#like what if light was an ao3 author i mean he's got the drive and then when he died his fics just stopped updating i hate that ouch

[yutamayo]

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: ezra bridger has been following online microcelebrity spectre_pheonix for years. although her online identity is shrouded in mystery, he may be closer to her than he realizes.

word count: 7309 (7974 counting alt text) 

co-authorship note: the video game sequences featured in this fic were written by my co-author, shadow-ninja-13, who also helped me figure out a few plot things and what video games to include where. he's also my teenage brother, known by some on this site as skyguy, and he's the coolest kid on the planet!a/n: After so, so, so much time working on this fic and talking it up IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!!! Shoutout to my tumblr follows for helping me out with a couple ideas in this fic! Some of this fic is told in embedded images. I have added alt text, so it should be accessible via screenreader as well. I can probably make a pdf copy of a full plaintext version of the story available if anyone needs it!

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader@accidental-spice@kanerallels  @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse@dootchster  @lucasbridger@redroverrider  @light-umbra   @commander-tech  @jedimandalorian@notanodinarygirl  {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

need a player 2?

 No, that definitely sounded insincere.

 Ezra backspaced the message he'd typed into the livestream chat, then typed something else.

 Duh. Too obvious. Try again.

 Perfect.

 Ezra hit the send button and waited for a response. It was very rare that spectre_pheonix responded to any of the hundreds of thousands of comments she'd get on her streams, but that didn't stop Ezra from hoping.

 Ezra watched as the player found the Warthog, and perfectly drove, splattering the Aliens that got in her way. Nearby there was a small opening, he watched the player take the truck through, by driving on the stone wall. If she flipped, it’d be all over. If not, she’d be more awesome than usual. The landing was about to happen, the anxiety was building,  and then… a hand got in between him and the phone, blocking his view entirely.

 "Hey," Ezra said, pulling his headphone off of one ear so he could yell at his roommate, whose hand covered his phone.

 "Hey yourself," Jai said, "we gotta get going; we're gonna be late."

 Ezra hadn't looked at a clock since the stream had started, which was apparently three hours ago. Somehow it was already fifteen minutes before the dining hall stopped serving dinner, and it was at least a ten minute walk down that way.

 "Shoot," Ezra sprang to his feet, "I must've lost track of time again."

 "Because you were watching that gamer girl?" Jai asked, leaning on the doorframe.

 "Maybe," Ezra said, as he reached for the nearest matching pair of shoes he could stuff his feet into.

 "What's so interesting about watching someone game, anyways?" Jai asked.

 "I think it's about loyalty now more than anything," Ezra said, "I've been watching her stream since before she became popular. It just wouldn't be right if I didn't watch her gaming sessions, especially when it's a game I love. Besides, she just has this way about her. She's so cool, so collected, so…."

 "....hot?" Jai attempted to finish for him with a smile.

 "I wouldn't know," Ezra said, "she's very good about keeping her personal life personal. I've never seen her face. No one has."

 "So she's a mystery girl."

 "She's just like any other celebrity," Ezra defended.

 "So you mean she'd be way out of your league even if you knew who she was?" Jai asked.

 "More like I haven't even considered it," Ezra said, "I'm one of millions of fans."

 "Isn't her follower count only…"

 "Enough talking," Ezra said, pulling Jai out the door of their dorm room, "I heard a rumor it's pizza night in the dining hall."

 And with that, both boys were off on a new quest: Obtain Pizza.

💜.🎮.🧡

 "I wonder how they'd react if they knew who was in the room with them," Sabine thought, sitting alone with her sketchbook in a corner of her college's student center.

 Across the room, a group of boys were having a heated discussion over their game of Smash Bros. She didn't try to eavesdrop, but she'd always been aware of the world around her, and definitely heard the words "spectre" "phoenix" and "most influential gamer of our generation." 

 "You must be trippin'," one of them said, "her 'let's plays' are nothing more than a halfhearted follower grab."

 "Oh, like you'd know," another said, "your youtube channel has, what, seventeen followers? Oh, and you just came in last place, again."

 Sabine looked back up at their game to see that the fourth-place gamer had been playing as Bowser, then watched Diddy Kong deal a crippling blow on Captain Falcon.

 Then, she glanced at the players, all of them laughing and roasting each other. One wore a t-shirt that said "official spectre spectator," and another had a hat on backwards with spectre_pheonix's logo on it. Sabine would recognize that merch anywhere— after all, she was the one who designed it— as merch for her own shop, and she couldn't say she was disappointed by how much praise its wearers spoke of her with.

 "If only they knew who I was," Sabine thought, but she quickly reminded herself she was glad they didn't. Though she was thankful for her followers and their merch money paying her tuition, she wasn't prepared to have toxic dudebros hounding her everywhere she went. And once word got out at college that she was spectre_pheonix, there would go any sense of normalcy she had. Besides, if word about it slipped back home to her parents, she'd be deeper trouble than she already was.

 So before she could do something regrettable and talk to them, she packed up her stuff and moved to a different study spot.

💜.🎮.🧡

    The Flood surrounded her. In an unexpected turn of events, the creepiest enemy in the entire Halo saga had been introduced. She fired her assault rifle at the hoards of Flood crawling on the ground. The salvo was effective, but costly. She had forty rounds plus one full clip, but that wouldn’t be enough. As she walked the character up some stairs, she found allies, and promptly borrowed their ammo. At the end of the swamp, she encountered the monitor, and watched the cutscene at the end of 343 Guilty Spark.

  "Sorry guys, gotta stop the stream for the night," Sabine said, "it's well past midnight here, and I've got an eight a.m. class."

 She watched the comment section flare up with responses. 

💜.🎮.🧡

 Ezra stumbled into class a couple minutes late, but he was sure his professor would understand. It wasn't his fault that spectre_pheonix had been streaming late last night, right? As long as he quietly slipped into the back of the classroom, no one would notice anyways.

 "Mr. Bridger," Professor Syndulla called to him as he tried in vain to hide his late entry, "so glad you've decided to join us this morning."

 Ezra turned around and tried to hide his guilty expression.

 "Of course, ma'am," Ezra said, with a dramatic salute, "I'd never miss out on one of my favorite teacher's classes."

 "Flattery gets you nowhere in my class," the professor said, "take a seat, and we'll continue."

 "Yes ma'am," Ezra said. He took a seat as close to the back of the room as he could and pulled out his laptop to take notes.

 Ezra tried his best to pay attention, but the lack of sleep was getting the better of him as Professor Syndulla's lesson dragged on.

 "Maybe I could get dad to sit in on class and take notes for me sometime," Ezra thought, "he could listen to her talk for hours."

 It was, admittedly, a little weird that his adoptive father was dating his psychology professor, but at least her letter of recommendation helped him get into this school— on the condition that he "applied himself diligently to his studies" and didn't "discredit her influence by trying to coast on it" and all that other stuff they'd told him when she'd suggested he attend Atollon Alliance University.

 "But I'm definitely not 'diligently applying myself' if I fall asleep in class," Ezra thought, the notes document before him blurring before his eyes, "and I need to do something to stay awake."

 So, he turned to the one thing he'd never be able to sleep through— one of the many videos in his "watch later" tab on youtube. After double checking to make sure his laptop's sound was off and muted— you could never be too careful— he clicked a video titled "spectre_pehonix's top FIFTY EPIC saves!!!" and watched along as he listened to Professor Syndulla's lesson, finding that all that boring stuff about psychology was a lot more interesting when he also had spectre_phonix’s abilities with some grenades against Wraiths, Hunters, and Banshees to focus on.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Class wasn't the only time Ezra used gaming videos to focus. He'd never been one for focusing on one task at a time, and usually found that if he sat down to study, he'd end up pulling out his phone and watching videos on YouTube anyways, and that it was better in the long run to start out with some gaming recap video in the background— except on days when spectre_pheonix was streaming during his study sessions, of course, and he'd watch it live, streaming Twitch in one window on his computer and whatever essay he was nearing the deadline on in the other.

 Today, for example, he had her stream of Halo in the background of a rousing essay of the themes and morals of The Octopus.

 The clock was ticking. 4:23 seconds left to go. The clock only counted down. She drove the Warthog through the groups of retreating Aliens and Flood. 4:07 seconds left to go by this point. She was told to stop, but she knew that that evac point wouldn’t help her. She’d played before, and she knew that the evacuation Pelican was shot down. She kept on driving. At max speed she used an odd floor detailing as a ramp, and jumped a whole group. The stress and tension of the final level made normal players stressed, but not Sabine. 2:25 left on the clock. The point was only about one kilometer away. She kept going, and going, and going. Nothing could stop her now. 1:22 left on the clock, she was within one kilometer away. She would make it! Unless she flipped by mistake. :44 seconds and counting! She saw the Pelican, and started running. She could take the Warthog no farther. She jumped in the Pelican at the last second. Barely beating Halo: Combat Evolved.

 "It's like my teacher always says," spectre_pheonix said, "when things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

 Ezra had only been half focusing, but this statement warranted his full attention. It wasn't as though the statement was profound or original— in fact, he'd heard it before. Abandoning his book report for the moment, Ezra expanded the Twitch tab across his whole screen, and ran it back ten seconds, thinking maybe his brain was playing some cruel trick on him.

 "When things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

 "That's exactly what Professor Syndulla said in psych class today." Ezra thought, "Is spectre_pheonix in my psychology class? Does she go to Attalon Alliance University too? No, that's crazy. Isn't it?"

 His thoughts soon became a cluttered and jumbled mess, so he pulled out a notebook, flipped to random blank page, and after forty-seven minutes had constructed a list that looked something like this:

 His results were inconclusive, but he suddenly remembered the book report due in less than an hour, and the two-thousand seventy-three words short he was from the word count.

 💜.🎮.🧡

 The last decade or so had gone pretty much exactly as Hera had planned. After realizing how important it was to her to help guide young people to their place in the world, she'd set her sights on a philosophy PHD so she could teach at Attalon Alliance University. She'd graduated with honors, and soon began teaching, and it was just as fulfilling as she'd planned it would be.

 But what she hadn't considered in her plans was falling in love. When she was in college, she'd been too focused on her studies, and later on her duties as an RA in her dorm, to even consider pursuing a relationship, and by then, well, she figured there weren't a lot of single men in their late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors, so she poured herself into her work instead, and building good connections with her students as much as she could.

 But, apparently, she hadn't been entirely correct in her assessment of her prospects. There was, apparently, at least one single man in his late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors— a man by the name of Kanan Jarrus, one who'd figured there weren't a lot of single women in their late twenties interested in dating the kind of guy who'd adopted an eight year old at the age of twenty-one and now had a sixteen year-old son who spent most of his time either playing video games or watching other people play them.

 Hera had met Kanan in a chance run-in at a Wisconsin cheese festival, and though there was no denying the spark between them, it took a couple more chance run-ins before she'd agreed to a date. Their relationship progressed slowly, with Hera's career and Kanan's delicate balance of providing for and raising his son, but they'd had more time to see each other over the past year, since his son had enrolled at Attalon Alliance University.

 "Morning, Professor Syndulla," Ezra grinned, walking into class one morning.

 Though all of Hera's students may as well have been her children, she had a special fondness for that one— and took extra caution to make sure she didn't give him special treatment. Though he hadn't fathered Ezra, Kanan's influence on his life was evident through his actions. Ezra shared a lot of mannerisms with his dad, including an answer or an excuse always at the ready, and a charming smile he seemed to think would absolve himself of guilt. However, there were a lot of qualities they didn't share, and one of them was Ezra's propensity to be late.

 It was this propensity for lateness that made Hera do a double-take. Class wouldn't start for another five minutes, and Ezra was here, in class, early.

 "Good morning, Mr. Bridger," Hera said, "is there any particular reason you've shown up on time this morning?"

 "Maybe I'm finally taking this whole 'education' thing seriously?" Ezra suggested.

 "Mhmm," Hera nodded, "and maybe a certain gamer wasn't streaming last night."

 "Well, there's that too," Ezra rolled his eyes and headed for his usual seat, towards the back of the classroom.

 She watched as the rest of the students made their way into the classroom, and another one caught her attention, and not just because of her brightly colored hair.

 "Miss Wren," Hera said, "I enjoyed reading your paper last night."

 "Thanks, Professor Syndulla."

 That was the entirety of their interaction, but Hera could tell by the smile on her student's face that she had taken it to heart. One time during Sabine Wren's first semester, Professor Syndulla had complimented something she said in class, and from the expression on her face, Hera could tell that kind of positive affirmation was foreign to Sabine— and she made it her personal mission to make sure it wasn't foreign to her anymore. Though their conversations rarely went further than a compliment on the student's hard work and a thank you for the professor, Hera could tell that Sabine appreciated it, in her own way.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Ezra had had his own reasons for coming into class on time, and not just to improve his education. He hadn't abandoned his spectre search (or "wild ghost chase," as Jai had called it when Ezra explained it to him,) and his biggest evidence pointed to this class. Maybe if he actually showed up on time, he could get to know his classmates well enough to find out if one of them was her. Instead of listening to her in his headphones as their professor taught, he listened for her in his classroom as their professor took the students' questions, which didn't increase his focus on the lesson at all, but it did give him something to do in class other than watch YouTube recaps and pretend to be taking notes, so it was a nice change of pace.

 After class, he hung around a little longer than normal, standing by one of the classroom doorways to see what he could overhear.

 When only a few students remained in the classroom, Professor Syndulla approached him.

 "Alright, Bridger," she said, "what's your angle?"

 "Angle?" Ezra asked, "why do you assume I have 'an angle?'"

 "You came to class five minutes early, and instead of making a break for the door as soon as possible, you're hanging around after class is dismissed. Pardon me for being suspicious."

 Ezra didn't respond.

 "If there's ever anything you want to talk about, I'm here," she said.

 "Look, it's nothing," Ezra said, "don't worry about it."

 Ezra decided to turn heel and leave before his dad's girlfriend started psychoanalyzing him again.

 What Ezra hadn't counted on was someone else walking through the doorway at the same time, and him running into her.

 "Watch where you're going," she grumbled, as a textbook and a few notebooks fell out of her arms.

 Ezra had seen this kind of scene in movies before, so he figured he may as well pick up the textbooks for her.

 "I'm so sorry," he said, crouching down and grabbing the books off the floor, "I didn't…"

 She sighed. "It's alright."

 Her voice almost seemed familiar— no, it did seem familiar.

 "Here you go," Ezra said, getting up and handing her the books, "I, uh…."

 He stumbled over his words, because not only did he recognize her voice as one of his favorites in the world, but when he looked up at her face, he saw rich brown eyes, and hair the same color as spectre_pheonix's logo.

 "You're good," she smiled as she took the books from him.

 "I, uh," he scratched his neck, "I like your hair."

 "Nice shirt," she said, and winked as she walked away.

 He looked back at her as she left, then back down at his shirt— his favorite shirt he'd ever gotten from his favorite streamer's online shop. 

💜.🎮.🧡

 Even when Sabine got back to her dorm room after class, the boy who'd bumped into her after class was still on her mind. There wasn't anything exceptional about him, but there was some kind of awe that sparkled across his blue eyes that almost made her feel special.

 So, as soon as she got back to her dorm room, weird as it sounded, she decided to draw him— not his whole face, just those eyes that had been fixed on her, tucked between a shaggy crop of hair, and those mysterious scars underneath. It wasn't abnormal for her to draw inspiration from people she'd seen around campus like that.

 She also could tell that he must've been a longtime fan of hers. She hadn't sold the "spectre spectator" shirt on her merch site for a couple years, but he had one, and he wore it proudly. She tried to remind herself that there was no way he could've known it was her; she'd been so careful not to leave a trace of her real self online.

 Still, as she saw the awe on this fanboy's face, she wondered if that's how all her followers would respond to seeing her. Her follower count was just a number, but she wondered if that number was all awestruck and loyal followers like that one.

 So, once she finished the sketch, she went to her Twitch profile. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three followers. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three people, people just like the one she met today, who appreciated her with an awestruck wonder.

 She scrolled through the list of names, and noticed one near the top of the list— spectre_6, whose username she'd seen in the comments of many of her videos over the years. The notification said they were streaming Terraria, and, out of curiosity, she pulled up the stream and decided to check it out.

💜.🎮.🧡

 It wasn't very often that Ezra found himself with free time. When he wasn't watching spectre_pheonix's livestreams, or doing homework, or attempting to do both at the same time, he was usually sleeping or hanging out with his friends.

 However, today after class, he found himself with free time enough to do a little digging, and add a new page to his conspiracy:

 It seemed like a good enough list for now, so he decided that, since spectre_pheonix wasn't streaming right now, he may as well pull up Terraria and do a little streaming of his own.

 He was crawling through the pink blocks of his dungeon. Wielding his trusty Horseman’s Blade, he walked through the rough stones of this monster-ridden dungeon. He jumped down a shaft, relying on his jet pack to keep him from dying on the ground. He used the melee/range sword to promptly cut down a nearby Necromancer. He kept running through, and quickly slew several Blue Armored Bones.

 Ezra heard the blip of activity in his comment section, and glanced at the sidebar on his screen. It wasn't unheard of for him to get comments on his streams, but it also wasn't very common either.

 He glanced at the comment, then did a double take and a triple take. The color of the name was familiar. The username was familiar. There was a checkmark next to her name to show he was following her.

 Ezra's heart skipped several beats, like when your teacher calls on you in class, but in a good way, like when you're prepared for it— but he wasn't prepared for this at all, no matter how much he'd dreamed it would happen.

 Spectre_pheonix had commented on one of his livestreams.

 "OH MY GOSH!" he yelled into the mic, not noticing The Paladin behind him until it was too late. Quite frankly, he didn't care that his “Incompetence was put on display by Paladin’s Hammer” because at least being dead gave him a chance to respond to her comment.

 He tried to get back into his game, but couldn't focus, especially when she responded.

 She didn't reply to that, and he wondered if she was still even watching. Rather than just check in a normal way, he instead blurted, "spectre_pheonix, if you're still watching, wanna do a collab sometime?"

 He was mentally kicking himself in the shins for asking such a foolish question, but was excited when he saw a reply in the comments section:

💜.🎮.🧡

 The past week had pretty much been the best week of Ezra's life. Spectre_pheonix rarely collabed with anyone, but the past week they'd joined in together for Minecraft, LEGO Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and Dust: An Elysian Tale, the latter of which, being single player, was just spectre_pheonix playing and spectre_6 giving commentary. Not only was this a dream come true, but it also boosted his meager follower count, and Jai had even stopped picking on him for his fantasy fanboying, instead jokingly referring to Ezra's collabs as "the closest thing he'd ever get to a date." Ezra didn't care.

 He'd also been on the lookout more and more for that girl he'd run into, Sabine. Whether or not Sabine was spectre_pheonix, he had yet to decide on, but that didn't change the fact that she was still a pretty girl who'd smiled at him at least once, which definitely kept her in the forefront of Ezra's mind.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Sabine rarely shared any information about herself online, but it was hard to plan collab information via Twitch, so she'd exchanged discord handles with spectre_6. Admittedly, he would've been as great a gamer as she was, if maybe he'd had a little more practice playing instead of just spectating. Still, collabs with him were enjoyable, and his sense of humor turned even Dark Souls into a hilarious adventure.

 As she took notes on Professor Syndulla's class on her laptop, she kept discord open in a separate tab.

 "Miss Wren?" Professor Syndulla asked, "is there something humorous about my lesson on how having traumatic experiences as a child inhibit our ability to make connections in the future?"

 "No, ma'am," Sabine said. She hadn't realized how much of a mistake it would be to message spectre_6 in class until now. Usually, the people she'd chat with in class didn't have nearly as great a sense of humor as he did. Surely that was the only reason his conversations had her giggling in the middle of psych class.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Ezra had done just enough research in class to find out everything he needed to know about Sabine. He'd positioned himself where he could see her, notice the deep gray of discord in the side corner of her computer next to the class notes. She typed in response to his messages. She laughed in response to his messages. When the teacher called her out for giggling in class, the same thing apparently happened to spectre_pheonix. She closed discord and payed attention in class at the same time spectre_pheonic did.

 Ezra was convinced now more than ever: spectre_pheonix's real name was Sabine Wren, and she'd been in his psychology class this whole time.

 She was a very private person, and someone finding out who she was definitely wasn't on her radar with how careful she'd been about personal details, so he knew if he brought it up, he'd have to breach the subject very, very carefully.

💜.🎮.🧡

 "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

 Sabine looked up from her notebook with a start, intending to stick around after class so she could apologize to Professor Syndulla, not so that some random peer could slam his hands on her desk and yell ungrounded accusations at her.

 But to her surprise, and in some ways her delight, the student she saw in front of her was the boy she'd bumped into last week, with the same soft blue eyes, the same dark, shaggy hair, and the same purple and orange shirt she'd once sold on her shop.

 "What do you mean?" Sabine asked, beginning to pack up her things in an attempt to make a hasty exit.

 His voice lowered. "I know you're spectre_pheonix."

 She tried to keep a cool head, not to show her abject terror. She knew of a lot of bad things that had happened to celebrities when a crazed fan found them, and couldn't let this one know the truth.

 "Who?" she asked, "I'm sorry, I, I don't know what you're talking about."

 "I think you do," he said.

 "What makes you so sure?" she asked, trying to stall just a moment as she quickly slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to leave.

 "Because I'm spectre_6."

 She stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to look at him, sizing it all up in her mind. He'd clearly been a longtime fan of hers, just like spectre_6 had. Now that she thought about it, his voice sounded familiar, too. He'd also mentioned sitting in class, right when she was, and that the same thing had happened in his class that happened to her.

 Still, she needed confirmation.

 "What?"

 "You started laughing in class today because of my joke about tax evasion," he said, "and then decided to 'sign off and lock in' so you could keep your grades up. Last night after you finished your collab with me, I messaged you a gif of Master Chief saluting and saying "goodnight," and you called me a total dork— that was a high honor, by the way. And then the day before that…"

 "Okay, okay," she said, a little quieter, afraid of the few students still in the room overhearing, "I'm convinced. But how did you find out it was me?"

 "You quoted Professor Syndulla in your stream a week and a half ago," he said, "and then you complimented my shirt last week, the same shirt I'm wearing now— and yes, I have washed it between then and now— and your hair matches your logo, and, I was watching you today in class— not, like, watching you, watching you. Like, not in a stalker way— oh kriff, am I a stalker? I am so sorry, that's really creepy now that I think about it. Anyways while I was hopefully maybe definitely not stalking you, I noticed that you reacted to every message I sent spectre_pheonix, and my suspicions were confirmed."

 And Sabine's suspicions were confirmed when she heard him ramble, the same way spectre_6 always did when he was nervous in-game.

 "Nice deduction, spectre_6," she said, feeling so much more comfortable now that she knew that this stranger was a friend she'd already met.

 "Call me Ezra," he said, extending a hand to her, "Ezra Bridger."

 "Sabine," she said, taking his hand and shaking it, "it's nice to finally meet you."

 "You have no idea," he said.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Being roommates with Ezra Bridger meant you had to be prepared for anything. Walking into the dorm room and thinking you're alone only to find your roommate under his desk, watching vines, and claiming both those things were for "emotional support." Listening to the most insane rumors and conspiracy theories about your teachers and classmates. Helping hide that stupid orange cat he'd smuggled in. Waking up at 2am to the beeping of a microwave and the smell of pizza rolls. All of this came with the territory, and Jai was professional in handling the insane force of nature that was Ezra Bridger.

 But none of it could prepare him for what he saw when he walked into his dorm room one day after lunch and found Ezra cleaning. For someone whose laundry was piled higher than his loft bed, and who acted like he'd never seen a bottle of windex in his life, Ezra sure seemed to have purpose as he rushed around the room, putting away clean clothes while also tidying up the cluttered pile of papers and funko pops that he claimed were hiding a desk.

 "May I ask what the occasion is?" Jai asked.

 Ezra didn't even turn to look at him as his tornado of tidiness swept across the dorm room.

 "Surprise."

 "Surprise what?" Jai asked, "like, 'you can't tell me' surprise, or 'you wanted to surprise me by cleaning our room' surprise or 'your dad is coming for a surprise visit' surprise?"

 "The first one," Ezra said.

 "I'm not even gonna ask," Jai said.

 "Good," Ezra said, "because you wouldn't believe me."

 There were a lot of things Ezra could do that were unbelievable, but he was pretty sure just cleaning up the room was enough to suspend his standard of disbelief.

 Jai sat down at his own desk and pulled out his laptop, figuring he may as well work on his history homework while he waited for the inevitable Bridger surprise.

 About ten minutes later, Jai thought he heard a knock on the door, followed by Ezra yelling out "I'M COMING!" and bolting for the door, picking up the last bits of trash off the floor on his way.

 Jai watched his roommate fumble to open the door with the trash still in his hand, then toss it into a corner where it wouldn't be seen and pull the door open.

 "Sabine," Ezra said, "come on in."

 "Alright," a girl's voice said.

 A girl?

 Ezra Bridger had never talked to a girl in person in all their time at Attalon Alliance University, so naturally Jai was surprised when a beautiful girl followed Ezra into their dorm room.

 "Oh, Sabine," Ezra said, "this is my roommate, Jai."

 "Nice to meet you," Sabine said, with a smile.

 "Pardon the disbelief on my face," Jai said, "I didn't know Ezra even knew how to talk to girls who weren't on his computer."

 Ezra looked a touch embarrassed, but his new friend spoke up for him, with half a giggle.

 "We met through his computer," Sabine said, "he may have mentioned me. Spectre_pheonix?"

 "You mean the Wild Ghost Chase wasn't just another ungrounded conspiracy theory?" Jai asked.

 "Wild Ghost Chase?"

 "It's called The Spectre Search," Ezra defended, "and yes, as I predicted, spectre_pheonix is, in fact, another student in my psych class."

 "I came over to do a collab in person today," she said, "it's a lot better than trying to voice chat over Ezra's grainy mic setup."

 "Hey!" Ezra said.

 "She's got a point," Jai said, "and I guess my prediction was right too."

 "What prediction?" Ezra asked.

 "I told you if you ever met her she'd be way out of your league."

 "Hey!" Ezra said again. "Don't you have a history report due?"

 "Relax, I'm just messing with you," Jai said, "besides, this one's an easy A."

 And with that, he turned back to his computer and let Ezra and Sabine have the illusion of privacy for their first in-person edition of "the closest thing Ezra would ever get to a date." Jai put on his headphones and went to his favorite research material: opening Spotify and resuming where he'd last left off in Hamilton: An All American Musical.

💜.🎮.🧡

 It wasn't uncommon after that for them to stream in Ezra's dorm room, or in Sabine's when Jai was busy with homework he couldn't risk interruption in. This time was one of those days, because, as Jai cited, "Lin Manuel Miranda didn't write us a musical about algebra," so Ezra found himself on the floor in her room, leaning his back against her bed, while she sat on her bed, her legs dangling off the side next to him.

 While they waited to connect on their college's laggy internet, Ezra filled the silence.

 "So, how do you think you'll do on that psych test next week?"

 "Not too bad, I hope," Sabine said, "you?"

 "I just hope dad has room on the fridge for another D-," Ezra said.

 "Maybe I can put in a good word with the professor for you," Sabine said, a bit of a laugh in her tone. "She and I have a fairly good rapport."

 "If only you knew," Ezra thought.

 "Unfortunately, this is one area where I think I do have you beat," Ezra said.

 "Are you crazy?" Sabine asked, leaning over the edge of the bed so she could see if his expression was sarcastic, "she's clearly got it out for you. I've never seen her go so hard on any student."

 "And why do you think that is?" Ezra asked.

 "Because you don't apply yourself in any of your classes and she thinks you're wasting potential?"

 "Well, yeah," Ezra said, "but I'm not the only one who does that, and she singles me out anyways."

 "And why do you suppose that is?"

 Ezra sighed. Professor Syndulla had never mentioned having a boyfriend, at least, not in any of the classes Ezra had been in, and if she had, no one besides Jai would've known it was Ezra's dad. It was a touchy subject for him, so he didn't bring it up much.

 But somehow he could tell Sabine would understand.

 "She's dating my dad," Ezra said.

 "She— what?"

 This wasn't normal information for students to know about their teachers, so he understood her confusion.

 "How do you think I even got into this school, what, with my grades?" Ezra asked, "if not for her glowing letter of recommendation, I wouldn't even be here right now."

 "So your dad is dating your professor so you can get into college?"

 "What, no?" Ezra said, "They've been together for years, and I wasn't even thinking about college until long after they met. But dad always thought college would be good for me, and Professor Syndulla offered to help me get in and found me some scholarships."

 "So our psych professor is hard on you because she's dating your dad?"

 "Yeah, lots of psychology to unpack there." Ezra said.

 "How do you feel about it all?"

 Ezra paused. He hadn't answered that one honestly in a while, not even when his dad asked him last saturday.

 "Do you really wanna know?" Ezra asked.

 Sabine slid down off her mattress and sat down next to him, and her presence was already familiar enough to inspire honesty.

 "Yeah," she said.

 "It's weird," Ezra said, "I guess I never really grasped the idea of having a mom again."

 After a moment of silence, Sabine asked another question. "Can I ask what happened to your mom?" 

 "The same thing that happened to my dad," Ezra said, "my real dad that is— I mean, my birth dad. I don't wanna say Kanan's not my real dad. He raised me for more than half my life, anyways, after my parents went on a missions' trip and never came back."

 "Oh."

 "It's alright," Ezra said, not letting her waste time on awkward sympathy. "No, no it's not, and to be honest it really sucks, but there's nothing any of us could've done to stop it. And Kanan, he was always there for me, even before my parents left."

 Sabine didn't answer, but it felt nice to talk to her about it anyways, so he hoped she didn't mind that he continued.

 "They're getting married," he said.

 "What?"

 "Professor Syndulla and my dad," Ezra said. "Well, she doesn't know it yet, and maybe she'll say no again, but I don't think so. Dad's proposing at dinner on Friday."

 Sabine nodded again, clearly trying to process everything he'd said.

 "I'm sorry," Ezra said, "I didn't mean to make this a pity party."

 "Don't be," Sabine said, "this is what friends are for."

 "Friends?" Ezra thought, with a smile. Two months ago he'd been her fan, and she hadn't even known he existed. And now they were friends? He could get used to this.

 "But just so we're clear," Sabine said, "I don't pity you."

 "What?"

 "You have a dad who thinks the world of you," Sabine said, "and I'd kill to have a mom like Professor Syndulla."

 "Why?" Ezra asked.

 "Because I know what it's like to have a mom who's not like her," Sabine said, "a mom who's not proud of you. A mom who doesn't compliment the sketches you draw in the margins of your notes. A mom whose biggest dream is for you to drop out of your art major so you can join the family business instead."

 "I, I'm sorry," Ezra said.

 "I don't need your sympathies either," Sabine said.

 Ezra put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, trying to find the words to say. Someone whose whole persona was built on a mask of online secrecy had just shared something so personal with him, and he didn't know what to say.

 "You're getting them anyways," Ezra said, "do you want to talk at all?"

"What's there to say?" Sabine said, "that family business always came before family? That even my own brother thought it was more fun to game with his friends than his sister? That my parents wouldn't give a single dime for my tuition, and if it wasn't for my merch money and some massive scholarships I wouldn't even be here?" 

 "Do you wanna come to dinner on Sunday?"

 "What?" Sabine asked, apparently shocked out of her despair.

 "I always go to my dad's for a family dinner on Sunday afternoon after church. Professor Syndulla does too. We're probably gonna be celebrating the engagement, and then she's gonna beat us in our weekly game of Ticket to Ride. It's incredibly boring, but if you wanna join us anyways…"

 "I'll be there," Sabine said with a smile.

 And instead of returning to her normal seat, she stayed next to Ezra as they remembered why they were there in the first place and began their game together.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Sunday ended up being one of the most enjoyable days Sabine had had in a long time. She ended up tagging along with Ezra that morning when he went to church, so he wouldn't have to drive back to the school to pick her up. It was a new experience for her, but he didn't seem to mind. Afterwards, they went back to Ezra's dad's house— Ezra's house, technically— for a family dinner, along with Professor Syndulla, who was absolutely beaming as she showed off her engagement ring. Another one of Kanan's family friends, whom Ezra referred to as "Uncle Zeb," was there as well, along with the professor's cat, Chopper, who couldn't be trusted to stay at home alone for a whole afternoon without destroying the place. The game of Ticket to Ride that came out after dinner only had enough pieces for four players, but Ezra and Sabine teamed up so everyone could play— and even with their combined mental resources, they were still no match for Professor Syndulla.

 As they drove back to school, Sabine reminded herself why Ezra had done this. Not a single person at that dinner was related to each other— and yet, they were family— and Ezra wanted Sabine to be part of it too. 

 Maybe this "friendship" thing wasn't so bad after all.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Spectre_pheonix and spectre_6 had been doing collaborative streams for most of the past month. Her fans really enjoyed his commentary on her skills, often leaving comments about how well her dry wit complimented his whimsical sense of humor, and how well they worked together. Both of them gained more followers because of it, which Ezra thought was almost impossible, because how could there have been people on Twitch who weren't already following her?

 "You ever read the comment section?" Ezra asked one day as they were playing Minecraft.

 "Not often. Why?" 

 "Look at these," Ezra said, then read a few of them out loud.

 "That last one is true, at least," Sabine said, and it would've been harsh if he hadn't seen the twinkle in her warm brown eyes.

 "That last one was my roommate," Ezra said, glaring across the room at Jai, who smiled innocently. 

 "Oh, but this one isn't," Ezra said, reading off the latest comment:

 He smiled at Sabine.

 "That's a great question," Ezra said, into the mic so the commenter could hear. "Hey, spectre_pheonix, wanna go out on Friday?"

 Sabine looked at him and smiled. "Sounds like a date," she said.

 "Great," Ezra said, then turned back to his mic, unable to hold back an enormous grin as he said, "Yes, yes we are."

 💜.🎮.🧡

 By all accounts, it should've been weird for them to go out on a date instead of just hanging out and playing video games. It should've been weird when Ezra showed up at Sabine's door, wearing a nice button down shirt instead of her merch, holding a bouquet of purple and orange roses instead of his custom gaming controller. It should've been weird as they sat down to eat something nicer than dining hall pizza or a bag of doritos that ended up half-strewn across the dorm room floor as they blasted away at each other in Halo. It should've been weird when Ezra put on a playlist in the car of the cringiest but most endearing love songs she'd ever heard, and even more so when they found themselves singing along, and it should've been weird when Ezra put his arm around her during the movie and she leaned in closer, and it should've been weird when they walked out of the theater and he put his coat over her bare shoulders without her even needing to tell him she was cold. It should've been weird when, instead of ending the evening with, "so, Terraria tomorrow?" it ended with a couple "I had a great time"s and a delicate first kiss.

 It should've been weird, but it wasn't. It wasn't weird at all that they had more in common than their love of video games. It wasn't weird at all that conversations with him came naturally and being in his presence felt like breathing. It wasn't weird at all that, as soon as she was alone, Sabine found herself leaning back against her dorm room door and sighing dramatically like the heroine of a cheesy romcom.

 It wasn't weird at all. In fact, it was perfect.

[drewharrisonwriter]

One Day at a Time - Ch. 2: A New Life

Pairings: Dave York x Female Reader

Series Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.

Author's Notes: This story has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, waiting for the perfect moment to see the light of day. It wasn't until recently that I found the inspiration to finally finish the last two chapters, thanks to the incredible Keri @absurdthirst. Her story, "Washed Up," struck a chord with me—it had such a similar plot and concept to what I had in mind, and it reignited my passion to bring this piece to life. Keri's writing has been a constant source of solace and inspiration, and I'm endlessly grateful for her creativity and the way she crafts stories that speak to the soul. If you haven’t checked out her work, you absolutely should!

Warnings: Please be aware that this story contains elements of violence, explicit sexual content, and pregnancy. Additionally, there are medical inaccuracies throughout—because I don’t work in the medical field, so please take it all with a grain of salt. Enjoy the ride, and thank you for reading! 😊

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

The first few weeks at the farm passed in a rhythm that was both comforting and unfamiliar to Dave. Each morning, the soft light of dawn would filter through the curtains of his room, a guest suite on the main floor that felt both welcoming and distant. He’d wake to the sounds of the farm coming alive—the lowing of cows in the distance, the rustle of chickens in their coop, and the steady hum of daily chores.

Your home, he quickly realized, was a reflection of you—cozy, lived-in, and filled with small touches that spoke of a life well-lived. The guest room where Dave stayed was simple but comfortable, with a large window that looked out over the garden. The walls were lined with wooden shelves, filled with books that ranged from classic literature to modern novels. A few potted plants sat on the windowsill, adding a touch of green to the room.

Each morning, after a quiet breakfast, you’d drive him to his physical therapy appointments. The drive was peaceful, the road winding through the countryside, past the long stretch of beach, past fields and clusters of trees that seemed to stretch on forever. At first, the car rides were filled with silence, both of you unsure of what to say. But gradually, as the miles passed under the tires, the conversation began to flow more easily.

“So,” you said one day as the car bounced over a small hill, “what do you think of the farm so far?”

Dave glanced out the window, watching the landscape blur by. “It’s… it feels like it’s different from what I feel like I’m used to…,” he admitted. “Peaceful. I think I like it.”

You smiled, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “I’m glad. It’s a lot of work, but it’s good work. Keeps me busy.”

“What do you do here, exactly?” he asked, curious. “I mean, besides running the farm.”

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I work from home, mostly. I’ve got a little office space in the house—well, that desk between the kitchen and the living room, really. But I do a lot of freelance work—writing, editing, that sort of thing. It’s flexible, which is nice since the farm demands a lot of attention.”

He nodded, processing this. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“I do,” you agreed, “but I like it that way. The farm keeps me grounded. And the work… well, it keeps my mind busy.”

He glanced at you, sensing there was more beneath the surface, but not wanting to push. “You said you inherited the farm, right?”

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. “Yeah. It was my father’s, though I never met him. He left it to me in his will. I was… surprised, to say the least. But it felt like the right thing to do, to come here and make it work.”

“Must’ve been tough,” he said quietly.

“It was,” you admitted. “Especially since I lost my mom a few years ago. She had dementia, and it was… hard. But the farm gave me something to focus on, something to build.”

The conversation fell into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Dave found himself growing more at ease in your company, the awkwardness of relying on you slowly fading as he accepted this new reality.

Back at the farm, the routine was simple but steady. You’d help him with his at-home exercises, prepare his medication, making sure he took everything the doctors prescribed. On days when he didn’t have appointments, you’d often find him sitting by the large window in your office space, watching as you worked. The clacking of your keyboard as you typed on your laptop, mixed with the crackle of George Harrison singing on a vinyl record playing in the background, created an atmosphere of calm that Dave hadn’t realized he needed or felt like he even knew about in a past life.

“Do you always listen to music while you work?” he asked one afternoon, as the warm tones of a former Beatle’s record filled the room.

“Always,” you replied, smiling as you tapped away at the keys, your reading glasses perched on your nose. “It helps me focus. Plus, it just feels right—like the house has its own rhythm, you know?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure if he fully understood. Still, he couldn’t deny that there was something soothing about the way the music blended with the sounds of the farm outside. It made the house feel alive, as if it were a part of you.

“George Harrison?” He asked with a sly smile and a raised brow. You looked over to where he was sitting, the sleeve of the record in his hand. And you snickered, “Do you even remember George Harrison?”

Dave sat and pondered for a second and shook his head, but said, “I have a feeling I do…” and with that, you both laughed a little and shook your head at the lightness of the situation. 

As the days turned into weeks, the two of you settled into an easy routine. You’d work in the mornings, while Dave spent time outside, slowly regaining his strength as he walked through the fields or helped with small tasks around the farm. The farmhand, an older man named Tom, would come by in the afternoons, offering a hand with the heavier work that you are not able to fully manage on your own. 

Tom was a man of few words, but he seemed to take a liking to Dave–or John, as you all call him in this life, showing him the ropes and explaining the ins and outs of farm life. “You ever worked on a farm before, John?” Tom asked one day, as they repaired a section of the fence that had come loose.

