#look i love dom daddy shit as much as the next person

[pupkinpumpkin]

[yoon-kooks]

paired & puppy-eyed | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: if you're looking for the ✨filthy✨ smut version, read paired & pierced from the reader's pov! this one takes place in the same 2 days but from jungkook's pov without explicit smut😔 if you read both, lmk which version you preferred! i personally like this one more bc we get more catdad!jjk heh

Jungkook doesn’t always have a goal for the day, but today is different. He’s running on approximately zero hours of sleep and would love to get a nap in before class starts. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Unfortunately for him, that won’t be happening today because there are at least ten girls huddled next to his desk when he walks into the classroom. An onlooker might assume that these girls are gathered around for a chance to win his heart over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, there’s a queen bee sitting a foot away from him, and she’s the one everyone’s always drawn to. 

That queen bee is none other than you.

As Jungkook quietly takes his seat, he overhears something about that Loudmouth Jim who sits on the other side of the classroom. Apparently, you were hanging out with that guy at some party. A girl like you can do so much better than Loudmouth Jim who always needs to make everything about him. He couldn’t accept it when his ex broke up with him, so he turned it around on her to make it seem like he was the one breaking things off with her. Now he’s made it his mission to make her jealous by flirting with popular girls like you. Jungkook swears he only knows this because his tattoo artist loves to spill the tea he hears from his other clients.

“Is he as big as they say?” All the girls look so wide-eyed and eager to hear what you have to say about Loudmouth Jim’s cock. They talk about shit like this all the time, and as much as it makes Jungkook want to bang his head against a brick wall, he’s also lowkey disappointed that they’ve never once wondered about the size of his cock. He wouldn’t mind if that seed were planted in that pretty little head of yours.

As it turns out, you haven’t seen Loudmouth Jim’s cock. Thank god. And from what it sounds like, you didn’t want to see it anyway. Good girl. In fact, when Jungkook takes a peek next door, you don’t even look super engaged in the girl talk. You nod along and smile a bit, but you’re a lot quieter than one would expect for someone so popular. It’s kind of cute.

Eventually, class begins and Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief. Now the girls have to cut the chitchat and leave. At long last, he can finally catch up on some sleep. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the tiny demon kitten that wandered to his doorstep a week ago. Not only does she keep him awake at night by knocking shit down and chewing on his phone charger, but she also haunts him in his sleep.

He dreams of the little fucker swatting her paws against his back and wiggling her tiny body into his hood. When that isn’t enough to get his attention, she starts gnawing on his index finger.

“Hey Jungkook.”

The boy opens an eye and the first thing he sees is you bent down in front of him as if you were about to do something indecent under his desk. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, though he still has no fucking clue why you’re down there looking up at him with such needy puppy dog eyes.

“Wanna be partners?” you ask him.

Still half-asleep, he looks around the room and sees everyone pairing up and talking about a project of some sort. Fucking hell. He absolutely despises any and all projects that aren’t individual. Even the ones where a super pretty girl is asking to pair up with him. But before he can decline, he notices you checking over your shoulder and sees Loudmouth Jim on his way over. Ah, it all makes sense now. You’re just using him to avoid being partners with that asshole. It’s a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Understandable.

“Sure, I guess.” As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t have had it in him to say no to you anyway. Not with those puppy eyes.

“Good, good.” The smile on your face is too much. Why are you smiling that big for something as small as agreeing to be your partner? It’s really not that deep. But it is really cute. Fuck. See, this is what happens when he doesn’t get enough sleep—his mind develops some sort of irrational softness that won’t go away until he either lets his body rest or rubs one out. He’ll do whatever it takes to get that nasty soft feeling out of his system.

Seeing how the classroom isn’t the best place to have his hand in his pants, he opts to fall back asleep before class ends. Hopefully he won’t be disturbed by any more kitten nightmares.

Ten seconds later, Loudmouth Jim enters the scene, and Jungkook can kiss his nap goodbye. Still slumped over, the sleep-deprived boy listens in on the awkward exchange between you and Loudmouth. Bro apparently can’t take a hint that you want nothing to do with him. Jungkook would step in and tell Jim to fuck off, but he wants to see you do it yourself. That would be kind of hot.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry,” you say in an apologetic tone. You probably get taken advantage of all the time because of that compassion. There’s no need for you to be so nice to everyone you interact with, and especially not to shallow people like Jim. That must be exhausting.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” Loudmouth spits. Kid? Jungkook does his best not to snort while pretending to be dead. When he takes a peek, he sees you nod. “And you said yes?” 

You nod again. This time, however, you don’t give him the gentleness you’re known for. With a furrowed brow, you almost look bothered—something you probably feel all the time but never show. It’s so rare to see your emotions out in the open like that. It’d be quite intriguing to see how you look when you’re genuinely happy, sad, mad, horny—

Nope. Jeon Jungkook is not going to let his sleepy mind wander there on a Friday morning. It can at least wait until he gets home.

After Loudmouth Jim is gone, Jungkook sits up and stares at you. Your face has already softened back up. Fuck it. He’s never seen anyone so cute in his entire life, through sleep-deprived glasses or not.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you.” Kind of a dick move of him to ruffle your feathers when he already knows about your distaste for Jim, but Jungkook is genuinely curious to hear what you have to say. And he’s not one to be curious about other people’s affairs.

“That’s not what he wanted,” you say. They don’t call him Bad Intentions Jim for nothing.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” Perhaps “friends” isn’t the best word to describe the rest of your classmates, but it’s clear that they enjoy being in your presence.

