyes following your retreating figure until you disappeared from his view. There was something about the way you left that held his attention. You weren’t awestruck like the others. You didn’t look at him with admiration, longing, or curiosity.

The interaction had been simple, brief even, but something about it felt raw, unfiltered. From the way you carried yourself, he could already tell you weren’t like the girls who usually threw themselves at him, all trying to impress with flashy curves, tan lines, and revealing outfits. There was a quiet defiance in your indifference, and it stuck with him. Your resistance—it irritated him. But more than that, it intrigued him. For the first time in a while, he felt a spark of genuine excitement. A challenge. And he was more than ready to make you worship and praise him, just like everyone else eventually did.

After that brief interaction, you started seeing the yandere! popular! boy everywhere. And I mean everywhere. You’re in the library, absorbed in a novel you just picked up? He’s there too, pretending to read, but clearly watching you. His eyes follow your movements, the way your fingers turn the pages, how your gaze stays locked on the words, like the rest of the world has faded away.

You're in the cafeteria, laughing with your friends over lunch? Of course, he's there, but out of all the empty tables in the room, he picks the one right next to yours. At first, you brushed it off. Maybe he just likes that spot. No big deal. You even told yourself you were overthinking it. Because there’s no way he’s actually interested in you, right? You’re not his type. You're sure of it.

Everywhere you went, he was there. And what began to gnaw at your nerves was his constant gaze. Even when he was surrounded by friends, laughing and chatting, his eyes never fully left you. Always watching, always lingering.

The paranoia you'd been trying to ignore surged to the surface as you were walking home alone one late evening. The sun had long disappeared, leaving the streets draped in darkness, broken only by the glow of flickering streetlights.

You’d walked this path before, never once feeling afraid, but tonight felt different. The lights seemed harsher, too bright in their unsteady flicker. And the silence wasn’t comforting — it pressed in around you, heavy and cold. For the first time, every step echoed too loudly, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t walking alone. You glanced over your shoulder, heart pounding, but there was no one there. Just you and the flickering lights. You told yourself you were overthinking, letting your mind spiral for no reason. But deep down, you knew exactly why.

It was him. Ever since that day, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze, heavy and sharp, even when he wasn’t there. It clung to you like a shadow. Everywhere you went, you could almost feel his eyes, his smile: watching, waiting. Even if he wasn't even there, his lingering gazes were engraved in your mind.

You shook your head, feeling ridiculous for letting your thoughts spiral. No one’s here—just me and my shadow, you told yourself, trying to steady your breathing. You picked up your pace, hoping movement would drown out the unease curling in your chest. As you hurried past a narrow, unlit alleyway, your eyes quickly glanced in the alleyway. And there he was. Standing silently in the darkness, his figure barely visible, almost swallowed whole by the shadows. His eyes were fixed on you, unblinking.

Your own eyes widened in alarm, and before you could stop yourself, you started running. You didn’t look back. You didn’t want to know if he was really there or if your mind had finally caved under the weight of all your overthinking.

Meanwhile, he watches, hidden in the darkness, and it excites him. The way your fear unravels in front of him, how your grip on reality loosens, unraveling bit by bit. You’re different, he tells himself, a twisted sense of satisfaction creeping through him. You didn’t fall for him like the others did—didn’t chase after him, didn’t look at him with longing or admiration. So he’ll make you break. He’ll make you kneel in front of him, worship him, even if it means shredding your sanity piece by piece to do it.

The yandere! popular! boy's lips curled into a slow, mocking smile. Come on, now. I won’t hurt you. Just... don’t push me to. He stepped out of the alleyway, his gaze fixed on your running figure, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips as he watched you stumble in your frantic state. Now, I’ll be constantly in your mind. Just like everyone else.

The following days, he starts talking to you more, always with that sickly-sweet smile. His words are coated in honey, but there’s something sharp underneath, something that makes your skin crawl even when he’s complimenting you. You try to pull away, to avoid him, but he closes the distance every time.

You were beyond confused—and terrified. Why was he doing this to you? You were just an average student, someone invisible to most people. So why was he so obsessed with you? The thought sent a cold shiver down your spine. It was all too much to comprehend, and it terrified you to the core.

Desperate, you tried to talk to the police, hoping someone would listen. But they brushed you off without a second thought. His family was well-known in town, too influential for your words to carry weight. They didn’t believe you. And that feeling of being completely powerless settled deep within you.

With the police refusing to help, you realized there was no one you could turn to. Who would believe you? The golden, untouchable boy of the school stalking you, a mere normal student? You could already picture the looks on their faces—the disbelief, the mockery, the ridicule.