Dave shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow. “Not that I can remember.”

“Well, you’re a quick learner,” Tom grunted, giving the fence a solid tug to make sure it held. “And you’ve got good instincts. That’s half the battle.”

Dave felt a small surge of pride at the compliment, even as he brushed it off. “I just do what you tell me.”

Tom chuckled, a rare sound. “Maybe so. But you’ve got a knack for this. Just keep at it.”

The days passed in this steady rhythm, the quiet of the farm broken only by the occasional visit from the doctor or the drive into town for supplies. And with each passing day, Dave found himself growing more comfortable, more at home in this new life.

One evening, after a particularly long day of work, you suggested a small celebration. “The doctor said you’re doing great,” you told him as you set out two glasses on the kitchen counter. “I think that calls for a drink, don’t you?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’m not sure… I don’t really remember if I drank much before.”

You laughed softly. “Well, we can start with something simple. How about a glass of wine?”

He nodded, though there was still a trace of uncertainty in his eyes. You poured a glass of wine for yourself, but when you handed him his, he took a small sip and then set it down, a slight frown on his face.

“Not quite right?” you asked, curious.

“Not really,” he admitted, glancing at the bottle.

You considered for a moment, then reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “How about this? A scotch, neat?”

He accepted the glass, bringing it to his lips. The moment the amber liquid touched his tongue, something clicked—familiar, comforting. He nodded slowly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as the warm burn lined through his insides. “This… this is better.”

You smiled, watching as he took another sip, this time more confident. “I had a feeling,” you said softly.

The evening wore on, the two of you sitting together in the living room, the soft glow of the lamps casting a warm light over the room. The conversation flowed easily, the tension that had once hung between you now replaced by a comfortable familiarity.

As the night grew darker, the scotch in his glass dwindling, you both moved to the couch and Dave found himself studying you more closely—the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, the way you leaned back in your chair, relaxed and at ease. There was a warmth to you, a kindness that he couldn’t help but be drawn to.

You caught his gaze, your smile fading slightly as something unspoken passed between you. The air seemed to thicken, the space between you charged with a sudden, undeniable tension.

He set his glass down on your coffee table, his hand brushing against yours as he did. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt through him, a spark that ignited something deeper.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you met his gaze, your eyes searching his as if trying to read the thoughts behind them. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low, uncertain.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s okay.”

The kiss that followed was slow, almost hesitant, as if both of you were testing the waters, unsure of where this would lead. But as the seconds passed, the hesitation melted away, replaced by a heat that built between you, drawing you closer.

The kiss left both of you breathless, a charged silence filling the room as you pulled back just enough to look into each other’s eyes. The connection between you, already deepening over the past few weeks, now felt electric—an unspoken understanding that this moment was a turning point.

Dave’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I don’t… I don’t know where this is going,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with a mix of uncertainty and something more.

“Neither do I,” you replied, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But I want to find out.”

He nodded, his lips curving into a small, almost relieved smile. “Yeah… me too.”

The kiss that followed was deeper, more urgent, as if the acknowledgment of your shared desire had opened a floodgate of feelings. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt the heat between you intensify, your bodies pressing together in a way that left no room for doubt.

The space around you seemed to shrink as the kiss deepened, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands began to explore, sliding up your back, then down to your hips. You responded in kind, your fingers slipping under his shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his abdomen tense under your touch.

“Let’s move to your room,” you whispered against his lips, your breath coming in short, heated bursts.

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, his brow furrowing slightly, but then he nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah… okay.”

Taking his hand, you led him down the hallway to his room, the low light casting soft shadows on the walls as you entered the space that had become his sanctuary during his recovery.

Once inside, the urgency between you only grew. Dave’s hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion before his lips were back on yours, hungry and demanding. You responded with equal fervor, your hands working to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders to reveal the taut muscles of his chest.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held back just enough to maintain control, but you wanted more—needed more. You reached for the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them, your hands sliding inside to feel the heat of his skin beneath the fabric.

He groaned against your lips, the sound vibrating through you as you shoved his pants down, exposing his hardness. Your hand, warm and trembling with desire, wrapped around his thick length, the heat of him pulsing against your palm. You stroked him slowly at first, savoring the way he filled your hand, the tautness of his skin, the weight of him. His breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that was almost a whine, and it sent a thrill through you, a rush of power that made your own need flare.

With a firm but gentle push, you guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. He obeyed, his eyes never leaving yours, a blend of anticipation, need, and uncertainty swirling in their depths. You knelt before him, his cock even harder now, glistening with precum, a testament to how long it had been since he’d felt this kind of touch. Your hands rested on his thighs, feeling the tension there, the way his muscles clenched beneath your touch as you looked up at him, your gaze questioning.

“Are you okay with this?” you asked softly, your voice a breathy whisper that seemed to echo in the quiet room.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “I… yeah. I just… I don’t think I’ve ever…”

A small smile played on your lips as understanding dawned. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soothing. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned forward, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive underside of his cock, trailing a wet stripe from the base to the tip. His reaction was immediate, his whole body tensing as a sharp gasp escaped his lips, his hips jerking slightly. The sound, the way he responded so helplessly, ignited something deep within you. You took him into your mouth, slowly at first, letting him feel every inch as you slid down, your lips and tongue working in tandem to drive him wild.

His hands found their way into your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling slightly as he let out a deep, guttural moan, the sound reverberating through your entire being. You could feel his restraint, the way he fought against the urge to thrust into your mouth, the way his body trembled with the effort to stay still. It was intoxicating, knowing how much control you had over him in this moment.

Dave’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hips twitching involuntarily as he tried to maintain control, his face a picture of raw, unfiltered pleasure. His grip on your hair tightened, a silent plea for more, and you obliged, taking him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate him as your tongue swirled around the tip. You felt him throb in your mouth, a desperate moan escaping his lips as he fought against the overwhelming pleasure threatening to consume him.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “This… this feels… so fucking good.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibration causing him to shudder, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pushed just a little deeper, losing the battle against his own instincts. His hips moved in small, jerky motions, unable to resist the urge to fuck your mouth, even as he tried to hold back.

The taste of him, the way he reacted to your every movement, only fueled your desire. You deepened your movements, your hand joining in, stroking the base of his cock as you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could, the combination of your mouth and hand driving him closer to the edge with every passing second.

But then, he suddenly pulled back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Wait… wait,” he panted, his voice shaky, filled with a mix of desperation and restraint. “I don’t want this to end so quickly.”

You looked up at him, your eyes heavy with lust as you released him from your mouth with a soft pop. “What do you want?” you asked, your voice sultry, teasing, as you stroked him slowly, feeling the way he pulsed beneath your touch.

“I want to… I want to do the same for you,” he said, his voice thick with longing, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for you.

A smile curved your lips as you shook your head, your hands resting on his thighs, keeping him where he was. “I’m already more than ready,” you murmured, your voice laced with need. “I just need you, right now.”

His resolve faltered as you took his hand, guiding it between your legs, pressing his fingers against the soaked fabric of your panties. The heat of your arousal was unmistakable, and when he felt how wet you were, a low growl escaped him. His fingers traced your seam through the cloth, his touch deliberate, teasing, before he found your clit and began to circle it slowly.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked on yours as he continued to tease you through the fabric. “I need you… I need to be inside you.”

“Then take me,” you whispered, your breath hitching as his fingers worked your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you. “Please… I need you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. In a swift movement, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down, his eagerness making you smile as you kicked them off. You lay back on the bed, your heart racing as he moved above you, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes locked on yours as he lined himself up.

He entered you in one smooth, slow thrust, filling you completely, the sensation overwhelming as he stretched you, a gasp escaping your lips at the sheer fullness of him. He paused, his breath hitching, giving you both a moment to savor the connection, before he began to move, his hips rolling in a steady, deliberate rhythm that drove you mad with need.

His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. One hand found your breast, his fingers brushing over your nipple, drawing a soft moan from you. He took that as encouragement, lowering his mouth to your breast, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak before he suckled gently, his lips pulling at you in a way that made your core tighten around him.

The combination of his mouth on your breast and his cock driving into you was almost too much, the pleasure building to a fever pitch, your body responding to him with every thrust, every flick of his tongue. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you teetered on the brink.

“John… please,” you gasped, your voice strained with the intensity of your need, your body trembling beneath him as you felt yourself spiraling toward release.

His thumb found your clit again, pressing down and circling it in time with his thrusts, and that was all it took to push you over the edge. Your body convulsed around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, your vision going white as you cried out, your back arching off the bed as the pleasure tore through you, leaving you trembling and gasping beneath him.

The sensation of you tightening around him, the way your body responded to his touch, was enough to send him over the edge as well. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside you, his release hitting him hard, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still entwined, your breathing heavy and uneven. The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the steady beat of your hearts gradually slowing as the afterglow of the moment settled over you.

Finally, Dave pulled back slightly, his gaze softening as he looked down at you, a mix of wonder and concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough but filled with genuine care.

You nodded, a satisfied smile curving your lips. “I’m perfect,” you whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “That was… incredible.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out of you, a slight shiver running through both of you as your bodies separated. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You sighed contentedly, letting him gather you into his arms as you lay your head on his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. The warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest, was comforting, grounding you in the reality of what had just happened.

After a while, Dave shifted slightly, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’ll be right back,” he said softly, easing himself out of bed and heading to the bathroom. You heard the sound of water running, followed by the rustle of fabric, and then he returned, a warm, damp cloth in hand.

Gently, he cleaned you up, his touch tender and attentive, as if he was afraid of hurting you. The intimacy of the moment, the way he cared for you even after the passion had subsided, filled you with a warmth that went beyond the physical.

When he was done, he tossed the cloth into the laundry basket and climbed back into bed, pulling you close once more. You nestled against him, feeling safe and content in his embrace.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he spoke, his voice hesitant. “About… what just happened. I didn’t think… I didn’t use protection. I didn’t even think about it.”

You looked up at him, seeing the concern etched on his face, and you reached up to cup his cheek. “It’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice soft but steady. “I’ll get Plan B in the morning.”

He let out a relieved breath, his hand coming up to cover yours. “I’m sorry… I just… I got caught up in the moment.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “We both got caught up,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. 

He nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he relaxed back against the pillows. 

You rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. A comfortable silence settled over you both, the weight of the moment beginning to lift as you lay together, content and warm in each other's arms.

After a moment, you let out a small chuckle. “You know… it kinda feels like I just took your virginity.”

Dave laughed, a deep, genuine sound that rumbled through his chest. “Technically, you did,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. “At least, as far as I can remember.”

You grinned, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “Well, for a first-timer, you were pretty good.”

He smirked, his hand running through your hair as he looked down at you with a mix of affection and teasing. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

You both laughed, the sound light and easy, a perfect way to diffuse the intensity of what had just transpired. The playfulness between you felt natural, and it was a reminder that despite everything, you were both finding your way together, one day at a time.

As the laughter faded, you snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The night seemed to wrap around you, comforting and safe, as you drifted into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms. 

Next Chapter 👉🏻

[justagalwhowrites]

Someone New: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel is new to Jackson and his family is eager to play matchmaker.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author paid to PCRF upon completion. Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Ashley (NOT a reader insert)

Warnings: Smut :D Unprotected P in V sex. Daddy kink. Age gap (Joel is 56, Ashley is 40.) Light Dom!Joel and Sub!FOC. No use of Y/N. 18+ Only MINORS DNI

Length: 3.6k

For You Masterlist | Full Masterlist | AO3

A/N: Written as a request by the lovely @ashleyfilm! She requested "Jackson era Joel from the tv show, so Pedro, and me (Ashley, plus size, I’m 40, I have black hair and glasses, my eyes are blue green with some hazel, I have tattoos, I’m short. A little goth, wear all black where it’s possible in an apocalypse haha) in this scenario I have a cool exterior and I’m independent by nature, but when you get to know me I’m funny and loving, but keep to myself. Joel and I would both like each other but have no clue, while Tommy, Maria and Ellie would all know and roll their eyes at us, try and talk sense into us. Eventually we come together and I’d love some smut. Some daddy soft dom Joel, I’m sub, the only time I want to be told what to do is during sex. I like giving pussies a pronoun so like she likes it and her if you know what I mean. And some fluff would be nice too." Shared with permission. I hope you all enjoy!!

Tommy was starting to drive Joel insane. 

It had taken some adjustment, coming to Jackson. 

There was the adjustment of being back around other people at all, for starters. There was the adjustment to being a father again. There was the adjustment of being in a place he cared about, one where he wanted to contribute instead of forced to to keep FEDRA’s boot off his neck. 

It had been a lot to swallow and, not that anyone was asking, he thought he’d done a damn good job of it. Ellie was happy, going to school every day and making friends. He had his ways to play his part in the community. 

So what if he was doing it all on his own? It’s not like it’s a crime to keep to yourself, he wasn’t sure why Tommy kept trying to push him further than he wanted to go. 

He doubted it was because Ashley was asking him to.

Ashley, the woman Tommy kept damn near throwing him toward at every opportunity. Ashley, who was years too young for him to even be thinking about the way he did. Ashley, whose plush curves and bright eyes had caught his attention from the moment he met her, even as she kept her distance from Joel and, it seemed, just about everyone else in Jackson. 

It didn’t matter how much Joel would enjoy things being different, that the little time he’d spent with her had been some of his favorite since coming here. She wasn’t interested - couldn’t be interested - and he wasn’t about to force it. 

Tommy, it seemed, had other ideas. 

“I’m not sure why you won’t just see if she wants to go,” Tommy said one night as they sat in the mess hall for dinner. “What’s the harm?” 

“Don’t particularly feel like gettin’ shot down,” Joel replied, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. “Got enough goin’ on without worrying about that, too.” 

“Worrying about what?” Maria asked, taking her spot next to Tommy. Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he was about to be outnumbered. 

“Joel won’t ask Ashley to the dance on Saturday,” Tommy smirked a little. “He’s convinced she’d say no…” 

“Who would say no to what?” Ellie joined them, too, sitting next to Joel. 

“Ashley to Joel and the dance, apparently,” Maria said, giving Ellie a knowing look. 

“Oh shit,” Ellie’s eyes went a little wide. “They’d be so cute together, Joel pretending to be a person who actually does something besides be grumpy…” 

“OK you tryin’ to get yourself grounded?” Joel asked, brows raised. Ellie rolled her eyes. “Because it sure seems like it. And I don’t need y��all match making for me. I am doin’ just fine without worrying about all of that. Leave it.” 

Ellie and Maria gave each other a knowing look that Joel was about to call them on when Tommy distracted him. 

“You’re going to the dance Saturday anyway, right?” He asked. “Just because you’re too chicken shit to bring a date doesn’t mean you should sit it out. It’s a big party, the whole town will be there, you should at least come by for a few drinks. You’ll miss out if you don’t.” 

“Yeah, I want to go!” Ellie said, turning to Joel and pouting a little. “You’re really going to make me go all by myself?” 

“I’ll go to the dance,” Joel sighed before looking between the others and gesturing between them with the fork. “S’long as you three are done meddling.” 

“We’ll behave,” Ellie smirked a little. “I promise.” 

Joel shouldn’t have believed them. He should have known better. 

But that didn’t make him any less surprised when he showed up to the dance Saturday evening and looked for Tommy and Maria, only to find them sitting with Ashley, her dark hair styled to pair with the black dress that seemed like it was made to highlight her every soft curve, curves that Joel had spent hours dreaming about exploring with his hands and mouth. 

He was going to strangle Tommy. 

“Joel!” His brother called, waving him over, as if Joel would have missed him. “Over here!” 

“C’mon old man,” Ellie teased. “Stop being such a fucking coward.” 

“We’re talking about your language later,” he muttered, letting Ellie lead him to the table, hoping that no one had put too much pressure on Ashley to put her in this position. 

“Well look who decided to join the party,” Tommy smirked. Joel ground his teeth. “Ashley, you know my brother Joel.” 

“I do,” she gave him a cool, tight smile and took a sip of her drink, looking back out toward the dance floor. 

“Hi,” Joel said before feeling like a bit of an idiot and pulling his eyes from her to turn back to his brother. “How are you Tommy, Maria?” 

“Oh, we’re good,” Maria smiled a little, looking more like Tommy than Joel thought was appropriate. He wondered if married couples started looking alike before too long. 

“Just peachy,” Tommy said as a new song started. “Oh would you look at that, I need to dance with my wife. Maria?” 

He offered her his hand and she smiled wider before taking it, giving Joel a meaningful look before being led onto the dance floor by her husband. 

“Oh, I think I see Dina,” Ellie said before clapping Joel on the back and leaving him there, alone with Ashley, before he had the chance to argue. 

Joel just stood there, awkwardly, trying not to stare at her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. 

“So,” he said eventually. “Um… that seat taken?” 

She looked at him, brows raised. 

“Just by your brother.” 

“Right,” he said, taking it anyway. She looked back toward the dance floor and Joel looked her over while he had the chance, how the darkness of her clothes seemed to suit her, the sharp intelligence behind her glasses, the beauty of the tattoos he could see on her exposed skin. He wondered what each of them meant, wondered what it would be like to take his time tracing over each one. 

“So,” she turned her attention back to Joel. “Liking Jackson so far? Been here… what, a few months now?” 

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “S’good. Different than where I’ve been for a while but that’s a good thing. Ellie likes it, all that really matters.” 

She nodded slowly, taking another sip of her drink. 

“Seems like she’s a good kid,” she said. “Sure got a mouth on her, though.” 

“Yeah,” Joel laughed, leaning his elbows onto the table. “She’s somethin’ else. I tried telling her she needs to watch her language, this ain’t the QZ.” 

“That’s a hell of an adjustment,” she smiled a little and damn, Joel really liked to see her smile. More than he’d liked seeing a woman smile in… he wasn’t sure how long. “Trust me, I know.” 

“You spent some time in a QZ?” He asked, brows raised. 

She nodded, taking a final sip of her cocktail. 

“Portland,” she said. “I was there at the beginning. One night, I was sneaking liquor at industry night at my favorite club, the next it’s a war zone. Got used to it after a while, though. You were in Boston with Tommy, right?” 

“I was,” Joel nodded. “Took us a while to work our way there but found it eventually.” 

“And you both ended up all the way out here.” 

“Suppose so,” Joel said. He nodded to her empty glass. “Can I get you another?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “That’d be nice.” 

He went to the bar and got them both a drink before rejoining her at the table. 

Joel was surprised at how much he liked talking with her. For how much time he’d spent thinking about her and looking at her, he hadn’t spent much time actually talking with her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. 

Where he’d always known her to be a bit distant and cool, he was starting to realize that, as soon as he was past the caution she seemed to approach the world with, she was really very warm and loving, thoughtful and kind. They talked about music, about what they missed about before, the quirks of life in Jackson after living in a QZ. 

By the time Joel got her onto the dance floor, he was ready to get her home. And he was starting to think she wanted the same. 

“Can I walk you home?” Joel asked as the Tipsy Bison was almost empty and he wasn’t able to come up with any more excuses to stay. 

“You can,” she smiled. “But… I think I’d rather you walk me to yours.” 

He smiled back. 

“Think that can be arranged.” 

Joel draped his arm over her shoulders and the two of them walked slowly through the dark town, the streets quiet and the stars bright. 

“Well,” Joel said as they came to his front walk. “This is me. Still want to come in?” 

“Yeah,” Ashley nodded. “Yeah, I really do.” 

He smiled. 

“Good.” 

He took her hand and led her to his door. 

But things shifted as they made it inside. Joel tilted her face up, finding the right angle, thumb brushing her lips, waiting for her to make a move. 

But she didn’t. Her breaths got quicker, her eyes searched his and, after a moment, he felt like he couldn’t wait anymore. 

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said. “Because it’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about doing for a while.” 

She just nodded quickly and he kissed her, covering her mouth with his. 

It had been a while since Joel had kissed anyone, even longer since it was a first kiss. But Joel could tell this was different, something special. It was like an electric current ran over his skin, sparking at where your lips met and shooting out through the rest of him. There was a sharp, sudden pang of need deep inside him, the drive to be closer to her, as close as he could reach. More than that, he wanted to know that she was safe, cared for. That she had what she needed and what she wanted because he was giving it to her. 

“Joel,” she breathed as they separated, just enough for him to look in those blue green eyes of hers. “Will you take me to bed?” 

“Yeah baby,” he said, want seeping into his voice. “Yeah, I will.” 

He kissed her again, his hands sliding down from her face to her arms to her waist, moving her toward the stairs as he did. He only pulled away from her when they needed to go up to his room, not wanting to stop touching her for even a few moments, his skin almost aching as he watched the round shape of her ass in her black skirt going upstairs ahead of him. 

Joel pulled her back against him at the top of the stairs, the few seconds she was apart from him too much. Her arms stretched up and went around his neck and his hands roamed over her back and sides, luxuriating in just how soft she felt, how he could find places on her that seemed made for him to hold. He guided her to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He slid his hands back up her body over her arms, his callused fingers slipping over her soft skin. 

“You gonna let me make you feel good, pretty girl?” He asked, voice dark and low. “Because I want to touch every damn inch of you.” 

“Please, Joel,” she whispered, her fingers tightening desperately on his curls at the nape of his neck. “Please, I want you, I need you, I…” 

“Shhh,” he hushed her. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just let Daddy take care of you.” 

He kissed her again and found the zipper on her dress, sliding it down, down, down, until he could slide the straps down her arms and let the fabric fall to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes ranging over Ashley’s body, tracing over her curves and tattoos. “You are the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He reached around and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms and dropping it to the floor before cupping her breasts, the fullness of her so soft below his touch that he couldn’t help but groan. 

“You gonna let me take care of you, baby girl?” He asked, voice husky. “You need me to take care of you, don’t you?” 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he said it but something inside him just knew, he could sense it in her. That she wanted someone to guide her, someone she could trust to take charge and give her what she needed.

He could tell by the way she nodded that he was right. 

Joel guided her down onto the bed before pulling his shirt and casting it aside. His eyes ranged over her body as he took his jeans and underwear off, too, his cock already thick and achingly hard. He worked himself, not able to stop himself as he drank her in, memorizing her. 

“Want you to touch yourself for me,” he said, stepping closer to the bed. “Spread those pretty legs, put your hand in your panties, show me how you like to touch yourself.” 

She took a hesitant, shaky breath and slid her hand down her body before slipping them below the fabric, stretching it tight over her pussy for a moment before her hand dipped lower. He could see the outline of her fingers clearly, watched with his mouth watering as they stroked her pussy lips before slipping inside. 

“There you go, baby girl,” he groaned, stroking his cock in time with her fingers. “You just keep on doin’ that for me.” 

He moved to the bed and she frowned as he reached out, looping his fingers around the waistband of her panties to start tugging them down. His eyes moved from her face, down her body to where her pussy lay just below the fabric. Her fingers were still. 

“I tell you to stop?” He asked. She groaned and he saw her fingers start to move again. “That’s my good girl. Want your pussy all nice and wet and full when I see her the first time.” 

He pulled her underwear down slowly, revealing her wet slit with two of her fingers buried deep inside herself as he did.

“Oh, there she is,” he breathed, casting her panties aside. “Fuck, such a pretty little pussy ain’t she?” 

Ashley just moaned, thrusting her fingers deeper. Joel licked his lips, desperate for a taste of her. 

“Spread her open for me, baby,” he said, spreading her legs wide and settling between them. “Lemme see.” 

Her hands trembled as she slid her fingers from her dripping entrance and delicately opened herself to him. 

“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, taking a thumb and brushing it over her tight little hole before trailing it up to her swollen nub. “Gonna take a lot before she can take me. Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He pressed his mouth to her entrance, just a kiss at first, a taste of her musky sweetness. His thumb stayed against her clit, rubbing her in slow and gentle circles as he dipped is tongue inside of her. 

Joel started slow, easing her into it. His tongue worked deeper, his thumb harder. Eventually, he added a finger, then two, starting to stretch her open as her hips canted up against his face, her legs squirming, delicious moans and gasps pouring from her lips. He looped an arm around her thigh to hold her still, pulling her leg against the side of his head and leaving his nose to work her clit as his hand splayed wide on her plush thigh. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” her back was arched, fingers wound tight in his quilt. “I’m coming, I’m coming Daddy, I’m coming!” 

He smiled against her as he ate her through her orgasm, pressing his aching cock down into the bed as he felt her pussy flutter over his tongue. 

When her climax eased, he pulled himself from her tight, wet heat and rose to his knees, stroking his dripping length as she came back down to earth. He nudged her legs apart and down, leaving her fully exposed to him. He ran his fingers over her slit, gathering her wetness and bringing it to his cock as she looked at him, her eyes a little wide. 

“Is…” she swallowed, hard. “Is that going to fit inside me? I don’t know if that’s going to fit…” 

“It’ll fit, baby girl,” he said, working himself as he lined himself up with her entrance. “You can take it, so nice and wet for me. You just relax and let me inside you.” 

He pressed his cock against her tight center, moaning and just how hot and wet and fucking soft she felt. He watched, almost obsessed, as she opened to take him, the stretch almost obscene as he saw himself start to disappear into her body. 

“See baby?” He panted as he sank just the first few inches of him into her cunt. “You can take it, taking it so good for me. She stretches so fuckin’ pretty for me, so goddamn pretty.” 

Her hands flew to his biceps as he leaned over her, pressing himself deeper, her fingers scrambling over his muscle as he worked her open. Joel fought to think of anything but the fact that he was almost fully inside the woman he’d been longing for for weeks now. He couldn’t come too quick, he couldn’t let this end now. He had to take his time, had to feel her come around him. 

And then he was buried inside her to the root, the entirety of him in the entirety of her, her walls stretching to hold him. 

“There you go,” he praised her. He splayed his hand wide over her thick, soft lower stomach, pressing into her skin as his thumb slid down to her clit and started stroking it. “Did so good, taking me so well. You ever been this stretched baby?” 

“No daddy,” her nails dug into his arm. “Feels so good…” 

“Good girl,” he said, working her clit a little harder. She moaned and rocked her hips against him. “Aw, does someone need to be fucked? Someone need me to make her come?” 

“Yes,” she pleaded. “Please, please, please Daddy, please, I need to come, I need…” 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, leaning over her and kissing her deeply, the taste of her mouth mixing with the taste of her pussy that lingered on his tongue. “Gonna make you come so hard for me.” 

He pulled back before thrusting forward, hard and fast and making her gasp, her hands flying from his arms to his back. But he stopped her, taking hold of her arms and pinning them over her head with one of his large hands. 

“You can use those when I tell you,” he said. “Right now, need you focused on taking,” he pulled back and thrust back in quickly. “This.” He did it again, fucking into her hard and fast. “Cock.” He did it one last time before grinding himself deep. “Tell me when you’re about to come.” 

He picked up his pace then, fucking into her deep and firm, grinding his hips down against her clit, feeling how her breasts moved against him as he forced her walls apart with each heavy stroke. 

Joel didn’t let up, too lost in her and just how damn good she felt to do anything else. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been fucking her - just that it wasn’t long enough - when her breathy, desperate voice broke through the lust-driven haze of his mind. 

“I’m gonna come,” she keened, her pussy to tight around him that it almost hurt. “Gonna come, I’m gonna come Daddy, please…” 

He freed her hands then and she gasped, her fingers immediately finding the broad expanse of his back. Joel took her face in his hands and looked into those eyes of hers, unlike anything else he’d ever seen as he felt how her body took his. 

“Good girl,” he said, breathless and needy, too. “Come for me, come all over my cock, that’s it, so good for me…” 

The chorus of praise continued until she cried out, her whole body seizing as her channel gripped him so tight he was almost afraid it would force him out. But he held himself deep inside her, kissing her as she moaned into his mouth as she throbbed around him. His orgasm took hold, amazed for the half second he was aware enough to think that he’d been able to hold off this long, emptying himself deep inside of her. 

“Fuck,” she moaned, panting for breath as they both came down from their shared high. Joel had all but collapsed on top of her and he adjusted, pulling himself gently from her body and feeling their combined spend leaking from her as he did. He lay beside her and she turned to look at him. “That… I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that.” 

He smiled a little. 

“Me either.” 

She smiled back. 

“I think we’ll have to do that again sometime,” she said. 

“Only if you let me take you out first,” Joel said. “Don’t think I can get enough of you in bed. Think I’m gonna need as much as you’ll let me have outside it, too.” 

Ashley reached out and carded her fingers through his thick, shaggy curls. 

“I think we can make that work.” 

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Love You Like That

Part 7 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The months following Jake's injuries during his deployment have been anything but easy. You have hope, however, that the two of you are strong enough to overcome all of the trials and tribulations that you encounter. After nearly losing Jake, it's the least you can do, right? Wrong. Especially when your boyfriend himself can't seem to understand just how difficult these past few months have been for you. Will he ever be able to understand your point of view? Or is this how you lose him - for good?

Disclaimers: Mentions of Injury, Arguments, Alcohol, Drunken talk, Smut

Warning: Female Reader

Word Count: 3670

Author Note: Here's part 7 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car). This chapter was my first time attempting to write an argument and I hope I did it justice. This is the third of the truly angsty chapters I have planned for this series. I hope you like it.

This chapter is inspired by Dagny's Love You Like That. I highly suggest you listen to the song while you read.

I also have about a million thanks for the lovely @desert-fern (@ferns-fics) for beta-reading this for me! Also! Look at my new watermark! @cassiemitchell made it for me and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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"What do you mean you're going back to work in three weeks?" Your voice sounds incredulous and pained.

"I mean, I'm going back to work in three weeks." Jake sounds infuriated with you, and a part of you understands why - this is the fourth time you’re having the same discussion.

He doesn't seem to understand how your world had imploded in seconds when you'd found out he'd been hurt. Jake had been in a coma for three weeks! He'd been so severely injured that you weren't sure at times if he'd ever recover from the trauma. You still wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares. Sometimes it's still the same nightmare you had in the hospital. But more and more it's you waking up to find Jake cold and clammy in the bed next to you.

All the while Jake slumbers peacefully next to you. He doesn’t seem to understand the emotional toll his near loss has had on you. Maybe that’s partially your fault. You’ve hidden your exhaustion from him, resolving to be his rock. So instead you drive him to each doctor's appointment and every physical therapy appointment, masking your worry by showing your love for him in every way you can.

"I don't get you at all. Why can't you understand?" Jake's glaring at you, thin and pale standing across the island in your kitchen. His eyes are molten emerald, glinting dangerously in the warm lights.

"Why can't you understand?!" Heat crawls its way up your throat, uncomfortably prickling behind your eyes.

"You nearly died, Jake." You can't help how your voice breaks as you say that word.

"And?" He can't sound so matter of fact about this - like it is an everyday occurrence. Maybe it is - for him - but it's not for you. When you can't get your dry throat to cooperate, he continues.

"This is what you signed up for. I'm a Naval Aviator." He's breathing raggedly before he spits out, "Or did you forget that over the months we were apart? Did you forget that you'll never be my first priority? The Navy comes first. Flying comes first."

You feel like a marionette with all of its strings cut at his words. You can't believe this is Jake, your Jake, saying the words - the man you love, who claims to love you. You've made him your top priority since he's been injured. You haven't even seen Callie since the squadron got back. Jake has been your only focus. His words also send rage flowing through your veins.

"So that's how this works, right? It's perfectly alright for me to make sacrifices, to drive you everywhere, do everything for you when you're hurt, but you can't even hear me out?" A tear drips down your cheek as you look up at Jake. "I just want you to listen to me. To hear my fears, my worries and tell me that everything will be okay."

"But I guess that is an ephemeral hope. I'm not your first priority right? That's the Navy isn't it? What happened to, 'I'm looking for forever with you, gorgeous'?" You don't know when you moved around the island to face him, but you've got one finger pointed at his sternum. "I guess I'm just another fuck for you then. So what then? Why are you even here?"

You can physically see the regret in Jake's eyes as he tries to reach for you. But you slap his hands away before he can get close. Your rage is taking the wheel now.

"Why aren't you back on base? Go back to killing yourself with workouts before you're ready. Go back to having a multi-million dollar missile strapped to your ass going faster than the speed of sound." You ignore the pain in his eyes or how he gapes at you for your words. Then the anger takes over his face. His jaw tightens and his eyes glare even more.

"You want me back on base, gorgeous?" You can't help the way your fingers reach out to him as he whirls away, striding away as fast as he can.

"You got what you wanted then. I thought you knew what I wanted. I thought we were in this until the end. I saw myself growing old with you. So why? Why can't you just listen to me?" Jake's out of breath, his shoulder moving jerkily, protesting his movements, as you follow listlessly behind him as he jams his feet into a pair of sneakers and shrugs on a jacket.

You can't breathe. Each word cuts so deep that you're half sure that when you look down you'll see blood pouring out of you. But you're left standing in the yawning doorway as Jake gets into his truck and drives away. Every sound is muffled. Once again you feel adrift, tossed aside like you don't matter. There's no way Jake thinks so little of you. There's no way.

You're not sure how long you stand there, your heart bleeding as it sits perched in your hands. What did you do? Months of fostering an epic love and it's really that easy to forget? To forget all of the best parts of Jake? Jake makes you feel like no other man in the room. You can talk about anything and everything with him. And his eyes? They make you melt like ice-cream on the sunniest summer day.

Please, you beg yourself. Please, let cooler heads prevail. Please let Jake have just gone for a drive around the block. Please let him come home. But as the hours pass and the sun sets out the kitchen window, your unease grows. You’ve taken to keeping your phone barely a finger’s breadth away from you, praying that he’ll call. Your mind keeps running around in circles, the worry and fear preying on your every thought. When your phone rings from the coffee table, you nearly sprint to it, even when you're barely a foot away.

"Hello?" It's a number you don't recognize.

"Is this Gorgeous?" It's a male voice, deep.

"Yeah." You clutch the phone tighter to your ear.

"I've got a Jake Seresin here. You're the top number in his contacts. Can you come pick him up?” You scramble for a piece of paper.

“Yeah, I can come get him. Where is he?” Your voice is tight with worry as you listen intently to the address spilling down the line to you. When you put the address into your phone, it’s to a small bar halfway across the city. Out in the driveway, your car is the only one in its spot - meaning that Jake drove his truck there. You sit in complete silence during the entire cab ride to the bar.

It’s a seedy little joint, trapped between an alley and a strip club. The one, lone street light in the parking lot flickers with a dim, dirty yellow light. There aren't many cars in the parking lot, but you could pick Jake's pickup truck out on sight any day. The bar falls silent when you walk through the doors. The air stinks of unwashed flesh and spilled beer. A smoky haze lays over the entire building as you make a single-minded path to the bar counter. You try desperately to avoid thinking about where you’re stepping, what you’re stepping in, as you crane your neck looking for Jake.

It takes you a bit to find him, slumped as he is against a wall staring listlessly into the glass in front of him. The glass itself is chipped and clouded, but it’s no less cloudy than Jake’s expression. You walk forward, your movements hesitant and unsure but Jake doesn't look up until your sneakered feet are in his line of sight.

"What do you want?" You've never heard Jake like this. It's a tone that's all anger and spite as he downs the mouthful of amber liquid at the bottom before plunking the glass down on the bartop with a harsh thud.

"The bartender called. I'm still at the top of your emergency call list, Jay." You carefully cradle his face in your hands, tipping it up so you can see just how drunk Jake is.

"Huh." Every word sends whiskeyed breath into your face. "You're not m'gorgeous. Let go'a me. My gorgeous girl is home waitin' for me." He slaps your hands away as you try to get him to recognize you. You pay his tab before collecting his credit card and pocketing his phone. By the time you're back to Jake, he's quieted. You sit on a nearby barstool to wait. You have to sober him up, so first, you flag down the bartender.

"Can you switch him to water please? And keep it coming?" Your smile is forced when he hands Jake a tumblr full of water. You settle down to watch eagle eyed for the next hour as Jake steadily downs glass after glass of water. When he starts listing in the seat, this time because of sleep, you finally intervene.

Your sigh is soft and sad as you drag his arm around his shoulder. "C'mon cowboy. Let's get you home, yeah?"

Jake's mostly compliant, if uncoordinated as he drapes himself across your back. He's a far cry from his usual muscular self, in part due to lost muscle tone from his stint in the hospital, and you can feel every inch of his lighter weight draped over you as you stagger your way out to his pickup truck.

It takes you far longer than you care to think about to get Jake buckled into the passenger seat. His cheeks are flushed as his green eyes track your every movement slowly.

"Where're you takin' me?" His voice is all Texan drawl as you start the truck up.

"I'm taking you home, Cowboy." He doesn't seem to recognise you any better now than he did earlier.

"But y'dont know where I live. And I'm not goin' home with you. I only go home with my darling girl." You can't help your fond sigh as you drive carefully home. Even drunk and in the middle of the worst - and only, thus far - argument of your relationship, Jake's still loyal to you.

You're silent as you carefully drive home. Jake keeps up a token protest, grumbling under his breath as he sits in the passenger seat with his face smashed against the glass. When you pull the truck into the driveway and turn it off, it's to the sight of him snoring brokenly against the glass.

It's late, well past midnight and Jake's entire body is still recovering. He hurts just napping on your overstuffed sofa nowadays. So you carefully wake him up and help him stagger through your house. A couple of glasses of water more and you have a nearly sober, awake boyfriend to handle.

It's as you're gently tugging a fresh t-shirt over his head that Jake finally speaks again.

"Why'd you come get me, huh, Gorgeous?" You carefully cradle his head, fingers gentle as they trace over the still tender scars under his hair.

"Why wouldn't I, Jay?" His hands find your waist, sliding under your shirt to map out your skin.

"There wasn't ever a doubt that I'd come find you." You kiss his hair, pulling him in closer.

"Why?" You've never heard Jake sound so lost.

"Because I love you. One fight could never change that. I was so angry at you that I let my mouth get away with me. I'd do anything for you. I'd do everything for you." Your voice is hushed, choked by the tears you're valiantly trying to keep at bay.

"If you love me, then why can't you understand? Flying -" he clears his throat before saying the words, "flying is everything to me. I don't know who I am if I'm not a naval aviator."

"I never asked you to stop flying, Jake. I just." You take in a deep breath, trying and failing to corral all of your warring emotions. "I guess I just want you to be safe. To take a bit more time to heal before you head back up there. You’re my everything, Jay. When I got that call in the middle of the night saying you’d been hurt it felt like my world had rocked off of its axis. I was lost.”

Your sniffle is soft as Jake tugs you even closer. “A-and I hate fighting with you Jay. I know this is our first one, but I already hate it.”

Your breathing is ragged as you card your fingers through Jake’s soft short hair. “I just don’t want to lose you. Lose what we have. I want at least 40 years with you, you know? It’s non-negotiable.”

“My flying, baby doll? It isn’t going to change that. I promise.” His words should fill you with relief, but instead, all you’re filled with is more worry.

“You can’t promise that, Jake. You just can’t.” You pull away from him, looking out the big bay window in your bedroom with your back to the man who holds your entire heart. Jake’s thin and worn, his reflection and the light over emphasizing the bags under his eyes.

“Baby Doll -” You can’t even look at him right now. Your stomach is flip-flopping unpleasantly, all of your emotions clogging your throat and muffling your voice. You don’t think you can even look at his reflection without crying. Not tonight, not right now. You startle at the feeling of Jake’s hands on your skin. It’s something you’ve never done before. You’re just so on edge tonight that you feel like even your skin doesn’t fit right on your body. But Jake’s arms? Your body knows, no matter how tense your mind is or how wrapped up it is in your thoughts, that you belong there. You slump against his chest, turning in his arms until your ear is to his heart and your hands are flat against the warm skin of his back.

“Baby Doll?” Jake sounds so tired, even as his arms curl tighter around your frame. Each breath he takes sounds like the sweetest music you’ve ever heard.

“Jay?” Your voice is a barely suppressed sob.

“You scared me so badly.” Your sniffle is wet as you nuzzle further into his chest as you tell him exactly what he means to you.

“You’re so deeply entrenched in my life, Jay. You’re my heart. My whole soul. It’s only been a little more than a year since we met and I don’t even know what it means to not love you. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. How?” You’re struggling to breath, your lungs not computing the oxygen entering them.