Apparently, you feel a bit more detached than that. According to you, no one’s going out of their way to save you from a hypothetical burning house. Jungkook probably would. But there’s no way in hell he’s admitting something like that. He’d sound like a simp!

“Who would you save?” he asks. Surely you have someone you’d put before anyone else. Anyone would be lucky to be your number one.

“No one.” 

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t feel a certain way about your answer, but he can’t control how his lips curl into the slightest smile. Your response is proof that the two of you aren’t as different as it seems. He might even like you for it.

Heck, he might even offer to do the whole damn project by himself and still give you credit for it! That’s the plan he has cooked up for his antisocial self—until you keep insisting on working together. Something about meeting up on the weekend. Maybe he should stop playing hard to get and just say okay.

“I’m busy.” He immediately hates himself for saying it. That’s his default response for any sort of social gathering, and his dumbass went on autopilot for no reason.

“Busy with what?” The way you flutter your eyelashes at him is both innocent and seductive. Are you actually flirting with him? Because it’s working.

“My newborn,” he utters out of panic. It didn’t entirely come out of his ass, though. The vet did say his kitten is around eight weeks. That’s basically a newborn, and she’s definitely been keeping him busy.

But then your eyes get all big and sparkly. “You have a child?”

How the fuck is Jungkook supposed to respond to that? You’re so excited over a human baby that doesn’t exist, and now he has to be the bringer of bad news. He normally doesn’t feel bad for others, but this makes him feel like absolute shit.

“If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?” you offer. Why the fuck are you so gullible and trusting in him, and why is that a huge turn-on for him?

“I was just fucking with you…” he finally comes clean. You look exactly like the surprised Pikachu meme, and yes, it’s adorable. Fine, you win. He gives you his number and address and invites you over. 

All that for a fucking project.

When Jungkook returns home, a sleepy kitten waddles its way over to the door to greet him. She yawns her fish breath in his face as soon as he picks her up for a kiss. Ungrateful little demon.

She doesn’t stop there, either. With a burst of energy and a bushy tail, she flicks her eyes around, looking for a wire to chew on. The computer cords must be quite appetizing because she keeps trying to eat them.

“Hey, that's dangerous, Lucy.” Jungkook peels the kitten away from the wires and sets her down on his bed, but she just runs right back into the danger zone. “Lucinda, you little shit.”

Twenty minutes later, the boy makes a run to the pet store and returns with a few peace offerings. He’s not much of a cat person, so he has no idea what all the young kittens are into nowadays. Hopefully they like mouse toys and pink bunnies.

Like the new father he is, Jungkook spends the rest of his evening teaching the kitten how to play fetch, rocking her to sleep, and tucking her in with the mouse and bunny. Finally, the demon has been tamed.

By the time he gets into bed, it’s already past midnight. He’s exhausted and should probably get some sleep, and yet his mind is still wandering. He can’t quite shake that image of you getting down on your knees at his desk, just begging for his attention. For a second, it looked as though you, the most popular girl on campus, were lusting after his cynical smartass self. The mere possibility of that lures his hand into his pants to address that ache he’s been enduring all day. But before he can get any relief, he hears a set of paws back on the prowl.

Jungkook hobbles out of bed and turns on the light. To no one’s surprise, the naughty kitten is caught red-handed with a wire in her mouth.

With a sigh, he collects the kitty, sits her down in his lap, turns his computer on, and opens up the code for the partner project. It’s going to be a long night.

The funny thing is, the assignment itself doesn’t require much time or effort. What takes up all his time and effort is this silly kitten. She’s adorable but so damn needy. Kind of like you. If you were here to work on the project with him like you’d fought so hard to do, you’d surely be much too big of a distraction. No work would ever get done when you bat your eyes at him and giggle over the tiniest things.

It takes a good few hours between modifying and adding lines of code and keeping an eye on the troublemaker, but Jungkook eventually gets it done before the sun rises. As an added bonus, the naughty little wire fairy has finally worn herself out. She curls into a ball on top of Jungkook’s chest and falls into a deep slumber. The boy is out a minute later.

It’s around ten in the morning when Jungkook wakes up and checks his phone. You’re supposed to drop by sometime today, aren’t you? He wishes he knew when to expect you, or if you weren’t coming at all. It’s up to you to message him, though, since he gave you his number and not the other way around.

Just then, he hears a knock at the door. His first instinct says it’s you. But then he checks his phone again and sees no new message from your unknown number. Surely you’d shoot him a text before heading his way.

It’s probably just the special package of kitty toys he ordered a few days ago. He’d get up to check, but he’s not trying to disturb the little rascal from her slumber. She’s still resting peacefully on his chest, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

But what if the package gets stolen? Jungkook spent a lot more money than he’d like to admit on those kitty toys, and he’d be pretty pissed if someone took that away from his child.

Groaning, Jungkook slowly lifts the sleepy kitten off his chest and places her on the warm spot where he’d been lying. She stretches out her tiny limbs but otherwise continues her snooze. Perfect.

The first thing he sees when he opens the door is your bare tummy because you’ve apparently decided to show up at his door unannounced in a micro crop top. It’s so short your pretty tits might pop out if your arms were held above your head. Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t mind seeing a little underboob if that’s the look you’re going for today.

Then he notices you staring at him like he’s a stranger. You haven’t even greeted him yet. He watches as your eyes travel up his bare arm to his face and messy man bun, and then back to his arm. That’s when it hits him. This is the first time you’re seeing any of his tattoos and piercings. 