You were slowly losing your sanity. Every corner you turned, every shadow that crossed your path, felt like it belonged to him. It was as if he were always just behind you, watching, waiting for you to let your guard down. The paranoia started to consume you. You could barely sleep anymore, dreading the thought that you might wake up one day to find him standing there, just standing in the corner, that eerie smile on his lips. It didn’t stop there. He even began appearing in your dreams, haunting you, following you everywhere you went, no matter where you tried to hide.

As the days dragged on, everything around you started feeling off, like the world you once knew wasn’t even real anymore. The usual buzz of daily life faded, replaced by this creepy silence, like the calm before something bad was about to happen. His gaze never left you, that constant feeling of being watched sticking to you like a second skin. Every corner you turned felt like it was hiding something—someone—and the shadows seemed to grow thicker, more suffocating, with every step you took.

Days have passed, and your apartment remains shrouded in darkness. The once fresh scent of your space has long dissipated, replaced by the faint but distinct odor that lingers in the air, ignored by the landlord, who has long since stopped knocking. The curtains, still unwashed and forgotten, sway gently with the breeze, a haunting reminder of days that have slipped away, unnoticed.

Your phone, abandoned on your desk, vibrates with an unrelenting stream of notifications. The messages pile up, voices from a world that has slowly forgotten you. You don’t bother to check anymore, the endless pings echoing in your mind like a song you can no longer remember, but one that still feels so familiar. They’re all the same. Concerned, worried messages from people who no longer have the right to ask.

Your absence hasn't gone unnoticed, not entirely. Your teacher, concerned by the sudden emptiness at your desk, assumes you’re simply taking a break. After all, your exhaustion had been so visible in the days before, your sleeplessness growing as your mind seemed to crack under the weight of something unseen. You were always distant, eyes flickering like you couldn’t quite grasp where the world ended and you began.

The yandere! popular! boy carried on with his loud, vibrant life, keeping up the flawless image everyone admired. His smile remained perfect, flashing to the world as he moved from one conversation to the next, always at the center of attention.

No one suspected the truth hidden beneath his charm that he had unknowingly destroyed someone's world. Your absence, your empty desk, never seemed to faze him. He never questioned it, never acknowledged it. Instead, he wore his smile, pretending everything was fine. And as the world continued to praise him, he kept on smiling, never admitting the role he had played in your silence.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Brat by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Spanking, Choking, Dom!Terry Richmond, BDE, Bisexual Female Partner, Compersion Fetish, BDSM Play, Urophilia/Watersports.

Summary: Sasha is a brat. On purpose. Now Terry is mad. Big mad.

Word Count: 6.7K

"I'm still, I'm still wet here tonight

So I will make you cum through the night

Will you touch me? Will you go deep in me?

I will in the sheets

I will, I will, I-I-I will"

Teyana Taylor – "WTP"

The cops were called to his home

Terry worked overnight duty on base, and his desk phone rang at ten-twenty. His neighbor Roderick, a fellow marine, hit him up with news that a noise complaint about his apartment brought out the local police. It was the second one that month.

"Your girlfriend has a bunch of women in your place again…the music is blasting and the cops are talking to her right now."

Terry rubbed his forehead. His jawline tightened. Sasha knew better than to have a bunch of people in his place when he wasn't there without letting him know about it ahead of time. He'd recently given her keys to his apartment six months ago as a reward for being a good girl. Here she was, fucking up the privilege already.

You see, Sasha is a brat.

On purpose.

It's a quality that titillates Terry, and yet it frustrates him, too. Sasha can't help it. Her nature is to be desirable, a supreme fuck, and well…a rule breaker.

Terry met Sasha at a wedding in Bayagoula Parrish, Louisiana. Both were part of the wedding party, he as a groomsman and she as a bridesmaid. He wore his military dress blues to match the groom. Sasha's beauty angered the bride who felt she eclipsed all the other women in the wedding party. He appreciated it because they'd been paired with different people to walk down the aisle, and he had the opportunity to watch her stroll in after him. Sasha displayed her shapely figure, which could be quite distracting. Her legs were fantastic, especially in heels and a high slit dress. She was top heavy too, and the off-the-shoulder dress made every attracted eye dart back and forth between thigh meat and the big juicy melons bouncing as she approached the altar. The tangerine orange of her dress enhanced the warm cognac color of her skin. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her. She was pure fap material for guys who couldn't pull her, which happened to be many at the reception. Samuel, who partnered walking down the aisle with her, strutted around thinking he was the shit with her displayed on his arm. But it was a wrap once Sasha lined her gaze with Terry's at the altar. Fireworks.

The two of them together oozed sex appeal and thoughts of sex. They complimented each other's energy. He had an assertive, domineering personality shaped by his years in the marines. Equal parts controlling and nurturing, he could overwhelm the ladies within seconds of meeting them. He already had the women there swooning over his voice. A gaze from his alluring eyes in any direction set hearts fluttering. Even the older women tee-heed with girlish enthusiasm interacting with him. He knew his power to attract and weaponized it as needed.