“How could I possibly let you go when it feels like I’ve just found you?” Your fingers grip tighter to his skin. You’re sure you’re hurting him but he never complains and just clutches you closer, his hand cupping the back of your head as you wet his t-shirt with your tears.

“You’re not letting go, Baby Doll. I’m not letting go of you either.” His voice is just as choked up as yours is.

“You’re just as deep under my skin, gorgeous. I wish I could tell you that I’ll be safer, that I’ll do better. But you were right, earlier. It’s not fair for me to expect you to make all of the sacrifices. It’s about time I made some too. Can you look at me, sweetheart? Please?” His hands are gentle, feather-light as they tip your chin up until your teary eyes meet his own.

“Tell me the word, sweetheart. And I’ll do it. I’ll quit the Navy. My contract’s up in a few months anyways. I’ll apply for desk duty until it’s up. For you, I can remake myself. Just say the word.”

“How could I ask you to do that? Wasn’t it your dream to fly?” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Your eyes are wide as you gaze up at Jake.

“Baby doll, my dreams changed the minute I met you. You.” His hands rise to brush the tears from your face. “You’re my new dream. Forever and always. And this dream? It’s one I’m going to keep alive for as long as I still have breath in my lungs. My heart? It’s yours. So is my life. The decision, my gorgeous girl, is yours.” Your gasp is soft, but the way you smash your lips to Jake’s is anything but.

You pour your entire heart into the kisses you give Jake, breathing out your love against his cheeks, lips, and neck as you push him back towards the bed. Jake goes willingly, letting you strip the shirt off before settling yourself lightly in his lap.

“What’s this for, huh, baby?” His hands slide under your shirt easily, gripping the soft skin at your waist like they were made to be there.

“I love you, Jake. Do I need a reason to show you how much?” Your smile is soft and slightly mischievous as you ghost your lips gently against his.

“Not as far as I’m concerned, pretty girl.” The look in his eyes sends heat shooting through you as you capture his mouth again.

His tongue is wet against yours, plundering your mouth as he takes back control. His hands feel like brands over your skin as they drag you even closer. You're so wholly occupied by Jake that you barely notice your shirt landing on the floor or how your bra joins it seconds later. The next thing you feel is Jake's lips wrapping around your peaked nipples. Your resulting moan is high pitched and breathy.

Even when you're on top of him he drives you wild. In no time at all he has you writhing on top of him, completely bare. Your cunt is so wet that it's soaking a wet spot into his jeans. Jeans that you need off. It's been far too long since you've had Jake. Between his exhaustion and your own, and his recovery, all physical intimacy went out of the window months ago.

But now? You need him like you need air to breathe. His cock is already drooling precum as you work it over. When his head tips back, you take the opportunity to mark up the golden column of Jake's throat, pulling back only when there's a bruise blossoming against his throat.

"God, pretty girl. What're you trying to do, huh? Kill me?" Your resulting squeak is embarrassingly high-pitched as he manhandles you until you're ass up on the bed. "Or d'you want me so bad that you'd do anything to get my attention?"

You'd accuse Jake of being cruel if his hands weren't so tender against your fever-hot skin, your arousal so potent that it's practically emanating off of you in waves. The first press of his cock into you has you nearly sobbing in relief.

"Mmm." Jake's voice is a guttural growl against your shoulder as he pulls you in against your back is to his chest.

"My pretty girl. So wet and ready for me. Feels like forever since I've had this pretty pussy. Is it still mine, baby?" Jake's voice is all sex and smoke in your ear as his cock fills you up in a way no other ever has.

"It's yours, Jay." Your moans fill the bedroom as he fucks so slowly and deliberately into you that you can feel every inch of him in your throbbing, sopping wet core. "Always yours."

Your mind is already foggy. Jake's making you lose your thoughts, trapping your tongue with the constant, relentless onslaught of his cock as it hits your sweet spot every time with unerring precision. He already has you babbling, droplets of sweat dripping down your temples as the temperature in the room ratchets up. All you can think of, all you want to think of is Jake. He's your everything.

The way he's rutting into you feels like a brand burning into your skin. He's ruined you for all other men. Not that you'd ever think of ever letting anyone else into your heart. A part of you loves the thought. That you're Jake's and that he's yours. That same part of you longs for a marker, something to show to the world that he's yours. But for now, you can wait.

Honestly, you want something else just a bit more now, and that is to cum. With Jake, because of Jake. The pleasure that's been making you tongue-tied and cock-drunk, dumb except for the thought of Jake has been rapidly tightening the band in your gut. You want to cum, no, you need to. But you don't not until Jake's hands find your breast and your clit, rolling your nipple and rubbing harshly at your clit. That's the final straw. You cum hard, harder than you have in a long time, the pleasure making you see stars and fogging up your vision.

You come back to yourself draped over Jake's chest.

"Jay?" Your voice is rough as you murmur his name.

"Yeah, gorgeous?" He sounds half asleep as his big hand cups your bare ass.

"I don't want you to quit the Navy. I'm going to be an Admiral's wife one day, you know?" You grin into his skin as he squeezes your ass.

"An Admiral's wife, huh?" You can feel his smirk as he kisses the top of your head.

"You bet. I can't wait for us to be introduced to everyone as Admiral and Mrs. Seresin." You're smiling from ear to ear as you kiss Jake this time. It's an uncoordinated, sloppy, messy kiss, too much teeth and tongue but you love it anyways.

"I love you, my gorgeous girl." You can't help your smile as you fall asleep in his arms. Admiral and Mrs. Seresin. You're sure there isn't a sweeter title that you could ever hold.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[musings-of-a-rose]

Love at the Top - Part 2

Pairing: Teacher Ben x f! Teacher reader

Word Count: 2000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This is a multiple requested smutty part 2 to LOVE AT THE TOP with our beloved Teacher Ben! @fishingforpike I hope you like it! It was not beta'd.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Main Masterlist 

Teacher Ben Masterlist

Love at the Top Part 1

A knock raps on my door promptly at noon. I open it with a smile, my dress swishing around me as Ben stands there, mouth slightly agape behind the flowers he has in his hand. 

"Y-you… you l-look amazing."

I smile, swaying my hips side to side. "Thanks. Are those for me?"

"Oh, yeah. I wasn't sure what your favorite was so I got one of each."

The bouquet held about 12 flowers, each one a different kind. It was bright and beautiful, bring life into the room when I placed them in a vase on my table. 

"They're beautiful, Ben. Thank you."

He wipes his palms against his pants before putting them in his pockets. "You ready? We have an hour drive or so."

"You never told me where…wait. Does your tie have a Gatsby quote on it?" I walk up to him, picking up the end of the tie and looking at it. 

"Oh, uh yeah. You said it was your favorite…" His voice trails off as he shrugs. 

I look up at him, big brown eyes looking at me like I'm the only thing in the room. I tug it to pull him down and kiss him, arms sliding around each other. Suddenly he breaks the kiss, staring down at me. 

"We better get in the car or we'll never make it."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

He groans in the back of his throat. "No. But I really think you'll like it."

"And I wouldn't like you?"

He chuckles. "I hope you will, sweet girl."

"You're gonna have to stop calling me that if you want us to leave."

He smiles. "That's fair."

He takes my hand and leads me out of the door, pausing as I lock it behind me. We drive for about an hour, chatting about anything and everything along the way, having concerts with the good songs that come on. It's only when he turns into the parking lot that I realize where he's taken me. 

"The Gatsby manuscript??" I all but yell, neatly vibrating off my seat as I stare out the window at the museum. "How did you know I've been dying to see them?"

"You mentioned it a month or so ago."

I turn to look at him. "A month? And you remembered?"

He smiles and nods at me. "Of course. Your eyes light up when you talk about it."

I lean in and kiss him, my hand rubbing at the stubble on his cheek. "How did you score tickets? They've been sold out for a while."

"The curator is my cousin."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"That's so fucking cool."

He escorts me out and into the museum, watching my face nearly the entire time, letting me ramble on and on about how much I love The Great Gatsby and how amazing it is to see it first hand, actually handwritten notes by the author himself. 

He smiles the whole ride back to town as I continue to talk, the conversation eventually shifting to Star Wars as we sit down to eat. Conversation flows easy between us, no matter what we're talking about. 

Eventually, we end up on my doorstep, both of us shuffling nervously and chattering on, unwilling to let the evening end. 

"I had a great time, Ben."

"Me too. I didn't think you'd get along with an old man like me."

"I thought we agreed you aren't old?"

"No, you said I wasn't old. My back begs to differ." 

"Hhmm…" I fiddle with his tie. "Sounds like you need to go to bed."

"Y-Yeah. That might help."

He kisses me, pushing me back against my front door. I hitch my leg over his thigh, pulling him closer, both our hands tangled in the other's hair. 

"I have a bed inside you can use."

His eyes darken as he stares down at me. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

I fish out my keys, trying to unlock my door but finding it hard to focus with Ben's hands on my hips, rubbing little circles into them. 

Finally, my door unlocks and I push it open, turning to grab onto Ben's tie, pulling him inside, giggling when he kicks the door shut behind him. I reach behind him to lock it, gasping when Ben starts sucking on my neck. 

"Ben," I sigh, feeling him shift and moan into my neck.

His lips move to mine and we start to walk, me guiding us towards my bedroom. But several steps later, Ben trips and we fall and he lands on top of me. 

"Fuck I'm sorry! Are you-"

I pull his face to mine, kissing the apology from his lips, my legs parting to pull him in closer and I can feel him through his pants. 

"Here?" He breaks the kiss, staring down at me, our noses barely touching. 

"I don't care where, Ben. I need you. Now." I grip the back of his shirt, trying to untuck it from his pants. 

"I.. yeah ok."

I look at him this time. "Is that ok?"

"I.. yeah."

I push him up slightly, getting him to meet my eyes. "What is it?"

He blushes slightly, looking away from my gaze. "I just…"

"Are your knees ok? Your back?"

"What? Oh yeah I'm ok."

"Then what?"

He quiet a moment. "I've never done…this… on a floor before."

Oh. 

I smile and trace his cheek with my fingertip. "That's ok, Ben. Do you want to?"

His clothed hips rut into mine in response and I whine, watching him smirk down at me. "I want you, sweet girl."

"Then take me. Please."

His eyes darken, blowing wide with lust before he kisses me. One of his arms braces him on the ground while the other moves down my body, sliding up my bare thigh as he pushes my dress up. He hesitates at my panties but when I moan, he gains some courage, hooking his fingers around the band and sliding them down. His hand comes back up my body, his finger teasing me between my thighs. Finally he touches me and my hips jolt at the connection. 

"Oh fuck," I pant, as his fingers explore my apex. 

"I gotta work you open, sweet girl. Get you ready for me. Is that ok?"

I nod several times quickly, pleading for him to do more. He wastes no time in pushing a finger inside me, twirling his finger around until I jolted. He adds another finger and finds that spot again, curling his fingers against it. 

"Here?" He asks, studying my face. 

"Oh fuck yes!" His thumb comes up to rub at my clit and I'm done for, too wound up to wait and I whine his name, gripping his arms as I find my release. 

"You make the sweetest sounds when you come."

I chuckle. "I usually don't come that fast even when I'm solo."

His eyes snap to mine. "When..when y-you're solo?"

"Yes, Ben. People masterbate."

His voice is quiet and a few octaves lower. "Will you show me sometime?"

"I can show you now-"

He grabs the wrist I had started to slide down my body. "No. Now, I need you. If that's ok?"

"God, please."

He lifts himself slightly off of me and I fumble with his belt, quickly opening it and reaching my hand inside to grip him. He grunts, a series of swears tumble from him as I pull him out. He's big, bigger than I've had. No wonder he had to work me open - I can't barely close my fingers around him. I line him up with me and I feel him at my entrance, just touching me and heat rushes to my cunt. But he doesn't move. 

"Ben?"

"Do you have a condom?"

"I uh, oh. No. But we discussed being clean-"

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"I'm protected. It's safe. If you want."

There's no more color in his eyes, dark and black with lust. "Oh God I want to. If that's-"

"Stop asking if every move is ok. All of it is. You have my consent to fuck me however you want. If something is wrong I'll tell you. Just please, Ben. I need you to move."

He catches my gaze and then slowly pushes inside of me. I can feel my skin stretching to accommodate his size, burning slightly at the edges but it's a good feeling. He pauses halfway and looks at me.

"Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah. You're just…the biggest I've ever had."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"If you stop, I'm going to fling myself out of the window."

He chuckles. "We can't have that."

My reply dies on my lips as he pushes in the rest of the way, stretching and filling me. I don't remember ever feeling this full before, and oh shit what is he hitting inside me? 

Ben pulls his hips back and slides into me again, slowly still. I hitch my thigh over his hip and he grabs it to hold my leg in place. He adds an extra thrust when he bottoms out and I cry his name, stars erupting in my vision as heat rushes between my thighs. Ben is hesitant, as if he can't read my expression. Or he doubts himself. 

"There! Fuck, Ben. What are you- ugh!" He pushes in again, picking up his pace and slamming into that spot over and over, my next orgasm building quickly with each thrust. He slows down, only to bring a hand up, trying to lift my dress up over my chest. He's struggling, so I reach my hands up, sliding down the straps and pulling down the top of my dress. Thankful I wore a front clasping bra, I quickly undo it, boobs springing free. His hips falter as he stares at my chest. 

He drops his head to my chest, taking a boob in his mouth, biting at my nipple. His hips resume rutting into me and my release washes over me, warmth spreading out from between my thighs as I cry his name, Ben still moving his hips and hitting that spot to drag out my release. 

"I'm gonna…" Ben tries to speak but then his hips sputter, thrusting up several more times into me, quiet moans and gasps leaving his lips as he comes inside of me. Breathing heavy, we lay there still connected for a few moments, just trying to catch our breath. Ben lifts his head from my chest and stares down at me, the lust receding and being replaced by something more like…love?

"Fuck you're so beautiful." 

"So are you, Ben."

He scoffs. "I'm an old man."

"An old man who just fucked me into this floor."

He smirks, unable to hide the pride on his face. "That's true. But I'm sure you've done this before, with your young back and all."

"No one has ever fucked me like that, Ben. I've never…I've never came like that before."

His eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"It's like you were hitting some spot in the back of me. Like..at the far back-"

He nods. "I think that's called your a spot?"

"WE HAVE ANOTHER SPOT? MY EDUCATION HAS FAILED ME."

Ben cracks up, his laughter shaking my body as I join him too, stopping when he hisses. 

"Stop laughing! Hold on." He pulls out and then resumes laughing with me. 

Ben helps me straighten my dress and stand up, pulling me close to his body and kissing me. 

"You ok?"

"I am. But next time let's be in a bed. I may be 24 but this floor is still hard."

His eyes darken. "Next time?"

"Yeah. If you want?"

"As long as you'll have me. I'm free tomorrow for dinner?"

"Dinner? I was thinking in another 10 minutes."

He chuckles. "I'm an old man, sweet girl. I don't think my knees can do that again so soon."

"Who says you'll be on top?"

—----

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[arcielee]

Interview With a Writer

Thank you @humanpurposes for your time to answer my questions about your amazing story 💜 This is just a continuation of my Interview With a Writer series. You can go to masterlist and read the other amazing, talented, wonderful authors that I have spoken with, getting a BTS of their brilliant minds and their stories on Tumblr and ao3.

Dividers by @saradika 💜

Name: humanpurposes

Story: My Heart Belongs to Daddy

Paring: modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, daddy kink, spanking, degradation, questionable relationship dynamics, infidelity, mentions of grief/loss, no underage elements.

So, when did you start writing?

I've always had an interest in stories, whatever form they take, books, films, plays, ideas in my head. Since I was a kid I've loved exploring different creative outlets, writing being one of them.

I think I first really started to realise I was decent at it when I did creative writing at school, it was the one subject I just 'got'. As a teenager I tried writing fanfiction and originals (which were all terrible and never saw the light of day), and to be honest, my interest in writing dwindled while I was doing A Levels and uni.

Then last year, out of nowhere, I managed to finish a one-shot for The Sandman (which I never posted and lost rip). Then House of the Dragon happened, Aemond Targaryen appeared on my screen and the rest is history! So really it's only in the last year I've considered myself 'a writer'.

Where did the plot for My Heart Belongs to Daddy come from?

One thing about me is that I'm highly susceptible to peer pressure, so when people were asking for a part 2, I was like "of course!" ...cut to me sitting in front of my laptop for hours trying to conjure up a plot.

I knew I wanted it to be quite an emotional series, because while hooking up with your mum's boyfriend is a fun gimmick for a one-shot, I really wanted to get deeper into all the dynamics and relationships at play. I knew I wanted Alys to have her moment, I was really adamant that she wasn't going to be a villain, and I had the scene outside the club on New Years Eve in my head. From there, I kinda came up with Aemond's backstory, him having a crush on her when they were younger and harbouring those feelings. It all just kinda fell into place from there.

I have to say as well, it was kind of inspired by Normal People; just two people struggling to navigate their feelings. And I love it because it sounds like such a simple premise, but there are so many complexities to it.

Expand on your interpretation of Aemond. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in MHBTD?

MHBTD Aemond is very much intended to mirror the Aemond we see in the show, minus the dragon and the war crimes.

He's studious, a perfectionist, a very imposing but understated presence. The relationship with his family is very much the same too. He sees himself as more capable than his siblings, is overlooked by his father and overshadowed by Rhaenyra and the Strong boys, so he is very much driven by a want to prove himself and live up to the legacy of his family.

He also takes on the burden of being Alicent's golden child, which he kinda botches when he messes up a contract with Storm's End, and ends up feeling more alienated by the only person who really values him. That's where Alys comes in and gives him a way to escape all of that.

So I really tried to translate his character into a modern setting in a way that would be believable, but I didn't want to lose what makes Aemond Targaryen, "Aemond Targaryen."

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

Well, this was actually the first reader/nameless character fic I've written. Generally I tend to write original characters for a series. I mean real talk though, a lot of her character is inspired by me, like her interest in history and the love for Lana Del Rey and Mazzy Star, but if you can't self indulge when writing a fanfiction, when can you?

But it was interesting for me trying to write her as someone who is easy to project onto, but also, I hope, has a lot of depth. She has a lot of conflicts going on in her head, her dependence on Aemond and her guilt she feels lying to Alys, knowing pursuing a relationship is wrong, trying to break away, only to be pulled back in... so the more I wrote, the more she became her own person.

What is your take on her relationship with Aemond? Do you feel she complements Aemond?

I think they compliment each other quite well, but there are a lot of things at play here.

So on a basic level, they have similar personalities, not particularly outgoing but not exactly shy either, they both have a quiet confidence. They have similar interests, did similar subjects at uni, that kind of thing.

But I think their differences go together well too. Aemond is ambitious and eager to prove himself, whereas she can be a bit more grounded. There's also an element of codependency to their relationship. True to canon, Aemond likes to be in control and she compliments that well (better than Alys does), and they both have moments where they struggle with loneliness and latch onto each other as a result.

There are a lot of external factors that make the whole situation very very complicated. They suck at communication and obviously, he dated her mother.

But ultimately, they both want each other enough to keep going back. I think it's like that age of question of 'is love enough?'

What was your outline process for this? Did you always know how this story was going to end?

I always write with an end point in mind. For me anyway, I need to know what I'm working towards. In my head it was always going to end with her knowing that while being with Aemond probably isn't the right choice, she does it anyway because she can't say no to him.

And again talking about realism, I really didn't see it having a fairytale ending, because even though they'll be in Oldtown together, they won't be able to hide their relationship from their families forever.

Do you think there will be a sequel? Or something else you are working on next?

As much as I've loved working on this series, I am ready to work on some other stuff.

I have two series which I'm currently updating, a canon era Aemond fic called Karma is a God, and a Tom Bennett mini series called Just for a Moment.

I also have some one-shots in the works and I'm looking to get back to updating an Osferth fic which I started in May and haven't updated since!

That being said... I did have an idea for an epilogue which I'm kinda obsessed with. But we'll see how long it takes me to get round to it 🤭

Last question! Do you have any fanfic recommendations?

That's so hard to just pic one!

I have to shout out my girl Sam @randomdragonfires and her story Invisible String. I love the dynamic she created between Aemond and the reader, only to leave me utterly devastated with the ending! Sam is so talented I love her writing style and the voices she gives the characters, everything she writes is gold.

Also, I feel like I'll never shut up about it but Now I'm Covered In You by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew was just incredible. I cannot tell you how much of a chokehold that fic had on me. The tension, the politics, the drama, the yearning between Aemond and Ivy! I was on the edge of my seat for all 10 Chapters.

I'm obsessed with medieval history, it is literally my perfect fic.

[smilingformoney]

For the Love of Books, Chapter II. Breakfast, Cars and... Natalie?

Summary: Betty and Sinclair meet up for driving lessons, but not everything goes to plan - in fact, none of it goes to plan.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

Since her lunch with Sinclair, Betty had been busy sorting out her books. First she sorted them into fiction and non-fiction, then sorted the fiction by genre, followed by author’s last name, and where she had multiple from one author she sorted them by release date. She had her Walkman on, and the only way she knew how much time had passed was by how many Joan Jett albums she’d got through. She was a few songs into Up Your Alley when, past her headphones, she heard an urgent knocking on the door.

Betty turned. Outside the door, just about illuminated by the street light - when had the sun gone down? - was Sinclair, waving urgently to get her attention.

Oh, shit. He’d said he was going to call her. She must have not heard the phone ringing with her headphones on, and she got so absorbed in her books that she forgot all about it.

She stood hurriedly and rushed to open the door to him, apologising profusely.

“Thank the Heavens you’re alive!” Sinclair exclaimed. “You know, I rang you dozens of times and you never picked up, I thought you must have died. I decided eventually I had to come here to see you myself. Is your speaker broken? Or do you just not want to talk to me?”

“No, I do! It’s not broken - at least, I don’t think it is - I had my headphones on and lost track of time.”

He shivered slightly in the cold night air, and she stepped back to usher him in. “You must be freezing, come in and get warm."

“Thanks!”

Sinclair stepped inside, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “It’s been unseasonably cold in the evenings lately. It’s all because of climate change. The evenings are going to get colder and colder every year. Go on, then, what have you been listening to that’s so much more interesting than a conversation with me?”

He answered his own question by picking up one of the cassette tapes lying on a shelf. “ Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. Good Music. Well, it must be, to keep you so occupied! You’ve done a great job with the books, by the way,” he added, gesturing to the fiction section. “Can I buy one yet?”

“Keep your end of the bargain up and you’ll get them free, remember?”

“Oh, right, the driving lessons!” Sinclair said, as if he’d forgotten. “I can pick you up here tomorrow at eight if you want, we can go for breakfast and then I’ll drive you out into the countryside so you’ve got plenty of space to practise. I still can’t believe you can’t drive, Betty! I know you’re young but you ought to have learnt by now.”

His hands behind his back, Sinclair bent down and started examining the shelves.

“The way you’ve organised these is extremely interesting. My books are organised by colour. You’ll have to see them when you come for dinner.”

“Why are you doing this?” Betty asked suddenly.

Sinclair stood and turned to her, frowning.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Asking about my shop is one thing, but driving lessons? Dinner? Why? What’s your angle? Are you going to drive me out to the countryside on the pretense of driving lessons and murder me instead?”

“No, of course not!”

“That’s exactly what a killer would say.”

Sinclair hesitated, then he realised she was joking, and he laughed.

“I suppose it is! But most murders are committed by someone known to the victim, and like you said, we don’t know each other. But I’d like to! I came in earlier because I liked Samuel and his record shop, and I was curious who was moving in. I offered you lunch because we both needed lunch. And I offered you driving lessons because you absolutely need them, I can’t stand the thought that you can’t drive!”

“And the dinner?”

Sinclair shrugged happily. “I like you and I want to get to know you!”

His earnestness seemed genuine, but then again, they all did at first. Then something else caught their interest, and suddenly hanging out with the token black girl was boring, especially when she turned out to be smarter than them, or didn’t have any drugs to sell, or wasn’t interested in their weird kinks.

One part of Betty’s brain was screaming at her not to be gullible again. The other part wanted to believe that someone really did want to get to know her.

Sinclair was rocking on his feet, waiting for her response. He was itching to ask her more about herself, but Natalie always said he was too nosy and it put people off, so he bit his tongue.

“Answer one question and I’ll know everything I need to know about you,” she decided, then gestured to her piles of non-fiction books. “Do I organise these by subject then surname, or using the Dewey decimal system?”

“Not by colour?” Sinclair asked sadly.

Betty laughed. “No, not by colour. I think the Dewey system makes more sense, but would normal people know it or would they look by subject?”

Sinclair thought long and hard about the question. He crouched down next to the books, looking at them with an intense frown of concentration, as if he was trying to Matilda them and make them float.

He had to consider the answer carefully. Not because he thought the distinction was particularly important - not when the only right answer (colour) wasn’t an option - but because Betty had said she’d make her decision on him based on his answer, and he didn’t want to get it wrong.

“You should use the Dewey decimal system,” he declared, standing up. “Dewey’s extremely interesting, and if a customer doesn’t know it, it’s an opportunity to learn it.” He looked at Betty nervously. “Did I pass?”

Betty really hadn’t expected him to answer the way he had. She knew logically that subject was the way to go for the general public, but she really, really wanted to use Dewey.

“Eight o’clock’s a bit early. Can we do nine?”

Sinclair grinned. “Nine it is! I’ll pick you up from here!” He practically skipped to the door, then caught himself. “I’m sorry, how rude of me! Do you want help with the rest of the books?”

“No, I like to do it myself. It won’t take long. See you at nine tomorrow?”

“Yes, nine! Bye, Betty!”

“Bye, Sinclair.”

The bell jingled as he opened the door, taking his whirlwind energy with him, and the bookshop felt suddenly quiet with him gone.

---

As it turned out, nine o’clock was too early as well.

It was Betty’s own fault she was so tired. She had stayed up late into the night sorting her books, and by the time she was happy with the way they were all stacked on the shelves, it was way past midnight and she was exhausted. She climbed into bed shortly after, and it seemed no time at all until her alarm was waking her up at eight.

She was desperate to sleep in a bit longer - she could definitely get away with getting up at 8.30 before meeting Sinclair at nine. But she’d gone straight to sleep without showering, and she didn’t want to subject Sinclair to sitting in a car with her BO.

The need not to embarrass herself encouraged her to drag herself out of bed and have the most sleep-deprived shower she’d ever had. She then spent far too long trying to decide what to wear. It was October, which meant the weather would be mild, but if the wind picked up it could get quite cold. She didn’t want to encumber herself with a coat if she was going to be driving - a thought that still terrified her - so she opted for a thin jumper, jeans and her most worn-in trainers.

She locked up the flat and went outside to wait for Sinclair at five to nine. It was definitely too early in the morning; her eyes were bleary and the sun was still fairly low in the sky, causing her to squint.

She checked her watch. Two minutes to nine. Five minutes later, it was nine o’clock. Betty looked up and down the road, but there was no sign of any car that might be Sinclair’s. He’d mentioned he drove an Accord, but Betty had no idea what that meant, so any car that drove past could have been his.

Anxious to distract herself, Betty began listing the capital cities of the world in her head in alphabetical order. By the time she got to Zagreb, Croatia, it was ten minutes past nine and there was still no sign of Sinclair.

Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he decided to do something more interesting instead. Maybe he’d tried to call her already and she hadn’t heard the phone ring? Realising this, Betty hurried back inside and checked her answering machine. Nothing. She was just thinking about going back to bed when she heard a knocking from outside.

She rushed back down the stairs to the front door, opened it, poked her head out and looked around. Sinclair was standing outside the front door of the shop, trying to peer into the dark room through the window.

“I don’t live in the shop, you know,” Betty called to him.

Sinclair turned, eyes wide, then grinned when he saw her. “Of course you don’t! Come on, then - breakfast!”

He clapped his hands together with glee then led her a few doors down the road, where his unassuming car - the Accord, presumably - was parked. He unlocked the door at the driver’s side, but when Betty tried to open the passenger door, he shouted, “Wait!”

She froze, confused. Sinclair hurried over and opened the passenger door for her.

“M’lady,” he said, with a small bow. Betty laughed.

“Well, thank you, sir,” she said, then mimed hitching a skirt and climbed into the car.

Once Sinclair was in his own seat, and once he’d ensured she had her seatbelt fastened, he pulled the car out and began driving through the city streets, heading for the countryside.

“There’s something I’ve been trying to understand about you, Sinclair,” Betty said as they pulled onto the main road.

“Where I get my dashing good looks?”

“No. What on earth Associate Executive means.”

Sinclair laughed. His laugh was as nasally as his voice, but there was something endearing about it. Perhaps it was the way he laughed so genuinely, like what she’d said really was funny. Or maybe it was the way his whole face lit up, his amber eyes shining with glee. Whatever it was, Betty liked it.

“It means absolutely nothing, but they insist on giving me those cards,” Sinclair told her. “Makes me sound important without giving a clue about what I actually do.”

“Then what do you actually do? Or are you one of those businessmen who has a fancy title but actually gets paid to do very little?”

“I wish! I’m a forecast analyst. It sounds boring, and it probably is, but it can be really very interesting. Plus, people will pay a lot to be told what might happen, even when I’m wrong. But I’m not.”

“What do you forecast?”

“Business trends. I tell people when supply will be down, when demand will be up, and they plan accordingly. So when there’s an upward swing in sales, they’re prepared with extra stock so they can buy it cheap and sell it high - hey, it’s not that boring!” He added with a laugh when she started yawning.

“Sorry. Still half asleep. Can you tell me when books will be popular again?”

“Just as soon as a cute bookshop opens up! When are you opening?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve still got a lot of paperwork to do.”

“You’ll have to let me know when your opening day is and I’ll come along! I’ll let my friends know too, I’m always trying to convince them they need more books. What genre am I getting paid in today, anyway?”

“Oh - er, anything you like. You can take your pick when we get back.”

“Oh, no, don’t let me choose, I’ll never decide! Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for them?”

“You’ll pay me for books the day I pay you for driving lessons.” Her stomach rumbled. “But breakfast first.”

“Yes, breakfast! Most important meal of the day, you know, and at this cafe it’s the tastiest. My favourite meal is dinner, though, because you can have great big servings followed by dessert…”

Sinclair continued nattering on the rest of the journey to the cafe, and he continued as they ate, only pausing when he had food in his mouth. He asked Betty occasional questions about her life, but she never offered much information.

Sinclair was enjoying Betty’s company a lot. He knew he talked too much. He couldn’t help it; the words were out before he even knew he was thinking them, and since he thought a lot, he spoke a lot too. He was used to people just smiling and nodding when he was rambling on, and when the feigned interest in their eyes began to fade into boredom, that was usually his cue to find a way to distract himself with a book or a crossword so he’d shut up.

But Betty seemed genuinely interested in everything he was saying - either that, or she had missed her calling as an actress. Maybe both. Either way, with no cue to stop talking, Sinclair was capable of rambling on and on at length about whatever topic his mind landed on next.

He was just getting started on the difference between coconut milk and coconut water (neither of them were sure how they’d ended up on that topic) when the manager came over to their table.

“Sorry, Sinclair, I’m gonna have to ask you to either move on or get some lunch,” the man said. “The lunch crowd are coming in soon.”

“Lunch crowd?” Sinclair repeated. He looked down at his watch. “It’s almost 12 o’clock!” He exclaimed. “Have we really been here that long? So sorry, Steve, I was just too absorbed in my lovely friend’s company. Did you know her grandfather used to own the record shop on Cornelia Street? She’s turning it into a bookshop! You’ll have to visit when it opens. Grand opening soon, eh, Betty?”

“Er - soon as I can. Come on, Sinclair, let’s go.”

“Right! Here you are, Steve.” Sinclair reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet.

“Sinclair -“ Betty began, but he put up a hand to silence her.

“Nope, I won’t hear it. Breakfast is on me - to make up for sitting here listening to me babble on for three hours.”

He opened his wallet to count out some cash, and Betty couldn’t help noticing the wad of cash in there was thick - very thick. Even if they were all fivers, it must have totalled hundreds .

Just as with yesterday’s lunch, Sinclair refused the change, then tucked his fat wallet back inside his pocket and led Betty outside.

“Is it really a good idea to carry around that much cash?” she asked quietly, not wanting to advertise the fact to any nearby opportunists. “What if you lose it? Or you get mugged?”

Sinclair shrugged, as if it wasn’t much of a bother to him. “Then whoever ends up with it probably needed it more than I did. The whole morning’s gone, do you still want a lesson?”

Betty nodded, although her stomach twisted with anxiety. She hadn’t told him the whole truth as to why she couldn’t drive - she was terrified of it. A great big chunk of metal capable of killing a person, in her control? It was a recipe for disaster. She couldn’t even push a shopping trolley in a straight line without bumping into someone. How was she supposed to drive a car without running someone over?

“You’ll be great!” Sinclair said over the top of the car before they got in, having noticed her frown. “Soon you’ll be begging to borrow one of my vintage cars. You can have a look in my garage tonight, if you want. Are we still on for dinner?”

“A fourth date in twenty-four hours? Moving a bit fast, aren’t we?”

Sinclair frowned, then grinned. “A joke!” he realised. “Yes, it’ll be our fourth date! Don’t tell the wife, eh?”

He climbed into the car, and Betty realised with a little disappointment she’d completely forgotten he was married. Why on earth was she disappointed?

Pushing that problem to the back of her mind to deal with later, Betty got in the car, assuring herself that if she did crash, at least Sinclair had backup cars at home.

---

Sinclair, it transpired, was a terrible teacher.

He spent so long explaining everything, getting lost on tangents, and still somehow managed to forget to tell her the important parts. Betty hadn’t the heart to stop him when he was talking, partly because he was clearly enjoying himself, and partly because she was enjoying listening to him.

“Oh, look at the time!” Sinclair exclaimed, having lost track of it for the second time that day, when he looked at his watch and realised it was almost three o’clock. “I’m having some friends for tea in only an hour! Well, no time to get you home, Betty, you’ll have to join us.”

“We’ve been at this for three hours?”

“Yeah, see?” He showed her his watch to prove it. Betty laughed, and he looked at her with a confused frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Sinclair, I haven’t actually moved the car yet. You’ve spent the whole time talking.”

Sinclair’s eyes widened. “Oh, I have, haven’t I? I’m sorry, Betty, I’m an awful teacher, aren’t I? I talk too much, I always have done. I can’t help myself - I think my mouth moves faster than my brain, which is already going a hundred miles an hour. And now I’m doing it again!” He clasped both hands over his mouth to force his jaw shut.

“Now, there’s an idea. Maybe I’ll gag you,” Betty said teasingly, then blushed when she realised what she’d said. It wasn’t as if she’d spent the last three hours watching the way Sinclair’s lips moved when he talked, or the way his teeth showed when he grinned, or the way his blonde hair flopped in front of his eyes sometimes.

“Mmhh-mmm-hhm,” Sinclair replied. Betty rolled her eyes and took his hands in hers to pull them away from his face.

“Don’t tell my wife!” he said with a gasp of air. “You’ll give her ideas.”

Wife. Of course. Why did she keep forgetting about the wife?

“I think we’d better swap seats,” she said. “I’m not nearly ready to drive to yours. Which is where, by the way?”

“Not far from here. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Betty wasn’t entirely sure she trusted Sinclair’s judgment of “plenty of time” if the day were anything to go by. They’d been out for six hours and all they’d done was eat breakfast and sit in a car park talking about driving.

They swapped places, and Betty wondered as Sinclair drove if his inability to keep track of time was infectious. Normally, spending six continuous hours in the company of someone else was exhausting and she was desperate to get home and unwind with a good book. But today, the time had flown just as quickly for her as it had for him. In fact, she was glad Sinclair had invited her back to his for tea, although she did feel the familiar pit of dread in her stomach at the prospect of meeting more people. Really, she just wanted to spend more time with Sinclair.

The thought caught her by surprise - or, perhaps not. He was undeniably handsome, seemed to actually enjoy and even seek out her company, and was treating her as an actual human being. Her standards were low, but he was knocking it out of the park.

Except for the part where he was married, and older than her too. She would guess his age at mid forties, and while she at thirty wasn’t that much younger than him in the grand scheme of things, she was sure someone of his age wouldn’t be interested in her. Even so - he was married. Married. Betrothed, wedded, off the fucking market. She had to stop reading more into his interest in her than there was.

Of course, as he drove, Sinclair talked. He had a story for pretty much anything he saw out the window, whether it be an interesting fact about cows or an anecdote about ending up on the wrong train in the wrong direction after a night of drinking.

“I’m rambling again, aren’t I?” he said after catching himself once more. “I’m always telling you things, I’ve hardly given you a chance to tell me anything all day. What did you do before the bookshop?”

“I was a librarian.”

“Fitting!” Sinclair bit his tongue, trying not to tell her a story about his cousin whose best friend was married to the sister of a librarian. He wanted to hear from Betty now, and hopefully they’d have plenty more time together in future for him to tell a rambling, nonsensical story.

“Well, I’ve done it since I left school. I always wanted a bookshop of my own, but I couldn’t just buy a shop. So when this one fell in my lap… I had to take the opportunity.”

“I bet you were a great librarian. I’d have loved going to a library and finding you there. You’d know exactly where the book I wanted was.”

Betty laughed. “Guilty. I knew that place like the back of my hand. It was really hard to let it go, actually, after putting so much of myself into it. But times change, people change… sometimes what was right twelve years ago isn’t right today. That doesn’t mean those twelve years are wasted, they’re just… over.”

“That’s… very wise,” Sinclair said, quietly this time. Betty glanced over at him. A faraway look had crossed his face, and he looked almost sad.

A shiver ran through him, as if someone had just walked over his grave, and he smiled again. “Twelve years?” He asked.

“Yep. Eighteen when I started, thirty now. Most people spend their twenties getting married and having kids - I spent mine surrounded by books.”

“That’s not so bad. Surrounded by books is my favourite way to be. Look, here we are!”

Sinclair pulled up to a gate, hopped out of the car to unlock it, then drove forward before hopping out again to lock the gate.

“Tedious but necessary,” he said when he returned. “Otherwise we get ramblers coming up the path. Not that I mind them, they’re mostly harmless, but sometimes people bring their dogs and don’t bother cleaning up after themselves, and Natalie hates it when she gets it on her shoes.”

He turned a bend in the driveway, and Betty let out an audible gasp when the house came into view.

It. Was. Huge. Bigger than any house she’d ever been to. It wasn’t a house - it was a manor.

She glanced nervously at Sinclair. She’d got the impression he had money - vintage cars, carrying huge wads of cash without a second thought, paying for dinner and refusing the change - but she realised now that Sinclair was rich .

When Betty checked her bank balance, she counted it as a good month if there was more than one digit. Sinclair’s bank balance, meanwhile, probably had commas - multiple commas. What on earth was he doing with a working-class black girl he’d only met a day before?

If Sinclair had any notion of Betty’s alarm, he didn’t show it. Instead, he parked the Accord on the drive ready for him to jump in on Monday morning, and in his cheeky gentlemanly manner he opened the passenger side door and gave Betty a hand.

“Welcome to the estate,” he said proudly. “Do you like it?”

Betty looked at him, wondering if he was being serious.

“Sinclair, it’s fucking huge,” she gasped.

“That’s what she said.”

There was a pause, as if they were both shocked he’d made such a crass joke. Then, they both burst into laughter.

“Wow, very mature, Sinclair,” Betty said as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“Thank you, thank you, I do try,” he replied with a mock bow, trying to stifle any further giggles. Still grinning, Betty looped her arm through his as he led her up the stairs and said, “I don’t know what came over me, I never make jokes like that.”

“Must be my influence. No high-brow humour here, my friend. Come on, then, are you gonna give me the tour before your friends show up? We’re actually on time, if you’d believe it. Or do you need time to prepare?”

“Oh, no, Mei-Li has it in hand.”

“Mei-Li?”

“Our housekeeper.”

Housekeeper. He was housekeeper rich.

“Ooh, I know exactly what to show you first!” Sinclair declared. “Come on!”