The quiet studious Jeon Jungkook at school doesn’t look like the type to have a full sleeve or this many piercings. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and prefers to keep a low profile. Life is just easier that way. That’s why he always takes his piercings out and covers his tattoos with a hoodie when it’s time to go to class. 

Seeing him now in a muscle tank must be quite shocking to you.

“Why do you look like that?” You have the audacity to point the finger at him when you’re looking that good in your little crop top. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

Oh? You sound kind of upset at the fact that he’s been intentionally hiding his body art in class. Like you’ve been missing out.

“Maybe,” he answers as he leads you inside. Your curious eyes are still glued to his tattoos. You ask why he hides it all, and he mentions his distaste for compliments and small talk. 

He does it to avoid the exact things you’re so good at attracting.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” You bring out a pouty lip to combo with those puppy eyes. He wonders how you make your pupils so big like that. And what the fuck are you so whiny for? You want to admire his body art that badly? Fine.

“I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment.” Without a single thought, he lifts his tatted arm for you to grab onto. Your hands are so soft and warm as they slide across each tattoo. It’s in times like this that Jungkook wishes his entire body was covered in tattoos for you to trace with that angelic touch.

After what feels like forever, you still haven’t said your one compliment. It seems like you’re just using this as an excuse to latch onto his arm like his little kitten. 

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” He’d give you a nudge but his arm is too busy being fondled.

“I wish I could see all of them.” Your eyes meet his as your tits press into his arm. The compliment is innocent at face value, but the implications behind it sure as hell aren’t. Oh, you definitely want to fuck him.

If you think you can just waltz into his home with that crop top, drool all over his tattoos, and ask for sex so shamelessly, you’re not wrong. His body is aching to squeeze those tits, to feel just how tight you are, and to make you squirm until you squirt.

“Ooh kitty.” Like an easily distracted toddler, you toss his arm aside and move on to the next toy that fascinates you. The kitten drops her mouse in front of you and sniffs your hand when you scoop her up. Jungkook watches from afar as his own kitten steals you away from him. She even presses her pink nose to your cheek. That little fucker.

Jungkook has to bite his tongue at least five times to stop himself from asking if you’re done playing with his cat. He’d come off as jealous and needy for your attention. Instead, he acts like the mature father he is and puts her to bed in that pink new donut cushion he’d bought for her the other day. She kneads her paws on the bunny until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore and settles into the loaf position. He’s convinced she’s only behaving like an angel right now to impress his lady friend. 

“So what’s this project again?” The boy has no intentions of actually working on the project, but he’d prefer it if you weren’t so focused on his cat.

“You’d know if you were listening!” You turn back to the cat again. He could’ve sworn he heard you whispering something into her triangle ears like, “Your daddy is so useless.”

Hearing that name come out of your mouth is confirmation. Confirmation that you’d be so submissive if he were to spread your legs open and make you his little plaything. And he kind of likes the sound of that.

“I’m just fucking with you again. I already finished it, by the way,” he hums. Since you seem to be the stubborn type when it comes to project participation, he sits you down at his computer with the finished code to prove that daddy is not in fact useless.

He expects you to be all wide-eyed and impressed by his work, but you simply sigh as you run the program. Great. It appears he has yet another ungrateful little thing on his hands.

But then you start adding in a bunch of stuff “for the aesthetic” because although he’s “quite possibly the nerdiest boy you’ve ever met,” there’s still room for growth when it comes to “the fun shit.” And by “the fun shit,” you mean coding in a cat doing some elaborate kpop choreo. 

Half an hour later, you run the final product again and submit it in its perfect form. Aren’t you the nerd here? Quite possibly the prettiest nerd he’s ever met.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd,” Jungkook says before face-palming internally. Why does he always resort to name-calling as his way of flirting with people? This is why no one likes him and why he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. He’s going to ruin a good thing with you if he keeps that up.

But to his surprise, you throw the name right back at him with a playful smile on your face. “If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd.”

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him.” But a threesome with you? Sounds interesting.

You call Jim an asshole and don’t deny that you have a bunch of shallow relationships with the people in your class. When the boy asks you about it, you admit it’s intentional. It’s this mindset of surrounding yourself with a lot of different people until you run into the few you click with. 

And while Jungkook can’t relate to having that many connections to his peers, he understands the desire for someone who cares for you unconditionally and makes you want to do the same. He’s been waiting for that person to show up for him too. Idly. At least you’re putting yourself out there.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, lying down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling and not at the pretty person sitting less than a foot away from him. You’d joined him on the bed at some point to play with the kitten, but the feline was very quick to abandon you. Now it’s just you and him.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in.” Your voice is flirty and soft. The boy knows he might have a big ego at times, but there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about him. You wouldn’t be on his bed eyeing him like that if that weren’t the case.

With that knowledge in mind, Jungkook decides to tease you some more. “I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it? You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” Your face hovers over his like the moon during an eclipse, except you’re much more enticing to look at. He catches your eyes on his lips until they find their way up to meet his gaze. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

Liar.

“Really?” His body suddenly moves on its own, overcome with the lust that had been building up since you first showed him those puppy eyes in class. He pulls you beneath him and holds both of your wrists above your head. He was right. That crop top is indeed short enough to show him some underboob with you in that helpless position. And, much like how you said you wanted to see all his tattoos, he wants nothing more in this moment than to see the rest of you until he’s seen it all. 