Sasha was a natural pleaser. Not to be mixed up with an overall people-pleaser, or a tiresome PickMe, her desire was to satisfy her lover, and they in turn would naturally gift her the moon, with a necklace of stars to match. She came off bubbly, warm, and endearing…the type of woman receptive to romance from an Alpha type. Male or female. He sensed she needed a little bit of spoiling with firm discipline to keep her in check. Pleasure and punishment. A heady combination he wanted to offer.

One bridesmaid joked about Terry and Sasha looking like human versions of Scar and Nala from The Lion King. His devilish green eyes and her equally cat-like eye shape gave testament to it. Their instant chemistry was like an electric current running through a socket. Everyone around them sensed the incredible magnetism they carried in proximity, like static electricity zapping them.

She sat down at the same table and immediately started flirting with Terry. After a few drinks, a deeper connection blossomed. Her voice turned him on. Everything sounded erotic the way she enunciated certain words, as if she wanted to make love to his ears. They chatted each other up, lightly touching hands and arms, whispering in each other's ears. Her breasts kept brushing against his arm, turning him on further as he fantasized about sucking on them with her sexy legs thrown over his shoulders. She brought out a feral competition in a lot of the men who interacted with her on the dance floor. What impressed him the most was how she complimented women there constantly, hyping them on their clothes and make-up. She was a girl's girl and danced with some who men passed over by streaking to the dance floor because the DJ was excellent. Sasha rallied a group of women into doing the YaYa, a Creole line-dance making a resurgence in those parts because of Beyonce's Cowboy Carter album.

He didn't want to get sweaty in his military uniform, but Terry couldn't resist a good, soulful line dance with a bunch of Black people. Bayagoula had some slim pickings for Black women since it was a majority white town, but since the bride was Black, Terry and a host of other Black soldiers hoped she had enough Black female friends coming to town available for some good times. He silently thanked the wedding planner for placing Sasha next to him. They shared a slow dance, and he loved having her breasts resting against his chest.

As the evening continued, they cozied up even more.

Sasha kissed him first right at the table. The lights in the venue had lowered for after-dinner partying, so Terry took advantage, purposely grazing his fingers against her right breast where he'd thrown his arm around her shoulder. Their table was empty and the dance floor was full tilt boogie. Nibbling on her earlobe, he whispered filthy things he wanted to do to her. He lowered his hand and slipped them up the slit in her dress, sliding her panties aside, fingering her with shallow thrusts. She let him finger fuck her, begging for him to go deeper.

Sasha started playing with Terry's dick under the tablecloth. Everyone else was too drunk and too occupied with dancing. No one paid attention to them. She got his dick so stiff that he dragged her to the nearest restroom and fucked her. Lifted her onto the sink, hiked up her dress, unfastened the upper part of her dress and released tits he now adored. It didn't take long for him to spill into the condom. Their foreplay at the table had them rearing to go.

His dick was too big and heavy to fit all the way inside her pussy. The last two inches, visible at the root, moved up and down as he ejaculated. He loved how she handled his meat. He packed so much length that her pussy squirted from the pressure of being stretched to capacity. She peed on him, too. He pinched her big nipples, obsessing over them already.

"I'm taking you home with me," he said.

His dick kept pulsing cum, and he shivered as the last orgasmic surge pushed through his dick. Even his nut sack jumped at the pleasure of release. Sasha gave off soft babygirl energy, and he wanted a woman like that. He'd only known her for five hours and already claimed her as his.

"Okay," she said, with her legs draped over his arms.

Terry turned her around and lifted her breasts. He watched his reflection in the mirror bounce them in his hands, getting off on the weight and size. His dick finally started going down, and Sasha peeled the condom off. He turned to urinate in the toilet and she held his dick for him, guiding the stream into the bowl.

"You like watching me do that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hmmm, into watersports?"

Her sloe eyes twinkled with delight.

"I used to watch my brother's college friends pee in our backyard when they were drunk. The sight of dicks out in the open like that…squirting everywhere…yummy. I get wet just thinking about it."

"What if I pissed on you? Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy…I would play with my pussy while you did it."

He grinned. She already understood his expectations. He whispered in her ear that he wanted a good girl, an obedient one, and she knew exactly what he meant. A submissive that catered to her man.

She shook his dick and used one of the soft paper towels to clean his tip. Then she dropped to her knees and sucked him off for a final cleaning. He wanted to bust a load on her face, but they'd been in the restroom long enough.

He scooped her up and drove back to his apartment.

They began a committed relationship soon after.

Terry dominated her life. Told her what to wear, what to cook for them when he worked hard all day supporting them both. Sasha flitted from part-time job to job like a bee gathering pollen whenever she was bored, not in a rush to find a career like Terry had done. He was a big bad marine with a jacked body, a tatted sleeve down one arm, and a sculpted face. He liked her being home, and she liked being there spoiled by him. His pay grade and rank allowed him to provide a comfortable life for her.