He grabbed her hand and led her down the hallway, not giving her much of a chance, if at all, to appreciate the artworks and intricate architecture that lined the walls. He didn’t even stop to tell her any stories about them; he just charged ahead, and Betty had to jog to catch up with him.

Finally, Sinclair stopped outside an unassuming door, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Are you ready?” he asked, practically buzzing with anticipation for whatever he was about to show her. She nodded, his excitement infectious, and followed him through the door to…

A huge library.

“Oh, wow,” Betty gasped. “This is bigger than my shop. It’s bigger than my old library! Are these all yours, Sinclair? And have you read them all?”

“Yes they’re mine, no I haven’t read them all. I have a terrible habit of buying more books and never reading them. There’s never enough time! Honestly, on your opening day I’ll be a nightmare, I’ll probably end up buying every book you’ve got.”

“Maybe I should just be your personal book supplier.”

“Don’t tempt me! I’ve always wanted to hire a personal librarian, someone to -“

“Ohmygod, is that a first edition of the Hobbit?” Betty squealed, not even bothered that she’d interrupted him. She bent down to stare at the book in question, which was displayed in a glass case with several other older books to preserve them against the air. “That must be worth thousands! Don’t tell me you’ve read it?!”

“Oh, Christ, no. I’ve got a newer edition for reading. These ones are just a small collection of first editions.”

Just a small collection of first editions it may be, but Betty could probably buy a house in exchange for these books.

“Sinclair!” a voice called from the hallway. The voice sounded very posh and definitely like the lady of the house.

“In here, Nats!” Sinclair called back, a tone of surprise in his voice. “You’re back early.”

“Oh, Isobel got ill, so we all had to come back, apparently,” Natalie said as she entered the room and Betty finally got to see the wife she’d heard about.

Oh, she was pretty. Of course she was. She was exactly the type of woman you’d expect to see in a house like this - pretty, thin, white and blonde.

“Of course I’d find you in here, Sinclair. Have you even left this room since I left?” She glanced around, then caught sight of Betty, who pretended to be more interested in the books than in staring at Sinclair’s wife. “Oh, Sinclair, I do wish you’d talk to me before spending more money. Does Millie even need the help?”

Betty glanced up from the book, confused. Sinclair, it seemed, was confused too.

“What are you talking about, darling?”

“Oh, never mind. When are your friends coming over?”

“In about half an hour.”

“Alright, I’ll go and get dressed.” She looked over at Betty again. “Someone managed to get in with their dog again, my shoes are covered in it.”

“…That’s a shame,” Betty replied, not entirely sure why Natalie was telling her this.

“Yes. So they need cleaning.”

“I’m sure they do.”

Natalie huffed and waved her hand dismissively. “Just can’t get the staff,” she muttered, then turned and left.

Sinclair had managed to become distracted and missed the entire exchange, so when he saw Betty staring daggers at Natalie’s back, he frowned, looking between them.

“Did I miss something?”

Betty turned her dagger-like expression to him, and Sinclair instinctively took a step back.

“She thought I was staff.”

“Oh, did she?” Sinclair chuckled. “Well, that’s understandable -“

“Is it?”

“Yes, I suppose she assumed you were cleaning in here.”

“Why would she assume that?” Betty asked defensively.

Sinclair suddenly got the feeling he was in very dangerous waters.

“Er - well - I suppose the way you were leaning over the glass made you look like you were cleaning it -“

“With what?” Betty gestured around herself. “Did she mistake my hair for a scourer?”

For once, Sinclair was speechless. He knew exactly what Betty was inferring, but he had no idea how to respond - Natalie wasn’t racist, of course she wasn’t, but Betty was also right that there was nothing in the way she was standing over the glass case that suggested she was a cleaner.

“She just cut her trip short, she’s probably just got off the boat -“

“Boat!” Betty exclaimed as if it were outrageous. “What, do you have your own boat as well? SS Bryant with an Indian captain?”

“Of course we don’t have -“

“Of course. Of course. No, how silly of me. It’s not like you have multiple fancy cars, a wallet bursting with cash, a giant fucking house and books sitting in glass cases that are worth more than my flat. God forbid you have a boat .”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Sinclair protested. “Yes, I have money, and I try not to flash it around but I haven’t been secretive about it. You never gave any sign it bothered you.”

“Well, it does! It does bother me, Sinclair! You are way above my station! So far above me that your wife assumed I was the help before she assumed I was a new friend. What do you do, go around collecting poor ethnics? Am I some kind of charity case to you?”

“Of course not! I’m just trying to be your friend!”

“Why?”

“Because I like you! I like interesting people, and you’re interesting, so I like you. Does it have to be anything more than that? Do I have to have some ulterior motive?”

“Your wife clearly doesn’t like it.”

“So? You’re my friend, not hers.”

“I don’t much like your wife.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

I’m really fucking jealous of your wife.

“Does she have to be at tea?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have to be at tea?”

“No. But I don’t have time to drive you home. You can stay in here, I suppose, but I’d much rather you join us. Maybe if you meet my other friends, you’ll see the only thing I collect is interesting friends.”

“And expensive books you’ll never read.”

“…And expensive books I’ll never read.”

Betty felt guilty now. Sinclair really did seem genuine. Everything she’d learnt in her lifetime of experiences with rich white men was screaming at her to get out. But she wanted to believe him, she did - she wanted to believe that somebody wanted to be her friend, that friendship could work between two such vastly different people. She had had so much fun today, even if nothing they’d planned had gone right, and when she was with Sinclair she just felt so comfortable.

She smirked as a thought took form in her mind. Natalie thought she was the help. Well, let her think that. Let her see the “new girl” sitting with her husband and his friends as an equal; at the table, not serving it.

“Why are you smiling? I don’t like that. Not that I don’t like your smile - you have a very nice smile - but that’s a rather suspicious smile. I feel like you’re planning something. What are you planning, Betty?”

“Nothing,” Betty said innocently. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready for teatime?”

[ladadidadasblog]

Most Wanted: Book 2 (or, when they don’t give you what you want you gotta do it yourself)

Summary: Sam and Dave set out to solve Hayley Rose’s murder. What they didn’t expect was for this case to uncover the shadows of their past, and perhaps get more out of being partners than they bargained for.

Author’s Notes: Previous chapters posted on this page. (Obviously) spoilers for Most Wanted 1! God I love that book.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60803539/chapters/155295349

CHAPTER 3

The air feels heavy on their drive back to HQ. Sam drums her fingers on the wheel as they stop at a red light, wondering if she said something wrong to make Dave tense up like that. She sneaks a glance at him and sees his face concentrated in a frown,  as if he’s thinking about something. 

The light flickers green and Sam turns into the building. As they both get out of the car, Sam turns to Dave, “Still thinkin’ about that badge?” 

“Yeah. Just…I don’t know. I’ve seen it before, I just can’t remember where-“ 

“Okay, cool it, Sherlock. You don’t have to remember it now. Let’s just go interrogate this Haines guy first, yeah?” 

Dave relaxes his shoulders, and the frown on his face disappears and is immediately replaced by a grin, “Seriously, Sherlock? We gotta work on your references. You can’t only watch Cassandra’s movies.” 

“Watch me, Hollywood.” Sam returns his grin, feeling a slight sense of relief despite the case they have at hand. “Now let’s go do our jobs.” 

______________________________________

Twenty minutes later, they open the door to the room holding Matthew Haines after skimming over his file. Criminal lawyer, specializes in keeping celebrities out of jail. Most of his cases are DUIs and tax fraud, though, not murder and kidnapping. 

Haines looks up at them as they enter the room, his hands tightly clamped together. He seems to be in his early 40s and already balding at the top of his head. He’s still dressed in a sharp three-piece suit - probably got escorted here after he just got out of a meeting with a client, Sam thinks. 

“So, Mr. Haines. I believe officer McKenzie has briefed you on why you’re here.” Dave starts. 

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard about what has happened to Miss Hayley Rose. It’s very unfortunate.” 

“We were wondering what you could tell us about your last meeting with Hayley. Did she mention anything about somebody wanting to hurt her, maybe? Somebody she’s got bad blood with?” 

“Bad enough blood to murder her?” Haines raises an eyebrow at both of them, “No, I don’t believe so. We simply talked about how best to proceed with her case.” 

“And what exactly did you two talk about? What did Hayley say?” Sam chimes in. 

Haines coughs, “Hayley mostly begged me to keep her out of jail. She said she’d do anything to not have to go to jail. Said it’d ruin her career if she did. I advised her that the case was not looking…favorably for her.” 

“Hell of an understatement.” Sam snorts. 

Dave interjects, “Alright. Did she talk about her father at all, Mr. Haines?” 

“No, not at all. I’m informed he passed away on the flight they hijacked. Why?” 

“No particular reason. Just being thorough.” Dave slides a cut-out of Tull’s tattoo towards the desk, “What about this? Does this look familiar to you?” 

Haines regards the tattoo and darts his eyes between Sam and Dave, “Uh, no. Doesn’t ring a bell. It looks like one of those biker gang tattoos.”

Sam adds a photograph of the bloodstained star badge, “What about this? Do you recognize what this is?”

Haines frowns at the photo and his eyes shift away for a second, before replying, “No, I���ve never seen this before. Is that..a sheriff star? From those old Hollywood movies?” 

“Yes-what do you mean, old Hollywood movies? They’re still being used!” 

“I-uhm, I’m sorry?”, Haines’ eyes widen in surprise as he jerks back in his seat. 

“Okay, okay, that’s it. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Haines. We’ll continue this conversation later.” Dave quickly ushers Sam out, then closes the door with a soft click behind them. He turns to Sam, voice exasperated “Sam, what the hell was that?” 

“Intimidating a possible suspect, so he tells us what really happened?” 

“You don’t do that by going off on him about a sheriff badge! Not that he’s wrong, either. Nobody within a one hundred mile radius of LA still use those things.” 

“It’s not my fault you guys have no taste.” Sam shrugs. “Besides, I have a hunch that he’s hiding something. The way he looked at those photos….he seemed to have recognized them, and chose to lie to us.” 

“Okay, fair point.” Dave rakes his hand through his hair. “Still, remember what Beckham said? By the book. And that means you don’t run around screaming at people.” 

“Fine, fine. I don’t think we need to worry about Haines for now - he’ll be kept in custody for a few days. Let’s check in and see where the team is at.” 

As they make their way to the MCU forensics room, they see Mirasol walking out of the room with a crossbody bag slung over her shoulder. She turns the lights off, and proceeds to lock the door. 

“Whoa, Mirasol. Where are you going? Where’s the rest of the team?” Sam asks, surprised. 

“Heading home. Reza and Nikhil just left. It’s 11:40 PM, and thanks to the Tull case none of us have slept more than five hours per night this week. Cumulatively.” She rubs her eyes, clearly exhausted. “You two should go get some sleep. This might be the last good night’s sleep you get, because once the press report is out, tomorrow’s going to be hectic. Good night.” Mirasol turns and heads out of the office, leaving the both of them standing there, stunned. 

Sam feels herself sag a bit at Mirasol’s words. She’s been running on caffeine and pure adrenaline all week, hell-bent on catching Tull and avenging Bill’s death. As she turns to Dave, she notices for the first time how his eye bags are darker and deeper than when they first met. No doubt the case has taken its toll on him, too. 

“Well”, Dave says, “Guess I’m calling Cass for another favor.” 

[tumbling-darkling]

The boy who lived and the professor that didn’t (for the most part)

AO3

During Harry's second year at Hogwarts, a strange and unexpected man starts teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

(A Danny Phantom X Harry Potter crossover)

Chapter 1

Harry took a seat in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, glancing over to Ron who sat beside him and then scanning the classroom for their new DA professor. He already met the man in Diagon Alley, blonde and very much interested in only himself. Harry shivered as he remembered being pushed towards him as people took pictures of the famous wizard and the boy who lived.

At least it wasn’t worse than a head of the dark lord growing out of the back of the professor's neck.

Well- Harry did thumb through some of the textbooks before classes started. He absolutely agreed with Hermione who was very vocal about the books- they didn’t actually seem to teach anything. Just spoke about the ‘many adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart’.

Maybe this will just end up being an easy class.

The door slammed open 15 minutes past the start of class, startling the students as they swiveled their heads to look at the newcomer, expecting Gilderoy Lockhart.

Instead a tall man with a slim frame and hunched posture strode into the room. He had messy black hair pulled in a very horrible and tangled loose bun with the remaining dreads lazily dangling at the man's shoulders, his chin and cheeks covered in unshaven stubble. His robe was creased and torn, his hat loosely hanging from his hand and his sleeves pushed almost all the way up his arms. What really caught people’s attention was those eyes. Unnaturally clear and bright icy blue, so blue that even in the bright light they seemed to slightly glow.

He quickly pulled down his sleeves as he walked past the students towards the front of the room, grumbling slightly under his breath about something Harry couldn’t catch. He tossed the hat aside, muttering more loudly about how ‘wizard hats are so stupid and impractical I’m not wearing that garbage’ before he turned towards the class.

“My name is Fenton- er Professor Fenton I guess. Since I’ll be teaching you about…” he glanced down at the podium he stood in front of, crouching a little as if looking for something before straightening back up. “Defense… Against the… Dark… Arts,” he said slowly and not very confidently. Then he whispered again to himself but just loud enough for some students to pick up, “they see me fight one god damn ghost and suddenly I’m an expert on all dark magic entities? I think I’ll fight Dumbledore after this.” He straightened a little, eyes looking over the classes.

Harry did not like those eyes lingering on him for half a second longer than the others. He didn’t like this professor looking at him at all.

Something just didn’t feel right.

“Alright, any questions?”

A hand immediately went up, and Harry knew exactly who it belonged to.

“Uh- yes miss-?”

“Hermione Granger. Wasn’t our professor supposed to be Gilderoy Lockhart?”

“Yeah- that guy. He’s a phoney.”

The class went silent before someone yelled out, “WHAT?”

“Guy went around, found Wizards and Witches that did cool things, made them forget it then took all the credit. Tried to take my credit and I hit him a little too hard. Now I’m here taking his place. It’s all over the news, you know. You can read the exaggerated details in there. Anything else?”

The same hand went up.

Professor Fenton sighed, “yes?”

“Why were you 15 minutes late? Shouldn’t professors be on time? And why do you look like you crawled out of the forbidden forest.”

“I fought a ghost. Then got lost,” Fenton deadpanned.

The class went silent.

Fenton then turned around, “well if that’s all, let’s get started with something I know a lot about. What do you already know about Ghosts?”

-

-

-

“You’re seriously more afraid of Professor Fenton than Professor Snape?” Hermione asked Ron. “He’s not even mean! Sure he’s grumpy but he doesn’t beat down every question I ask him! He even seems to be glad I’m asking questions! Unlike Professor Snape who just treats us like idiots for not knowing something.”

“Sure- he’s not mean or cruel but… he just freaks me out. Like how he just stares sometimes at empty walls! Or how the room temperature always drops the moment he seems to take a single step into the room! I can’t even hear his footsteps when he walks! He’s bloody freaky is what he is!”

“Well I for one am glad he’s our Professor! Imagine having a phony for a professor! Though he talks a lot about ghosts. Ghosts can’t cause people harm. At most they give a little scare but it’s not like they could cause terrible damage.”

“What about those ectoplasm based ones he was talking about? The solid ones?” Harry asked.

“Rare and unlikely. Ectoplasm doesn’t form in the magical world, Harry! The stuff that leaks through and hangs in the air is only enough to allow ghosts like Nick or Myrtle to hang around in harmless ways.”

“But he said he fought a ghost before he arrived in class! And he looked really beat up!”

“He said he got lost too! Maybe he just stumbled across a guard dog like Fluffy and made up something about ghosts!”

“What if it’s like the last professor though? What if he’s looking for another secret object in Hogwarts walls?” Harry hissed softly, “Ron is right that he just has a sense of oddness about him! I just don’t trust him!”

“Harry, you’re just paranoid from last year. Professor Fenton is normal. Now pick up your pace, we’re going to be late for our next class!”

-

-

-

Professor Fenton glanced down at Harry, then back at Professor McGonagall, “he has what with me?”

“Detention. You see, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley caused a bit of a fuss by driving a flying car in plain sight of several muggles, and risked exposing the magical world. As such, his punishment has been detention. I trust you can find some fitting work for him to do as he reflects on his actions?”

Fenton crosses his arms, his mouth tightening slightly into a grimace as his fingers slightly tapped his own arms. “This won’t be every night, will it?” He asked.

“No, we will be switching supervisors for a few weeks but you may also need to supervise Mr. Weasley sometime before then.”

Fenron let out a sigh of defeat, “well- alright. I’ll take care of it then.”

Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod before turning stiffly and walking off. Professor Fenton scratched at the back of his neck as he watched her walk off, then glanced down at Harry, those eyes seeming to search him for… something. Then that stern look relaxed into a lopsided grin, “So you were the one that made that stuck up ministry trip over their hats and scramble around in blind panic! I say, hats off to you young Potter!” He laughed.

Harry blinked in confusion at the shift in mood, then Fenton patted him on the back, “hey, no need to look so freaked out! I’m not gonna bite ya!” He began walking forward, and it took Harry an extra second to realize that the professor was moving and he should follow. “Oh, wait you probably are a little freaked out, huh? I guess my mood could have been a bit better this morning, I was just a little flabbergasted today. I was kinda rushed into this position, you know.” He shrugged, his hands shoved into his cloak’s pockets. He didn’t really walk like any of the other Hogwarts professors. He had this relaxed saunter, like he was more of a visiting relative than a staff member. “Say, let’s say your ‘punishment’ will just be helping me bring some books from the library to my quarters. There’s a lot I need to run through and a single trip would make all the difference.”

Harry nodded, finding it hard to keep up with the man's long strides. “So… you don’t like the ministry of magic?” Harry asked.

Professor Fenton huffed in annoyance, “not one bit. They are almost worse than observants!” Harry had no idea what those were. Another level of magic government? “They try to control every little thing. Don’t expose magic to the normal world. Don’t use magic to make technology without permission. Don’t use magic to save muggle children if people are watching.” His said in a mocking tone, “they have so many rules that are outdated or stupid. Never trust a government, kid! Especially a magical one!”

“What are… observants?”

Fenton glanced down at Harry, “oh those stuck up jerks? They are like the government of the ghost realm. Really annoying. Unlike the Ministry of Magic, they actually know how to find me!” He laughed.

“Ghosts have governments?”

“Oh yeah! They have more of a monarchy, the observants are like hermit wizards that only step in when they believe the world is in peril. Meanwhile the rest falls on the shoulders of the Ghost King.”

Harry frowned, “I’ve never read about that in the textbooks. Hermione says that ghosts are just harmless beings formed from souls that aren’t ready to leave the mortal realm.”

“Well she’s half right. There’s different kinds of ghosts, like Sir Nicolas and the Bloody Baron. They are more like echoes. Souls that cling desperately to this world but didn’t have enough ectoplasm to become a fully solid ectoplasmic being. They won’t leave for the infinite realms until they are ready, though many believe they are trapped here forever. More solid ghosts form in a similar way but are exposed to more ectoplasm, but rarely show up because natural portals to the infinite realms are sparse and in between. Well until about a decade ago.”

“Infinite Realms? Natural Portals?” Harry felt like his head was going to explode.

“Well, there should be some books about that in the muggle section.. Though some wizards would say it’s all garbage because muggles discovered and studied it. Just look up my name under the author and you should find some.”

“Oh… wait- did you write them? Is that why you know so much about ghosts?”

Professor Fenton barked out a loud laugh, doubling over as he clutched his sides, “Ah! No! No, I didn’t write them! My parents did!” He cackled. “Ah, yeah but I did learn from them. And a bit of field work. Tell Miss Granger to check them out too, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having something to read. She reminds me of my sister in that way.” He stopped in front of the library doors, “Aha! I knew we would find this place eventually!”

Harry looked at Professor Fenton in bewilderment, “you didn’t know where we were going?!”

Fenton shook his head and shot him another grin, “nope! I’ve been constantly getting lost in these dumb halls. This place constantly moves and I absolutely hate it. Even the Infinite Realms make more sense than this castle!”

Harry stuttered, “If the infinite realms is where ghosts go, isn’t that like… the afterlife? You’ve been to the afterlife?”

Professor Fenton lazily shrugged and opened the doors to the library, “yes and no. It’s all complicated. I’ll tell you a different time.”

Harry stood there for a few more seconds as his brain tried to catch up with the information, and once he managed to close his mouth he chased after the Professor.

-

-

-

Harry glanced around the Professors room as he followed after him, arms filled with books that seemed to suspiciously be only about the Dark Arts. He’d never been to a professor's living quarters, at most he had been in some offices. Even so, it was not at all what he imagined a wizard's living quarters would look like.

First off, there seemed to be technology. He recognized a coffee machine on a low table, but it wasn’t plugged into anything. There was an odd box that looked like a slightly smaller television, it’s screen black and wires sticking out of it attached to a rectangular box with a lot of buttons on top of it and a small round device. There was also a radio, and a huge telescope leaning out the largest window. As Harry looked, he began to notice spaceships literally in every corner of the room. Different kinds as well, some would even move and blast off. The most amazing part was the roof of his room. It was almost exactly like the great hall as it rose into dark nothingness, but the stars were MUCH brighter and all the constellations had been traced out, some brighter than others. For someone who knew a lot about ghosts, he seemed to really like space. Then there were also some odd things thrown around, like a very weird looking thermos. Or a metal… boomerang?

“Just place them over here, Harry!” Fenton called as he dropped his pile of books onto a couch in the corner. Harry did as he was told, placing the books down a little more gently than the professor did.

“Professor… how did you get these things to work? Technology usually… explodes around magic,” Harry asked.

“Oh! Well it’s because I power them myself!” Professor Fenton chirped. “They don’t work the same way as regular technology. Again, I recommend checking out some of the notes in the Fentons books, they have a lot of stuff that works in the magical realm.”

“Why would you need it though? Doesn’t magic make up for a lot of technology?” Harry asked.

“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong you see! There is nothing in the magical world that is equivalent to the coffee machine!”

Harry blinked, “... what.”

“It’s a very important machine, Harry. You will depend greatly on it once you need to stay up for an entire week. But! It seems our time together has come to an end. Thanks for your help, Harry, and if McGonagall asks, tell her I made you scrub toilets or something,” he winked.

Harry grinned back, heading towards the doorway to go find Ron and Hermione. He closed the door behind and the moment it clicked shut, he saw a flash appear from under the door.

He paused slightly, but shrugged. Maybe a comet passed by on the enchanted roof of his room. He then headed down the halls to find his friends.

-

-

-

“Not normally invited?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, “Ghosts throw death day parties like birthday parties, but rarely do they ever invite living people!”

“I see, so Sir Nick really wanted us to be there,” Harry pondered as the trio entered the party area. He immediately was hit with an awful stench, nearly gagging before he had to swallow it as Sir Nicholas noticed their arrival and approached swiftly with the widest smile they had ever seen on his face.

“Harry! Ron! Hermione! You all made it! Oh this brings such joy to my cold, dead heart!”

“Glad to see you as well, Sir Nick,” Harry struggled not to gag on the smell.

“Say, why do ghosts even celebrate the day they died? Isn’t that… like a very traumatic experience you would rather not remember?” Ron somehow managed to ask.

“Well, ghosts like to celebrate it to commodirate a start to a new chapter of our afterlife!” He paused, glancing across the room for a split second, “most ghosts that is, and the death day isn’t to remind us of our death. It more serves to encourage us to look forward! No one really wants to remember how we died. Never a pretty picture.”

Harry followed Nicholas’s gaze for the split second glance, then noticed a ghost he had never seen before. He ignored the smell (they would have to ask about that later) and nudged Hermione, pointing at the ghost, “hey Hermione, have you ever seen that ghost around the castle before? I don’t remember seeing him from last year…”

The ghost in question seemed so much stranger than the rest, he had a brighter glow, where he should have had legs, merged into what seemed to be a ghostly tail, drifting lazily like caught in a breeze. Long hair whiter than snow itself drifted around like caught underwater, and bits that weren’t drifting were braided neatly and lost in the rest of it as it constantly moved. The ghost had purple skin, pointed ears, green freckles dotting his cheeks and long sharp fangs showing as he laughed at another ghost's joke. He dressed like a medieval lord, wearing a delicately detailed black and white tunic tucked into a braided belt circling his waist, his ghostly tail completely black. Thick white leather gloves covered both his hands as he waved them around while he spoke. A white cape hung off his shoulders, but when the cape occasionally drifted to show the inside, it was like the ghost had taken the night sky and attached it to the garment. Thick fur wrapped around his shoulders and long and sharp horns that looked like ice circled his head like a crown.

Toxic green eyes that had irises that seemed to swirl around the pupil glanced at the trio and Harry suddenly felt very very small.

“I… don’t know. I haven’t even heard of any ghost that looked like him before,” Hermione seemed like she was at a loss, probably scouting through her thoughts and memories for any trace or mention of the unfamiliar ghost.

Sir Nicholas cut in, “oh! That may be because King Phantom doesn’t live in this castle! He’s mainly only here to visit for the year!”

Ron gapped, “... did you say… king? Was he a king before he died?”

Sir Nicholas frowned, “no, of course not! He’s the king of all ghosts! King of the infinite realms! The one who defeated Pariah Dark in single combat barely a year after he died! The youngest and most beloved king we ghosts have had in such a very long time.”

“There’s a king of ghosts? And that’s him?” Harry asked.

“That’s what I just said, my dear boy. Keep up!”

“I don’t want to seem rude, Sir Nicholas but… why is he here?” Hermione gasped, “if he really is such a powerful and imposing figure, doesn’t he have a lot of duties to fulfil?”

“Well, he told us he was technically here on business but that it requires time and an investigation that could take a few months. So he could visit and celebrate with us from time to time! He’s a very relaxed man, I assure you. Here let me introduce you all to him! My Liege! I have some friends you absolutely must meet!”

The King looked over and smiled widely, “friends, you say?” His voice echoed more than the other ghosts, seeming to carry across the room as he spoke. He then blinked in surprise and turned to Nick, “Sir Nicholas… you realize these three are still amongst the living?”

“Why of course! Harry is the Boy Who Lived! The first to survive the death spell!” Sir Nicholas said quite proudly.

The King drifted down towards the three, causing Ron to slightly flinch at his approach, his hands clasped together as worry seemed to etch on his face, “well, most ghosts don’t have a very good sense of smell or taste, right? Which is why we have all the rotting food out?”

“Yes?” Sir Nicholas still didn’t seem to catch on.

King Phantom held out his hand, producing clothing hanger clips made purely of ice, “The living can still very much smell and taste, and I don’t think it’s exactly the smell of roses and lavender.”

Sir Nicholas blinked, “oh. Oh! Oh Harry and friends, I apologize for forgetting such a detail!”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all graciously accept the clips, pinning them on their noses to escape the horrid smell. Then Hermione turned towards the Ghost King with a glint in her eyes, “wait- how did you do that? Ghosts aren’t this solid- and they definitely can’t use magic!”

Phantom chuckled, drifting back into the air as he pointed to the crown of ice horns on his head, “Well first off, I’m the king so I get some bonuses. As well as not all ghosts work the same. You should try listening to that Dark Arts professor of yours when he talks about ghosts. He’s quite knowledgeable about all things not living.”

“But- but years of documentation and research-!” Hermione tried to argue before the King tutted.

“Information is constantly changing and growing, something that seems pretty constant could change in seconds and turn your whole world upside down. Not to mention, many different types of ghosts like myself only became more common recently. Before, most of us were confined to the infinite realms, only ghosts like Sir Nicholas forming for many centuries and the different kinds rarely slipped out.”

“Well-, what changed?” Hermione challenged.

King Phantom sported a playful grin, “I d̶͙͉̓̓i̷̢̩̬̘̟̽ę̴̘̲̹̤͌̊d̸̢̳̞̄.”

He then turned and left the three on that note as he went to join other ghosts at the party.

“What does he mean by that?” Hermione huffed.

“He’s got an odd sense of humour, that’s for sure,” Sir Nicholas laughed.

-

-

-

Harry couldn’t stop his glare that shot towards Professor Snape as he accused Harry of petrifying Mrs. Norris and writing the bloody message that stained the wall. Before he could snap back at him that he did not do any of this, Professor Fenton seemed to almost step out of thin air to his defense.

“Mr. Potter was with me all night, he did not do this,” his voice laced with a chilling venom. Was he… lying for him?

Snape tilted his chin up, attempting to look down on Fenton who was no longer hunched, and instead stood tall at his full height. It was quite difficult to do as it turned out, Fenton towered over every other Professor in the area. “And who, pray tell, are you?” Snape seemed to almost spit.

A sinister grin spread across the tall Professor's features as he stepped in front of Harry, leaning menacingly over the shorter wizard and blocking his view of the student, “Professor Fenton, the professor of the Dark Arts. Accusing a second year of such a powerful spell isn’t a very wise take, now is it Professor Snape?” Fenton basically spat his name.

Snape glared back, “you would be surprised what Potter is capable of, especially the trouble he gets himself in.”

“How about you try not pinning the blame on a 12 year old child?”

“That is enough out of both of you,” Dumbledore stepped in. “We all know Harry was not responsible for this, as Professor Fenton’s defence is true. We have a healthy patch of mandrake roots that will cure Mrs. Norris of her petrification, and students will resume their classes while the professors investigate the issue. Now you three will return to your dorms for the rest of the night.”

Harry hesitated before he headed back towards the dorms, but didn’t fail to notice how Professor Fenton’s eyes flashed toxic green, or the wink sent in his direction.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes:  Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged) 

@mionemymind​ / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy. 

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card. 

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression. 

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way. 

You grumble  as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets. 

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers. 

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group. 

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh. 

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit. 

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed. 

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe. 

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today."  He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture. 

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have."  You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments. 

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside. 

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee. 

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today. 

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity. 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman.  "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear. 

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile. 

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you. 

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is." 

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor. 

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down." 

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked. 

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom. 

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

[toiletwipes]

and i'd give up forever to touch you

chapter eight. saturday, wait.

Summary: Will is waking up and smelling the roses, coming to grip and accepting that you're a huge comfort to him, though you seem to be in the middle of your own silent debacle.

ao3. ~1.7k. masterlist.

---

he wasn’t awake but he wasn’t asleep. in that middle part where it’s a floating feeling, as if you’re being lowered back into your bed after a night of flying dreams. not that he dreamt of flying, most dreams were incoherent and oftentimes, forgotten.

but he comes to as he tunes into the sounds of the waking world. a radio playing in the background, dishes clattering amongst other things, a soft voice humming, and feet shuffling against the wooden floorboards. and rolling in the soft, warm blanket, he finds himself reaching out beside him, looking for something, or someone, as his arm meets an almost cold space. as if someone had been long gone. taking a sniff, he doesn’t recognize the smell on the blankets or pillows and he begrudgingly opens the first eye, twitching till both of them are open fully.

it’s your bedroom, and the light is peaking in through the corner but your door is closed, as if someone had closed it after leaving him alone.

closing his eyes, he takes the moment to just cherish the way his bones melt in your mattress, sinking into the welcomed feeling.

and as the moment slows down and time seems to stop, he hears the front door slam and rosie’s voice echoing against the walls. “you won’t believe the shit that i had to go through this morning, guys.” guys? his curiosity peaked and then, as he looked the camera on your dresser in the eye and then the one tucked by the clutter in the corner, he decides he has to get up.

it was just the three of them when they got home- when they got here, wasn’t it? they hadn’t picked anyone else up, you were exhausted by the time you two entered the dorm.

had rosie invited someone over in the time you were gone? or, seeing as she just arrived, had she invited someone before she left? questions running through his head without so much as an answer for any of them, he tries to leave your bed before he’s shackled to the damn mattress with doubt.

tripping over his own shoes, he fumbles with getting a hold on anything before breathing heavily, and attempting to control it.

when he feels like he’s failed, he kicks the shoes away from him and out of the way, feet scuffling against the floor as he pulls the door open slowly, as if he didn’t want to be discovered leaving the room.

also failed at that.

“morning, will, you’re just in time for breakfast!” you cut off whatever rosie was ranting about, smiling at him as you wash some dishes from cooking whatever it was. seemed to be eggs and sausage and the bag of questionables rosie was holding in her tight hold, anger unknowingly festering.

rosie absently pulls out a chair next to him and waves him a hello.

he wants to tell his heart not to go wild at her actions but it’s already racing ahead, sitting himself next to the one girl he wants and tries to pay attention. and then someone sneezes behind him.

twisting his neck, he finds jared from the other day, curled under the thinnest blanket they had available, and his hair fashionably disheveled. not unlike how most actors wake up in a movie, he notes, as he turns back around with a wave of his own, acknowledging him.

jared. when did he get here?

“-so i’m telling this woman, who by the way has a tattoo of that baby from cloudy with a chance of meatballs on her wrist, you can’t just eat in here, this is the dressing room. and she has the audacity to tell me i’m not an employee so i don’t “have any authority” well, you should’ve seen her face when i brought the manager back there. they almost called the police because she was refusing to stop eating there. you should’ve seen it.” rosie finishes her story up as you begin to serve everyone, saving yourself for last as you lean against the counter, watching the two seated with careful eyes.

will swallows the first bite down with relative ease, and so do the bites that follow, eyes taking glances to rosie, who’s looking at her phone. and when he finishes, he moves to go wash it, ending up next to you, and you, you’re not even bothered, shoving an elbow in between his ribs as you give me a playful smile.

“hey, jared, don’t forget, we have to go pick up your mother!” rosie turns around to remind said college student, who groans and turns to smush his face into the couch, as if the couch absorbing him will save him from such a horror.

“why did she have to come visit now? it’s been barely a month!” will blinks, has it really? he turns to you as if asking you will confirm it, but you seem just as taken aback. both of you seemed to have lost time, but rosie seems confident in her time.

“yes, now get ready, i won’t wait for you, i do have to stream today,” she tells him as she swings off the seat, grabbing one of his surprisingly toned arms, and yanking on it.

he immediately whines, rubbing at his shoulder as he tried to bat her away, but she’s getting him on his feet, pushing him towards her room as she rolled her eyes. grabbing her keys, she tossed a hand up, waving as she passed them by, “i’ll be right back.”

silence sits for a few minutes as you two process what happened. and then he feels a burning gaze he doesn’t know if he wants to meet.

will swallows down something, not any of the egg or sausage, and turns to your prodding eyes, almost as if you’re looking for something inside of him, not particularly at him.

then pulling back, and turning around to wash your own dish, you bite your lips as if you mean to say something. but you end up putting your dish up and then turn to him with a smile he didn’t recognize, asking him if he didn’t mind doing homework with you.

and, well, he was in the same boat, but he didn’t exactly have his computer.

“my, my uh laptop is back at home, but otherwise i wouldn’t mind!” he answers, mind too scrambled from rosie next to him that he doesn’t know if they make any sense, and you nod.

“did you want to pick it up or did you want to be dropped off, or we could also go somewhere else entirely, just- it’s too early for me to make decisions,” you smile as you walk over to the couch, slipping some slippers on as he almost follows you, brain still ticking at a slow speed.

but he ends up making a decision, and as much as it’s a bad one, he can’t help but want to be back in his home and you make it yours like you’ve done everywhere you’ve been.

rubbing his palms as he thinks on it make him realize how sweaty they’ve gotten, so he pats them on his pants as he begins to speak, “well- what if we did our work at my place? i mean it would be much easier to do so, don’t you think?” he says, as if you were planning to decline his kind offer.

it lifts the edges of your eyes in your smile a little as you accept, moving past him with a mumbled sorry as you head back to your room, pulling out a backpack from behind the door. you grin as he gets his shoes, and as you two descend the stairs, you pass rosie and he notices the distinct smell on her and the smile she gives you two is different from the one five minutes ago.

“without me?” you joke as you call from the bottom of the second floor and she only laughs, and he knows. after all, it wasn’t that unfamiliar of a smell.

and then you’re running down the steps to the bottom floor and happily striding to your car, unlocking it and giving him a sliver of your smile, of your happiness.

though you don't see it getting in the car, he smiles to himself.

“to your apartment?” you say as you tuck your backpack in the back seat and he nods, leaning into the seat as you peeled out of the lot, turning the radio on as the sun slowly makes its way up into the sky.

the time passes by fast enough that he finds himself wondering if he had any trash in there as he was unlocking the door. it turns out not that dirty and you immediately sit yourself on the couch, pulling out your computer and asking for the wifi password.

and getting his laptop was the easy part. it’s taking the seat beside you, angling his body sideways as his laptop sits on his lap, unsure what will happen. he had closed it on the footage of you. with the sound on.

trying to breathe a regular amount, he opens it and immediately hits the mute button, watching as the screen lights up with the mute on and the image of your bedroom with rumpled blankets on them. just how you left them.

exiting the program, he pulls his classes up and internally screams at how much his professors hate him. and the time slips you two, typing fills the room and when it hits noon and you put your computer to the side, you ask where the bathroom is.

the real mess is in his room and he wonders if it's too much to ask to drive you to piss elsewhere, and that’s when he abandons all thoughts and just leads you through his bedroom, apologizing for the mess, and thanking whoever is in charge that it wasn’t as bad as he remembered.

sitting on his bed with his hands in his pockets, he wonders how much longer he’ll be glued to his computer till the workload diminishes completely when you open the door. you wipe your wet hands on the cloth on the sink counter when you turn completely to him.

“hey, will, can i ask you something?” you speak, and though you sound out of the blue, like you didn’t know that you were speaking yourself until you heard your voice, he nods, watching you and feeling like nothing bad could happen right now.

you were probably going to say that you’ve clogged the toilet with a huge shit, or something-

“do you like rosie?”

holy shit.

...

taglist: @fxnxtical @ghostburlovebot @ollie-overscore @marinaloveswomen @roygbivvie @beehive-syst3m @boiled-onionrings @mayempress @bringm3th3n1rvana @yui-san0 @comonlokbut2 @lurkey-lurker

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Midnight Drive

Pairing: Jack Whiskey Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: angst but nothing terrible, reader’s mind is mean to her (idk how to warn that correctly forgive me), sexual activities outside but not in public, FLUFF, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, so much fluffy goodness, unprotected sex (wrap it up)

Word Count: 1,890

Summary: When Jack finds reader unable to shut her mind off and desperately wanting to see the stars he suggest a drive.

Author’s Notes: I still suck at summaries nothing has changed within in a week lmao. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and we are back at the fics with, of course, my favorite cowboy. I hope you all enjoy this one. I believe I spoke about how a past Jack fic inspired this one and it’s finally here. Big thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always. I hope you all enjoy and feedback is welcomed (but please be nice I'm fragile). Oh and for all of you asking for a part two to Drive Me, Crazy it’s coming 😉 

ao3 link 

  There was a slight chill in the night air, but that hadn’t stopped you from wrapping yourself in a blanket and getting comfortable on the front porch. You let your eyes scan what little stars you could see in the sky, before you let your head rest on the back of the rocking chair. It was nights like this you wished you and Jack lived further out, so the lights in town didn’t interfere with the stars dancing in the sky. It was also nights like this you desperately wished you could shut your mind off, and crawl into the arms of the man who still lay asleep upstairs.

  You let out a sigh, scanning your surroundings again, trying to calm the thoughts crowding your head. You could feel the frustration growing, so you got up and leaned on the railing.

  “Honeybee what in the world are you doing out here?”

  You jumped and spun around, not even hearing the man coming.

  “Jack you scared me,” you let out a small chuckle. “I just, uh, couldn’t sleep.”

  You looked down, fumbling with the blanket. Even after all the time you and Jack had been together, you still hated showing this side of yourself to him. He was a secret agent for crying out loud, and you did your best to try and be tough yourself. His fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling you back to him.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “How did you know?” You looked at him, your expression faltering slightly.

  “Honeybee, I can read you like a book,” Jack chuckled.

  His fingers moved up your cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, before coming to rest on the side of your face. His other hand came up to cup your other cheek before pulling your forehead to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there.

  “A lot,” you finally spoke. “Pretty much the same things that eat at me all the time.”