Purposely keeping the tiniest distance between his lips and yours, he whispers, “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

As the afternoon turns to evening, you’re still at Jungkook’s place, still fondling his arm on his bed, and still obsessed with all the art and piercings that grace his body. The two of you had fallen asleep after getting a few rounds of filthy sex out of your systems, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s used to people leaving right after, whether it’s because the relationship was purely sexual or because it just wasn’t worth his time. You’re different, though. There’s something about you that he wants to keep holding onto.

“Did this one hurt?” You poke the metal sticking out of his eyebrow.

“Not as much as you stabbing me with your finger just now,” he frowns, running a hand through his messy hair. The man bun must’ve come out at some point in the midst of all that hair pulling and wrestling in the sheets.

“You must have really low pain tolerance then,” you giggle with your finger ready to poke him someplace else. But before you can do so, he closes his hand around yours and tucks your pointy finger away to put an end to your antics. “You’re no fun,” you pout.

“Really? You seemed like you were enjoying it when I let you s—”

“Where’s this one from?” You somehow dodge the accusation and free your finger from his grasp to poke the shark tattoo that you now know hides beneath his shirt. You’re so sneaky.

“Someone.” Aka the same artist he gets his gossip from.

“What about the… snake one?” Of course that’s the one that pops into your dirty little head.

“Someone else.” Aka the one he might have slept with a few times before she convinced him that the snake would look good on him there. She wasn’t wrong. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m just asking! Maybe I want a tattoo too!” you squeak. Jungkook has no doubt in his mind that you’d look pretty damn hot with any tattoo anywhere on that body. “Tattoos are attractive, no?”

“Be honest, you only fucked me for my tattoos, huh.” The boy knows this to be false because you aren’t the shallow type, but he just wants to hear what other good things you have to say about him. Because maybe he doesn’t hear that a lot from others.

“Obviously. It had nothing to do with how hot you are, or how easy you are to talk to, or how soft you are for your cat, or how perfect of a pair we made for that project,” you lie with the most charming smile ever, snuggling up as close as you possibly can to his body. Twirling his long hair around your finger, you tuck it behind his ear, and whisper, “I’m such a little slut for your tattooed cock.”

The boy gets yet another urge to tear your clothes off again and feel your bare body connect with his so perfectly. He’s just about to shove his hand into your panties (you gave up on pants after the third time) when you let out a tiny snicker.

“I take back what I said about you not being fun,” you say, lips flush against his neck. “You’re fun to tease.”

Him? Fun to tease? Maybe you’re forgetting about all the teasing and torture he put you through earlier. Maybe you’re in need of a little reminder.

“Hey,” he says in his stern parent voice. You look up at him with those big innocent eyes again. Oh great. It’s clear that you know his weakness and aren’t afraid to exploit it. Just like how his naughty little kitten knows she can get away with anything because she’s too cute to get mad at. “Behave or I’ll kick you out.”

“Oh?” His so-called threat catches your attention enough to get your ass in his lap and your hands tangled in his hair. You let him taste your lips, your tongue, your everything—a sweet taste he won’t ever get sick of. “Do whatever you please to me,” you purr as the soft kisses quickly become an unbearable heat of pure desire.

Between you and his kitten, Jungkook already knows he’s gonna have his hands full. The thought of caring for others would normally irk him, but it’s not like he could ever say no to you or the kitten, even if he tried.

[kuni-is-daddy]

Sub Fusiguro's Hcs

MINORS DO. NOT. INTERACT.❌❌❌

omfg yall really gassed me up and gave me 10+ notes on my gojo hcs TYSM. This'll include Megumi and toji's FINE ASS omg.. im srry but jjk men 😩👑

This is a mix of female and male reader!

MEGUMI MEGUMI. 👑👑

Remember when gojo said "be greedier" megumi: I took that personally

He trys to keep how horny he'd be for you to himself but whenever you make him feel good it's burned into his mind.

The way you'd suck his cock and ride him so passionately. Constantly milking him over and over again until he's begging you to stop or he'll break but it just feels too good.

"oh.. fuck.. y/n please..please.. fuck me just like that...fuck just like that don't stop baby. Don't stop"

Megumi would eat you out passionately and slowly until you ask for him to speed up. He'd constantly ask if your enjoying it and live to serve you. Wanna cum on his face? Megumis already on bed waiting for you to sit on his face.

Sub megumi who wants you to suffocate him in your thighs.

Sub megumi playing with your nipples and obediently licking your tits as you want him too.

Sub megumi finding a spot during missions with Nobara and yuji to summon the demon dogs to take over, then jerk off silently after you sent a sexy picture of yourself.

"ah..yuji.. where did fushiguro kun run off too? Ugh.... How the hell am I gonna get scouted in Tokyo if he keeps running off and having gojo make us look for him all day😩😭I'm gonna beat him to a fuckin pulp. " - nobara

Sub megumi secretly wanting to have a 3 some with you and gojo fucking him until he can't stop cumming.

Sub megumi wanting to stuff your cock down his throat while gojo fucks him from behind

Sub megumi letting you fuck him in his sleep, checking his phone to see a picture of his sleeping face covered in your cum. (He'd jerk off to that picture later)

Toji fushiguro

So needy. It doesn't matter if your busy, tired or not even in the mood. Toji wants you on his body. He craves you and your touch like it's everything.

At work? He'll send a video of him jerking off and moaning for you. It'll be a total tease. Toji would flex his abs and muscles in his usual black shirt and naked underneath while stuffing a shirt or even other clothing of yours that reminds him or has your sent against his nose and rub his cock for you

"Shi-shit..y/n, doll..I'm so close. I need your help bby. Come home soon f' me~

I feel like Dom or sub toji would be addicted to you regardless. Something about you just drags him in more then money does in exchange for Killing.