There were other rules, of course.

The apartment had to be pristine clean and her pussy had to be ready when he came home. He dealt with loud, tense, funky, gritty, and abrasive men all day. His home had to reflect the opposite vibe, and he needed to sink into her softness in the evening.

She greeted him at the door after work, looking dreamy in heels and clothes he liked to see her in, like short skirts and sexy dresses to show off those legs. With a cocktail in hand and deep welcoming tongue kisses, Sasha played her role. He brought home flowers every Friday, and at least once a week he bought her presents. She liked bracelets and expensive perfumes in fancy little bottles. He bought her books on whatever new hyper-fixation she had. One month it was soap-making. Another month it was origami, and he suffered through an apartment full of little flying cranes and odd-shaped butterflies. It made him feel good to bring her something special just to witness the sparkle in her eye and the squeal she let out each time. That was often more arousing than foreplay.

On the weekends, when he had to stay on base or travel out of state for additional work-related training, they agreed that she could have a female lover over for girl time. They'd brought other women into their bedroom on various occasions, and Terry sat next to Sasha as she had sex on the king-sized bed. He never indulged in the other women with her, preferring to watch and jerk off. Some might say he was a cuck, but that wasn't it. He had a compersion fetish. Sasha's happiness at having him as a boyfriend and still indulging in sex with another woman gave him pleasure mentally. It stimulated him, no doubt, to watch his woman go at it with another beautiful woman, but he never did a threesome by sticking his dick in someone else. Sasha was enough woman for him, plus, not every outsider was into the things that he liked to do to her. Like breath play with choking, and of course, the golden showers.

Sasha played the submissive well, pampering herself during the day in preparation for his coming home. Terry gave strong Daddy energy, and it brought out the softness in her. His father raised him to be a stern patriarch and southern gentleman. Women were to be taken care of and the expectation was for them to please their men like sweet southern belles.

Sasha was sweet and one hundred percent southern…but a brat, nonetheless. And brats don't always do what you tell them.

She'd purposely leave crumbs in the kitchen for him to find after work. Or she'd forget to make the bed the way he liked. Sometimes she ordered take out instead of making him the home-cooked meals he expected. That's when Terry would fume and take off his belt, lifting her up and taking her into the bedroom to get spanked until her ass cheeks were a deeper shade. When he finished striking her backside, he'd rub cooling blue gel all over her rump, simultaneously soothing her and chastising her.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he'd lament. "You know I don't like punishing you. I want to come home and have peace. You're my peace, Sasha."

Those searing green eyes would narrow and his brows stayed furrowed, correcting her behavior.

She loved that shit.

However, on the day he had to leave for a weekend base stay several hours before Roderick called him about the police at his place, Sasha (purposely):

1. Forgot to pick up his dry cleaned dress blues on time the night before when he asked.

2. Tossed his clean clothes in drawers without folding them.

3. And God forbid, mixed his unpaired socks in his underwear drawer.

His jaw grew rigid, and he spoke to her through gritted teeth.

"Didn't we talk about this?" he said with an exasperated tone.

"Who cares? Everything is clean. I'll get your dry cleaning today. Don't have a cow," she said, scrolling through pages of fashion on her tablet, hoping he'd snap.

He always took the bait.

His hand went gently around her throat, and he pushed her against the wall.

"What did I tell you about talking to me like that?"

A dangerous smirk twisted his lips to the side. Sasha pouted.

"It won't kill your clothes to not be perfect. I washed and dried them and put them away. That's good enough. Deal with it."

"You know we have to have order in this home. I tell you this every day, Sasha, an orderly home denotes an orderly mind. Fix it."

"You fix it."

He sighed and glanced over at the clock on the wall. His work day started in thirty minutes. He had to be on base in fifteen or risk being late. That was simply a no-no.

"Go straighten out those drawers," he insisted, with more bass in his voice.

He pushed her toward the dresser and hurriedly went to their walk-in closet to grab and fold his old dress blues. He liked to have them on him in case the upper brass needed him to appear ready at a moment's notice for any occasion. His new uniforms needed cleaning before he would wear them. Sasha strolled past their bureau.

"Sasha, I'm not playing!"

He buttoned up the shirt of his duty uniform. She sashayed toward the bedroom door, switching her hips in her babydoll nightie, big titties bouncing, not having any plans for the day except eating chocolate bon bons and shopping online or doing whatever she wanted at her whim because he wanted her to.

"Sasha!"

She ignored him. He snatched her up, throwing her across his lap on the bed. Yanking her nightie up, he pulled the matching panties down and swatted that ass. He gave an even number of spanks on each cheek, careful to soothe as well as punish so as not to harm her tender skin. She yelped and refused to apologize for back talking, making him more upset…and his dick hard.