  You shrugged and looked down studying Jack’s shirt.

  “How about this, you go put on some warmer clothes and we can go for a drive. Sound good?”

  You perked up at the idea of a midnight drive with Jack. You nodded quickly, before turning to do as he asked. You met him back at the Bronco, climbing in, and he was off.

Your fingers laced in his, the cool air wiped your hair around you. You had your head laid back on the headrest, your eyes on the outside world, before you finally turned to look at the man behind the wheel. He looked over at you, before his eyes went back to the road, a smile pulling at his features.

  “What is it Honeybee?”

  “I love you,” you spoke the words so low you were afraid the wind carried them away.

  Until he raised your hand to his lips and planted a kiss there.

  “I love you too,” he glanced at you, both of you now wearing wide smiles.

  Jack soon parked in an empty spot at one of the best look locations, just on the outskirts of town. You could see the nearby city lights mixing with the town and it was beautiful. But what was more breathtaking was above your heads. You and Jack climbed out, meeting at the back, as he dropped the tailgate. He spread a blanket out before the two of you hopped in. The radio played low, older country music, the only other sound was your breathing mixed with Jack’s.

He laid down pulling you down along with him. He wrapped an arm around you and your head rested on his chest, finally letting your eyes gaze at the stars above. You let out a content smile, all the earlier thoughts gone. Jack knew how to bring you back to earth, back to him. His fingers that had been laced in yours reached for your cheek, prompting you to look at him. Your eyes met his and you held each other’s stare for awhile, before he was moving and finding a new home over you. He leaned down, his lips brushed at yours softly, before he finally kissed you.

You could kiss him a million times and it would still feel like the first time. He pulled you in, becoming the only thing in your world, and making your head spin. He had you caged under him, his lips moving so perfectly against yours, until you both needed air. He didn’t let his lips part from you long, before they moved down to your neck. He kissed and licked at the places he knew drove you wild, causing your eyes to flutter closed and a small moan to fall from your lips.

  “There she is,” he mumbled against your skin causing you to smirk.

  “Jack please,” you whined as you laced your fingers in his whiskey colored locks.

  “What do you need angel?”

  “You, please,” you bucked your hips up into him, pulling a chuckle from him.

  “So needy. I’m going to teach you a little lesson tonight, Honeybee.”

  “What’s that?” You asked with a whine, your breathing already turning into a pant.

  “To enjoy the slow and steady,” his breath fanned across the side of your face as he whispered in your ear, causing you to shiver and moan softly.

  Jack was usually a fast lover. All about being quick and getting you to your high as fast as possible, just so he could draw it out of you again. Truthfully you loved when he was rough, fast and dominant. But deep down, you also loved the moments he took to worship you, going slow. His hands lightly traced under your shirt, across your skin, pulling goosebumps to the surface. You couldn’t help closing your eyes and feeling him all around you. He bunched your shirt up, before slipping it over your head, a hum of slight surprise fanned across your bare breasts.

  “Didn’t even bother with a bra hmm? Do you even have on underwear?” Jack let out a chuckle and you finally opened your eyes looking down at him.

  “I guess you’ll have to find out,” you smirked.

  Jack shook his head, once again a chuckle passing through his lips, before they fell back to your skin. He took his time, letting his tongue circle your nipple, flicking the hard bud, before pulling it between his teeth. He pulled slightly, causing you to yelp, before his hand came up to do the same thing. He took you completely in his hand and kneaded, as he repeated his actions to the other breast, causing you to get even wetter. Once again you bucked your hips up into him, letting out a whine of desperation. He was quick to move his hands down your sides and onto your hips, holding you down with just a bit of roughness.

  “Now now Honeybee. Let me enjoy you,” Jack’s words whispered across your skin.

  Then his lips were back, continuing to move further down your body. His thumbs brushed softly at your hips, only lifting his hands long enough to place kisses along the skin where they held you down. He finally let up, as he worked at your pants and pulled them down to discover you had in fact wore underwear.

  “I thought you was going to be all naughty, leaving the house without anything on under your clothes.”

  Jack spoke with a smirk as you looked down at him, and his lips found your clothed center. You let out a gasp that became a moan, as your fingers went to his hair gently.

  “I wish I wouldn’t have worn them, so you would touch me sooner,” you whined.

  Jack smirked as he worked his lips gently all over your thighs, before finally looping his fingers in the side of your panties and pulling them off. The chill air made you gasp as it fluttered across your burning skin. Jack grabbed your legs, looping them through his arms to keep you still, before he dipped his head. His tongue started at your entrance, dipping in for a moment, before he went all the way up your slit, placing a kiss at the top of your pussy.

  “Oh fuck,” you breathed, letting out a loud moan.

  He finally settled at your clit, his tongue darting out to circle the bundle of nerves, before he started to make shapes across the surface, pulling moans from you. One hand was laced in his hair, the other gripped at the blanket under you. You were blissed out and fully under his control. He would let a hum pass every once in awhile, which jolted you, and you could feel your impending orgasm getting closer.

  “Jack I’m close,” you moan out.

  Jack moved one of his arms and you felt two of his fingers enter you, and slowly move in and out. It was all you needed to tumble over the edge and your head flew back. You let out a loud moan, your eyes screwing shut as you came. Jack eased you through it, before lapping up every last bit of you. His lips made their journey back up to yours and you moaned against his mouth tasting yourself there.

  “Jack,” you whined his name as he pulled away.

  “I know darlin’,” he whispered before he was fully stripped.

  He didn’t waste time entering you, and you both let out a moan at the feeling. Jack moved slowly, his head falling to your neck, moaning at the feeling of you wrapped around him. You wrapped your arms around him, your fingers finding his hair again. Your eyes darted to the sky above, and in that moment you wished this would never end. Jack leaned up, pulling your eyes back to him. His forehead pressed against you, his eyes meeting yours, as he pumped his hips slowly in and out of you. He never let them pick up speed, but he did slam them slightly harder inside of you, making your mouth fall open.

  He continued, sweet nothings falling from his lips, as he pushed you closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

  “Jack, I want to feel you cum inside me,” you moaned out as you looked up at him.

  Jack sped up slightly, his thrusts getting a little more sloppy. Then his hand reached down and found your clit, circling it quickly.

  “And I want you to cum with me darlin’.”

  It was a simple and sweet command, but combined with the way he was working you, sent you spiraling and him right along with you. You both came apart, holding each other close, wrapping yourself completely in him. He never let up until you both found earth again, and he slowed pulling himself from you, hissing at the loss. Then he was laying next to you, pulling you to him. Your eyes moved to the stars for a moment, still panting. You looked up at Jack, only to find him already staring down at you. You both smiled softly and Jack leaned down, kissing your forehead. You let your eyes close briefly and then fluttered them back open, to look at him again.

  “I love you so much Honeybee,” Jack whispered and you smiled.

  “Oh Jack Daniels how I love you too.”

Tagged: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedro​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @all-hallows-evie​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @audreyshepbvrn​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @kaqua​ @novemberrain221​ @mishasminion360

[jjungkooksthighs]

Yearn for You | jjk (m)

◊  Pairing: vice president and boyfriend!jungkook x secretary and girlfriend!reader x ceo!jimin ft. co-founder!taehyung

◊  Genre: fluff and smut / established relationship / office au

◊  Rating: 18+ / nsfw

◊  Word Count: 31.5k (honestly another whopper but are we surprised?)

◊  Summary: As a secretary, it is not proper to engage in intimate affairs with your superior, who is the one you are meant to be at their beck and call for in the business world. The world, however, means very little to Jungkook, the vice president of Bangtan Industries and more importantly, your boss and boyfriend of three years. In all that time, he has never cared for hiding your passionate affections for one another and tonight will be no different after a particularly amusing day of teasing you and watching you fall prey to your desires for him that he revels in amidst his fervid love for you. In that love that has shifted his entire globe in how completely and wholly he has fallen for you, he will do anything to make you, his beloved girlfriend, happy. So, after some efforts to toy with you, he allows you to have some playtime with a very special friend whilst he delights himself in your entertaining little game.

◊  Warnings: hard dom!jungkook, possessive/jealous!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, sub!jimin, lots of dirty talk, pet names,  lots and lots of teasing, praise, fingering, grinding,  thigh riding, phone sex (taehyung listens in on the threesome), masturbation (male and female), cunnilingus/oral sex, unprotected sex (reader has birth control implant in her arm and Koo hates condoms lbr), breast/nipple play, biting (there’s a bunch), marking through hickeys, sucking, pussy stretching, rough and possessive sex, anal sex, double penetration (this is a jikook threesome with reader y’all), cock riding, cock warming, begging, muscle kink, scratching, light choking, cum feeding/eating, manhandling, pinning down, multiple orgasms, wet and messy sex, degradation kink (koo calls you a slut/whore for him only like two or three times each), orgasm control, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, daddy kink, reader goes into subspace for a little bit, mild bdsm, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex and aftercare (from jungkook)

◊  A/N: Gosh, this one is finally here after two weeks! This fic is not like anything I have ever written before, but I know that there will be people out there that like this! It’s very hot if I do say so myself and it was such a joy to write in my lust-filled craze that I’ve been inflicted with in the wake of D’ICON Jungkook (even though that particular look is not part of this fic lmao). I blame Jungkook’s overwhelming sexiness that always has me ready to drop to my knees for this fic because honestly it’s all his fault.

Oh, and I know some of my readers have been waiting for COC, but because I have been tight on money, I decided to write this as a commission for the wonderful @jeonsjiddies. I hope you like it, babe! Oh, and that lovely banner you see above? That is courtesy of the fantastic @nightshadevinter. I thank the both of you for your continued support of my work and do hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I was entertained by writing it.

As always, guys, please let me hear your thoughts on my work! There’s nothing that is more gratifying as an author than to get feedback on what you spent so much of your time creating! Finally, if Tumblr is crashing because the fic is so long, you can find the AO3 link right here !

The day’s hours wane amidst the sun that sets behind you as you watch the last of your coworkers slip through the elevator doors of the twenty-story building, your heels clicking against the marbled tiling of the highest floor in the corporate property belonging to Bangtan Industries, the most well-known architectural firm in the industry.

 In one hand you have papers fresh out of the printer, your eyes trained on the small font that outlines the topics of discussion and areas of interest for tomorrow’s meeting as you skim through them. As the secretary of both the vice president and the CEO of the company, you had always been the mediator of their affairs, which meant that you never had a moment of rest while at the office.

 Because your charge was attending to the ever incessant happenings between your bosses as the two most high-ranking individuals in the company, you never had a moment of respite (not that you minded). The constant hustle and hullabaloo that was dealt in their wake left you in an ever flowing state of motion and you liked the grind. It meant you never were bored by their occupancies at work, for they always ensured that you had something to busy yourself with.

 The fact that your CEO looked to have been brought to life by an artist’s brush in his beauty while your vice president (and consequently, your boyfriend after some years together) appeared to have been sculpted by the gods in his handsomeness surely was a bonus, however, for whenever your sight would begin to blur because of long hours spent drafting and writing across your computer screen, a simple glimpse at either of them had your visage instantly clearing in the clarity of attraction that perceived itself between your legs when they’d stare back at you in stolen moments of passing.

 As you scavenge the paperwork for any errs that you may have missed, you don’t notice the silhouette the crosses the cubicles hedging the floor as you navigate through the maze of them, your irises narrowing as you huff in the realization that you forgot to properly align the addendum toward the end of the files in your hurry to finish and be out of the office after six o’clock per the orders of your CEO.

 When you cross the threshold to your office, the walls of glass that are curtained with silvery gold silk are opened to allow the sun to bathe you in its comforting heat that settles warmly over your stiff bones as you drop the paperwork atop your desk and rest your hand on it as you let your eyelids fall over your irises with the sun that coaxes you to luxuriate in its golden rays in a momentary lapse of silent solace from the toils of the day’s efforts.

 Behind you, a shadow cloaks you before a deep, low-timbre voice swathes you in its hold as it teases, “Enjoying the afternoon sun, baby? You should really head on home right about now, hmm? It’s getting late,” his eyes trail down your back and drop to the swell of your ass that strains against the small, short pencil skirt it is pushed up against before he continues, “We wouldn’t want the boss to get mad because you broke rules and stayed past six o’clock, now would we?”

 “Vice President Jungkook,” you squeak, his voice stringing you up and twining you around the fingers that-after many years of dreaming about them- now touch you in your most intimate sectors of your body in his unceasing relentlessness of rapturous intent that drive him to find himself between your legs every night, morning and afternoon that he could entertain. You had once wondered how a man could possibly rival an incubus in how he seemed to thrive with the more that you gave him and before him, you’d been abstinent as a nun. He had quickly changed that once you’d succumbed to his dark promises that had been wrapped in sin’s lace as he’d covered you with them with a tongue too long to be anything but devilish. It’s been years since you first got together, but he still renders you to be in need of an exorcist in the spirit of sex that has possessed your soul in its binding to him.

 You put a hand to your chest in startlement before you turn to face him to go on, “I didn’t hear you come in. Is there something you wanted to discuss? I just was going to finish up Jimin’s,” you clear your throat under his constricting gaze that constringes you for a battle of air as you correct yourself, “the CEO’s itinerary for Wednesday after fixing up the topic outline for tomorrow’s meeting with the board of directors.”

 It was amazing how after several years together, he could still whisk your breath away from you with one glance.

 Your superior hums, “Mmm, busy girl as always, aren’t you?” He takes a step inside your office, the sun’s light beams a stark contrast to the dark suit he wears that is colored black like the night sky, the silvery stitching in thin lines along his coat shining like streaks of falling stars in the movement as he suavely exhorts, “Did you happen to have time to send to me my travel arrangements for the week? Make sure you clear time for yourself to attend the gala with me on Thursday. I meant to tell you that earlier when you were feeding me my lunch in my office,” he confides lowly as two hands grip the edge of the chair that sits in front of your desk while he carries on, “Thank you for that, by the way. My hand was so sore from constructing the miniature model of the new tower we are building. I’m so glad you were there to assist me in erecting it and that you could sate my hunger earlier today. I was ravenous, you see.”

 Your cheeks flame in remembrance of the way his deft, long tongue had wrapped around the fork you’d presented to him, the creamy alfredo sauce coating his pink lips suspiciously similar to the cum he’d expertly and easily draw out of you every time he ravaged you or the essence you’d taint yourself with during the forbidden hours of the night when you touched yourself to fantasies of him in the midst of his absence due to the longer hours that he was required to work at the firm.

 You’d never heard anyone groan from ‘the succulent taste of the meal’ as your vice president had, but you’d be damned if you didn’t enjoy every delicious sound that had dripped from his mouth as he’d opened his lips to welcome you when you’d draped the noodles across his tongue.

 Needless to say that after that particular encounter, you’d had to escape to the bathroom for about twenty minutes to relieve the ache between your thighs that had garnished and cooked your insides for him until you burned with the need to release the steam that wouldn’t escape you without his guiding hand.

 In all of that, you’d been entirely oblivious to the two sets of eyes that had been fixated on you while they watched you with utter absorption. With the visage of your cheeks that had reddened from the blood that had rushed to them and the slow, uneven walk you’d taken back to your office amidst your thighs that stung from your efforts, it had been all too apparent that you hadn’t really gone to use the restroom for the purpose it was intended to be used for.

 Jungkook himself had smirked at that and when his irises had switched away from you and to his own boss, the CEO, whom had his own workspace directly next to his own, Jimin’s teeth had gnawed on his lower lip until you disappeared behind the curtains of your office before resuming with the Skype conference with one of the company’s chairmen.

 With your head full of your illicit indecency that the man standing in front of you now had caused earlier, you try to fight past the fluttery feeling in your chest as you splutter, “U-um, well, it was no problem at all!” You croak as one of his brows lift in amusement as you fidget under his all-encompassing stare to blurt, “Always a, uh, pleasure helping you, Jungkook.”

 Truly, you don’t know how you managed to acquire a degree in English with how eloquence seems to suddenly be a foreign concept to your mind, but your vice president seems to be wholly unbothered and oppositely entertained by it as one side of his lips lift while he cocks his head to the side to divulge, “A pleasure indeed, Y/N,” his voice dips as he comes ever closer to you, his palms now splaying over your desk as his long, iron colored tie swings forward to dangerously dangle close to your own hand that twitches in the want to grasp it and pull him forward until his lips have nowhere to go but on your own as he urges, “You always take care of me so well. I want to return the favor to you, but I just,” his irises lower from your eyes to your mouth as you draw your lip between your teeth and when they rise back up once more, he professes, “can’t put my finger,” he drums his index and middle fingers along the timber of your desk, “on how I want to repay the favor.”

 Memories of last night filter through your mind like an echoing song as they tune your brain to the way he’d pummeled into you, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he’d ravished you after you’d begged him to let you ride his face and you’d dared to sit back and grab his cock in the midst of his attentions to your pussy. You’d screamed through the delicious pleasure that was too much to bear and he’d been more than eager to leave you a mess of limbs and cum on the bed in his wake as he’d fucked you so crazedly, his efforts guided by the need to see you ruined with his seed a success in how mercilessly he’d given it to you and how greedy you’d been to take it all.

 Heat floods your core at the anything but holy thoughts, for your boyfriend surely became a demon in bed that you would gladly fall to your knees to be taken by over and over again.

 “You,” you swallow past the lump in your throat and have to remind yourself to keep your legs locked together lest you succumb to the urge to rub them against each other as you give a choked answer, “you don’t have to do anything. My salary is payment enough.”

 “Oh, but is it? Is there nothing else I could give you to show you how much I appreciate you?” He looms closer, his raven’s wing hued hair kissing at the tips of his cheeks while tenderly embracing the sides of his forehead amidst the hands of oils that part it down the middle and slick it in their essence as he inquires, “Is there not some kind of bonus that you desire? Say it and it is yours, my beloved secretary. After all,” his eyes glint tellingly, “you’ve always been such a good girl for me. I want to reward you, beautiful. Will you let me?”

 “Jungkook,” your cheeks heat up as you whimper, “Please.”

 You try not to think about the implications of what your response might lead one to believe, but under his heady gaze, there’s little you can do but let your words tumble from your mouth.

 He’s called you beautiful a number of times whilst in the presence of other clients and coworkers and each time, your heart had done a flip against your ribcage. The fifth month after he’d become your boyfriend, you’d once questioned him why he called you that and he’d simply shrugged his shoulders before offering, “I should think you would know, pretty girl. It’s because I find you attractive.”

  You’d gone home that night after he’d vowed to bring you your favorite takeout food to make up for having to stay longer at the firm and you’d hugged him with the dumbest smile stretching across your features before turning to leave while he’d smiled fondly at you as you’d skipped like a lovestruck teenager all the way back to your apartment and wondered all night long what he might have been doing while you’d put on your favorite k-drama and bundled yourself up in blankets for your nightly binge of the show, your thoughts void of anything and everything that was not Jungkook in your straying attention from your tv session that was entirely your boyfriend’s fault.

 When he’d come home to you that night, he’d made sure you victualed atop his lap while you’d fidgeted with an ulterior motive leading your body, your moans of enjoyment for the soup he spooned to you all too loud and drawn out amidst your purposeful movements that had been quick to have him hardening beneath you and before you’d known what had happened, he’d thrown you atop the table and fucked you well into the morning hours.

 Now, in the silence that has seeped through the office in the lack of occupancy that is limited only to you and your two bosses, the word has an entirely sinful meaning in the deepness he’s pillaged it with.  

 When he darkly chuckles, mischievousness and everything that promises lasciviousness colors the sound as he pushes off your desk and stalks damningly closer to you, his much taller frame engulfing your own as he hovers before you to lowly inquire, “What do you want, beautiful? Say it,” he steers himself around the desk until he stands in front of you, anticipation welling up within you as he wraps one arm around you until one palm is pressed against the small of your back and in one fluid motion, he streams your body against his, your breasts cascading along his chest as you suck in a breath at the rocky plane of muscle laid over him even through layers of clothing, your hands-as if siphoned forth to him-planting themselves along his pectorals as he utters, “Tell your boss how bad you want it.”

 “Vice President,” your breath hitches when another hand boldly finds purchase along your ass before it slides down to cup your thigh as he pulls your leg up and around him so that it is wrapped around his slim, hourglass waist as you fight the mists of lust that cloud your abdomen as you try, “we c-can’t. This isn’t…it’s not proper.”

 “Do you think I give a damn about niceties when you’re fucking tempting me with how short that little skirt that barely covers your ass is?” He growls as he ducks his head, his lips ghosting along the sensitive junction just under your ear as the hand on your thigh trails upward, his digits just grazing your panties as you shakily sigh out while his other hand dives under your blouse before he husks, “Do you think it is proper to go in the bathroom and fuck yourself with your fingers after you fucking fed me with them? Huh?”

 “You were watching me, vice president?” You gulp at the realization that he knew, “I thought I had been discreet…”

 “Such a dirty little girl,” he muses as the fingers he’s snuck under your V-necked linen shirt run along your skin in languid circles before he blows a puff of warm air against your neck, your skin prickling in his wake as he noses at your jaw, “Did you honestly think that when you went to the ladies room for twenty fucking minutes that I timed on my watch that I didn’t know what you were doing?” His lips brush against the column of your neck as you let your head fall back in silent offering to him as he goes on, “Did you honestly believe that when you walked out of there and wafted the smell of sex across the office that I couldn’t fucking tell what you were doing in there as you fucked yourself while you thought about me?”

 Caught as you are in his hold, you cannot escape the mortification that drops like an anchor to your shoulders and then down through the bowels of your body in its infinite heaviness at the realization that he’s got you red-handed. Embarrassment is what has your lids closing in your inability to see the source of your lust swim in the knowledge of the waters of your sins that streamed from him.

 Despite it all, his digits draggle along your southward lips as he rubs them against your pussy, your walls clenching around nothing as he groans at the wetness that begins to coat your panties as he coos, “Fuck, you’re so naughty, babygirl. Look at that pretty cunt cry for me because it’s been neglected without the only one that really satisfies it,” his finger pulls the ruined cloth away from you and suddenly the hand that had been exploring the ridges of your spine dips in its exploration to pool around your hip and with a dangerous flash of his eyes, he pulls you down over a semi-hardening bulge between his legs, a moan slipping from your lips as he impels you against his member to grunt, “You like this, baby? Does it turn you on to know that I’m aware that you got off to me in the bathroom? Would’ve been so fucking hot to see you get fucked with your fingers, baby. God, it’s making me hard just thinking about it.”

 His dirty words soil you in as he covers you with them just as tangibly as you’d been spoiled by your own juices, your brain short circuiting in the jolts of heat he wracks you with as his touch thunders over your skin that begins dewing with the beads of sweat in the high temperature that he flusters you with.

From the very first time you’d seen him years ago in the shabby little bar where time had seemed to stop as you’d locked eyes with him while he passed you by, you had been under his spell and now, as he holds you to him with desire simmering in his gaze, you’re struck with that sensation of beating wings in your chest as you let him finally lay his lips over the junction of skin along your collarbone, the pillow of his lips bedding themselves over you lightly as the fingers of one of your hands curl inward into his shirt in your effort to hold onto something to ground yourself against the lightness lifting at your insides as you manage the only word that your mind can possibly internalize in the midst of your fading cognition with a whisper, “Jungkook.”

 Your vice president smirks against your skin as he bedecks you in his osculation. Saliva is left in his aftermath as featherlight kisses are flitted along your collarbone and when the hand on your waist pushes you down onto him to urge your hips into moving, you whine as he combines this with the stroke of his fingers at your steadily swelling bud of nerves that gardens the flower of your pussy.

 “Answer to me, beautiful,” he brings you both back until his back hits the glass wall, his hips instantly rolling into yours as he coaxes your other leg to join your other around his waist before he flicks a long, hot tongue along your mastoid that cords your neck as he declares, “If you want me to fuck you like I know you’ve been craving for me to,” he mouths against you, “Tell me how much you fucking want me, beautiful. Let me hear how badly you need me to take you because you can’t possibly be pleased by anyone else, pretty girl.”

 Heat swirls in your belly as he lazily draws shapes into your clit, his member hardening impossibly more for you when you grind yourself against him while you wrap both arms around him to brace yourself as you hump him like an animal in rut, the hand he’d had on your hip quickly cupping your ass to hold you up while he stares hotly at you.

 Knowing that you will face punishment in the bedroom later if you do not do as he asks, you try to wrack your brain for the string of words that you need to scramble out of their jumblement amidst the need that throws them into a whirl as you breathe, “Want you, Jungkook. I want you so badly. Please, let me-“

 “Oh, but do you think you deserve it, Y/N? Do you believe you should be allowed to have my cock when you denied me for so long today?” He taunts, his teeth taking your earlobe between them as he continues, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to put my cock inside that little cunt of yours? How many times I thought about bending you over this damned table and fucking you into oblivion?” You gasp in the risqué admission as he sweeps you over him, his wrist disentangling from your clit to pull your skirt up so that he has no obstructions while he shamelessly ogles your dripping cunt before you lower yourself down on him to earn a cautionary hiss from him, “Watch it, beautiful. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll take you right fucking here in the middle of your office. If I can wait all day to finally have the chance to fuck you again after you denied me, so can you.”

 "Why did you, ah-" he slots one thick thigh under you, a cocksure grin spreading over his features as he helps you thrust yourself over the thatch of muscles lining every inch of his leg, your voice cracking when both hands clutch your ass as he pulls you down and over him to brokenly whisper, "Why did you take all day to finally fuck me, sir-" your lips are suddenly captured in a heated kiss, his mouth roughly claiming yours as your head falls back while he flicks his tongue along the roof of your mouth to claim every bit of you before he pulls away to leave you heaving as you try again- "I-I wanted you to come to me earlier when I was in the b-bathroom,” your breaths are labored from the air he’s thieved from you to leave only your wanton admission, “wanted you to give me your cock and t-take me against the wall while I begged you to let me have your cum inside me...”

 "Such a little slut for me, aren’t you? You didn’t have enough cock this morning when I stuffed it between your hungry little lips and fucked your face? You know," he groans when one of your hands slides down his defined chest as you drag it to its destination before settling over the fully hardened member as you gyrate your hips atop him, " I taught you that when you want something, you ask, yeah? Could’ve had what you needed if you’d just been obedient and used that fucking mouth to request a good fuck, but instead, I had to use my fucking hand to imagine it was your pretty little cunt that my cock was in," you whimper at his confession, your fingers curling over his member as you swirl your hips up and down his leg in a frenzy, your core heating like a wildfire when his eyes darkly flash, " You're going to suffer as I did, pretty girl. You're going to feel how fucking desperate you made me while I jacked off to pictures and videos I recorded of you when you were innocently batting your eyes at me from all the way over here while I was in my office with my hand on my cock."

 “Jungkook,” you whine, “I don’t know if I can take that. Not agai-“

 "Oh, but you will, baby. You will do what I say because I'm the fucking boss, yeah?" One hand gropingly lifts from your ass to grasp at a bra-clad tit, a whimper falling from your lips when he squeezes hard and with his other hand, his fingers sink into your side as he pivots your waist down on his thigh, his muscles jumping at you and catching at your core as he urges you over him and in response, your fingers constrict around him to earn a hiss, "God, it was too easy to make you fall apart on me. Come on, baby," he challenges as he takes your lip between his teeth to nip at you, "Show me what you've got, yeah? Fuck yourself on me. You have sixty-nine seconds to finish before I pull you off me and go back to my office."

 With his demand, you’ve no choice but to obey and instantly, you bear your hips down on him with renewed fervor, the firm and solid thew tautening beneath you as clamp him between your legs while you sway yourself back and forth like a seesaw, a moan stuttering from you when he pushes aside your shirt to grip one breast in his hand, his digits expertly rolling your nipple between them as you teeter precariously atop him, your waist stammering amidst his ministrations when slams his mouth against yours once more, his tongue thrusting inside your warmth as he captures you under his osculation and possessively wraps his wet muscle around yours as he steals your breath away.

 When he pulls away, you chase him with growing hunger that latches itself to you, your mouth connecting to his in a softer kiss as you kittenishly lick at him while he kneads at your breast.

 Your core clenches around nothing when he pairs this with a harsh propulsion of his thigh into your cunt as his sinewy skin slides deliciously along your clothed cunt, the tingling friction finding every inch of your pussy as you avidly grind against him.

 You compress your fingers over his rock hard cock that has your salivary glands producing excess spittle in want of him and when you dare to start rubbing him there while you busily buss his jawline that you think might cut you in its sharpness if you aren’t careful, that’s when he growls out, “God, you’re such a fucking minx,” he angles his head back to welcome your lips against him, “Time’s ticking, princess. You have ten seconds.”

 “Jungkook, please, I…I’m almost there,” you cry out, “Please don’t leave me,” you blurt as you bounce on his thigh rapaciously while you fervidly litter his neck with the stains of your crimson lipstick, “I’ll do anything,” you beg as he smirks while he watches you with interest, “I’ll let you do anything you want to me later, just…please, let me cum. I’ve thought about this all day long, thought about you fucking me all day long,” you blabber as your pride is burned away by his searing gaze while he pushes his thigh impossibly deeper into you as you whine out, “let me finish, sir.”

 Perhaps it the fact that your boyfriend is quite honestly the hottest man you’ve ever seen walk the earth (really, how could you ever be satisfied with anyone else when your boss and boyfriend is a literal incarnate of sin and sex) or maybe it is because he’d edged you this morning in the shower, for his much longer and larger fingers had played with you like you were his favorite toy and that had you quickly winding up around him. Despite your cries, he’d not let you come after disobeying his orders to speak after he’d all but fucked your brains out following round four of your sexual escapades with each other on the kitchen table, the couch and the wall and then the bed. Maybe it is both of those, but you've never been so quick to rile up and Jungkook, the one who has his strings attached to you like you’re his damned puppet, well… it is easy for you to see why you are at the edge of the precipice he dangles you over with his strong threads.

 He observes with amusement the way that you work yourself avariciously over him, your lips insistent in lavishing him with your attentions as you line his throat with the red coloring you’d put on your mouth until he’s decorated with it like a painting you’d artfully drawn yourself. He lets the seconds pass beyond what he’d told you, delight lighting at his eyes as he sees the relief wash through yours in the slow surety that streams in your irises beside it in your thoughts that he’s going to allow you to find your end.

 It’s when your thighs begin tremble from the labors of your efforts and a low pant starts to push itself between your lips as you undulate yourself against him that the large hand on your breast twirls your nipple between deft fingers, fire flaring through your core as you moan out his name.

 “That’s it, baby. Say it louder for me,” he groans as he bucks his hips against you, a devious glint in his eye gleaming at you that only has you burning hotter for him as he husks, “Let Jimin know who you’re fucking yourself like a dirty little girl on.”   

 Your end is near and you’re so close to plummeting into your end, but he holds you from it and refuses to let you fall into it. Not yet, anyway.

 “Jungkook,” you whimper, “touch me.”

 Your boss hums, “Mmm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pinches your nipple only to cause you to squirm, the slight pain shooting sparks down to your pussy that clenches for him. He growls at this, for the flutter of your southward lips against his thigh has his cock throb beneath your fingers that still stroke him and suddenly, his hand is gone from your tit and instead finds its place in your hair that he clutches and yanks you forward with so that your chest is pressed flush against his front as his eyes flash darkly and he hisses, “Too bad, baby. I let you fucking use me so I could see how desperate I could make you while you tried to get yourself off. Now that I have you,” he torturously extricates his thigh from between yours and you all but sob at the loss of him as he sets you down on the floor, the hand in your hair wrenching forward until he crashes his lips to yours and sucks your tongue between his teeth as if he wants to devour you and all the while, the hand on your hip sidles down and, while he’s got your eyes falling closed, they shoot open as you moan into his mouth when he cups your sex, his middle finger prodding your hole and when he pulls them both away, carnality dilates his pupils as he declares, “I’m going to make you my fucking whore.”

 Air evades you, but the fire lighting up in your core sustains the need for him as you attach your hands to his shirt to hold on for dear life in the midst of your weakened, feeble knees that have lost their strength in how much of it he’s sapped from you in your kisses. You shakily exhale what little of it remains as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, your shyness starting to return now that the haze of hormones clouding your brain is gradually rescinding in the lack of his touch.

 Breathlessly, you whimper, “Need you now, Jungkook. Please-“

 You’re effectively silenced when he presses his pointer finger to your lips to quiet you, your labored suspirations wrapping warmly around his digit as he croons, “Shhh…I know, babygirl. I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” his fingers enclose your wrist to coax you to put more pressure on his member and you do, your eyes fixing on how much smaller your hand is compared to his own as you urges you to run your hand back and forth over him as he groans, “Feel that? That’s all for you, baby. God, that little mouth felt like heaven around me this morning. Did I tell you that? Did I mention how beautiful you looked with tears falling from those pretty eyes? Fuck, you were so cute with spit dripping from those lips while you sucked me off like a needy little slut.”

 You choke a strangled sound out at that while you burrow your face deeper into his neck as if to escape from the filth he wants to dirty you with, but you don’t get too far with the way that his finger taps expectantly on your lip as he prods at you and you need no further instruction than that as you tentatively open your mouth to welcome the digit he promptly slides in as he praises, “There you go, babygirl. Such a good girl even when I deny you your orgasm. You know you deserve to have it withheld from you, don’t you?”

 You lick at his finger in answer as you breathe, “Yes, sir. I’ve been bad to you today, haven’t I? I’m sorry,” you try a new tactic in effort to release some tension that has coiled into a knot deep in your belly as you whisper, “Will you let me make it up to you, handsome? Want your big, fat cock inside me so badly…”

 You let your words be swallowed within your mouth as you close it around him only to suction your wet warmth around his digit, a grunt quick to release itself from him as his pupils blow wide at the sinful sight of his finger disappearing into your mouth. His mouth parts at the lewd sounds that escape your mouth as you take him inside you, your tongue flicking against him with precision as you lock your eyes on his and in them he sees the kindling of desire that smokes and hazes them over.

 “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he watches as you innocently blink at him with your head still nestled onto his shoulder and when you swallow around him, that has him twitching under your hand that continues to palm at him, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he husks, “Are you that fucking gone for me? Shit, baby. If that’s how you are with just my finger, imagine how you’ll be with my fucking cock shoved in your pretty pussy.”

 “Want it,” you mumble around his finger as you lave at his digit,” want you so much. Please, Jungkook, take me.”

 “So desperate for me. Just how I like you, babygirl. If you want me that bad,” he pries his finger from your mouth, both of you watching the string of spittle that follows him before breaking off and only then does he lean forward, his lips just shy of touching yours as he commands, “Come to me in five minutes. I need to have a quick word with one of the representatives of the company for funding and then I’ll have the rest of the night to fucking ravage you, yeah?” He pushes off the window while he drags your hand away from him and you can’t deny the cold that is left in his absence when he moves away from you and you pout because of it while tucks your skirt back down.

 He grins at the way your knees buckle and, responsively, he helps you to sit down. One tattooed hand finds its place on your hip while the other splays possessively over your abdomen as he walks you backward and once he’s got you sitting, you catch the way his hands linger as if he doesn’t want to let you go, but with an imploring look you tell him more than your words would convey as you place one of your own hands over his while you urge him to stay with a small squeeze of your fingers over his.

 He’s utterly gone for the way you adorably purse your lips as if to plead with him and it doesn’t go unnoticed by your boss that you whine as he pulls away to chuckle to himself while he strides away from you. In his absence, your pussy yearns for him as it deposits even more of your taint into your ruined panties in his tormenting separation from you.

  By now, he’s at your door and before he disappears, he turns with his back still facing you to add, “Oh, and one more thing,” his irises dip down as he gestures to a dampened, wet patch on his pant leg where you’d been sat atop of earlier before he peers back up at you with a hooded gaze, “If I find out you finished yourself off in here without me,” his voice becomes brusque as he deepens it,” The only thing that cunt will have jammed in it for the next few months will be the vibrator you brought to work last week.”

 “How did you,” you clear your throat amidst the clog that has clumped itself in a ball within the middle of it,” you heard about that? You saw that?”

 “I’ve heard the whispers that all the women believe they are too quiet for me to detect, but you,”  He flicks a sculpted brow up as embarrassment mutes you, your cheeks coloring themselves red as the remnants of lipstick that still remain on your mouth as he pokes his tongue against his cheek in a sight that has you instantly wanting to get on your knees once more for him as he says, “you’re such a slave to your desire for me that you just can’t keep that little mouth shut, that you just can’t help but to tend to that needy little cunt because of me,” his eyes scintillate with sin, “you thought I didn’t notice you take that vibrator to the supply closet with you after I had you massage my thighs that you like to tell the other women that you love so much, but I did, baby,” he watches you rub your thighs together, a pained sound resounding from your lips as he finishes, “You put on such a show for me on the camera I have installed in there. God, you have no idea how bad I wanted to fuck you senseless while you tried to stop yourself from calling my name.”

Your jaw just about drops at his admission, mortification causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as if that will make you smaller against the very large realization that he knew of your feral treachery and with a devastating grin, he leaves you a heaping wet mess on your chair as you try to figure out how one man could be responsible for turning you into a human succubus that needed sex with him as much as you needed air to breathe for your body.

 In the silence that follows your boyfriend and boss, all that can be heard are the perpetually unrelenting ticks of a small wooden clock atop your desk. They chink to the uneven beats of your heart that pounds against your chest as you clutch at it to count the breaths that elude your contracting lungs against the tethers that Jungkook himself had put there.

 Trying to focus now would be like attempting to look away from your boyfriend while he’s stark naked and lounging on the living room recliner in readied receival of you after being away from him for the three-week long and very lonely secretarial seminar that Jimin sends you to every now and then to keep you sharp in your duties that you were expected to carry out as the unofficial manager of both the CEO and Vice President of Bangtan Industries.

 It just doesn’t compute in your mind that has gone haywire in the wake of Jungkook that you can do anything but to keep your attention fixated on the little circular face of the clock, its spindly hands moving far too slow for your liking as you try not to think too much on the teardrops your sex cries in its grief of losing him. When you make the mistake of shifting and sibilate at how drenched you really are in the movement, you look away at your soaked skirt to find it ruined where your sex sits, a groan coming from you as you battle the urge to just bring one or two fingers to your clit to water the fire of need burning there.

 “Jungkook,” you whisper to no one in particular, “You fucking win.”

 Heat still washes you through in the fluidity and you clench your hands into fists atop the table as the waves of it try to ebb your hand down to relieve you of the need that swelters within your core and you are quick to lay your forehead against the desk in need of a colder landscape to battle the Sahara desert’s scorch that has manifested itself in your belly.

 “That’s what I thought, doll. Better not touch yourself, baby,” the familiar voice of your boyfriend chimes through the multiline phone system sat next to your computer, your eyes widening as your back straightens and you sit up with widened eyes, your hand quickly jerking away from your womanhood as you stare surprisedly at the red blinking button that signifies that presently, you are being recorded. He must have turned it on when he’d been sitting you down and, like a siren, you’d been entirely lulled by his distraction.

 “Jungkook, I-“

 “You don’t get to make excuses when I heard you fucking moan with how badly you must want to use your fingers to relieve yourself of me. It’s hard, isn’t, baby?” You can see the shit-eating smirk he gives you even from the other end of the line as he sonorously says, “I would advise that you don’t try anything without me, love. Because if you do,” his voice hardens,” I don’t think you’ll like the consequences.”

 “Need you,” you whine as you push your breasts against the wood in effort to stimulate yourself elsewhere as you try, “Please, sir, let me touch myself. I can’t take it without you.”

 “Oh, but you must, pretty girl,” he voice dips deliciously, “If you put so much as one finger on that little clit of yours,” he threatens, “I promise you’ll get none of this cock for a long time. I am a patient creature, beautiful, but you? You are not and I’m going to teach you what happens when you want to get me hard while I’m at work, you fucking vixen.”

 “But…” you don’t get to say much else because he’s fast to cut you off.

 “But? There are no buts, babygirl. Sit there and obey like a good girl. Got it?” His domineering tone captures you in its hold as you grimace in the banishment of sensation you’d been trying to quell with the aridity searing your core.