Sub toji driving you to your favorite cafe or spot to eat at as a way to convince you to let him drive to the nearest parking lot or alley way and let you use his body

Sub toji sucking your cock while your doing work over the desk at home

Sub toji moaning loudly as you fuck him in a mating press.

"Mnm~ want your kids daddy~ oh fuck yes. Harder. Fuck me harder~"

Sub toji pulling over and carrying you to the backseat bridal style even if you punch at him or tell him to stop. Then eating you out like it's his last meal. What r u gonna do? Break him? Fuck him rough? Not let him cum? Great. Even better. Toji loves that.

He'd be your little brat even in public. He'd have no shame while you eat out with your friends as he sits next to you and touches you under the table.

Sub toji toying with a sorcerer in a cat and mouse chase. Getting turned on by their fear. The way they pant and breath hard as your tall and sexyy ass s/o(or whatever he is to you) is about to murder them. while he gets a text message

Y/N(Doll❤️): Come home now. I need you.

Sub toji quickly turning his attention and lust towards you. Wondering and now getting turned on by what you could ever need him for. How would you use him.

The poor sorcerer you didn't know he's now chasing down ruthlessly and not just murdering them, but everyone and everything in his way including curses to get to you💀💀. Dam you we're addicting.

IDK MUCH ABOUT TSUMIKI(Megumi's sis) :((

Sub TSUMIKI asking to 69 whenever you have the time. She loves your smooth tongue against her wet pussy. She'd bounce on your cock/strap pleasing to cum again over and over. Overstimulate her like a good girl until she cry's.

[netherfeildren]

Forfeiting My Mystique

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Summary: You're a girl made of golden gossamer, a work of art come to life, and Ezra, well he's dedicated his life to collecting beautiful things.

-OR-

An Ezra Art Collector AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: voyeurism; kind of objectifying? (not sure how to tag the strange shit going on here); ezra’s weird; mommy issues; references to past childhood abuse; touch aversion/touch starved (at the same time); sugar daddy vibes; size difference; oral sex (f! receiving); butt stuff lite; dom/sub undertones; power dynamics; self esteem issues x2; panty thieving; masturbation; obsessive behavior; possessive behavior; brief mention of recreational drug use; brief discussion of parent death

A/N: This is extremely self indulgent - basically I wrote it for me, but you guys can read it too. I know I took some liberties with Ezra's characterization but whatever.

Inspo (and some of the dialogue) pulled from Lenny Kravitz’s Paris town house Vogue tour, Jeremy Strong’s favorite things GQ interview, and “Marianne” from Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin.

Title is from the poem by the same name by Kaveh Akbar.

Word Count: 12K

Read on AO3

Ezra has always loved beautiful things. Since he was a child, his mother taught him to instill an appreciation for beauty into all facets of his world. She herself, a gorgeously beautiful creature, was well versed in such a life. But beautiful as she was, she was also cruel, selfish, capricious to her very core, and she’d turned him into a strange amalgamation of a man by proxy. At once also cruel and selfish and capricious, but hurt and soft and gnarled, as well, so that he was also made gentle and aware and hopeful. That above all else, his greatest weakness, always hopeful. Perhaps, to the point of naivety, the point of peril. For he looked for beauty in all things, and to do that, he was forced to bestow his hopeful eye upon even the ugly and harsh things of the world. 

And so he’d dedicated his life to finding those beautiful things. An art collector by virtue, they called him. A vulture, a scavenger, a treasure hunter. A man full of greed and pride, demons and too much money. All he thought of himself as, was hungry. So yes, perhaps a scavenger, a morsel of greed within the marrow of his bones, always looking for the next sublime artifact, painting, statue – person. But he also liked to think of himself as a protector of those beautiful things, of historic things. Things that changed the very face of humanity, shifted the tide of the world. A collector – always in search of the next life changing sight. Always certain the world was filled with endless possibilities for beauty, for loveliness, for sensuality, for something to captivate, to overwhelm him.

-

The first thing he sees are your feet. Standing in the gallery over from the one you’re inhabiting, people he doesnt know or give a fuck about talking at him, schmoozing and preening and prostrating themselves. Probably hoping he’ll cough up a couple million euro for whatever cause they’re pretending to crusade behind at the moment. He can see only the quarter bottom half of the famed performance artist he’d heard so much about. The entire exhibit tonight had been built around you, and it had the whole of Paris raving and ravenous for a piece of the lovely morsel they so claimed you posed as. Shallow and vain creatures that the peers of his echelon were, they were easily amused and easily bored by the smallest passing fads. At once desperate to be the first to see or speak of a thing, and consequently, the first to discard it as dépassé. 

He’d made the trek all the way to the Left Bank from his townhouse in the 16th arrondissement, to see the performance of the woman whom his associate, Oruf, had said would change the way he thought of a living creature forevermore. Big words from a little man, Ezra had no real inclination to believe. 

The angle of the wall blocks most of you from his view – granting him the sight of only your knees down. Your feet are small, he can see the tiny square shape of your nails, the gleam of them under the soft warm overhead light – lying on your side, one slotted above the other. The fine architecture of your ankles – delicate, the blue hued veins crawling like vines up the top of your foot, lost to the pale of your skin. The smooth, glossy slope of your calf, up to the flat round of your patella. It’s all he can admire from where he stands. Pretty legs, but nothing to lose one’s head over so far. 