He added some harder smacks under the jiggling booty cheeks, and she got the message, jerking on his lap and hissing from the sting of genuine pain settling in. He held her down with one arm and heated that ass up, stopping before she needed their safe word. Her disobedience and disrespect resulted in an unscheduled spanking session today, although they had scheduled sessions for weekdays and weekends.

He refused to use the cooling gel on her. She needed to feel the pain of punishment for at least an hour. He'd give her more after he returned home from work.

Terry looked down at his protruding dick nearly blasting a hole through his work pants. Sasha stared at it too, licking her lips. This was what she wanted. He'd ignored her earlier in bed when she wanted dick at four in the morning. The night before, he'd dragged home exhausted from combat drills. He chose to crash out instead of pleasing her. Her hand rubbed on his muscle-toned thighs and traced lines on his tatted bicep, but he was not in the mood.

She chose to make him late. Just to get back at him. He came harder when he was angry or irritated. Down went his zipper… and her knees. He fished out his dick and stroked hard and fast.

"Selfish little brat," he barked. "Making me fucking late!"

She pulled down her nightie, revealing his weakness, and he stared at her breasts. He moaned out loud when she plucked at her nipples and circled her pretty manicured nails around the edges of her dark areolas, reminding him visually of how big they were, and how much he loved that about her.

Pre-cum spilled out of his deep slit, and she used it as a lubricant to tease around her sizeable nipples that stood out like fat, juicy blueberries. His sack was heavy with cum. Sasha licked her lips. Smacked those big melons together, and he blew his load all over her pretty face. She brushed back her wild, wavy hair and continued shaking her titties for him.

He panted and shot another hot rope across her tongue. She jumped up and placed herself on the bed, spreading open her labia for him to see the wet pink of her dripping pussy.

"Fucking slut!"

His eyes became mere slits of angry jade. He grabbed his cell and called his boss while shaking off his pants. A credible lie fell out of his mouth as he plunged into her. He bought an hour pretending to have a dead battery in his car. Tossing the phone on the bed, he fucked Sasha as deep as she could take unsheathed. He grunted, and she threw her arms across his shoulders, satisfied that she got what she wanted.

Anger guided his thrusts. When he started getting too aggressive, he switched to eating her pussy. That helped calm him down. She was insatiable. He should've paid more attention to that quality about her after the first night he fucked her. Sasha loved his dick and craved it at all hours.

Terry sucked and licked her clit, forcing breathy moans out of his woman. She rocked and rolled her hips, her vulva laid out like a summer nectarine: smooth, juicy and sweet. Sasha soaked his lips and chin. His facial hair became a sticky mess with her excess.

He spooned her on his side and parted her cheeks with his dick alone, sliding in and stretching her properly. Terry fondled a breast and pounded her down until that juicy pussy clenched around him. He kept fucking because he knew she needed more.

"Oh, Daddy! I'm sorry! Don't punish me like this!" she screamed, clutching onto the covers.

She wasn't sorry. She wanted that deep Daddy dick.

Sasha said it like a mantra over and over, "Oh Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…"

He groaned and hit the side of her walls to really make her feel it, and spurt a geyser of cum, still angry that he was late. But busting a nut that hard was worth it in the end. She gasped, her legs jerking wildly at the intensity.

Rising from the bed, he looked down at his brat. She took her fingers and peeled back her labia, letting him see the big creamy mess he made inside of her.

"Wait until I get home Sunday!" he snapped, lifting his pants from the floor.

She pissed him off.

And he let her.

He grabbed his small work duffle, and the garment bag he stuffed his old uniform in and slapped her thigh.

"Fix those clothes in the drawers," he grumbled.

After he left, she teased him mercilessly with several bathroom selfies of her voluptuous breasts and pancake areolas. Her big nipples stuck out hard, and she knew he would suffer at work seeing them all weekend and unable to touch them. During his lunch break, he went into a restroom stall and recorded himself urinating. Using his pelvic muscles, he made his dick twitch and spill urine on the seat. His penis was still big while flaccid, and moving it as he splashed into the toilet would excite her. He shot off the clip to her and later, during another break in his car, she sent him video clips from her smartphone of herself fingering her wet pussy and sucking on her nipples while she watched his video on her tablet. Sex was their shared passion. Their best form of communication.

"You were mean to me today," she texted afterward.

He jerked off in the car, re-watching her squirt all over herself. His dick was the object of her affection when she watched him piss. To her, it was just as sexy as watching him ejaculate semen. It came from inside of him, therefore it was precious to her.

She sent more photos of herself looking down at the phone with her breasts hanging with her tongue partially sticking out. He fucking loved her, and immediately sent her a sweating face emoji with hearts, and couldn't wait to fuck her like a goddamn wild man.