 He expertly extricates your own voice as you submissively tell him, “I understand, sir. I’m…I’m sorry I’m so needy.”

 “That’s more like it, pretty girl. Be daddy’s good girl, yeah? He’s almost finished and when he’s done,” he lowly admits,” he’s going to fuck you until you can’t tell the north from the south.”

 With that, the red button loses its light and fades with the end of the call and you don’t need to peer down to know that your skirt is beyond being saved by the air dryer in the bathroom.

 To divert your attention anywhere but at your sopping core, you open your new Macbook Pro that Jungkook had recently gifted you only to find three new messages that have come in, each sliding along the upper right hand of the screen only to glide away after presenting themselves to you.

 Two are from Jungkook and the other is from your CEO, Jimin.

 Curiosity awakens in you and has you tilting your head as you open the older one first.

          Jimin:

 [1:45pm] What were you doing with Jungkook for lunch? You two were in there awfully long just for him to eat some Italian food. I was going to ask if you could chat with me about agendas and travel plans for the symposiums, but you seemed like you were in a hurry, so…

 You chew at your lip at the memory of the way the off-white taint had dripped down the side of Jungkook’s lips and how he’d asked you to clean him up before pulling you into his lap so that you could lick it off with your tongue before he’d captured it in his mouth and given you the most passionate, intense French kiss you’d ever had as he sucked your wet warmth clean before pulling away ask for more.

 For the life of you, you can’t remember if Jungkook’s blinds had been drawn in your fixation on each other. Since his office was directly next to and connected with Jimin’s, it was possible that if he hadn’t closed them that Jimin might have seen-

 You click out of the message at the same time you cancel your thoughts from going down a network of ideas that would only make the unbearable pressure between your legs even heavier, your legs sticking together in your fidgeting movement as you hiss through the collection of your essence that coagulates there.

 When you skid your mouse over only to click down on the mousepad and the next message pops up, you nearly fall to the floor with how quick you are to lean forward, your fingers gripping tightly onto the table to keep yourself from making contact with the carpeted ground as you read the next text.

          Jungkook:

 [2:36pm] Thanks for the meal, babygirl. You took such wonderful care of daddy. That alfredo sauce was delicious, but not as succulent and sweet as that pussy when I’ve got my mouth on it. I hope that pretty cunt is ready for me later when I put my fat fucking cock inside you and split you open on top of me. I’m hard for you right now, doll, but all good things come to those who wait, yeah?

 [2:58] Oh, and I got you a dress to wear for that gala we are going to. I do believe you should have already made arrangements to attend, my precious petal. You’ll look so beautiful for me and I know you’ll be the belle of the ball. You’re going be all mine, pretty girl. I can’t wait to show you off to everyone before I tear that gown off you and show you who you belong to. And when you can’t walk anymore, I’ll carry you home and we can watch your favorite show while you lay on top of me so that I can play with your hair and tell you how exquisite you are while we eat macaroni and cheese and watch your k-drama that you like to put on so much :)

 Truly, you don’t know how your boyfriend can turn your insides to mush with just a light glance or even a few words to then, a second later, have your core fluttering in anticipation of his dark vows. You had not one inch of doubt that he would make good on his promises and excitement flits through every contour of your body as you smile fondly at the screen.

 The telltale ping that pongs through speakers set beside the two twin monitors behind your laptop bounces around the glass walls and suddenly your attention is ricocheted to those screens as your hand closes over the wireless mouse and you open the source of sound that you had chosen to alert you of incoming emails.

 Amongst the thousands of emails, the bulk of them come from your bosses and the next mass of them originate from the plethora of dealers that your bosses worked with that often had to go through you before acquiring an audience with either of them.

  Next were the intermediary reconciliations and discussions with coworkers outlining their status and progress on assignments within the firm that you were tasked with collecting and organizing before presenting it to Jungkook, who would relay it to Jimin. On occasion, you would report to Jimin first when he’d come to your office and sit down with you to discuss the overview of all the information, his eyes never straying from you even when you’d get up and walk about the room in your experiments to measure his interest in what you were talking about.

 Jungkook set your body on fire in his scalding affections and attention, but Jimin…Jimin’s soft gaze that was speckled by the sugar of sweetness around you, well…it was like night and day.

 You had come to love Jungkook as fiercely as the sun that has now ducked under the skyscrapers that rise high in the sky and Jimin had come to be someone you adored in the gracious geniality he swathed you in that contrasted so very much with Jungkook’s own feral ferociousness in how the latter had easily seized your heart in the palm of his hand.

 With tangling thoughts of the two of them in your mind, you open the new email that was just sent moments ago. You don’t really know what to expect as you watch the circling icon in the middle of both screens as the content of the email loads, but the longer that you stare at the rotating wheel that-with every pass- has inquisitiveness circumnavigating and spiraling around you, the stronger that the emotion builds in you as you wait, your eyes only now just processing the subject of message.

 Do you like this? Don’t think I forgot what you were telling me last week…

 It’s innocent enough in the initial reading of it, but your mind really can’t help but to soil a more pure intent in lieu of a darker one if Jungkook is involved, after all. The man was insatiable and had tainted you with that same craving for him during every waking moment of your consciousness (and subsequently in your unconsciousness through your dreams that had become borderline pornographic in what your mind would conjure up illicit indecencies wrought upon you by your boyfriend).

 When the spherical icon dissipates, so too does your last shred of self-restraint that is ripped away from you as you loudly whine out, your core clenching around nothing as you devour the eye candy.

    Sweat sluices every bit of skin on both your boyfriend and Jimin, who are the models of the picture, and you’re quite certain that this might be the most profanely peccable thing that you’ve ever seen.

 Jungkook smirks wickedly with his head thrown back against the wooden panel, his eyes closed and mouth parted in pleasure and the white t-shirt he wears sticks to his muscled chest to suck away its color in patches of perspiration that display wet blotches of where hidrosis has penetrated through the thin material to display musculature that the god of lust himself, you are convinced, had a hand in decorating him with.

 His bicep bulges before the picture cuts off just below the upper half of his abs and you don’t need to think to know he’s jacking himself off with his face contorted into such a satisfied expression.

 It is a sight that has your thighs rubbing together, a whimper sounding from you try to calm your breathing that has instantly become erratic in the breaths that refuse to stay lodged in your lungs as your boyfriend expels them expertly without even being physically present to do so.

 It takes some effort to pull your irises away from Jungkook, who has you now on the edge of your seat as you rub your breasts against the edge of the wooden table in your need to feel his big, warm hands on you once again as you whisper, “Please…”

 You lay your head on the table to ground yourself against something of the earthly plane before your soul descends to the fucking nether realm, but in so doing, your vision trails along Jungkook’s other arm that is pushed against Jimin’s own. The slightly older man has his head tilted so that his nape rests on Jungkook’s shoulder, his full lips open to permit sounds you wish you could hear while his eyes, like your boyfriend’s, are shut in a countenance twisted by rapture and you wonder what it is that they’re thinking about that they’ve both succumbed to.

 Distantly, you want them to have been thinking of you, but self-consciousness nips at you despite it because how could two of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen both be frozen in time like this through a picture of their pleasure amidst minds full only of you?

 You shake your head at the thought and choose to fixate your attention back on Jimin, who has you salivating in the open v-cut black shirt that, with its short sleeves, leaves little to be imagined in the mound of muscle mounted along his own arms. He’s sitting back, like Jungkook, and is in the midst of his own sinful delight in the way that one arm is curled around his body in the way that it snakes downward and just out of the frame where you know his cock is in hand.

 You make a pained sound in your solitude where neither of them can help you under Jungkook’s own order as you curse, “Damn you, Jungkook. You knew what this would do to me.”

 You really don’t know how you’re able to look away from the delicatessen that is them, but when you slide one hand under the cup of your bra to clasp your breast and tease at the nipple there while you push against the desk so that your other is not neglected, the movement disturbs your line of vision so that you see the words he’d torturously typed under the picture sent from hell.

          Don’t think that I forgot that you have a sweet tooth for our little Jimin, here, babygirl. When you got fucked against the walls in your office and I had you begging for your release, remember how I asked what you thought of him after he happened to walk in on us and then he ran away while I made you fucking scream so loud for me that he could still hear it even outside the building?

 His tongue had been four inches deep inside you while he’d knelt on the floor for you to eat you out and your cheeks burn in the memory of how he’d had you a crying mess atop of him and in that moment, with your climax so close, he’d played you like his favorite toy in the truths that had been so easy to spew with the slew of his wet muscle that had the threads holding you together weak in their stitching in your need for the one operating your body to fix it all by bringing you to your end.

 It had been purely an accident that you’d neglected to lock the door behind him when Jungkook had come to you with a dark glint in his eye that held only carnality in its iris after Jimin had kept you from him all day for meetings. The moment your boyfriend had snatched you away from your other boss, you’d fallen into his arms readily in the need for him that had tuned you like an instrument until you sung for him in your highest key.

 Lost in each other, neither of you had heard the chink of the door that had borne your coupling to an observer who had stood with his cock hardening at the sight of you both in each other’s ecstasy until Jungkook had thrown you over your desk only for him to face Jimin, your CEO. The man’s eyes had bulged big as saucers when he’d been caught and Jungkook had only grinned as he eyed the tent in Jimin’s pants that broadcasted his obvious arousal. Your walls had constricted around the cock plunged deep inside you and you’d hit your third climax with a deadly snap of your boyfriend’s hips into you all while Jimin had ogled you before running as far as his legs would carry him.

 Secure in the knowledge that you ardently cared about him after many confessions from you in the throes of passion and in the softer moments where Jungkook’s stoicism melted away in the wake of your praise and sweet utterances to him, he knew that you wanted to be with him and that you’d come to love him. It was why he had been so keen to tease you about Jimin in the following days upon realizing that you’d gotten off to being watched by the older man. If it meant your pleasure, he would gladly partake in anything and he’d professed as much to you on many nights (and mornings) in the tender aftercare he would treat you with, ever the doting yet adventurous lover that he was.

 It was why you’d been able to let it slip when he’d had his long fingers plunged in you last night that no one could make you feel as good as he could, but that you were interested in seeing what Jimin’s smaller ones could do and how delicious his plush lips might feel on you. Jimin had always been sweet as honey to you and, in his lathering of that over you in your many moments together at work, you’d discovered that you wanted to get even more of a taste for him.

 Never could you have expected that your boyfriend would do this and torture you with such hankering desire to be sated that it all but burned like a wildfire in your body, but you could hardly be expected to endure it in his absence.

 You make a pained sound as you look at the picture that has damned your sex with even more taint to drip between your thighs and you cross your legs over each other in attempt to get some kind of friction. The attempt is fruitless and when there is nothing to relieve you, you squeeze at your breast and imagine that it is Jungkook who is doing so while the ridges of the table dig into your other and you fanaticize that it is Jimin’s ringed fingers that are palming at you as you cry out in desperation’s grip for either of them to come save you from the agony of their absence.

 You moan at the cool, prickly sensation of your fingers on your skin, your nipple hardening amidst your digits that the cold air of the office has chilled as you seek more stimulation. Your boyfriend’s name falls like an icicle from your lips and when your voice pierces through the thin audio line that Jungkook had screenshared your computer to watch and hear you through Facetime with, he licks at his lips at your exposed cleavage as he watches you pop open another button as you titillate your tits and huff in frustration as you uncross your legs in some misguided effort to encourage friction that he knows you are incapable of granting yourself in your current situation by his own order.

 He feasts his eyes on you as your breasts are shoved against one another, the ‘y’ shape of them bursting from your bra now as you cup one between the fingers of one hand and the other is butted into the table as you moan once more and call his name.

 “Help me, Jungkook…” You breathe, your irises still sticking to the picture that has ruined you from wanting to do anything holy for the rest of the day, week or even month for that matter. With your head swimming in sin spurred by your boyfriend, all you can think about now is Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jungkook and lastly, Jungkook.

 It is your voice that cracks your boyfriend’s fixation on the way your breasts rise and fall with your labored breaths as pulls his eyes from the trenches of your tits before peering up to your lovely face that is marred with the aching affliction he knows wracks your core, his own cock twitching with interest as you repeat his name like a mantra in what little else your mind can internalize with how your sex must be sobbing for him right now.

 Lust seeps through the rips and tears that have begun to open and enlarge your pores as it spreads through your fragile body in the trembles that have you shaking in your attempts to abstain from the slow destruction that has reduced the filling inside your core to wet, ruined fibers like a tainted toy. Without realizing what you’re doing, one hand skids over the wet patch of your essence that has stained your skirt, your palm aquaplaning through that to dive under your skirt and when you slot it between your legs and streamline it into your sopping core with the image of your boyfriend’s hand doing this to you in your mind while Jimin watches, you keen.

 “Jungkook,” you try, “n-need you. Want you to fuck me and let Jimin see how good you make me feel, daddy. Your doll is about to tear herself apart because you won’t play with me…”

 At that, there’s a low growl that booms through the speakers that amplify his voice that promises danger as it demands, “Get your little hand out of that wet ass pussy before daddy makes you regret even thinking about disobeying me,” his voice deepens as he orders, “Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, get the fuck in my office. Now.”

 Your core contracts at his dominance that is injected into each word and, per his command, your palms shoot away from you as if you were a puppet that he’d pulled on the strings of to whisk your hands away from where he knew you would damage yourself further.

 You rise from your chair on legs that wobble both from Jungkook’s earlier ministrations and your own, your extract dyed onto your chair as you peer back and your cheeks burn at the damned deposit of it that has seeped through your panties and skirt. One knee quivers dangerously as your joints fight to hold you up through the numbness that your boyfriend had left in his wake and you have to plant a hand on your desk to hold yourself up while you steady yourself for the moment.

 From the computer, your boyfriend glares darkly at you as he brings the window that his own computer records himself with to the forefront of your tabs, your attention being sucked like a black hole into him as he declares, “You’re going to sit in daddy’s lap and if you choose to be a bad girl and not listen to what daddy tells you, you’re going to go without cock for as long as I decide to withhold it from you. Understand?”

 “I…I understand, sir.” You nod as you will the strength back in your legs despite his words that threaten to steal it yet again.

 “Good. So submissive. Just how I like you, baby,” he groans as his irises settle on the gleaning mess painting across your thighs from the field of view the camera grants him, “You’ve got me so hard already. I bet that cunt must have drenched itself for me, huh? I guess we’ll find out in a little bit when I clean it all off of you with my tongue,” he has you whining at that as he brings a hand to his chin to rest his face against it as his eyes glint with lasciviousness as he makes a sound of consideration, “Or maybe I should use my fingers? My cock? Perhaps since you’ve been defiant and tried to please yourself, I won’t touch you at all, hm? How would you like that?”

 You reach out for him even through the screen, panic coloring your tone as you implore with pleading eyes, “J-Jungkook, please…don’t. I’m ready for you. I might just break down in tears if you deny me again, so please-“

 “You’ll get what I decide to give to you, babygirl. I gave you simple instructions and I expect that you follow through with them or that little cunt won’t be the only thing that cries for me tonight, doll. Now,” he states with no room for anything but obeyance, “get the fuck in here.”

 Your sex quivers at that and you nod in affirmation as he ends the call once more, your weakened, numbed legs reducing you to a tottering mess of limbs as you emerge out of your office and amble closely to the walls, one hand held out against them to support you in the dangerous dalliance between remaining upright and falling to the floor in your shuddering ligaments that are entirely the work of Jungkook. You don’t have to walk far, but in your slow pace, the seconds stretch on and every step has your slick lewdly dripping down your legs much to your mortification that takes its form in the heat that rushes to your cheeks in the blood that manifests itself there.

 You hobble along the glass walls that offer the view of the city that blinks to life below you in the lights that wink at you while tiny specks of moving bodies bedeck the pavement and once, long ago, when you’d been but a freshmen in college, you’d stood amongst them as you stared in awe at the same building you now work within in. Time had passed but in an instant and when you’d met Jungkook by happenstance one night in a bar with your friends and he’d been quick to pay your tab before sweeping you off your feet and walking with you through the city, you’d had no idea how much your life was about to change when you’d gone home to discover the small piece of parchment he’d slipped in your purse when you hadn’t been paying attention with as distracted by his beauty both in body and soul as you’d been while the two of you had chatted about everything and anything that kept the conversation flowing as easily as the waters in a forest brook. You’d not hesitated in calling him the day after and he’d been eager to see you again.

 You’d gone on your first date with him that night and day after day, the two of you met again and again, for his company was as refreshing as the midnight air that caressed your skin after a long day of classes and before you’d known what had happened, it had been a year and it had only been after letting it out that you wanted an internship with a firm that he’d told you what exactly he did and what company he worked for.

 Your jaw had hurt with how wide your maw had opened in disbelief and when he’d offered to bring you in as part of the team, you’d been all too happy to accept. You really had tried to keep things professional, but Jungkook had not a care in the world for appearances where you two were concerned and your escapades in the bedroom soon made it to the corporate sphere. You could not deny him no matter how hard you tried. It was as if your body had been made to fall into his skilled hands and you would gladly grant him anything if it meant his appeasement.

 After all, you’d become putty in his palm while you had unknowingly wrapped him around your own fingers.  

 Perhaps that is why, when you finally reach the familiar double doors that permit entrance into Jungkook’s office, your hand quavers in the anticipation that has you in its clutches down to your very bones and there is not a moment of pause that stops you from opening them as your hand curls around the brass handle only for you to slip inside, the small clink of the knob resounding around you when you close it behind you.

 Covering the oaken floor, a rug that you’d picked to decorate the room is lain over it. Threaded and crafted in India, it was one you’d seen in the marketplace he’d taken you to on one of his business trips to meet with a dealer that had contacted the firm in their interest to have the firm build a hotel there. You’d taken one look at the ornate swirls colored black as night and red as a rose in the way that the pattern had intertwined in rotating spirals and whirls and your boyfriend had not missed your small whisper about how nice it was while you’d both walked by it amongst the bustle of street life that filled the area packed with people and vendors energetically trying to sell their merchandise.

 You hadn’t thought that he’d heard you, but he’d promptly asked if you liked it and you really hadn’t been expecting anything at all when you’d commented and that it would complement his office in his knowledge that black and red were your favorite colors. With a smile, he’d taken out his wallet (much to your surprise) and taken out a wad of cash that he’d easily passed to the unsuspecting vendor before buying the rug and turning to the group of onlooking teenage boys to pay them off in their efforts to carry it over to your lodgings on your way to the consultation with your dealer.

 Later that night, he’d taken you to a very nice and very extravagant firelit, poolside meal at the Giardino by the the Jai Mahal Palace in Jaipur that you both were sharing a room in. He’d had you giggling every other minute between the fond touches that he’d brush along your cheek or stroke your clothed thigh with from atop the high-necked silk dress that he’d bought for you and after, you’d both had taken a stroll by the surrounding greenery and woodlands beyond the pool. The stars had gleamed in your eyes when you’d peered lovingly at him and not for the first time, he’d been struck with that pang in his chest whenever you looked at him like that while you both had reminisced about how you’d met in that dingy little bar about a year and a half prior.

 When you’d both kissed under the cover of the trees, that feeling that flew around his ribcage had fluttered when you’d adoringly pecked the mole beneath his lower lip as you’d earnestly and heartfeltly thanked him for everything that he’d done for you. When you’d confessed that he’d quickly become the light of your life, he’d tenderly pressed his forehead to your own as he’d pressed his lips to yours once more, the word that had fled him for so long that foretold his own emotions finally surfacing through the depths of his mind.

 He’d declared then and there that he loved you with sincerity beating as fast as his heart through every word. He’d been quick to gently thumb away at the teardrops of joy that spilled from your eyes when he’d finally said it while you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck as you reciprocated the sentiment in a breathless voice that held so much affection for him that it made his chest swell with the emotion and in that moment, he’d decided that he wanted to give you something that-when you looked upon it and felt its weight on your skin- you would be reminded of who loved you that intricately and implicitly.

  He’d held you close with only the moon’s eye presiding over you both while he’d cutely nudged at your nose, his fingers interlacing with your own that you readily accepted and when he’d pulled away, a new resolve had settled in his pupils as he tugged you forward and soon you found yourself being ushered through the busy, bustling streets of Jaipur.

 Bordering on the desert’s boundary, it was a city that you are sure could have been taken right out of a picture in the pinkened sandstone that every store and building had been crafted out of. Ancient structures erected in times past still stood strong among the newer and more modern creations of contemporary origin and the contrast boasted of a rich diversity that had you wanting to learn more about it despite the books that your boyfriend had gotten for you in a homely little bookstore earlier in the day. Youths had run through the streets with vivaciousness tailing them like the dogs that happily ran with them while the old had shuffled along and chattered about their daily lives and it was a place that was dyed in the warm color its inhabitants adored it with.

 Distracted as you had been with the scenery that painted itself into your memory with artful amalgamation of colors, you’d not noticed where he was intent on leading until he was opening a door for you and coaxing you inside with a reassuring nod despite your confused quirk of your chin, you let him guide you inside only to have you gasping under the fluorescently lit store that was notoriously known throughout India for its high class bijouterie called Tanishq.

 Though you had never heard of it, Jungkook himself had been told about the company from a contact in Mumbai that he’d visited with you in their interest in building an additional wing within the library and, upon seeing the way that you both had been inseparable in the tendency to be joined at the hip at all times, he’d suggested the store to your boyfriend after you’d gotten up from your place on his lap to go explore the books that had been crammed on the bookshelf while they’d both watched you curiously tap your fingers against the aged spines of the books. The elderly man had seen fondness for each other well up in your gazes as whenever you and your boyfriend looked upon each other and, after telling Jungkook he only saw that kind of amity in a newlywed couple, he mentioned the name of the store that only the wealthiest of grooms would purchase jewelry for their beloveds from.

 It had purely been by chance that you both had happened to walk by the same store the gray bearded man had spoken to him of and amongst seeing the way your eyes had widened bigger than the largest diamond in the store, Jungkook had decided you were priceless in how cute you were as he chuckled and told you to pick out anything you desired.

 You’d crinkled your nose in confusion, your brows creasing as you’d told him that you were perfectly happy to just have the treasure of him, but he’d only brought his lips to your forehead as he’d mused, “You know, you really are so adorable, Y/N. I want to spoil you. Won’t you let me do that for you, baby? I want to decorate you in my mark so that everyone will know who your heart belongs to. Please allow me to do so, petal.”

 You really had not been able to resist the big bunny eyes as he’d coaxed you forward and so he’d sat down on the leather loveseat in the corner of the room, the business-suited employees quietly looking on as you moved about.

 Jewels of every size, color and cut were decoratively placed within rectangular glass casings along either side of the first floor of the trendy store swathed in white walls and artificial illumination. Set within the walls themselves were square nooks that housed singular pieces separated from the rest that were couched on plush satin. The entire place was full of glittering jewelry that beckoned the eye, but your boyfriend had been noticed the way that you bit at your cheek as you passed them all by in your indecision since the collection of necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets were all so pretty to you.

 When he’d risen to inquire about any other pieces, the store representative had seemed reluctant at first to give such critical information, but it had taken only a moment for the older woman to retreat to the back to retrieve one of the store’s most coveted pieces that only respected customers could have the privilege of even looking at after Jungkook had, without your notice, stuck his hand into the inside pocket of his Gucci suit jacket to pull out a thick wad of American bills and rupees, his Rolex watch revealing itself from under the sleeve of the black outer garment whilst he did.

 When the woman had returned with a black lacquered box in her hand to set it down on the four-legged glass table and told Jungkook that the necklace inside was one of the store’s most prized possessions, his interest had been piqued as he called you over and, with a questioning expression, he’d chuckled as he walked over to you to gently ease you forward with a hand on the small of your back you’d come to before the little chest.

 He’d been gentle as he’d urged you to open it as you stared at the box, ever the patient man that he was as he waited for you to finally lift the lid of the chest. You hadn’t known what to expect when you heeded him, but it certainly hadn’t been the article of jewelry inside as it immediately drew your eye as your breath hitched at the sight of it.   

 Sat on bed of velvet, you’d grown fond of it the second you saw it in the way it glinted with each sliver of light that seemed to be drawn toward it. It commanded attention in the way it glittered and glistened in the rays of light that bounced off it and innocently, your fingers hovered over it yet never touched for the fear that you might destroy something so fragile and delicate.

 You hadn’t trusted yourself with it, but Jungkook had been all too eager to lift it up and off its resting place to lay it over your neck before clasping it around you and telling you to look in the mirror at yourself.

 Beset in white gold, diamonds grew within two thin metal vines that trailed and wrapped around your neck amidst buddings of flowers that intermingled along each side, the pistils of gems at their centers made of rubies. Upon the dip of the necklace along the notch between your clavicles, a slightly smaller floweret sprouted a larger one beneath it and connected to that was a falling petal that dangled prettily just under your collarbones.

 “You look beautiful in that, my precious flower. Its charm becomes you well, pretty girl.”

 Upon his praise, you’d preened as you’d thanked him for the adulation and before you could do anything else, he’d slid his black card out of black snakeskin Gucci wallet before telling the associate to simply ‘run it through’ with no hesitation as he drew his lip between his teeth as he watched you lightly skim your fingers over the ornate piece of jewelry.

 The representative had informed him when she’d brought it out that it was a grand total of $37,713 and yet, he would gladly give that small bit of money to bejewel you so that you could shine like the gem that you were to him. You never asked for any material things nor expected them of him like other women once did in your poorer upbringing that had left you destitute and in debt when you’d met him and despite all of that, you never requested aid from him and it was one of the reasons why he enjoyed lavishing such gifts on you in addition to paying off your school of his own volition even amidst your efforts to tell him that he didn’t have to (and yet he always wanted to wherever you were concerned).

 He’d assured you once more how lovely you looked, your cheeks turning red as the rubies you wore as he came behind you to plant his mouth under the clasp of the necklace along your nape, one of your hands reaching back to intermingle with his own as you’d quietly let him know how grateful you were and that he really didn’t have to expend so much effort to show you how he felt about you to which he wrapped his arms around you to seep the waters of his truth into you as he’d answered, “ Nonsense, petal. I want you to accept this so that whenever anyone looks at you and asks who got this for you,” he’d let his lips wander along flowing foliage of gems and gold as he’d soiled you with his kisses, “you will tell them that your boyfriend, whom you love so much, was the one who got it for you,” his mouth had lifted as he’d inched close to the shell of your ear as you shivered in the hot breath that prickled at your skin, “When you’re torn away from me because of work or anything else, I want you to remember that you twined yourself around me like the vines on this necklace and that I fell for you as surely as the petal that descends from it.”

 You’d been helpless to whimper at that as you’d turned your head to the side to meet his waiting lips that had been all too willing to receive you as you smiled into the kiss.

 Later that night, you’d been sure to show to him just how thankful you really were as you’d ridden him well through the midnight hours only to wake him with your lips wrapped around the very cock that, even in sleep, he’d ground against your ass in his voracious appetite that he liked only to consume from you.

 When you’d found yourself sitting atop him, his back lain against the headboard as you’d fucked yourself over his cock while the sun had begun to peek over the horizon, the jewels had glimmered enthusiastically amidst the riled rotations of your hips over him. Seven months later, the same brilliant bijou envelops your throat as you look down to the floor submissively like your boyfriend had taught you to do upon entry into his much larger and grander office, your fingers linking together behind your back just as he’d always instructed you to do.

 Two flat screen televisions are perched atop onyx oak media stands on either side of the room, their screens set alight with virtual fireplaces that blaze within them. Between them and atop the rug Jungkook had had brought over from India is a mid-sized sofa the color of mahogany and flanking that are two lounge chairs of colored like cream and in front of them is a square glass table. Jungkook had made sure to test the durability of just about every piece in the room, for he’d fucked you over just about everything as far as the eye could see and had done so too many times for you to even be able to count anymore in his constant craving for you.

 There are wooden blinds that span the length of every glass wall, each of them opened to allow the moon’s silvery beams to filter through them amidst the lamps positioned precariously around each corner of the room, the lampshades that top them covering the sides of the room in golden ambient incandescence that softly lights the edges of the office up in a yellowed hue that reminds you of much smaller rays of sunlight despite the moonlight that coalesces around the central figure in the room amid your boyfriend’s command that calls it forth upon him.  

 Presently, Jungkook is sat in an expensive and executive leather chair the color of soil, his legs thrown atop the wenge wood desk that was crafted and imported all the way from Africa in the rare material cut from the tough bark of the legume tree native to the country.

 You see none of this and fidget uncomfortably in the steadily oozing taint of your arousal that continues to percolate down your thigh while a voice low as a baritone emits itself from the iPhone lain over Jungkook’s desk as your boyfriend eyes you with interest, a smirk twitching at the side of one lip as he takes in your debauched state while the caller on his phone fills the room with his thick voice in the midst of the business call that he’d been made to make.

 It’s not the first time he’s had you come to him in the middle of a phone call, but you have to fight the whimper that wants to wheedle its way out of you at the memory of how he’d called you in here but a month ago to suck him off while he’d been in the middle of one with a client, his need for you too strong for him to lay to bed when he’d watched you hungrily gorge yourself on a banana from your seat in your office.

 “Jungkook, I need answers as we near the end of the fiscal year. You had many opportunities for appraisals this quarter and those preceding it and as such, I want to know where our dealers and contributors were most dense and what their appeal was so that we can draft out potential areas of interest to focus our fixed assets on. Surely in all of the trips and consultations you had for the last several months, you already have a response on the tip of your tongue.”

 “On the tip of your tongue,” your boyfriend makes a sound of thought as he taps his finger against his chin while he devours you with his roving gaze, “Perhaps I do, co-founder Taehyung. Speaking of evaluations,” your boyfriend’s voice darkens, “my secretary has been quite valuable to us.”

 At the mention of you, your heart does a flip in your chest as you fix your eyes somewhere between your feet because you know if you dare to look anywhere else, you might just become a fucking puddle of limbs on the floor.

 “Come here, Y/N,” Jungkook orders, your back straightening straight as an arrow at the instructions.

 You don’t know how you manage it with your legs as feeble as they are, but you move forward unsteadily despite the threatening numbness that leaves your ligaments dangerously close to giving out on you in the strength that has been stolen from them by your boyfriend.

 The clack of your high heels reverberates along the walls and is loud amidst the blood that pounds in your ears, your heart racing amidst the heavy, hot attention that is as warm as the sun’s rays over your bared skin as your boyfriend looks on at you.

 You move as drawn to him like he’s some kind of magnet and in the attraction for him that pulls away any rational thought, you find yourself standing before him, his hands rising to swaddle your hips in his hold. His touch, even through the black button down linen shirt that you wear, is warm and has you melting the instant his palms leisurely drag themselves up and down your sides as you relish in his attention.

 Taehyung continues with an impressed snort, “Jungkook, Jimin has informed me all about your little secretary many times over,” your boyfriend’s digits curl inward to sink into your soft skin at that as he informs, “This is not the time to be rambling about how she’s snatched both your heart and cock in each of her hands. I want facts, not sentiments.”

 “Oh, but that’s the thing, Tae,” Jungkook lilts, his grip on you tightening as he ushers you between his legs that he spreads for you, your own bones liquifying like goo under his strength that he’s spent many hours in the gym working to acquire as you make a sound of startlement when he suddenly turns you around and whisks you into his lap, your ass sitting down upon the hardened bulge that readily receives you as Jungkook chuckles in the mess of your taint that darkens the fabric of his pants where your core is perched over him to amusedly offer, “ She has erected more than just my cock, however many times it has been, I’ll have you know. She was the one who orchestrated dealings with, hm,” one hand lifts from your side so that long fingers can coax your chin up and to the side so that the two of you lock eyes, “how many dealers this year did you have coming for me, darling? Tell Taehyung here. I think he’s underestimating how useful you’ve been to me.”

 “S-sixty nine,” you blurt as the hand on your chin descends down the ‘v’ of your shirt, his deft digits popping open the small buttons without pause and the plummet you’d taken in his dilating irises that promise nothing but sin, you have to climb along their edges only to realize what you’d said and quickly you stammer as you amend, “I-I mean, 669 contractors, T-Taehyung. I helped to orchestrate that number of dealers that were taken by the company.”

 “Everything alright, baby?” Your boyfriend husks into the shell of your ear, his teeth taking one lobe between them as the last button is undone, your shirt opening to reveal your bra-clad breasts as his hand flows freer than water in the way he draggles it along your abdomen until he possessively wraps it around one breast to give you a harsh squeeze, your head falling back against his shoulder as you bite at your lip to keep quiet while your skin pebbles at his touch.

 “Jungkook,” you breathe, “do something. Please.”

 “Mmm, you’ve been so good for me, so good for the company, petal,” He emphasizes as he trails his lips down the column of your neck and you turn into the featherlight touch of his lips and between them, he utters,” Don’t you agree, Jimin?”

 Your eyes widen at the name despite the heat that fertilizes your arousal deep in your core, but you don’t dare look away from Jungkook without permission. Your boyfriend nips at the tender spot along the base of your neck where the garden of jewels wrap themselves around you that he’d bought for you months prior and it is only when the hand on your breast slowly streamlines downwards to slip under the waistline of your skirt to slide between your sopping folds that he hisses into your ear, “Fuck, baby, are you that turned on in the knowledge that he just watched me do all this to you?” You moan, but it is trapped behind the hand he covers your mouth with while his fingers prod at your hole, your entrance begging him to find himself in your wet warmth in the way you clench around nothing as he rasps, “Look at him, babygirl. I want you to see what you’ve done to him because you just can’t resist me, can you? Go on, doll. Make him fall to his knees for you just like I did.”

 With your head still laid against his shoulder as he lavishes you in the brush of his soft lips against you, you shift your visage away from your boyfriend with some effort, your irises wandering from Jungkook’s deadly distending ones that are colored black as a shark’s in the predatory way he looms above you to those of the only other man in the room that might just be a puppy in disguise with the way his light brown irises implore your own for some much wanted attention.

 Dressed in a plain black suit that contrasts his unique beauty, your CEO wears a tie over a white dress shirt that you wish you could see through to gage which of the pair of them is more muscled between the two of them. His hair is carefully styled in its parting that leaves his entire forehead naked to your sight amidst the thick tufts that arch up along the left while the right side is pressed loosely along his scalp, his sideburns extending to the middle of his ear that is ringed with three hoops along each side. Perfectly sculpted brows frame almond eyes that beg for yours and lips that rival your own boyfriend’s decorate him below a straight nose. His lower lip is slightly thicker than his upper one and they are quite shapely around the thumb he currently gnaws at much like a chew toy, his tongue longer than a dog’s as it curves under the digit while he waits for his master to give him notice.

 Jimin is entirely lost in the way that his other hand is presently wrapped around the tie as if it is a leash that keeps his hand from going lower so that he can rut into himself like you know he must want to given the white of his knuckles that mar his skin as he clutches at the thin piece of silk. His hand appears so much smaller around the article of clothing, his fingers so much shorter than your boyfriend’s that clamp down over your mouth as one finger pushes into your hole, your walls clenching around him and the whimper that wants to escape never makes it out of you and when you see Jimin’s digits begin to tremble with how tightly he holds onto the tie, you wonder what they might be able to do to you despite their littler size.

 “That’s it, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you as he runs his tongue at the sternocleidomastoid muscle cording the base of your neck, your walls contracting within you as he drives his digit back and forth with his middle finger while using the others to run along your folds as he does, your face contorting into one of pleasure as your hips buck atop him all while Jimin bites hard onto his own thumb as he watches the both of you and it is then that Jungkook mutters lowly, “Keep doing that. He’s getting hard for you, petal. He could never get as hard for you as I do, but he’s getting there, doll,” your boyfriend nibbles at your now exposed shoulder to stifle the groan when you press your ass more insistently on him as he pulls your shirt off of you to give a sotto voce demand, “Use my fingers and get yourself off with them, pretty girl. Fuck yourself on me and let him watch you fall apart on top of me, Y/N.”

 You don’t need to be told twice and, following his instruction, you plant both hands in front of you with each on one of this thighs, your fingers curling inward to pitch themselves into the grounds of built up muscle that compose his legs to lift yourself up only to sink back onto his digit that easily goes all the way down to his knuckle in how deep his digit is plunged inside you. Your whine is captured by the hand he replaces with his lips in a passionate kiss that draws all your attention back to him before they flutter closed, his mouth overtaking your own as he glides his tongue along your lower lip before twisting around your own as he feasts himself on you.

 Taehyung’s voice cuts through it all as he huffs, “I don’t know what is going on over there, but someone better give me some answers,” there’s a pause and the sound of fabric rustling when your moan writhes itself between Jungkook’s lips that are held over your mouth when a second finger is added and he deliciously curls his fingers in a come-hither motion as your hips jerk atop him and when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth only to release your mouth and leave you in a dizzied daze amid the loss of oxygen he’d taken from you,  his lips lower to graze the nape of your neck as your head falls forward amidst the sudden jerk of your hips over him as Taehyung clears his throat, “Jimin, is what Jungkook said what you know to be true? If so, have you any idea where most of her accounts were set up so that we can look into stimulating more in those areas?”

 “So sensitive for me,” your boyfriend mouths at your skin, this thumb brushing your clit to have you stutter your hips as he works you open on top of him,” So fucking wet, too. Come on, babygirl. Show them how bad you want me. Make them wish they could fuck you every night like I do,” he husks as he impels his fingers back and forth inside you, your pussy clinging to his fingers in the lewd squelches that permeate the room and all the while, Jimin’s visage is tugged to the sight of your boyfriend’s digits disappear within your cunt as his own member begins to weep precum in want of you.

 “S-she um, well…yes, correct,” he flounders as words scramble in every direction within his mind as he observes a sex film right in front of him that is infinitely more arousing than any porno he has seen before in how receptively submissive you are to Jungkook who has you looking fucked out when he’s only just begun his ministrations on you.

 You, who has been in Jimin’s dreams and thoughts during many nights when he has been alone in bed with his only company being the pillows he’d rut into for some semblance of relief when his hand would become too tired to bear the burden of lust that you had inspired without even knowing.

 Helpless as an abandoned puppy, he can only look on as a rumble razes from between his lips s you raise yourself off of Jungkook’s digits only to fall back down on them as he scissors them into you with precision, each finger stretching you out around him as your own hands tighten their hold on his thick thighs amidst the whimper that is heaved from your lips when his thumb flicks at the bundle of nerves foresting your core to have your jerk atop his rock hard member that strains against the confines of his trousers.

 The fingers on your side bite into your skin as he constringes them around you while he leans forward to growl, “Watch it, baby. I never you said you could ride me yet,” you whine only for him to connect his lips to the spot just under your ear to suck the skin into his mouth and that has you keen as your hips careen into the fingers that have deliciously started to thrust into you as he hisses, “You want daddy’s dick, huh? Do you think you can fucking take it, doll? I’m not so sure… I think,” his thumb pressurizes itself into your clit in slight palpitations that are too calculated and measured against the rapid beats of your heart while a third finger is inserted and propelled inside to have you cry out as his tone bottoms in pitch amidst the way your back bows against him, “I think that since you were two minutes fucking late in getting here, you need to be taught a lesson about coming on time. Jimin, come here.”

 “You guys act like such children over your toys, fuck. I just wanted to have a normal business call for once,” Taehyung’s voice drones on, but there’s a slight tick to it that suggests he might not be as irritated as he wants to sound while he grumbles, “I don’t want to be privy to this. I’ve only heard Jimin’s voice get like that once when I took him to a strip club and I’m not going to stick around for your little threesome or whatever the fuck you all are about to do.”

 “Oh, but you will, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook’s hand rises from your hip to unclasp your bra and when he divests it off of your writhing body, it falls with a thump to the floor with the last of Jimin’s self-restraint, his fingernails digging into the silk of his tie to leave crescent moons in his palms as he rises to lick at his lips in the way that your tits sway temptingly to the motions as you jounce atop your boyfriend while Jungkook smirks, his lips hovering only an inch from your own shoulder as his irises flash darkly at Jimin when he asserts, “Jimin here has some nice, big lips and he likes to put them to use and run his mouth around me,” Jimin’s eyes widen as his teeth come down on his cheek while Jungkook’s smile lethally widens, “He’s told me all about what you did the night you came to the office in the supply closet with one of my receptionists and how you told him that you let a particular name slip from your mouth when you had your cock in someone else’s.”