The person talking at him is interminably long winded. Ezra would like nothing more than to beg them to shut the fuck up and be on his way. He wants another drink. He wants to see you in full. He’d heard so much about the woman sitting for the live art exhibit. You’d been heralded into a creature of myth by the wagging tongues of Paris. He wanted to discern for himself the level of sanctity you deserved. He wanted to see your face. 

Finally, he’s able to demure from the conversation, the promise of ten million euro for the charity of the sycophant’s choice, promised off-handedly – any amount of money would’ve been too little to get the gaping, begging maw to quit it’s yapping. 

He slinks along the shadows of the walls, a vulture in its natural habitat. The lights brought down to a low warm hue, meant to shape itself along the contours of your skin, bring out the soft gleam within you. Surely the oldest trick in the book, that of light and shadows. He moves further into the room slowly, your back to him. The plush round of your bottom comes into view, two little dimples gracing the low of your back, the notches of your spine, up, up, to the heavy mantle of your hair. You’re resting on your hip, your torso twisted so your chest is pressed to the chaise you lounge on, your head laying cradled in the circle of your bent arms. There is a tiny, delicate outline of a sparrow tattooed at your shoulder. He watches the slow rise and fall of your back, the shadow of your ribs – he’d feed you more if you were his. The thought comes unbidden – a little shocking – a lovely bottom, beautiful, long hair, but for a man like Ezra – one who so wholly avoided any sort of ownership by another or over another, the thought of such intimacy, something to cause revulsion, not desire, coming from his own psyche, it’s almost distressing to acknowledge as his own. 

The crown of your head gleams like a halo in the soft overhead gallery light. The room is muted, voices hushed, and the patrons rove around your unmoving body, the rhythm of your breath the only discernible sign of life on your form from back here. Oruf had claimed that you did not move a single millimeter during the entirety of the three hour long performance. He sure as fuck didn’t believe that. He was having a quite, self proclaimed, contrary and bitter season, by his own choosing, and was prone to bouts of obstinance and general disagreement at anything and everything that presented itself to him. He was choosing, as of now, to not believe in your myth.

He moves further around the center where you lay in repose. He needs to see your face. That will give him the answer he’s come here for. 

There’s a large group standing right in front of you – rudely pointing, whispering, and he feels a surge of annoyance at the sight of them. You were here to be observed, appreciated, not fucking ogled like some cheap attraction, and he was here to see you – they needed to get the fuck out of his way. 

Finally, they shuffle off, leaving the space directly in front of you open. He makes the final round above your head, comes to stand before you. Oruf had said the only part of you that moved were your eyes.

They fall on Ezra now. 

It could have been as if, in that moment, you’d gotten up, naked as Venus, to shriek directly in his face. That powerful was the force behind your gaze – a punch to the gut, his mothers handbag swinging unexpectedly, purposefully into his stomach as he scurried meekly behind her as a child. 

He pulls his Jacques Marie Mage frames from his nose. He needs to look away from the searing power of your attention. He needs a moment to collect himself, taking deep breaths as he studies the glasses, runs the tip of his finger over the bridge. He’s held frozen in place by the feel of your gaze still upon him. 

He decides in that very instant he has to have you. 

When he looks back at you, your eyes flit away. He is dismissed – made ravenous. On the verge of tears, perhaps. Look back at me, look back at me, look back at me. What sort of reaction is this to a woman whose name he doesn’t even know? Nonsensical. Perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation – the edibles he’d downed before coming, maybe he’s having a bad reaction. 

But the gift of your slow, lazy gaze roves around the space he inhabits now, everywhere but directly at him, almost like a punishment for having looked away from you first – even for a second. 

He’s never considered the prospect of trying to buy a person. The moral question or dilemma of it. He decides he doesn’t necessarily care. Whatever he has to do to get you to leave this place with him, he’ll do. What he’ll be able to bring himself to let happen after that,  if he’ll even be able to touch you, be brave enough to let you touch him, remains to be seen. Inconsequential too, he finds. 

He circles the gallery for close to an hour before he can no longer help himself, can no longer feign casualness. The rest of the art here is pale and dull in the light of your luminescence. He finally comes to a stop in a corner diagonal from where you face, in the shadow of the sculpture of Paolo e Virginia. At this moment, he feels certain Puttinati prophecised your existence, to so depict the vision of reverence he’s feeling for you in this moment. 

The performance is three hours long. In that time you don’t move your body at all, Oruf was right – lying with the stillness of marble. The only thing that moves are your eyes, and you watch the patrons closely, examine them. Your gaze is part of the art, part of the power of it. 

The visage of you is shocking, not for your nudity, but because in a lifetime filled with unimaginably lovely things, you are, by far, the most magnificently gorgeous creature Ezra has ever laid eyes on. It is like a recurring bullet to the temple over and over again for the visceral shock you pull out of him. 

Finally, finally, your gaze falls on him again. The meeting of your eyes, like the strike of lightning against the earth. He can feel his cock thicken, grow heavy, just at the touch of your gaze. It’s voyeuristic – unexpected – he can’t remember the last time he got hard. He feels almost perverted, sporting an erection at the mere sight of you, surrounded by all these people in this crowded gallery.

He can’t see your breasts entirely, pressed to the chaise as they are, only the full, pale sides. He wonders desperately at the color of your nipples, the shade, the hue. He’d like to imprint it in his mind. Know the taste of them, as well, of all your skin – wonders if the color there matches that of the skin between your legs. The thought causes hunger to climb like fire up his chest into his throat, saliva pooling heavy in his mouth at the mere suggestion of your cunt in his mind.