Back at work, he did some emergency drills and then took his place at the duty station, overseeing lower ranked soldiers.

Roderick's phone call shattered the routine of his evening. He couldn't leave work to deal with her, so he had to suffer the entire weekend.

Sasha didn't know that Roderick notified him of the cops. She kept sending him loving texts. Asked him what he wanted for supper on his return home.

"I picked up your uniform, and I organized the drawers properly, Daddy," she texted.

He ignored it, pretending to be busy.

She never mentioned having a gathering at his place that weekend. Technically, it was their shared residence, but his name was the only one on the lease. That meant any problems that occurred with the cops reflected on him in the complex. It wasn't a rarity to have the police called around there for noise ordinances. It was predominately military living there, so close to the base. Lots of parties occurred. But he'd never had them called on him until Sasha moved in. He didn't want that reputation, and he didn't want to dump her like he did his last girlfriend, who stayed out of pocket with him until he had enough. She was disobedient in other ways, but not enough to bring the authorities his way. His reputation and moral character around town was everything to him. He'd hate to let go of amazing pussy and fat titties. Terry was already thinking of putting a ring on Sasha's finger after only six months of being together. Babygirl was that perfect.

Except for when she acted out in ways he didn't like.

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

He'd have Monday and Tuesday off. Plenty of time to course correct Sasha.

After showering and shaving on base, he drove to his complex in the early evening without telling her the exact time he was coming back.

He crept up the stairs to his second floor. The onsite apartment manager taped another yellow noise complaint notice to his door. He pulled it down and read the warning while sliding his key in. Stepping inside, the living room lights were off, but the bedroom and hall lights were on. She'd cooked something because the odor of something good still wafted in the apartment. He kicked off his shoes, already upset that she wasn't there to greet him.

Dropping his bags and the warning notice on the couch, he padded to their master bedroom.

Sasha was sucking down another woman's box on his bed.

Jasmine.

Both women were oblivious to him being there.

Terry sat down on the side chair in the room facing the bed and watched them go at it. Sasha had a small vibrator inserted into her vagina that also stimulated her clit. It was a cute little pink toy that hummed along to their sex play. His irritation from the notice simmered in the back of his mind. It took him a few minutes to settle into watching his woman and her side piece. Their moans and soft murmurings lulled him into arousal.

He started playing with his dick, pulled it out all the way along with his balls. Smearing pre-cum all around the bulbous head, he took slow strokes up and down, staying underneath the thick ridge. Sasha's pussy looked so pretty, with the pink toy snug inside of her. Her lover thrashed her head back and forth. He fisted his dick faster, smacking on his balls, wishing her pussy could go all the way down on him.

Jasmine came in Sasha's mouth and his lady love's pussy throbbed with a powerful orgasm. Sasha smacked her lips and moaned as her pussy took the internal vibrations. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Daddy," she sputtered, shocked to see him sitting in the room.

Jasmine lifted on her elbows and grinned.

Terry stood and dragged Sasha by her foot to the end of the bed. He pulled out the small vibrator from her pussy and jammed the tip of his dick against her vulva and nutted all over it. Sasha squealed with delight at the man-handling and Jasmine stared with envy. She longed to suck and fuck him, but that would never happen.

"Come lick up his cum," Sasha said.

She smeared it all over her clit and Jasmine settled between her thighs, lowering her head to lick like a cat lapping up milk.

Terry pulled off the rest of his clothes. Sasha kept her eyes locked on his, ignoring Jasmine licking her way to glory. When most of his semen went down Jasmine's throat, he climbed onto the bed. Jasmine scooted over, giving his large body precedence. His dick bobbed and Sasha whimpered in expectation.

"So glad you're home," Sasha said.

Terry carefully placed his thumb and fingers on the sides of her neck. She relaxed under him.

"Jasmine, I think it's time for you to go home," he said.

Sasha blinked twice and her eyes darted over to Jasmine, disappointed that he didn't want their favorite voyeur staying for their lovemaking.

"Now, Jasmine."

Jasmine quickly left the room. They heard her scramble into her clothes and leave the apartment.

"What's wrong?"

He liked the hesitant tone in her voice. It threw her off.

"Do you enjoy living here with me, Sasha?"

She tried to sit up. He held her down by the throat. Still gentle, but gripped tight enough to let her know she wasn't getting up. Pushing his tip into her, she sucked in a breath and he squeezed the sides of her neck, careful to count out the seconds she could handle before easing the pressure. The opening of her pussy throbbed around him. He slowly pushed in, each inch parting her slippery walls. Jasmine made Sasha frothy and wide open for him. He stopped and squeezed her neck again, giving shallow thrusts and counting to her limit before releasing the controlled grip.

"Can we keep going? Do you need a break?"

"No Daddy, I can take it a little more. I'll tap you when to stop."