Jimin’s back goes rigid as a rod and he stops midway in his journey toward you, the filaments of his tie near their tearing point with how tightly his hand is wound around it as his cheeks puff out while he peers pleadingly at Jungkook who simply ticks his head to the side, one brow arching in amusement as he asks, “What was the name again, Jimin? I’ll let you touch her if you tell Taehyung the truth. I know you must want to see how responsive she is under your fingers, yeah?”

 “For fuck’s sake, Jimin, do not listen to Jungkook-“

 “Y/N,” he softly says despite the rough hold on his tie in its stitching that has started to tear. With Jungkook’s heavy ultimatum resting on his shoulders, it really hadn’t been possible for him to crumble under its dense weight with the sweet serendipity of you that was so near that he could almost taste it.

 Your face lifts at the mention of yourself, your eyes meeting Jimin’s and in them there is surprise that is flecked by lifted brows, but it is soon smeared away by the desire that blotches them as Jungkook chooses that moment to let his tongue peek from between his lips only to trail it along the nape of your neck before closing his mouth around you to siphon you once again between them, your neck gradually becoming a woodland of reddened petals that rival the color of a rose in the passion that had been emitted in the making of them.

 Appeased, Jungkook hums, “Mmm, good boy. I knew you would listen to me. Come and claim your reward,” he husks as he circles your clit with his thumb the way he knows you like it, your end rapidly nearing as your boyfriend shoves all three fingers into you without pause at the same time that you frenziedly meet his ministrations in faltering jolts of your hips over him and when you watch Jimin tortuously pull his lower lip under his perfect buck teeth as he moves mercifully closer, you moan out when Jungkook’s middle finger prods at the cluster of nerves deep within you as your boyfriend groans at the way your slick drips down his fingers with how much taint you produce in want of them both before he goads, “Go on, Jimin. Touch her. Her tits were made by a fucking succubus. God, they’re so good for a nice cocksleeve aren’t they, babygirl?”

 “Yes, Jungkook…yes,” you breathlessly reply as your nipples harden in the cold air that prickles at your exposed skin, a dangerous jab of his fingers deep into you drawing a guttural sound deep from the recesses of your body that he expertly forges you with as his thumb swirls over your clit to leave you panting.

 In your labored suspirations, your chest heaves back and forth, your tits being pushed out and in to have Jimin’s fingers shuddering from their prison of their cage in his tie while his other hand mindlessly reaches for you.

 As he nears you, Jungkook speeds up his ministrations inside you, his fingers curving dangerously to rub against your walls that clench around him and it isn’t until Jimin hovers awkwardly by the side of Jungkook’s desk that he notices the way that Jungkook drags one hand away from your side to snake it around your abdomen and pull you flush against his chest as he clucks his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Jimin… did I tell you when you were allowed to touch her? Did you think you could just come over here and have what is mine without my permission?”

Jimin’s hand shoots away from you as if he’d been burned as he shamefully casts his visage to the floor as he speaks haltingly,” I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…she’s just pretty as a doll on your lap, Jungkook. Please, let me have her. I’ll be good to her, I promise.”

 “Did you both forget that I’m still here? Christ. I can’t believe you told Jungkook that I said the name of his damn girlfriend while I was getting sucked off, Jimin,” there’s a sound of a belt buckle opening as his voice hardens, “I guess I can’t really help it. You do have quite an eye for women, Jungkook. None more so than this one, though,” You feel the grin against you amidst the skin that is currently being suctioned between his lips as he decorates you in another necklace that blossoms in blots of purple and red under the one made of gems gleaming enticingly around you as Jungkook suddenly brings your ass down onto his clothed, yet colossal cock in time with digits that pierce you all the way to your g-spot, your eyes rolling back with your head that lands on your boyfriend’s shoulder as Taehyung cavils, “It’s her fault for getting my dick wet whenever I come to visit the office. You should thank whatever god is up there that you found such a loyal little girl to give herself to you," You preen at the words despite the fingers currently driving themselves ferociously into you as Jungkook agrees with a nod while he rambles, "I will say I tried making a move on her when I last came to the office and when she refused and instead went to your office, that's how I found myself in that supply closet."

 “So I heard from Jimin, Taehyung,” Jungkook muses as while he helixes his digits inside you without fail, the arm that still is enclosed around you pulling you back into him so that there is no space that remains between you as he hotly intones into the shell of your ear loud enough for them all to hear, “I fucked her maybe seven different ways that night because of that. She just couldn’t get enough of me, could she, babygirl?”

 You agree as you hoist yourself up only to heft yourself back down with a broken moan as Jimin turns to the table in the absence of you to rut himself into it, his face contorted into one of concentration as he tries to think about anything but how your pussy would feel around the cock that cries wantonly for you.

 “Look at him, baby,” Jungkook urges as he swirls his thumb over your clit, “he can’t even contain himself for you anymore,” he speaks up, “He just can’t take it, can he?”

 “Can…can take it, Jungkook, please. I need to feel her. Need to touch her,” Jimin manages despite the obstinate grooves of the desk that scuff and scrape his member rigidly as he tries, and fails, to simulate some semblance of relief without you as he attempts to say, “You’re t-torturing m-me. Let me do something to her, anything to her.”

 “Do you think you should be allowed to touch what isn’t yours so freely? She’s mine,” Jungkook growls as he curves his digits purposefully inside you, his own cock throbbing at the way your juices have now coated his entire hand whilst your walls flutter tellingly around him as you submerge yourself on his digits with thighs that now tremble with your rigorous efforts, a moan slewing from your lips as he slides his fingers so deep inside that they press skillfully at the bundle of nerves that has your back arching against him while he possessively wraps his hand around your throat that had been on your abdomen to keep you in place and when his thumb twiddles itself around your clit, that’s when you cry out for your boyfriend who then smirks knowingly, his eyes flitting from you only to sear into Jimin's as he arches a brow to ask, “She’s almost there, isn’t she, Jimin? How badly do you want to touch her? Beg for me and maybe I’ll let you have a small piece of her before she fucking gets stuffed full of my cock for the fourth time today.”

 Your end is so close, yet so far away. Like the waters of an ocean, it washes over your feet, but the waves of pleasure in the distance that roll deeper in the seas of rapture are too far away from you to reach as you sink into the sands that are grained with Jungkook’s control over you to keep you from moving toward it. With your end so close, you hardly even process what is said when Taehyung talks under his breath that has quickly become erratic in your sounds of ecstasy that have wrapped around his cock as he jacks himself off on the other end of the line.

 “Tell him what he wants to know, Jimin,” Taehyung advises, his voice strained through the strenuousness of his own indecent actions as he wishes it was your cunt that his cock was enveloped in while his voice deepens, “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

 “You’ll both wait until I decide when Jimin can play with what belongs to me,” Jungkook professes, his fingers speeding themselves inside you and when you whimper at the way he slides his digits deliciously inside you at the same time his thumb strikes your clit, it’s enough to have you buck your hips as he tightens his fingers around your throat in warning while he orders, “You’re not allowed to cum yet, babygirl. Don’t even think about it. I want to put my cock in you so you can warm me up for later, yeah?”

 “Jungkook, I can’t hold on for much longer,” you confess through elusive breaths as his fingers constrict around your throat for daring to admit that.

 “You’ll hold on as long as I tell you to, baby. That cunt won’t get off on its own, will it?” He husks whilst his fingers deftly stroke your walls in curled motions as his thumb falls from your clit to ream the outer lips of your sex and you sob out at the loss of stimulation to the nerves crowning your womanhood as he watches your expression change in a myriad of different countenances before you settle on submission and nod knowing that you won’t get what you want if you disobey him after many lessons imparted to you in the bedroom.

 “That’s right, baby. Obey,” Jungkook groans as you clench around him and it’s when he hears Jimin call for him in a hushed tone that a devious idea unfurls itself in his mind and he doesn’t have to look over at Jimin to see that the older man is bent over the desk and is mindlessly grinding into it to resolving none of the tension that coils around his hardened member.

 This little game was far too fun to end so soon and so Jungkook chuckles darkly as you stretch yourself open atop him, his digits tracing the sensitive skin around your hole despite the three fingers that are knuckles deep within you as he starts, “As for you, Jimin, I believe I said you’d need to beg for her if you want her that badly You do want her, don’t you?.”

 The older man stops his movements at the referral of his name, his eyes glinting pleadingly as he turns his head to lay his cheek on the table, the bones of his hands pressing taut against the whitened skin he grips the sides of the desk with as he wracks his brain for anything resembling a coherent sentence and it is the sight of you with your eyes closed and mouth parted as you rebound up and down on your boyfriend’s fingers that has his own quiver in the wish to feel you himself as he swallows to comply, “I-I want her so bad, Jungkook. I’ll…I’ll do anything you want, but please, let me touch her.”

 Jungkook seems to be satisfied with that as he nods, his irises blazing in acknowledgement as he demands, “Kneel for her, Jimin. That’s what all men eventually do for her and this precious little cunt.”

 The words are barely out of his mouth before Jimin falls before you, his hands closing around Jungkook’s knees just inches below your own that squeeze your boyfriend’s thighs in a vise-like grip.

 Need saturates his eyes and shaking fingers as he waits patiently for Jungkook to give him the green light and like this, the view he is granted might just make him cum untouched in the way that Jungkook sinfully shears his fingers in your cunt as you come down on them in frantic sweeps of your hips, his hand entirely drizzled in your essence that glistens as if to tempt him in the soft light of the room.

 He doesn’t realize that he’s salivating like a fucking dog until Jungkook gruffly commands into the shell of your ear that he flicks his tongue against, “Open your eyes, babygirl. I want you to see how fucking desperate you’ve made our little Jiminie. God, you’re fucking hot, doll. I’m so damn hard for you right now.”

 Not wanting to disobey him, you let your lids flutter open, your breath catching at the sight of the pretty boy that is on his knees for you. His once perfectly styled hair is tousled after he runs his hand through it, his tongue darting between his plush lips as he stares at you like you’re food he wants very badly to eat.

 And how you’ve wanted him to do just that for weeks, though you know deep down that Jungkook would always take you to the seventh heaven without fail.

 Your hips stutter yet again at the visage of him when you lift your head, one of your hands lifting so that your fingers can trace the outline of his shapely mouth. You are slow to make contact with his lips that are softer than a feather yet rival those of the Bratz dolls you’d play with when you were younger. He relishes in your touch and even leans into you as if to grant silent permission for more and when you run your digit down his lower lip to watch it snap back up against his teeth, you moan at the thought of what it would feel like if he-

 Your hand is suddenly pulled away as your boyfriend’s long fingers enclose themselves around your wrist as he brings your arm back to marionette it behind you and when he brings your palm down on his weeping member that sobs for you even through his trousers, that’s when you suck in a breath whilst the fingers on your throat release you to grasp your chin so that your head is turned to the side, your visage instantly being pushed back to him as he gives a devastating blow to your pussy through the twist of his fingers in your cunt to have you whine out when he jams them inside you.

 “I believe I taught you to wait for my approval before I let you do anything, didn’t I, babygirl?”

 “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disobey,” you try even knowing that the last time he went unheeded by you, he’d left you on your bed to finish yourself off with your own hand.

 “And yet you did, baby. Do you think you deserve to cum now?” your boyfriend inquires, his fingers slackening inside you to have you whimper when he extricates them from you only to bring all three digits to his lips, his tongue laving at them as his eyes scintillate with fervor to have you clench around nothing and Jimin watches the way your essence oozes out of you without Jungkook to clog you now as your boyfriend’s irises simmer hotly into yours that he trails down your body and everywhere his gaze goes, the ire of fire is stoked in every crevice of you as he decides, “I think you need to be reminded of who really owns you. Take my cock out, babygirl. Do not make daddy wait.”

 With your back still flush against his chest, it’s hard to fight past the haze of arousal that clouds your mind. Your boyfriend knows this just by peering down at you and, taking pity on your afflicted state, he helps guide your hand to where his zipper is. With how unbelievably large he is, you don’t need to search for his cock in its obscene girth and lewd length. You don’t have to work at it his zipper for long, for it opens to you easily and really, you can’t think too much on the fact that he’s not wearing any boxers underneath his pants as his cock springs free and your fingers slip along it until you hold him in your palm.

 He’s heavy in your hand with the blood that engorges his member and your walls contract at the way his veins all but bulge out against your hand as you drag your hand down all the way to his base before gripping him to earn a groan from him that you swallow down your own throat when he draws you forward into a French kiss that leaves your tongue numb in how roughly he sucks it into his mouth.

 When you’re on the verge of losing what little breath you had left and you squeeze his cock, that’s when he releases you to rasp, “Good girl. Now, sit the fuck down on me and ride me.”

 Needing no further prompting, you raise yourself off him to line yourself up with him and when you sink down onto him and welcome him into your wet warmth, your head falls forward in the lack of ability to hold it up anymore, your mouth dropping open with the way that he fills you so wholly and completely that there is no room to think of anything but him.

 It is a lucky thing indeed that you have a birth control insert so that you don’t have to worry about anything in times such as these and it is pure bliss that pangs through every corner of your body the moment he finds his home inside you and you can only repeat his name with how deep his cock is lodged inside you.

 Below you, Jimin raptly observes how your boyfriend disappears inside you as you start to grind atop him, your hips eagerly canting him as he sits back and enjoys the show.

 “P-please, Jungkook, can I?” He questions, not caring at this point what Jungkook will let him do so as long as he can do something.

 “You know, you do have some really pretty lips, Jimin,” Jungkook considers, his irises burning into Jimin’s own in the view of him he’s given with your head down between your shoulders as you unthinkingly sweep your hips over him to have him grunt, “How about you kiss her with them?”

 A shaky breath trembles as it is dislodged from between Jimin’s lips, your eyes irises drawn to the source of the sound as you gaze into eyes that widen bigger than a Boston Terrier’s and you don’t have time to process what has just been said before a familiar hand wraps around the underside of your breast, a groan falling from your boyfriend’s mouth at how supple your skin is between his fingers as he holds one breast as if to offer it to the older man, your nipple hardening as his digits that have been chilled by the cool air cause goosebumps to raise themselves up over you.

 You watch as Jimin’s sight becomes entirely transfixed by the way that Jungkook’s hand completely closes around your tit whilst you continue to gyrate your hips atop him, a wantful moan releasing itself from your throat when Jungkook leans forward to take the clasp of the necklace he bought for you between his teeth as he pulls it back with him so that you follow him when he seats himself against the backrest of the chair once more.

 In the movement, your breasts sway while you pirouette your hips around Jungkook and, as if to entice Jimin, your boyfriend swirls his thumb around your areola that puckers itself out around the cold digit that draws itself around it.

 Jimin makes a sound akin to a wail and it’s what has Jungkook smirking wolfishly behind you as he taunts, “I bet it must be so difficult to just sit there and watch her get fucked so well, isn’t it? You want her, Jimin? Kiss her.”

 You observe the way that Jimin’s tongue swipes itself along his lips and the blonde haired man before you does not need to be told again before he slants himself forward and, all in one movement, opens his mouth to take the breast your boyfriend holds inside it.

 “Ah…please,” you whimper as his warm lips heat your cooled skin and your boyfriend chooses that moment to constringe his fingers around your breast to the same time that Jimin’s agile tongue flicks along the underside of your tit. His mouth and tongue are smaller than your boyfriend’s, but you’re beyond the point of caring as both men make it their motive to please you.

 When your boyfriend plants hot kisses to the tip of your spine right under your nape and below the fastener of the necklace he’d just been tugging on, Jimin seems to notice and suddenly, he’s hollowing his cheeks as he suckles from your tit like a newborn babe.  

 You splutter as your waist stammers atop of your boyfriend once more as he drives his hips into you, a grin lifting at his features as Jimin hums in satisfaction at the way your flesh melds around his mouth, the vibrations shooting like an arrow straight down to your cunt as your boyfriend impels himself inside you with a powerful thrust that had been drawn from the bow of his own hips.

 It’s enough to have you keen, one of your hands lifting behind you and back to tangle in the roots of your boyfriend’s tresses while your other cards through Jimin’s locks as you encourage both of them while you plead, “Please, don’t…don’t stop. I’m getting c-close.”

 “What are you guys fucking doing to her? She sounds like she’s about to break,” Taehyung comments against the slick sounds of his hand fastening its pace along his length as he chides, “Jungkook, it’s rude to ignore your superior when he’s asking you questions.”

 “You should consider it a privilege that I am allowing you to be part of this at all considering that you tried to take what will never be yours,” Jungkook groans when you pull at his hair while you swivel your hips erratically over him as you turn your head to the side to peer at him with a gaze that appears as fucked out as he will soon feel and he makes haste to attach his lips to the spot beneath your ear, his tongue darting along your sensitive skin while Jimin doubles his efforts on your breast to have you whining and when your boyfriend releases you, his other hand latches onto your neglected breast, his fingers expertly tweaking your nipple between them to have your own fingers tightening along your boyfriend’s thigh at the same moment that your walls contract around his member in warning whilst he amusedly discloses, “Since you’ve you been so complacent today, however, I think I will be merciful and let Jimin, your dear best friend, explain.”

 With your breast still in his mouth, Jimin’s eyes have become clouded by the lust that hazes them and Jungkook grins at the sight of the elder man’s ruin while he manages, “I…I’m sucking at her tit, Taehyung. Jungkook was right. They’re so soft in my mouth,” he draws shapes along your areola as he swallows and it’s only when you let your fingernails trail along his scalp that he is coaxed into continuing, “Jungkook is, well… she’s riding him and facing me so that I can see everything. You’d probably c-come if you saw this, Tae. She’s…she’s absolutely heaven in my mouth and her pussy just keeps swallowing Jungkook like it can’t get enough of him. It’s hotter than anything we’ve ever seen at the s-strip club.

 “Good boy, Jimin. So obedient for me. You may have your reward now,” Jungkook grunts while you bear yourself down on him at the same time that he slams his hips up into you all while he gropes at both breasts in his mission to have as much of you as he possibly can before he instructs, “Kiss her where she needs us most, Jimin. Taste her for yourself and see how fucking divine she is and understand why all men eventually get on their fucking knees for this cunt of hers.”

 The sounds of sluiced skin reverberate through the phone that lays innocently on the desk despite the sin unfolding around it and Jimin does as he’s told like the perfect little student and before you realize what’s happening, he liberates your breast from his mouth and delivers devastating osculation down your chest in flurried busses amidst lips soft as snowflakes as he descends down your body slowly.

 Your own movements atop your boyfriend’s member quicken in the rapid anticipation driving you back and forth on him and when you watch him pause his ministrations when he gets to the apex of your thighs, for you are entirely fascinated by the way that Jimin draws his lower lip between his teeth as he stares at your sex that greedily clings to your boyfriend’s dick.

 When his eyes roam upward and he meets your own, something flares in them to stoke the already fierce fire within you and when you curl your fingers in his locks to encourage him toward you, he relinquishes to you as if he’s merely your own plaything that you can do with as you wish.

 When his mouth finally affixes itself to the bundle of nerves that sit above your glistening folds, you cry out as your cunt closes around your boyfriend’s member, your fingers tethering onto them both as your thighs begin to tremble once more in the attention that is lavished on you between them.  

 Your boyfriend’s fingers find themselves winding around your neck once more as he draws your back against his chest and he croons, “Are you close, my love? Do you want Jimin to help you cum on me?” He hums when you nod frenetically to say, “I bet it must be really difficult not to let go and get daddy all dirty with your cum, huh? That’s alright. I’ll let you finish on me soon, but first,” his fingers constrict around your throat as he breathes into the shell of your ear, “What did I tell you that you need to do when you want something?”

 Language lurks somewhere in your addled brain and, as if to save you from punishment, Jimin lightens his ministrations to your cunt and instead airily pecks at your clit as you search your mind for what your boyfriend wants to hear.

 The longer you take, the more compactly his fingers curve around your throat and it’s when the hand still around your breast possessively squeezes you that breathe the air that begins to threaten to enter your airway as you respond,” Words, sir. You have taught me that I need to use my words to get what I want.”

 “That’s my girl. You’ve been so good for daddy, haven’t you?” He asks as he propels his hips into you in a harsh sweep of his hips that you readily receive as your walls welcome him.

 “Yes,” you suspire when his fingers release you around your throat to dive down and rest on your hip as he eagerly pulls you back down on him to earn a whimper from you, “I want..want to cum on you, daddy. Will you let your babygirl have her release, please? Want it so bad. Want you so badly, sir.”

 “Mmm,” your boyfriend hums, “I like it when it you beg for me. Since you’ve been so well behaved and let daddy do whatever he wanted with you, I will give it to you,” he says between kisses down your spine that his own bones will allow him to grant you before he straightens and speaks up, “Jimin, take her into your mouth once more, but this time, make love to her with your lips while her boyfriend fucks her tight little cunt, yeah? I want to see if she’ll squirt for us.”

 Jimin does just as he’s told, his mouth closing around your clit at the same time that your boyfriend crams himself inside you whilst his hand whorls around your areola as you squirm atop him. Jimin is tentative in the way he brushes the bundle of nerves with his tongue, but your boyfriend is surefire in the way he pistons himself up into you, your cunt fluttering around him in warning as you blurt,” C-close, Jungkook. Please-“

 “Cum all over me, babygirl. Get daddy all fucking wet and cream all over these pants that you fucking ruined because you need me so bad,” your boyfriend declares, both of his hands reaching for and trapping one breast in their hold as you fuck yourself over him before he husks, “Let Jimin see how good you are for me, doll. Show him how much you love my cock by coming around me and soaking me in your sweet juices, baby.”

 It is with a devastating swipe of Jimin’s thick tongue against your clit while your boyfriend tweaks your nipples between his fingers as he drives his hips purposefully into you that you throw your head back, your eyes rolling as you careen off the edge of the release you’d been dangling over for so long. It hits you like a watery wave that cascades over you and you scream out your boyfriend’s name as your walls swell around him and he throbs inside you while your walls clench repeatedly in their need to keep him locked within you until the last of your release has deluged you.

 Your essence pours down from the rainforest of your sex and you don’t know how long your womanhood ebbs and flows with it as your body is flooded with endorphins that liquifies your insides as Jungkook fucks you through it whilst Jimin sucks at your clit without pause, his tongue lapping at your sopping center that is doused with your taint like he’s a starved man eating away at the delicatessen that is you.  

 “That’s it, babygirl. Let him taste how fucking delectable you are,” your boyfriend croons, his lips securing themselves to your exposed shoulder to bring your flesh between his teeth as he too suctions you within his mouth as he coos, “She’s getting me all wet, isn’t she, Jimin? Does she taste as good as she looks? Come on, tell me, pretty boy.”

 Jimin releases you once he runs his tongue between your silken folds, his entire chin smeared in your essence as wipes it away with the back of his hand before licking away at that which has soiled his own skin as he peers with a hooded gaze up at you to confirm, “She’s sweeter than honey, Jungkook. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted pussy that appetizing. I…I could eat her out all day.”

 “Of course you could,” Jungkook amusedly replies, one hand settling on your hip to still your shaking limbs as his aching cock sobs for more within you, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your side while the digits of his other palm fondly trace the blooming petals of red and purple marring every inch of your throat and shoulders as he muses, “And what of you, babygirl? Did daddy take good care of you?”

 “Yes,” you try between labored breaths despite the way you lean into your boyfriend’s wandering fingers, “You treated me so well, sir. Felt so amazing.”

 Your boyfriend watches you lay your head back onto his shoulder, a smirk rising along the edges of both lips in amusement as he observes how your eyes flutter closed, your body sagging back against him despite the cock that is still lodged balls deep inside you.

 “I do hope that’s not all that you’ve got to give me, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you, the fingers along your nape ascending until he’s grasping your chin to urge your head to the side so that you stare into his simmering irises that are quick to light the fire of desire within you anew before he darkly declares, “because daddy’s not done with you yet.”

 Your breath hitches at that and Jungkook finds it adorable that your eyes manage to widen so largely while Jimin’s own just about bulge from his head at the insinuation.

 “D-daddy, I don’t know if I can take it,” you hardly manage to get out before he roughly consumes them himself, his mouth attaching to yours and drawing what little breath you had left away from you as his tongue glides across your lower lip before he nips at you in punishment.

 When he pulls away, you’re left entirely breathless as he taunts, “You will do what I tell you to because you want to please me, don’t you? You say that you can’t handle more, but you’re the same person that begs for my cock every night because you’re such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”

 “I…” You trail off when his irises dip languidly down your body until they souse themselves where you are still connected to him and underneath that, the collection of your slick that you’ve deposited over every inch of his nether region.

 “Cat got your tongue, baby? Or should I say cock got your tongue because of how needy for me that little cunt is?” He asks with a flick of a dark, sculpted brow.

 Despite the release that has just washed over you, you find the tide of lust soaking you through  with each word he speaks, your core dripping even more of your essence onto the pool of it that has accumulated over Jungkook.

 Jimin only looks on in rapt interest, his own cock quivering with the want that strikes him through at the spectacle of you spread open atop of your boyfriend.

 “Did she get off on you, Jungkook? Shit, that’s got me hard again,” Taehyung curses through the phone that had long been forgotten by you and Jungkook in the rapture that had befallen you both.

 “She did, Taehyung. She loved it, too,” your boyfriend affirms as you nuzzle him affectionately before he chuckles at your adorability, “She’s ready for round two now, I think. Jimin,” Jungkook’s blackened irises sear into the elder man’s, “You are to go to the couch over there and strip for her, but keep the tie on. Once you’re done with that, lay down on your back and wait for my precious doll to come to you when I tell her to. Got it?”

 “I-I understand.” Jimin responds as he stands, his knees sore from being on them too long as he leaves the two of you and begins divesting himself of his attire much to none of the notice of the both of you.

 Jungkook allows you to nudge his neck with your nose, your warm breaths tickling his skin and when you make the mistake of shifting, he hisses, “Careful, baby. You wouldn’t want me to take you right here again, now would you?”

 You lick at your lips while you stare openly at his, the hand that still is entrenched in his tresses sliding down to cup the base of his neck as you apologetically blink up at him to admit, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.”

 “I know you didn’t, petal,” he caresses your cheek with the knuckles of his hand before he helps you off of him only to turn you around in his lap, his still hard cock springing back against his chiseled abdomen and it is only when you face him that he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear to praise, “You’ve been so good for me, baby. Do you want me to give you a reward?”

 “You already have, my love,” you whisper as you lean forward to kiss the freckle beneath his bottom lip that you love so much before you tell him again, “You already have.”

 “So wonderful for me,” he adulates as he cups your cheek and runs the pad of his finger along it to utter, “Wanna make you come again, beautiful. Will you let me?”

 You nod, your own hand taking his tie between your fingers and twirling it around them as you bite your lip, “You already know the answer a thousand times over, Jungkook. I want to please you, too. Can I?”

 The hand on your waist wraps around you to pull you close so that you hover only an inch or so away from him and he groans at the way your hand closes around the base of his member to stroke him tortuously, his eyes flashing perilously as his own fingers enfold themselves around you to hold you in an iron hold as he husks, “You want to make me feel good, baby? Fine. Take off this shit covering my chest. I want feel you against me when I fuck you so good you’ll beg for me never to stop.”

 The ire of desire blazes at that within you, your fingers quickly moving to unknot the tie wound around the base of his neck. You make quick work of it, for you’d been the same one who had put it on him this morning after he’d taken you in the shower and bed. The coat is next and he has to let go of you for a tormenting amount of seconds that drag on agonizingly slow in the loss of you, but once you get rid of the suit jacket he’d had you pick out for him, the black dress shirt is mercifully the last piece of clothing that separates you from him.

 You salivate as you pop open the buttons that had already been opened down to the middle of his chest and with each iota of flesh kissed by the sun that is revealed to you, your salivary glands reproduce within your mouth to birth even more spittle as you hurriedly undo the fastenings of his garment. When the last button has been unsecured, that’s when you wet your lips amidst the aridity of desire that has dried them, your irises drinking him in as if drunk off of him as hunger coils low in your stomach.

 Muscle cords every inch of him and the six pack that proudly ridges itself along his abdomen boasts its vigor in the way that they jump against your fingertips that lightly trace along the tautened skin that is so eager to receive you against it.

 You push the shirt open thirstily amidst your throat that suddenly has become dryer than the Sahara desert as your irises roam upward to pectorals that must have been crafted by the gods in the thew of musculature that surrounds them.

 His darkly colored nipples stand to attention as you draw your fingernails over them to earn a growl from him as he takes both hands and pins them behind your back in one of his own while his other coaxes your chin up as he lifts your head so that you have nowhere to look but his eyes that burn with want into your own as he warns, “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to handle myself. Don’t you want to play with Jimin? If you want to toy with me instead,” his voice hardens as your walls contract around nothing, “I’m more than happy to entertain you myself.”

 You whine at his restraint and he simply clucks his tongue at you, “ I know that it’s hard to control yourself around me, babygirl, but wait just a bit longer for daddy, okay? Look,” he urges you to peer over at the couch that presents Jimin to you both and the man lies on his back as he’d been instructed to, his hand on cock as he palms at himself while he watches the two of you, “he’s waiting for you, doll. See what you’ve done to him?”

 You can only whimper at the sight of the erect dick that sticks out of the pants he’s left open, his own coat long discarded with his dress shirt to leave only his black tie that dangles just before his cock. He’s about half the size of your boyfriend (of whom has the most monstrously made cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of having inside you), but you have not a care in the world about that as you observe the precum that he swirls around the head of his member, his eyes hooded as he gazes at you and calls for you, “Y/N…please…”

 You hardly realize what you’re saying before the words leave you in stilted whisper, “Want you both. Want you to fuck me so well like you always do while I play with him, daddy,” you pull your sight away from Jimin to glance back at your boyfriend who is smirking cockily as you ask, “Can I have your permission?”

 “Since you asked so nicely,” Jungkook ghosts his lips along your jawline, “go ahead, baby. Go warm yourself up on him and get ready for me, yeah?”

 “Yes, sir,” you answer breathily whilst he attaches his mouth along the edge of your maw and flicks his tongue devilishly against you before pulling away to help you up, the hand that had been holding your own prisoner releasing you to find the zipper amid your backside only to pull it open, your skirt sliding down your legs to puddle around your feet.

 You thank whatever force of nature had made you decide on your white lace thong for the day because Jimin’s gasp from behind you is audible to your ears as you preen at Jungkook’s own hitched breath that is fast to deepen into a growl as each thumb hooks under the sides of the panties he’d bought for you, his irises dilating at the sight he’d been denied when he’d been fucking you earlier.

 “Can’t believe you were wearing these for me, babygirl. You really do want to tempt daddy into losing his fucking mind over that pussy, huh? Such a fucking whore for me,” he rasps as he pulls the pearled strings of the panties apart so that they too join your skirt on the floor as you rub your thighs together amid the finger he slides between your glistening folds, your own hands finding his shoulders and clutching onto him as you moan, your head falling back as he rubs his digit along your slit.

 “Only for you, Jungkook,” you tell him as he spreads your legs apart with his other hand whilst the one currently nestled between your folds drags along your labia.

 “As you should be, baby,” he announces as he collects your juices and brings two fingers to his mouth only to suck on them as heat floods your core at the damning view of that as he groans at your succulent taste, “Now go and prepare yourself for me. Rub yourself on top of Jimin’s little cock and when I’m ready, I’ll join you.”

 He waits for you to take a step away from him, your knees buckling under you as your weight makes them wobble after what your boyfriend has allowed to be done to you and before you have time to let fear grip you in your descent toward the floor, his hands are there to grasp each side of your waist to steady you whilst your own grapple for each of his wrists as you cling to him for support.

 A strong chest melds itself to your back once more as he chuckles, “Everything okay, baby?”

 “Yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

 “Think nothing of it, doll,” he lowers his head to whisper hotly into your ear, “When I’m done with you, you won’t even be able to walk, let alone stand, my love. Now, hurry along,” he ushers you forward and watches you stumble forth amidst the heels that you kick off in effort to reorient yourself with using your feet, a grin rising along his lips as he takes in your cuteness before his eyes flick down to the phone still sat atop his desk, “You’re being awfully quiet over there, Taehyung. Has the masturbation brought you that much satisfaction while you imagined it was my girlfriend that you were trying to fuck?”

 “Shut the fuck up, brat,” Taehyung huffs in annoyance.

 “Brat? Is that what you call the man that let you listen in while he fucked his soon to be fiancé? Interesting,” he muses as he runs a hand through his hair, his tongue poking against his cheek in visage that is not missed by you, your heart fluttering at the words he’d many times uttered to you in the tender aftercare of passionate lovemaking and you smile at that despite the gruffness to which your boyfriend speaks with next as his irises find and melt into yours, “Such an ungrateful prick that you are, Taehyung. Since you want to act like a dick, I think I’ll just leave you to trying to keep your own hard while I ravage my girlfriend. How does that sound for being a brat?”

 “Jungkook, do not hang up on me,” Taehyung cautions, “You’ll regret it. As co-founder of this company, I can take her from you.”

 Jungkook growls, his jaw clenching at the same time that you sex contracts around nothing as he ticks his head to the side in a habit you’ve grown fond of whenever he’s especially unappeased with something as he bites out, “You dare to threaten me, Taehyung? You have the audacity to challenge me for what has always been mine and that which fucking ran from you and into my waiting arms when you tried to make advancements on my fiancé? You’ve just awoken the fucking lion, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook spits out, “Try me and you’ll get the fucking claws. She is mine and I decide where she goes, got it?”

 “Such a child,” Taehyung laughs mirthlessly from the other end.

 “Such a fool,” Jungkook jabs, “to lose to the likes of a child that will now ravish what you’ve sought after for years and yet, she chose me. She’ll always choose me.”

 “Jungkook, if you end this call, I’ll-“

 The man never finishes his sentence, for Jungkook terminates the call with the press of a finger, his chest puffing out in a show of virility that has you wanting to whimper for him as his eyes lift from the screen to your own to raze your insides with heat of a wildfire as he demands, “Get on Jimin right now before I change my mind and take you home to screw you senseless into our bed until I’ve fucked all this irritation out of me.”

 Desire flares in your sex as you quickly plant both hands on Jimin’s much narrower chest and swing your leg over him until you sit astride him on the couch, your irises pulled into the magnets of your boyfriend’s eyes that attract you so even when you’re straddling another man.

 He stalks forward towards you and, needing to relieve some of the knotted tension between your thighs, you shift and seat yourself over Jimin’s smaller cock, your mouth parting as you rub yourself along his length only to plead for you boyfriend, “Jungkook…more. Come to me, please.”

 Your voice wraps around your boyfriend like cool water on a stinging wound and, promptly, the anger that had begun to well up within him is drained by you as you implore him with begging eyes whilst you drag yourself over Jimin’s hardened length and Jungkook is helpless to watch as Jimin’s veiny member slides between your still sopping folds as you draw yourself along his dick.

 The elder man stays quiet, his hand rising to cover his mouth to stifle the sounds he’d make so as not to bear the brunt of whatever Taehyung had done to Jungkook, for he knows full well that Jungkook could snap if you do not completely calm the storm that had begun to brew within him.

 Your boyfriend looms ever closer and, like a predator to its prey, he stands tall above your much smaller body as his irises distend over you and he devours the sight that is you as you work yourself over Jimin and lather him in your essence. His already rearing member prods at your hole on one particular sweep of your hips over him and your boyfriend catches the way your breath is shakily exhaled from you as you peer up at him and only him, for you do not dare to look away when he’s looking at you like you’re a five course meal he’d eagerly eat.

 And gorge himself on you he does, because in the next moment, he’s behind you and sitting on his knees as his fingers spread your ass apart to reveal a puckered hole for him. His dick twitches at the thought of what he will soon do, one finger tracing the rimmed entrance that borders the back of your ass and when his finger is replaced with his mouth, that’s when you moan only for him to shove his tongue inside you as he suckles at your asshole.

 “Fuck, you’re still so tight even after the many times I’ve fucked you right here. Relax for me if you want my cock, Y/N. You want it, don’t you?”

 “Yes,” you breathe, “want it so much, sir. Please, give it to me. I’m ready.”

 Jimin, utterly enticed by the way your breasts bounce in your movements, leans up to take one in his mouth while your boyfriend opens you up for him, your walls rigid at first yet soon they soften to grant Jungkook greater access as he preps you.

 The tight ring of muscle around Jungkook’s tongue loosens around him when Jimin dances his tongue along the floor of your tit that he welcomes into his mouth, pleasure lighting you up inside like dynamite as you buck your hips over the elder man’s length.

 “You’re not ready if daddy has to work this much to get you to open up for him, baby. No matter,” he hums even with his tongue still stuck inches deep within you to send vibrations at sonic speed to your core as he goes on, “I don’t mind fucking you with my mouth if it means you’ll be able to take my big, fat cock.”

 When Jungkook pushes in a finger to join the tongue that swirls around your asshole, that’s when your back bows inward as he strings you like the puppet your body is for him around his digits, his finger curling inside you devastatingly as his tongue whorls around it to have you stutter, “P-please. Don’t want to wait for you anymore, daddy. Need you inside me now.”

 “You want something to fill that little cunt of yours?” Jungkook’s tongue extricates itself from you only for two fingers to take its place beside the one he’d already put into you as all three scissor you and you can only make a choked sound until he orders, “Then try and see if you can fit Jimin’s fucking dick inside it and keep his cock warm until mine joins it in your fucking ass.”

 Your boyfriend’s fingers shear into you with precision as you obey, your fingernails biting into Jimin’s pecs as you align yourself with his thinner cock and finally sink down on it to sit obediently on top of him in wait of your boyfriend’s next set of instructions. When your boyfriend takes you like this, usually you feel like you’ll burst with how large he is and how wholly he fills you. Jimin, however, is a miniature version that is much easier to maneuver yourself on without the colossal member attached to your boyfriend that you’ve known to satisfy you for so long now.

 Jimin’s eyes shut as he releases your breast from his mouth only to litter the underside of it with light kisses. He’s careful not to mar your flesh with his mark, for you do not belong to him and he knows that doing so will only stir Jungkook’s wrath later on, so he chooses to be wiser and avoid that as your hips still upon the final inch of him that you seat yourself on as Jungkook’s hands grip your sides roughly for leverage as the three fingers he’s plunged in you are impelled into you in forceful motions that have you whining in want of him.

 “You listen so well, baby. Your ass is so fucking tense, but I guess it’s been a while since I fucked you back here, huh? I’ll have to keep it in mind to put my cock in your ass more often, I think.” He draws his fingers out of you, his fingertips grazing your walls on the way only for him to propel them roughly within you as you fight the urge to ride the man beneath you as Jungkook asks, “Are you ready for me? I don’t think I can wait for you any longer, baby. I’ve been without you for long enough.”

 “Please,” you beg as you present your ass to him the best that you can while you’ve got a dick nestled between your netherlips, “Want you so badly, Jungkook. Let me have your big cock. You always take me so well with it.”

 The words have hardly left your mouth before the fingers inside you are pulled out, the tip of his well lubricated dick prodding at your hole as his fingers tighten along your sides for him to apprise, “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop until you’re milking the dick inside you while you beg for the mercy only I can give to you. This is your last warning.”

 You feel the shift of the couch behind you as your boyfriend rises to his knees, his tip poking at your hole as he hovers over you.

 Your hand closes around his wrist as you look back at him to offer, “I won’t stop you. I won’t ever stop you, my love. Do it. Let me feel you inside me once again, for the absence of you is too difficult to bear,” you release a sigh of satisfaction as he inches himself inside you as you breathe,” I yearn for you, Jungkook. Let me have you.”

 You watch your boyfriend’s eyes darken as he taunts, “You want me, baby? You can fucking have me.”

 With that, he plunges his cock into you without pause, a slight burn searing your walls as he stretches you out with his member as you cry out his name. You’re jostled atop of Jimin in the power that Jungkook sheathes himself into you with, your sex riding Jimin’s member without either of you doing anything in the aftershocks of what Jungkook quakes your body with as his teeth bite at the nape of your neck whilst he pummels you ruthlessly.