His eyes leave you for a moment, to cast the wide net of his gaze around the room, at the other men. He wonders if they’re hard too, if only your naked skin, lying still in repose, has the power to make their blood rush, their muscles thicken. He is not pleased by the thought of that. And when he comes back to you, you’re still on him. Gaze roaming down his body, taking in the fine cashmere sweater, his perfectly tailored suit, built to hang in a precisely designed loose cut over his shoulders, down his long legs, the incongruous sneakers, back, back up to his face, the spot of blonde at the front of his hair. A single delicate eyebrow crooks in a minute arch at him. It is all the answer he needs

You are looking back at him. It’s all he needs to know. 

As the three hour mark comes to a head the lights dim even further until only a singular overhead spotlight falls upon your form. Your skin glows, seems to flare brighter for a single moment, and then a golden sheet of gossamer begins to slowly fall from the ceiling, and right before it lands upon your body, you finally move. Your body stretches, toes pointing and curling, long arms stretched in an arc over your head. The fine lines and slopes of your body coming into startling clarity for one moment, and then you turn over, away from him, where he can’t see your face anymore, and curl in on yourself. The golden gusset falls upon your coiled form, as if you’ve finally been put to rest. The lights dim until all that’s visible is the luminous gleam of the shroud over your curled body. 

You are a girl made of golden myth and gossamer, and he must have you. 

-

“Hello, Sparrow.” He steps into the small, warm space of your dressing room.

You turn to face him, you’ve been waiting for him. “Hello,” you say slowly. “You were watching me.”

“Everyone was watching you.”

“Not like you were–”

“No… not like I was.” His accent is some strange sort of concoction of eclectic European – at once French, but also slightly Germanic, with an inflection of deep American South at the end. The vowels and consonants rolling off his tongue, smooth and hypnotizing like the warm pour of honey, and then, suddenly, inflected with a bout of sharpness. Something that snaps you awake, forces you to come to attention, to pay attention to him. That was all it was really, you could tell, a forceful, demanding grab for attention at all times. He called it to himself, seduced the people around him into ardor. Whether they knowingly chose to be entranced or not, was not up to them.

“Ezra,” he gives an imitation of a little flourished bow. You give him your own name in return. “You were watching me back.” 

“I couldn’t help it.” He had demanded it of you, after all, no need to lie now. 

“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me.” You turn back to continue packing your bag. 

“I’m not very hungry.” You feel him come closer, hear the subtle hint of pleading desperation in his sensual voice that has pleasure coiling deep in your belly. 

“A drink then.”

You’d like to be on clear ground with this man who you can see, even now, is an enigma not to be trifled with unconscionably. “Where? At your house?” you turn to crook a sardonic brow at him.

“Would you like me to take you to my house?”

“Yes. If that’s what you want too.” You’d already decided, didn’t see the point in prolonging the game. 

-

His security takes you out the back of the gallery, dark Maybach rolling smoothly up as soon as you reach the curb, and you feel the searing phantom  heat of his large palm hovering over the small of your back. 

He hasn’t touched you a single time yet, and everything within you is coiled tight, waiting for that first graze. 

He pulls the car door open for you himself, and then his driver is there, smoothly offering you his hand to help you step into the sleek interior. The leather beneath you is buttery chocolate brown and you press your thighs together. His security had taken your bag from you, and you felt bereft and listless without the protective clutch of it within your hands now. 

He follows after you, sliding gracefully onto the seat across. You can see he’s wearing two gold chains around his neck that rest in the dip of his collarbones, and your mouth waters at the sight. The car pulls quietly away from the curb and then you’re merging into the busy city traffic, ensconced in the quiet of this liminal space he’s stolen you into with him. 

He crosses one knee over the other, one thick arm thrown languidly over the back of the seat. You can see a small gold signet ring gracing his pinky – some sort of crest emblazoned on it. 

Fucking family crest kind of rich. God. You don’t know if you’re prepared for this. 

You cock your head to the side, the muscles in your neck are a little stiff and sore from holding your pose for so long, and you let your neck roll back on the head rest. 

He’s quiet, still observing, as if you’re still existing within the walls of the gallery, and not being spirited away to his home so that he might have his way with you. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” Might as well be blunt, you think, now that you’re here. He was so gorgeous in that room, watching you, circling you like a beast hunting in the wild. There was really no other way this night was destined to end, but with you beneath him, taking him into your cunt. 

“Would you like me to fuck you?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t respond, only gives you a melodic little non-committal hum, continues to look at you from the seat across with those deceptively guileless eyes. You want him to snatch you by the chin and spit in your mouth.

-

The drive ends in front of the grand façade of a pristine Parisian townhouse on a secluded street in the 16th arrondissement – flanked by national embassies, no less. 

You are very, very far from home. In a Paris you’ve not ventured into in all your years of living here. 

He helps you from the car, finally, finally, finally, thick palm wrapping entirely around the thin of your wrist. Everything within you coils and pulses, tight and wet. His skin is warm and dry, you can feel the pull of rough calluses on his palm. You’re sure he can feel the hammering staccato of your pulse through the thin membrane as you stare at the way his fingers overlap completely around the circumference of your limb.

He lets you step into the foyer ahead of him as one of his staff sweeps the door open for the two of you, ready and waiting for their master to return with a respectably quiet, monsieur, mademoiselle, in greeting. There’s a huge Basquiat in the entrance hall, across from the sweeping staircase.

“Lots of his art came my way,” he says at your obvious admiration, shock, desire to tuck tail and run back home. “We weren’t friends, but I was roommates with a guy he’d lived with. His last girlfriend was best friends with my girlfriend at the time, so when he died we had one of the first calls.”