He pushed in to her limit, thick and heavy. Her pussy lips looked like a swollen vise around his girth, with the last of his inches unable to go in. Each time he pushed forward or pulled back, she gripped him with her walls, giving him the friction he dreamed about all weekend waiting to come home.

He began fucking her slowly, his hand clamped on her neck.

"Ready?"

She nodded and he pressed his fingers in again with gentle pressure, heightening her pleasure. Her eyes went glassy with lust. Although he choked her with their breath play, her pussy choked his dick and he released her neck to rock his hips into her with a steady rhythm.

"You feel so fucking good…taking care of Daddy's dick…"

He started kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, letting hers slide against his until the erotic sensation of their lips feeling raw and sensitive to the connection overtook him. Kissing her was life itself. He pulled back from her, still stretching her pussy, but not pumping into her.

"Roderick called me about the cops being here again. There was a warning notice on the door. What do you have to say about that?"

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip.

"How come you didn't tell me before I left about having people over here?"

"It was impromptu. A few friends, and then…a few more friends of friends…it was a wine and cheese thing and then…the cops showed up."

Terry pulled all the way out of her and left the bed.

"Do we have to talk about this now? Can we finish this and talk later?"

She breathed heavily, upset that his dick wasn't plowing her.

"What do you think will happen if I get another notice?"

She pressed her lips together for a second.

"It won't happen again. I promise."

"You said that last time two weeks ago."

"You won't have to worry. If I want to have a gathering again, I'll do it at Jasmine's. Please, Terry, don't be upset."

"What do I like more than anything at home?"

His hard dick pointed toward her and Sasha's eyes kept losing track of his face by focusing on his erection she wanted back in her guts.

"Peace and calm."

"My neighbor shouldn't be calling me about you. That means it disturbed him, too, and probably a lot of other people. If I get a third notice, the manager will break my lease. You know what that means? He can ask me to move. I picked this complex because it's close to my job. The job that takes care of you, and allows you to be my good girl. You've put our housing in jeopardy. Before I left for work, you were acting out and I didn't have time to really put you in your place. I've been super busy this past month and I think I've been letting you get away with too much. But I'm going to get back to proper discipline. No physical contact at all."

Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" she said.

"Spanking won't do this time. You don't get to have me until I think you get your behavior together."

He walked to his side of the bureau and pulled out lounging pants and a t-shirt. He strolled into the bathroom. She followed with panic in her eyes. He stretched his back and stood in front of the toilet. She reached for his dick to help him urinate, but he slapped her hand away.

"No," he said. "You don't even get to watch."

He arched an angry eyebrow, and she pouted. He ignored her breasts and the fat pussy he'd just been inside of that enticed him to cave.

"Out!"

She scuttled away like a little crab who sensed danger on sand.

He relieved himself and changed into his house clothes.

"I would like my dinner in half an hour," he called out.

He went into the spare bedroom where he set up a mini-gym and desktop computer. He checked sports updates before opening a porn app. His balls ached wanting to cum inside Sasha, but he searched for Black women masturbating and found one using a vibrator with large pussy lips that excited him. Fisting himself, he left the door open so Sasha could hear him and seethe. She slammed the kitchen cabinet doors and let some silverware clatter onto the table to show her anger at not getting his dick. He chuckled.

"Fix that attitude. This is your fault for being irresponsible," he called out.

His porn play pal had nice tits and a soft belly. He came into his hand.

"Your dinner is ready," Sasha called out.

He cleaned his hands in the bathroom and walked into the dining area with his mouth salivating. Smothered chicken and rice with French green beans drenched in garlic butter. Homemade and piping hot.

"This looks good, baby. Thank you."

He sat down and she sat across from him. They said grace together, and he stuffed his face, licking his fingers and complimenting her cooking. That perked her up, and yet she still stared at his chest in the tight T-shirt, and admired the sleeve tats.

He punished her for a month.

Sasha stayed on her A-game. Clean house. Clothes put away properly. Bed made so perfect that he could bounce a quarter on it. Uniforms pressed and already placed in his garment bag. She'd gone to the apartment manager and explained the situation with the loud party. Sasha claimed to be his house sitter who didn't know the rules about no loud noises after nine at night. Terry was pretty sure she jiggled her tits and flirted with the male manager. Her legs in some stiletto heels would do the trick easy. The manager actually ignored the second noise warning…and the first, clearing Terry's apartment record.

In bed, she suffered from wanting to curl under or around him, but he stayed on his side with his back to her. She knew better than to seek out Jasmine for respite. It wouldn't be a satisfying, playful romp when she yearned only for her man's affections. She thought it best to accept the dry spell.

Meals…impeccable.

Cocktails at the door…refreshing.

Terry slowly started showing her physical affection with a kiss on the cheek goodbye in the morning. He brought home flowers and gifts again with kisses on the forehead.