Pleasure pangs through you as your boyfriend rocks into you from behind and, wanting Jimin to do something to quell the need that smolders within you, your fingers wrap around the tie still draped around his neck as you pull it so that he’s made to sit up as you narrow your eyes, “Fuck me, Jimin. Let me see if you can please me like my future husband can. No one has ever made me feel as good as he has. Show me what you can do to me, Jimin.”

 He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the movement and when your boyfriend thrusts violently into you to have your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Jimin’s irises set determinedly before he impetuses his hips within you to have you moan out for them both.

 “No one fucks you like I do,” Jungkook hisses as he rams into you, your fingers constricting around the tie as you inhale the same air that Jimin releases in what little space settles between your lips as you bounce on the blonde-haired man while your boyfriend grunts, “And when I have you in our bed later tonight, I’ll make sure to fucking remind me you of that. The only reason he’s here right now is because I can’t say no if it means my babygirl will be happy.”

 You bob atop of Jimin as Jungkook continues to pound you, his dick far too little for your cunt that has become too used to the fullness of your boyfriend who splits you open every time he’s inside you and you whine in desire of more, your forehead resting against Jimin’s as you release his tie and drag his hand up so that it envelops your breast, his tiny fingers a stark contrast to Jungkook’s much longer ones as they stroke your supple skin while you part your lips for him and wait for him to take the offering you give to him.

 “Kiss me, Jimin,” you plead, your other hand laying itself over his cheek amidst the jerking field of vision your boyfriend wracks you in as you breathe, “Let me prove to him that your lips are as pretty as they look.”

 “My…my lips are pretty?” He swallows as you nod and he meets you willingly with soft, plushy lips that are soft as pillows against you and he’s much gentler than Jungkook as his tongue tentatively drapes itself over your own as it asks for entrance and when you grant it, his warm muscle dances with your own to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart, his digits splaying themselves over your breast to rub soothing circles into them as he holds you close, your whimper taken into his mouth as your hips rotate atop him so that his length brushes the very edge of the cluster of nerves deep within you that your boyfriend aids in pushing him further into you with alongside the shove of his own cock into your ass.

 Jungkook swivels his own hips into you while he watches Jimin tilt his head to the side to receive you, the two of you soon becoming enraptured with each other as he traces your lips with his tongue whilst you nibble at his bottom lip.

 “Keep going, Jimin, you’re making her feel good,” Jungkook husks.

 With each kiss, Jimin seems to grow bolder, his lips soon traveling southward as he busses your chin and then down the column of your throat as you lift your head to give him access. He’s sure to let his tongue brush your flesh as he goes, your core clenching around him when he laves his tongue over your nipple that you lower into his mouth.

 “That’s it, Jimin, keep going. She’s getting wet again, isn’t she?” Jungkook inquires, one hand dipping from your side so that his fingers slide through your soddened folds as he groans, “Fuck, she’s so wet for us, Jimin. She likes what you’re doing, doesn’t she, babygirl?”

 “Ah-“ you gasp when he attaches his lips to your abused breast, his tongue lapping at your nipple as he you gyrate your hips atop him before Jungkook pounds into you once more, “I like it so much. Your mouth is so much better than I ever thought it would be, Jimin, fuck.”

 “I’m glad you think so, Y/N,” he mouths from around the tit that is presently within his mouth, his lips caressing your sensitive skin as he says, “You don’t know how long I thought about doing this,” the hand that still enfolds your other tit warmly kneading at it as he licks at your hardened bud to continue, “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you here, how much I wanted to feel you like this.”

 “Consider yourself lucky that I’m the one allowing you to do what you are to her, Jimin. If it were any other man she’d asked me to do this with, I’d have said no. Want to know why?”

 “Why?” Jimin mutters against the slick ‘pop’ that his mouth makes as he relinquishes your breast only to focus on the other, his hand draggling down your stomach to catch on the press of his cock against his palm from within you as you moan when he bucks up into you as Jungkook burrows brusquely inside you.

 “Because,” Jungkook smirks knowingly at the blonde-haired man as he damns you with his cock through a devastating blow of his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping sluicing the air around him as Jungkook confesses, “ You’re the only male that’s been around her for more than a week and not succumbed to her fucking charms that she likes to cast on just about everyone that owns a dick.”

 “It’s not my fault,” you pout and Jimin takes the opportunity to sweep his thumb under your lip as you turn your head into his touch so that he swipes his digit along your lip that you eagerly pucker your lips against in a fleeting kiss to his finger before you take his wrist to tug it down the line of your chin and along the column of your throat until he’s descending among the valley of your breasts while Jungkook jostles you forward and back. When Jimin’s fingers nurture the bud of nerves hedging the garden of your pussy, you moan, “How can I be blamed when I don’t even do anything but get their cocks wet for me, daddy?”

 “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it? God, you look like a fucking ragdoll with how rough you’re being handled, babygirl,” Jungkook says as he slams his hips into you to give a grunt, “Of course it’s your fault when you look like such a pretty little toy that they want to fucking break. You only opened your seams for me, though, yeah?”

 “Yes, Jungkook,” you laboriously get out and it is only then that you feel your boyfriend’s chest press down over yours, his arms falling forward to cage you into the solid plane of Jimin, your own breasts falling over the blonde-haired man’s pectorals as you as you’re melded to lay flush against him. Your hips jerk when Jimin’s cock grazes the clump of nerves deep inside you at Jungkook’s powerful ministrations, your mouth dropping open and your eyes fluttering closed as your breath hitches, “O-oh…Jimin…”

 The blonde-haired man’s cock twitches inside you at the mention of his name, but in the following moments that Jungkook screws you without abandon, he watches your face contort into one of unadulterated pleasure as he whisks his middle finger over your clit that has become engorged with the blood that pulsates needily for him and the male above you. It is a wonder that the space between your bodies is just small enough to allow him this and he touches you like you’re a glass figurine while your boyfriend fucks into you like you’re his puppet.

 “Jungkook, you should see her. She’s so hot. Shit,” Jimin doesn’t know he’s said what he’d been thinking aloud until there’s a dark chuckle that consumes any other sound as it emits itself from between your boyfriend’s lips as he rails you against the elder man and when Jimin drives his hips into you the same way he’d seen your boyfriend do to meet him halfway in reducing you to a mess of limbs between their chests, you give a guttural scream that has the windows around you shaking in the shrillness pitching your voice that has them threatening to crack.

 “Ah, there it is,” Jungkook husks, his hot breath drifting over the crook of your neck as he teases, “I’ve got you screaming for me just as I promised I would,” his tongue laves at the nape of your neck before teeth nip the tender spot as he forges forward into you all while Jimin ogles you from beneath him as your boyfriend utters, “What of my other vow to you, baby? Can you fucking tell which direction is which or have I turned that upside down, too?” You shake your head as he plows into you, your world spinning as he corkscrews himself within you as he taunts, “Can you even remember anything beyond my name anymore, doll?”

 Your walls clench around Jimin, who hisses at the sudden succumbing of his member to your sex as you’re knocked repeatedly into him like the pendulum of a seesaw, one side of your thoughts swinging to the other as you try, “J-Jungkook…Jimin …I-again…n-need-“

 “Mmm,” Jungkook hums,” She’s close. She can’t even fucking talk anymore. Jimin,” black eyes raze his own, “let’s wrap this up, shall we?”

 “What,” Jimin swallows as he watches the way your digits quiver around him as he skillfully skims his finger along the bud of nerves cresting your sex and your chest slides against his in the sweat that slickens you along him, the knot of pleasure deep in your core tightening just as your own hand does over the blonde-haired man’s wrist whilst your other grabs onto the twisted nodule of fabric at the base of his neck in your effort to hold onto something as you whisper his name pleadingly and Jimin is helpless to give you what you ask for at your glassy eyes that so resemble a priceless statuette as he adds a second finger to join the first to stimulate the button decorating your treasure as he asks, “what can I do to your beautiful little doll, Jungkook?”

 “Look at me while I fuck you, babygirl,” Long fingers curl around your jaw as he turns your head to the side so that you’re granted a glorious view of them both, your breath hitching at the way beads of sweat clamping to thick strands of tresses black as a raven’s wing falling perilously over your boyfriend’s eyes that glint dangerously at you, his own lips red as a rose from biting them too much as he snaps his hips ferociously into you, a moan drawn forth from you at the sight of him in combination with the frisk of Jimin’s shorter fingers along your clit as your boyfriend smirks, “As for you, Jimin, you may keep touching her where she needs it. I’m going to help you ruin her needy, pretty cunt and when I do,” you skin pebbles when Jungkook’s hot breath billows over it as he orders, “You’re going to damn her with your cock at the exact moment I decimate her with mine. Understand?”

 “Can she handle that, though? What if she-“ Jimin never finishes because Jungkook’s voice that is draped in certitude covers it.

 She will take it because she was made for me and will do whatever I ask of her, won’t she, babygirl?” As if to prove a point, his cock converges with your sex, your nipples poking into Jimin, who makes a choked sound as you rake your fingernails through his hair as satisfaction strikes you through whilst Jungkook’s fingers constrict just enough so that your attention does not stray from him and look away from him you do not when a familiar calloused thumb joins the two of Jimin’s that had been measuredly swiping themselves over your bud as Jungkook flicks a brow up in expectation, “Come on, baby. Tell Jiminie here that you can take it for daddy.”

 “J-Jungkook,” you implore with a nod, for the only language that you can possibly speak at this point is his name as he rocks into you while his thumb circles languidly at your clit alongside Jimin that are slower and softer in their ministrations, your eyelids drooping amidst the dark bliss the heavies them.

 “Good girl,” Jungkook praises and you preen at that, a dopey smile crossing your features in the vapors of lust that have settled over you while Jungkook’s thumb fastens its movements to reward you as he commands, “Jimin, match your pace with mine, yeah? Playtime is almost over for this one.”

 Jimin doesn’t need to be told twice with his own end on the horizon. With determination that twines itself through his eyes, his two digits that he has attached to you mirror Jungkook as if your boyfriend is the puppeteer of you both. Jungkook swirls his thumb expertly along your button while he marionettes his cock into you with fervor and you clench as he licks his lips to husk, “So beautiful, doll. You look like you’re about to fucking break,” he gives a sharp shunt into you, his balls slapping against your ass as you clench around Jimin, a strangled sound coming from between his lips and Jungkook doesn’t have to be in your cunt to know that you’re just as near as Jimin looks to be with the way that drool pools along the sides of his mouth and, with a grin, Jungkook’s irises string from yours to the blonde-haired man’s as he winds you up around him and when he hastens his fingers over you to have you whimper, that’s when he orders, “Now, Jimin. Screw her with your cock while I fuck her with mine until she cums all over you.”

 “Fuck,” Jimin curses, his hips twisting up into yours at the exact moment that your boyfriend deliciously drills his own dick with into your plushily lined sex as you’re reared against the blonde-haired man and geared like a fucking machine between the cogs of them both that grind into you and when Jimin’s cock throbs tellingly within you while your boyfriend stares down at you with danger flashing in pupils that dilate automatically for you, that’s when you fucking scream.

 The glass rattles as your voices pierces the air around you while you’re battered like a stuffed animal between two rough children and Jungkook’s eyes strike you deep with the cocks that fill you up as they devastatingly pair their thrusts together and when your boyfriend’s fingers intertwine with the one you’d unknowingly been clutching at the couch with, that’s when he grunts, “Come on, baby. Want you to come for daddy. Can you do that for me? Can you show Jimin how beautiful you are when that pretty little cunt finishes all over his cock while you look at me?”

 With the wind that is continually knocked out of you, all you can do is blink up at him in answer as you wrap your fingers around his at the same time the digits of your other hand tighten and tug at Jimin’s scalp only for the blonde-haired man to peer up at Jungkook as you’re dangled over the edge of your precipice once more, your walls fluttering in warning and Jimin, through irregular breaths that are drawn out of him in the rigorousness of his efforts, understands enough to let your boyfriend know, “She’s about to meet her end, J-Jungkook. Sh-She’s squeezing my dick. It feels so good.”

 “Feels like heaven around your cock, doesn’t it? Of course it does,” Jungkook groans as he plunges himself into you while Jimin rolls his hips, your head falling forward so that your temple rests against Jimin’s forehead while your mouth parts as their fingers quicken against your clit as you moan only for him to husk, “Shit, you’re so good for us, baby. I think I’ll let you cum for me in a minute, but first, what do you say when you want something from daddy?”

 Your mind has become wired only to the pleasure that pangs through you with each sweep of their cocks within you, but somehow, you wrack your brain to find the only other words that you know always appease him to pant, “Please, Jungkook…n-need you.”

 “That’s it, baby,” he rasps as your boyfriend runs his finger ruinously between Jimin’s own digits that draw shapes into your button and when Jungkook’s digit suddenly drags itself in hard figure-eight motions along it to the same time that his cock cataclysmically crashes impossibly deep into your ass, that’s when you’re thrashed against Jimin. The elder man perfectly times the buck of his hips into you so that his cock arcs against the clutter of nerves hidden precariously inside you, your irises jerking over the him before they’re threshed to your boyfriend that lodges his cock once, twice and then three more times within you to finally command, “Cum for me, babygirl. Get Jimin all fucking soaked because of what I let him do to you. Give me your fucking orgasm, doll. Give it all to me and let him watch you, yeah?”

 With the sin he spews, you release is swift to unravel you as you come undone, your walls spasming violently over Jimin and he hisses at the way you contract around him as if to pull him in, his own end quick to follow yours as your sex shudders around him amidst your trembling thighs that shake with the rest of your body as you shriek shrilly, your fingers constricting around Jungkook’s own as you hold onto him for dear life.

 When Jimin shoots a hot rope of seed inside you as his member twitches erratically, you hardly have time to moan at the sensation of it before your boyfriend possessively curls an arm around your front to pull you up and against his chest as he sits back on his heels to have Jimin’s own dick slip out of you and the other man throws his head back against the armrest of the couch to stroke himself needily as he hastens to replicate the feel of you around his member while he continues to spill all over himself amidst the pool of your own juices that you’ve splashed all over his dick.

 “You’re mine,” Jungkook’s other hand releases your own to wrap around your throat so that your head falls back against his shoulder as he crazedly crams himself into you again and again, the palm on your abdomen resting where his much larger cock pokes against it before trailing up to grab one breast as you whine while your own orgasm still forcibly strikes you through in unending sparks that electrify you as your boyfriend powers into you from behind before he growls, "Let him fucking see you fall apart for the only cock that you'll ever love, baby. You belong to me. Say it."

 “Y-yours, Jungkook…yours,” you cry out and it is that that has your boyfriend descending into his own end as he gives a guttural groan that you engulf when he urges your head to the side so that you can swallow the sound through the attachment of your mouths and he keeps his sealed against you until you kittenishly slide your tongue against his lower only for him to open his mouth to you and suck your tongue, along with any remaining air that you had, between his lips as he feasts on you until you have no oxygen or saliva left to give him.

 Jimin observes it all, heat stirring in his abdomen as he rubs furiously at his softening length that even now still oozes with the cum both you and he have drenched it with.

 Infatuation influxes the blonde-haired man at the way desire rings itself around the corner of your eyes from you in the cords of pleasure you’d been fibrously instilled with whilst Jungkook holds you close, your brows scrunching together as you bite your lip between your teeth in the aftershocks of your orgasm as your chest heaves over your boyfriend’s, the petalled marks that Jungkook had left over you blushing your flesh in your labored breaths.

 It’s captivating as a current and Jimin is pulled asunder for you all while Jungkook watches the emotions ripple across the blonde-haired man’s face, amusement lifting at your boyfriend’s lips at how easy it had been for you to capture yet another man in the palm of your hand.

 When Jungkook carefully extricates himself from to lay back on the opposite side of the couch with you still in his arms, he chuckles to himself as you silently nestle yourself against his side to snuggle up to him, one arm draping over his chest as you peer adoringly up at him while he makes room for you beside him to entwine his own limb around yours as he croons, “You’re so adorable after you get fucked, baby. Always have to cling to me afterward, huh? You know,” he traces the marks he’d left behind and you sigh with satisfaction as he does, “You’re cute, petal. Have I told you that today?”

 “Mhm,” you purr as you turn on your side to give innocent pecks to his chest while your eyes close as fatigue pulls at them and you affirm, “All the time.”

“I think someone’s a little tired, doll. Do you want me to carry you to the car?” Jungkook asks as he brushes an especially red mark that has purple smearing itself around it and you lean into the touch as a smile lifts at your lips while you stare at the brands he’d left on you.

 “’S fine. I can stay awake a-“ you yawn, your mouth opening only a little as you stretch your arms out before settling back next to your boyfriend –“little while longer.”

 “Yes, you sound awfully convincing, don’t you?” He teases as he sits up and you immediately whine until he laughs and helps you onto his lap as he urges, “I think it might be best to take you home now, baby. You’re about ready to fall asleep. Help me zip myself up, will you?”

 Responsive to him as ever, you tuck his member away before fastening his pants so that he looks presentable should someone see you and when he tucks you inside the blanket you’d hand-stitched and made for him for his birthday, you link your hands around his neck as he cradles you, his irises softening as he peers down at you while you whisper, “Thank you.”

 The double meaning is not lost on him as you have always said those words whenever he’s done just about every single thing for you and he drags his knuckles along your cheek as he offers, “You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

 You giggle as you beam up at him with the toothy smile that still has his heart flipping in his chest to let him know, “I do. Do you know that I would do everything for you?”

 He kisses you along the tip of your charming little nose as he nudges at your cheek, “And how could I ever forget that?”

 He carefully swaddles you in the fluffy fabric until you’re completely covered and all the while, his fingers lovingly caress your sides as he gathers you up and stands with you swathed in the safety of his arms. With his attention captured by your irises that swim with devotion for him, he starts moving forward and with his back to the other man that still is splayed along the couch, he glances back to say, “Ah, and I did not neglect to acknowledge that you’re here, too, Jimin,” he winks, “You did well. I can tell she enjoyed herself. I’ll be in touch. Please make sure you lock up, for I have more important things,” he peers back down at you with affection crinkling his eyes for you, “to attend to.”

 Jimin waits until the two of you vanish until he allows his own lips to lift out of joy born from watching such domesticity manifest itself in the form of two individuals that clearly were in love with each other with the way the emotion had so colored both of you and, with that emotion lifting his own heart, he dresses and locates his phone amidst the piles of clothes (both yours and his) that had long been forgotten.

 Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to walk, Jungkook had decided that foregoing your outfit would be best and so, as he carries you through the halls like the bride you will soon be to him, he smiles as he gazes tenderly at you, your eyes closed as you snooze comfortably in the cushions of his body as he holds you.

 You sleep peacefully in the passenger seat of his Mercedes S-Class Coupe and he glances at you every so often, your skin glowing amidst the emerald greens and ruby reds your skin shines with under the traffic lights as the city passes by in a whir with the constant to it all being your slumbering figure that gives him so much strength and stability in a ceaselessly churning life.  

 You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen even from the first time you’d caught his eye and now, after so much time has passed, you still remain the most priceless jewel to ever gleam for him amidst the dull, dim passersby that pale in comparison to your transfixing bright light.

When he’s pulled into the quiet mansion that stands tall in front of the richly hewn garden you have tended to that borders an impressive watering fountain that cost him thousands, none of it holds a candle to the treasure he takes into his arms as he withdraws you from the car and gently brings you upstairs. He’s careful not to make sound so as not to wake you and when he sets you smoothly on the bed, you do not rouse until the sound of water from the shower in the adjoining master bathroom trickles over your ears.

 You divest yourself of your covering in search of the kind of warmth only your fiancé can grant to you and when you join him in the shower, he welcomes you and washes your hair before his hands trail along your body to clean that, too. You sigh in satisfaction as you thank him once more and with some insisting on your part, you do the same for him even in his concern that you might be too sore to do so. Mindless touches turn into something not so sinless as your hands wander along his chiseled figure that has the power to have you salivating with only one glance.

 He’s hesitant at first because he knows you ache from the strenuousness of the night’s illicit activities, but in your want to reassure him that you are not as fragile as you appear, you fall to your knees before him and take him into your mouth, his groans heating you up as you rut against his leg while you suckle him. You eagerly devour his seed that you’ve come to love so much when he is ready to feed you and once he helps you rise from the ground, he’s sure to give you a kiss that would rival that of the one in the most beloved romance story before he dries you both against your ailing and feeble legs that are weak for him and when he sweeps you off your feet once more, he still kisses you like his hunger will never stop its craving for you.

Even when he lays you down like you’re a glass doll that might shatter if he’s not careful, he still treats you like a piece of art as he looks at you reverently whilst he makes love to you amid your breathless admissions of love for him while he fills your canvas with his seed until he can give you no more of his paint to taint you with.

 And when the breeze blows against your sweat sluiced skin as you lay over him, your chin resting on his sternum while you innocently let the pad of your fingers brush his chest, he asks you, “Did I please you tonight, my love? Did you have fun?”

 “Sweetheart,” you press your mouth to the dip between his collarbones before you breathe, “whenever I am with you, those two things are always a given.”

 His heart dances in his chest at your admission and the fingers that skim your sides splay out to hold you closer as you stare fondly at him.

 “Such a wonderful girl for me. Have I told you how perfect you are for me lately?” He questions, his thumbs drawing shapes into your skin as he goes on, “I don’t know if I have or not. I suppose you’ll have to remind me.”

 "Every morning," you brush your lips against his own in a soft kiss before you pull away, "and every night, my love. Not a day goes by that you don't tell me that or how beautiful you think I am," you smile at him.

 "It's because it's true. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and this, "he holds up the phone to show a text from Jimin you’d both missed in the middle of your lovemaking as he kisses the crest between your brows, "was for you, pretty girl. Whatever you want, I will always give it to you."

 "You're too good to me, Kookie. I really am so lucky to have you," you caress him, your knuckles tracing his jawline as you stare tenderly up at him, "You've always been the best for me and when we marry," you coax him toward you and he heeds your urging fingers along his maw as he meets you halfway to connect your lips to his own, but this kiss is one that he takes control of and you let him, your lips parting for him as his tongue dips low into your mouth to reclaim every contour of you in his touch before he disconnects from you for you to vow, "I enjoyed messing around with Jimin, but once marriage binds us together forever, I will love you and only you until the end of my days. No matter what, I will always yearn for you."

 "God, I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you and put a ring on your finger so that everyone knows that you’re all mine," he ardently declares as he rests his forehead against yours to breathe in your air as he confesses, "They say that happy marriages look to the future and not the past," he lays back and brings you with him so that you're lain across his chest, his heart beating to the same rhythm as yours as he grins, "but baby, you are what I want my time to be filled with. You're my past, my present and my future and what we have together, my beloved flower, will never wilt."

[nicolesangel]

nothing safe is worth the drive

pairing: wanda maximoff/reader

summary: you and wanda both get hurt on missions, just for completely different reasons. what happens when your anxiety for losing each other finally comes to a peak?

words: 2k

author’s note: very loosely based off of "treacherous" by taylor swift. specifically the lyrics "this hope is treacherous, this daydream is dangerous" and "nothing safe is worth the drive and i will follow you, follow you home". i absolutely did not do a thorough edit of this so please tell me if there is anything wrong! enjoy :-)

click here to read on ao3 or read below!

The compound was quiet today.

You lay in the medbay, an IV line in your arm, your closest friend, Wanda, sitting next to you. She had been next to you all night, waiting for you to wake up, but she’ll never tell you that.

The mission was going so well until the very end. You were supposed to find the weapons and secure them and then get out. There wasn’t supposed to be someone waiting for you at the exit; your path was supposed to be cleared by Natasha. You got out with only a few broken ribs and a concussion, fairly lucky, but when you got back to the jet, you blacked out.

When you finally awoke this morning, Wanda’s eyes were shining with relief. She squeezed your hand before letting go so you could readjust yourself. She handed you a glass of water silently; you gave a small smile back before taking a sip.

“Is everyone else okay?” Your voice was rough as you spoke your first words.

“Yeah,” Wanda sighed. “Actually, there was an emergency call. Everyone else has already headed out. i just wanted to make sure you were okay before I left.”

You panicked momentarily and sat up straighter. “Okay, give me ten and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Y/N, seriously? You aren’t going anywhere. Even if the doctors had okayed you, Tony has you suspended from missions for two weeks until you heal.”

“I just—“ you pause, groaning in pain as you shift your body toward Wanda. You now realize the room is almost completely dark, light just spilling in from the hallway. You sigh, “Fine. But please, Wanda, be extra careful. They can’t afford to lose you too.”

I can’t afford to lose you, you think.

“I promise, Y/N/N. Everything will be okay.” she squeezes your hand one last time before leaving.

You are left alone with with the dark and your racing mind. You can’t lose Wanda. She doesn’t know how much she means to you. Maybe you don’t even realize it yourself until now. You love her.

——

Everything did not end up okay. Despite her promise to you, Wanda ended up in the hospital bed beside yours. But, at least, she was conscious.

Your mind is racing with concern, sadness, anger (and love). You don’t even realize you’re staring at Wanda until she shoots you a glare, a bandage covering a huge gash on her forehead. “Your thoughts are loud. I appreciate your concern, but please, just turn your mind off and let me rest.”

You don’t even get a word in before Wanda is asleep. You lay on your back and stare up at the dim fluorescent lights. Your eyes are burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. You want to sit next to Wanda and be there for her when she wakes up the way she had done for you.

Your body is aching, but you don’t know if it’s from the longing or the broken ribs. But despite your fighting, you also fall asleep.

When you wake up, the room is just as dark as it had been earlier. You have no idea what time it is, but it feels like no time has passed at all. You hear rustling sheets from next to you and notice that Wanda is awake, laying on her side, head propped up by her hand, staring directly at you with a small smile (or grimace, if you looked close enough, from the pain).

“Morning sleepyhead,” she whispers.

You turn yourself to face her, as much as you can without facing excruciating pain, and give her a gentle smile back. But your smile fades as quick as it came. “Wanda…”

Her expression immediately shifts to worry, her brows furrowing as she looks you up and down. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“No,” you sigh, trying not to let your anxiety overwhelm you. You begin frantically whispering, “I was so scared Wanda. You told me you would be extra careful and yet, here you are in the same condition as me.”

“Y/N…”

“I could have lost you for good…” you mutter under your breath.

“Why would you think that? You know I can handle myself and it would never go that far.”

“I—“ you pause to swallow down a sob as tears begin finally slipping from your eyes. You almost let those three words escape your lips, but you couldn’t do that. Not now. Not when Wanda, and you, were injured and emotional and clearly frustrated with each other. “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.”

“No,” she growls, and you flinch. “It’s something more than that. I know you care, but please give up the act Y/N. What is this really about?”

You end up back how you started this conversation; eyes up at the ceiling, lying on your back. “It can wait, Wanda. Neither of us are in the condition to be fighting or crying or — whatever.”

“Fine,” she whispers, mirroring your position. “Just know, I feel the same way.”

——

When you wake up the next morning, you are discharged from the medbay and were ordered another week in bed to heal the concussion. You wanted to ask Wanda what she meant — what did she feel the same way about? — but she was still passed out when the nurse came to wheel you back to your room. It would have to wait.

The next week went by excruciatingly slow. The only human interaction you had was with the nurses that brought you food and medicine. And Natasha that one day.

She brought you dinner on your fourth day. You asked her to stay for a bit; you needed company after being (and feeling) alone for a while. She complied, sitting down beside you on the bed, stealing a bite of your food, gaining a glare from you.

“Nat,” you said quietly, testing out your voice after hours of silence, “what was the emergency that day? No one has told me…”

“We must have missed some of the weapons because we caught trucks moving grenades and dynamite from the same unit. But everything went as planned.”

You looked up at her with confusion. “But, if everything went well, then how did…”

Natasha rolled her eyes, a smirk crossing her lips. “She got that cut fighting for you.”

What does that mean? you thought. Confusion swept your mind. “Nat, what—“

“She found the guy who hurt you. Cursed him out. He punched her. Hard. She threw him around a bit before sending him our way.”

“Why would she do that? I told her to be careful.” You couldn’t believe what you heard. You couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or pissed.

“You know her. You should have known she wasn’t going to listen. She cares too much to let something like that go.” Natasha patted your hand before she walked toward the door.

Just as she reached the door, she paused and looked back at you. Tears are beginning to form again in your eyes. “You should tell her, you know.”

“What?” You locked eyes with Natasha.

“That you love her.”

Natasha was gone before you could respond. How did she know? Was it that obvious? you thought, your mind scrambling for a coherent thought. And did Natasha know something you didn’t? She did say that Wanda cared about you “too much”, but what does that—

Is that what Wanda was talking about when she said she felt the same way? Did she already know? There’s no way. How could she possibly know you love her when you only just realized it yourself?

It is now your first day off of bedrest and you take time to reacclimate yourself to the compound alone. You’re given smiles and nods and “I’m glad you’re okay!”s as you walk around. You weren’t expecting company when you returned to your room.

Wanda was wrapped up in a blanket on your bed, a book in her hands. As soon as she heard your footsteps entering the room, she put the book down and looked up at you with a shy, apologetic smile. “Hey,” she breathed out. “Can we talk?”

“I mean it doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, does it?” You slide into your bed beside Wanda. She offers you some of her blanket and you take it, ending up shoulder to shoulder with her.

Wanda looks over at you, empathy emitting from her emerald eyes. “I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day. I just— I hate to see you hurting and my emotions got the best of me and—“

“Natasha told me how you got hurt.”

Wanda sighs. “Of course she did.”

“Listen, Wand, you didn’t have to do that. I was fine! Really, you didn’t have to—“

“Yes I did!” You’re cut off abruptly by Wanda’s exasperation. Her eyes are sparkling with tears as she takes your hand in her own. “I did have to. Because I couldn’t handle seeing you so hurt and him getting away with hardly a scrape. I care too much about you.”

“But why did you put yourself in so much danger when I specifically asked you to be careful?” Your voice is elevated and now tears are slipping down both of your faces.

“Because I love you!”

The room fills with silence as you stare at each other, your mouth slightly agape as you squeeze Wanda’s hand.

You whisper, “you love me?”

Wanda gives you a sad smile. “I love you. So much it hurts. And it’s so scary how much I love you because what happens if I lose you? Even if you don’t love me in the way I love you, I am so scared that one day you’ll get hurt and I’ll lose you. I just—“

You cup Wanda’s cheek with your free hand. “I do love you in the way you love me. I really, really do.”

You lock eyes with each other before Wanda begins slowly leaning in. Her eyes flicker down at your lips before you close your own and connect your lips with hers. You’ve never been so happy or scared, but your heart is buzzing.

You separate before taking both of her hands in your own and placing them in your lap. You stare down at your intertwined fingers before speaking.

“I love you, but I’m so scared too. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you either.” You look up at Wanda before giving a timid smile. “But I want to do this with you. You’re my home. No matter how dangerous or scary it may be, I want to love you.”

“I have hope, you know.” Wanda takes one of her hands to push a piece of your hair behind your ear and lets it linger. “I know we are constantly putting ourselves in danger. It’s literally our job. But loving you is worth the risk. It’s worth the pain we will experience and the anxiety and anger because in the end of it all, it will always lead back to you. No matter what. You’re my home too.”

You lean in and kiss her again before wrapping yourself around her. She wraps her arms around your waist, holding on as if she would never let go.

“Are we really going to do this?” you whisper.

“There’s no way we aren’t doing this. Loving you is worth the risk of losing you.”

You separate enough to see Wanda’s face, her arms still around your waist, yours still resting around her shoulders, your foreheads resting against each other.

“God, I love you so much it hurts.”

“I love you just the same.”

[alpalpym]

Keep me calm chapter 1

A/N: Mentions of violence, hints at anxiety and anger issues. Don’t interact if you’re not 18+

Description: You're a mutant running away from your second family, the X-men. You meet Natasha under not-so-great circumstances, but she'll prove herself to be trustworthy.

(Cross posted on AO3. Check link in bio!)

  You were absolutely furious as you gave the legs of the interrogation table another kick, chuckling as it creaked and heaved under strain. 

Anger wasn't unusual for you, a trait Professor X had despised. But he had never liked you to begin with.

It felt like hours since the guards put her in here, and with nothing to do, you had resorted to wrecking the place. Hopefully, someone would come in and tell you to stop; you were desperate for some interaction at this point. With your constant kicking and trashing, the special cuffs around your wrists had started to chafe the sensitive skin underneath. You bit back a wince as you shouted at the top of your lungs. 

"Can somebody tell me what the hell I'm doing here, for god's sake!" Huffing when you got no reply, you kicked the table again, sending it hurling into the opposite wall. 

"Can you stop breaking our furniture," a feminine voice grumbled. 

You gasped at the approaching woman. A true sight for sore eyes with her lush red curly hair and an incredibly tight tactical suit. How were you supposed to keep a straight face with that?

You were an observant girl, quickly noticing minor cuts and some dried up blood coating the woman's pale skin, but you kept quiet as she suddenly came very close. Her hands came to rest at either side of your chair, effectively caging you in before she spoke in a low tone. 

"You need to behave while I'm in here."

You snorted. As if you'd follow up on that demand after being plucked off the streets and locked away. Although, you couldn't deny that the red-head ordering you around left you feeling all fluttery inside. 

"Your name is (y/n), current resident at the Xavier institute here in New York," she sighed, "you have quite the record on you kid."

"I'm not a kid," you spat.

The woman just quirked her brow before resuming. "You can call me Natash—."

"I know who you are."

"You need to stop interrupting me." 

Another command. Your ears were burning, and your skin felt itchy at the tone of Natasha's voice. You've never been this susceptible to a single person in your life, not your parents, not the people from CPS, and especially not Professor X. You fidgeted with the fabric of your jeans, trying to ground yourself from the haze falling over you. “Probably the lack of food,” you thought.

"You left your parental house at thirteen, only having been taken in by CPS three years later. What happened within that time?" Natasha had an aura around her that seemed to command respect, and all without ever raising her voice. You appreciated that about her.

"I just roamed around," you mumbled, wanting to steer the woman away from the topic.

Natasha nodded, scribbling down in a small notebook before her green eyes pierced straight through you again. "And how did Xavier track you down? 

You clenched your jaw, the memory a painful one as you tried to recall what had happened to you. All you could remember were snippets, like Professor X's hard eyes as he sat across from you at his desk. Then another image of you strapped on a hospital bed as a sharp needle pierced your neck before pain blinded your vision.

"I don't know." 

"You're not giving me enough info here, kid."

You were racking your brain. For something, anything, to give Natasha just so she would back off. But as much as you tried, there were no memories of exactly how Professor X had gotten to you. Just a ton of feelings, the intensity of it all making you feel like you were going to throw up.

You were hot, the room sweltering. You doubled over, hands still cuffed as you fought against the wave of nausea hitting the back of your throat. Banging your still cuffed hands against the tabletop, you let out a low whine.

"Nat—" You couldn't speak. Why was your throat so tight? It was all so hard. You leaned back against your seat, trying to keep your racing heart under control.

The woman quickly got to your side, her hands hovering over yours hesitantly.

"I don't know anything. Please don't make me talk. Please, please," you cried. Pressing your forehead against a warm shoulder, the fabric underneath you dampened with tears making you want to pull away. But Natasha was soft, so soft, as she gently guided you closer against her. Unbothered by your sudden vulnerability. Natasha didn't mind; you were sure of it. 

Loud banging against the door quickly pulled Natasha off you in an instant, and you whined a pathetic whine from the back of your throat in objection.

"What's this Romanoff? We said interrogate, not cuddle!" 

A slightly balding man with crooked eyes and an off-putting smile stood at the threshold. His arms were spread, holding either side of the door frame as he nonchalantly swayed back and forth on his feet.

"Shut it, Coulson."

At least Natasha was sticking up for you. But the sudden intrusion cleared your head enough for you to realize how much you'd slipped with the woman. How vulnerable you'd been. Weak.

You pushed the red-head off of you, surprising her as she looked at you in bewilderment. "I refuse to speak to any more of you. Let me go."

It was perfectly within your right; you knew that much. Not even Shield had the jurisdiction to force you into talking. And you wanted to leave. Right now.

"We can't exactly do that," Coulson said. He stalked further into the room, the authority practically beaming off of him as he planted himself sideways on the edge of the table. "Listen up, kiddo."

"Stop calling me that!" You were growing sick and tired of people looking down at you like some child. You were better than that. 

"I'll call whatever I want. Five children are missing, and you have something to do with it now talk."

"No!" A quick burst of energy, followed by absolute emptiness, coursed through your body before you were suddenly on the other side of the room. Both Coulson and Natasha were looking at you, utterly baffled that you were able to use your powers despite the cuffs. With Natasha trying to reach out for you and Coulsen undoubtedly calling for backup, you were cornered. 

One swift kick was all it took to drive the man backward against the wall. A sickening crunch indicating that you've definitely broken his hand. There was no way back now, no more playing nice. You made a move to turn around, but your still cuffed hands were now held in a firm grip by Natasha. The woman pushed you roughly to the ground and caged you in with her thighs around your hips.

"Don't make me do this (y/n)," Natasha panted against the side of your neck. She was straining to keep you down, and you felt a warmth akin to pride spreading from your chest at the thought.

Natasha's hand came up to grab the curvature of your neck before applying pressure. It didn't take long at all for you to lose consciousness. Maybe it was the stress. Perhaps you just lacked the strength to fight back against the black widow. But you were soon out like a light.

~

You didn't dream, but you woke up in bed with a racing heart and a fuzzy head. Soft sheets pooled at your waist as you sat up. Your hands were still cuffed, but you were wearing different clothes. How long had you been out?

"Goodmorning." 

Natasha was sat in a plastic chair, her back slumped and looking like hell. It was strange to see the woman like that after she'd been so poised earlier, and you wondered how long she'd been in here with you. 

"Where did you take me?"

Natasha sighed. The woman let her head fall into her hands, gripping her hair at the root. "You're safe here (y/n)."

"You really believe I'm going to buy into that crap? You laughed. The nerve of this woman was uncanny. "You choked me, Natasha."

"I didn't mean to. Just trust me, please." Natasha eyed you unsurely before moving her chair closer to the bed, putting a hand just above your knee. "How are your wrists," she nodded to your lap.

You frowned. But as you looked down, you saw that the skin underneath your cuffs was red and raw. Natasha moved to hold your wrists in her hands, but you quickly pulled them out of her reach. There was a heat in your chest, spreading like wildfire, and you banged your hands against the wall beside you in frustration. "Stop touching me," you hissed. 

As Natasha made another move to take your hand, you harshly shoved your cuffed hands against her. Shock flashed through Natasha's pretty green eyes, but it was quickly replaced by their usual blank look. She gripped your upper arm tightly, fingers digging into the soft skin. "You can't lose your temper around me (y/n)," she said viciously, "be good for me."

Natasha firmly pressed you down against the bed by your arm, her grasp on you still tight and painful. You wildly trashed against her, roughly shoving your body against hers as hard as possible. Everything about Natasha irked you right now. Her commandeering voice, the strength with which she was able to hold you down with ease. But most of all, her unnecessary kindness. 

Aside from her slightly unethical method of knocking you out, Natasha had shown she wanted what was best for you. You'd never admit it, but Shield taking you in had scared the living hell out of you, and Natasha had handled you with such gentleness it made your heart ache with anger and confusion. 

Natasha shifted to pin you down against the mattress, her shoulder pressed against the side of your face. 

"You're just using me," you panted against her shoulder. "Why are you doing this? Just let me go!"

Pressing her forehead against your temple, Natasha quietly shushed you, softly stroking your head. "Calm down for me Малы́шка."

Natasha's arms snaked around you, keeping you in a firm hold. And while you continued to struggle against her for a bit, you gradually started feeling the anger seep out of you. You had to admit it felt nice to have the red-head so close to you, the comfortable heaviness of her body against yours made your chest feel a lot lighter. "Witchcraft," you thought humorously.

Natasha let out a hum of content—of approval— and tightened her hold on you the tiniest bit, making your eyes fall closed again.

Translation: Малы́шка = baby girl