He ended her punishment by walking into the bathroom as she smoothed unscented body butter all over her naked body after a shower. She stared at him in the mirror as he stood behind her. He circled his hand around her throat, forcing her to turn her face to the side so he could kiss her.

Sasha moaned into his mouth and broke into tears of joy.

"I won't disappoint you gain," she whispered into his mouth.

"That's all I want from you, baby. Follow my rules."

He continued kissing her, lifting those glorious breasts.

"Will you fuck me now?" she pleaded.

"Of course."

Sasha whimpered at the deep rasp of his morning voice. She leaned forward, and he entered her. Cupping her breasts, he fucked her hard and fast. Her pussy squelched, and she cried, her tears of happiness wetting her face.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…!"

"Pussy so fucking good…I missed these big titties…tight pussy…oh babygirl…fuck Daddy's dick!"

He studied her expression in the mirror.

"Want Daddy to punish this pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Take this dick then…take it…take it babygirl…oh you're taking it deep…oh shit! Oh, shit!"

She still couldn't take him in all the way, but it truly felt like he got in deeper than he'd been before. Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, then rolled back. She squirted everywhere, soaking his dick.

He ejaculated hard enough to make him lift onto his toes. He dropped to his knees to smother his face in her ass and pussy, wanting to feel the back rush of his cum dripping out of her.

His bladder poked at him. He drank an extra glass of water for the occasion.

"Get in the tub, baby," he said.

Sasha yelped with excited anticipation. She climbed into the tub and he handed her a towel that she folded as a knee cushion. Once she was comfortable, he rested his balls on her mouth and she sucked them while playing with her clit and pussy lips.

"Let me hear that wet pussy, Sasha."

She flicked her clit and used her three middle fingers. He stared down at her, reaching for a heavy breast.

"You ready, baby?"

She hummed with his nuts in her mouth.

"You'll be my dirty little slut? Huh, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy…yes, I'll be your dirty little slut…"

"Oh, let me hear that pussy talk, Sasha!"

Sasha whimpered, and her tone was on the edge.

"Daddy's 'bout to give you what you want…get ready…oh…get ready…"

"I'm still your good girl!"

Her tongue slid up and down the underside of his dick, her words warm on his skin.

"Sasha…baby…fuck…dirty little slut letting me do whatever I want!"

Terry took a step back, and Sasha kept pleasuring her pussy. She tilted her head back. A hot stream of urine flew out of him and splashed all over her breasts. Holding his release for a longer period made the sensation of voiding his bladder sweeter. It felt almost as good as an orgasm soaking her.

Sasha's glassy eyes looked far away. She was in her pleasure zone, cumming so hard she couldn't even speak anymore. He drained himself all over her tits, and she slumped back with loud pants.

"Goddamn, that was fucking good!" he shouted to the ceiling.

His aftercare was tender with her.

He used the shower nozzle to rinse her off first before he cleaned her with honeysuckle body wash. Helping her stand up, he rubbed her vulva, thighs and backside, then lathered up her tits. He rinsed her off, then stuck the nozzle back up high and joined her in the shower for a long rinse with hotter water. They kissed as heat steamed around them, his arms cradling her.

"I don't like punishing you like that. It hurt me not to touch you for a month, baby," he hummed in her ear.

She hugged him tight.

Back in their bedroom, they made slow love on the bed. She rode him and he praised her…worshipped her body.

"I love you, Sasha."

"I love you, too, Terry. I want to make you happy."

"I want to make you happy every day. You're really the boss of me. Everything I do is for you."

"I know. I'm yours, Daddy. Let me take care of this dick."

He held his legs wide open, and she rode him backward, perched between his thighs at an angle. He let her slide up and down to the depths she could take and watched her pussy work his length. She slid back to sit on his face, where he slathered her folds with a wide, wet tongue.

They finished with him on top of her, declaring his undying love. He came all over her breasts, and hugged her tight under the covers, playing with her nipples and making plans for their future.

Terry cooked them a late brunch and cleaned the kitchen himself. Sasha washed clothes and looked up a movie for them to go see. All was well until he went to his sock drawer and found unmatched pairs with underwear mixed in.

"Sasha!"

She sauntered in, carrying one of his belts folded in her hand.

"Shall I assume the position?" she teased.

"Once a brat, always a brat," he said.

He chased Sasha around the room until he caught her, snatching the belt away and pushing her down on his lap.

Terry taught her a new lesson.

And, of course, she loved it.

A.N.:

Made a fresh upload of this story. I feel like my work isn't showing up in the Aaron Pierre/Terry Richmond tags like they should, so I'm making new posts to see if they show up with less tags on them. The number of followers I have isn't matching up with likes and reblogs, so maybe people aren't seeing my stories because of Tumblr glitches. I dunno.