“It’s wonderful–” Your voice is full of awe, eyes taking in a type of home you’ve never seen before up close like this. Something out of a picture book that sits on the coffee table of someone wishing for more. 

“How many bedrooms does it have?”

“Well… they get used for different things – so I’m not sure. Let’s call it eight.”

You huff a small laugh, run your finger along the keys of the opulent crystal Steinway. “Let’s call it eight, sure.”

Now that you’re here, that he hasn’t overtly said he’s brought you here for sex, you don’t really know what it is he wants from you. A bad thought, but an honest one. 

“Drink?”

“Yes, please.”

He leads you into an elegantly lush reception room, hovering hand again at the place above the small of your back. There’s a gargantuan crystal chandelier hanging at the center of the room, two enormous elephant tusks flank the elaborate mantelpiece. The room is a mix of eclectic eccentricities, both neutrally elegant and demure in its obvious wealth, but inflected with touches of vibrant color and idiosyncrasies to bring the room together in a way that you think must reflect the house’s owner. 

He moves to the bar, choosing the green bottle of twenty year Laphroaig and pours a knuckle into two crystal tumblers. He’s quiet, subdued, and the lack of small talk to fill the silence has the backs of your knees itching and sweating. 

There’s a glossy red panther sculpture prowling across a gold and ivory lacquered coffee table. He comes to hand your glass to you. “That’s a museum piece. I can’t remember where I got it, but it’s rare.” You can’t tell if he’s trying to boast, to impress you, or merely share his satisfaction at owning a piece of art worthy of a museum's gallery. You’d already discerned that at the Basquiat’s first glance, shit, at the first sight of the house. It was a veritable museum on its own. You were sure the number of museum pieces in every room were too many to count in a single night, nay week. 

You don’t sit as he goes to do, but start to slowly circle the room. An imitation of his slow roving of you earlier at the gallery. The peat whisky is bold and smoky, a surprising hint of something akin to seawater, but also mellowly sweet. You think that this must be what his skin tastes like, his come – an amalgamation of all the different flavors on the wheel. Saliva pools heavy on your tongue and you take a deeper sip, eyes flitting to him. 

“Three hours is a long time to lay so still,” he says. 

“It is. But I’m used to it by now.”

“You must be tired.”

“Not particularly – perhaps a bit stiff.”

“Have you been doing this for a long time?”

“Not so long, but not so short, either.”

“So just the right amount?”

“Yes.” He’s quiet for a moment then, still watching, watching, watching. His gaze upon you feels like the drag of a specter’s fingers along your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. You wonder if this is how he felt while you watched him in the low light of the gallery. Hunted. But no, you imagine there isn’t anything that could make a man such as this feel like prey. 

“Can I draw you a bath?” You pause at this – firmer, more familiar ground, finally. This is what you’ve been waiting for. His request for you to get naked for him, to let him into your body. It’s what you want also. He’s not rushing this, and it’s making you feel unstable, unsure of the ground you’re treading here together. 

“Yes, I’d like that.”

-

He leads you upstairs, to one of the guest bedrooms. The en suite, one of his favorites in the house – dark marble tub in the center of the room under a low hanging crystal chandelier. The French windows let in the soft glow of the moon outside, and he draws the bath for you as you peer through the glass. The reflection of your face in the windows, eternally distracting. 

When the water is warm and ready, a splash of Neroli Portofino Body Oil poured under the stream, he turns to you. He’s hesitant – both of himself and you, equally. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a body not his own, and he feels the slight anxious tremor of his hands. Although he can’t be sure if that’s strictly attributed to nerves, or all the blood in his body pooling in his cock at the moment. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” said as gently as possible, so as not to spook you.

Your gaze is as direct as it was while you lay watching him, surrounded by half of Paris. “Yes.”

He starts at the tiny bow holding the front of your soft silk blouse together – the weave so fine, it’s almost translucent, and he can see the outline of your evasive nipples he’s been so desperate to see. He pulls on the string letting the neck of the blouse fall open, then down to the tiny pearl buttons holding the rest of it together. All without touching your skin. 

You’re panting, face already flushed, eyes bright, almost fevered. His balls are tight and heavy, ready to come, just with this. Just at the mere fucking vision of you ready and panting for him. His belly clenches and then he pushes the silk off the fine bones of your shoulders. The wings of your collarbones, the shadow of the dip in them the most tempting image he’s ever beheld in his entire life. He wants to dip his tongue into the tiny pool, fill them with ambrosia and drink directly from your skin. 

He feels his cock begin to leak. 

The zipper at the side of your skirt is next. He watches the rise and fall of your ribs, the tremble of your throat as he pulls it down slowly, revealing the rest of your skin to him. There’s a tiny lace thong around your hips, robin's egg blue. Oh, he will be stealing that for himself. 

He finally lets himself touch your skin as he pushes the scrap of lace down your legs, crouching smoothly to his knees to help you step out of it. He takes in the sight of your small feet up close now. The fine tendons of your musculature entirely too fucking beguiling. He ghosts the tip of a single finger over the top of your foot and you moan for him. So goddamn sweet and wanton. 

He unfolds to his full height and pockets your panties. To be inspected at a later time, pressed to his nose and mouth so that he might drink the scent of you down into himself. He tips his chin at the tub now, holding your wild gaze, breaths coming in short little gasps. Your cheeks are flushed the color of your nipples. The tiny wisps of hair at your neck and temples beginning to curl deliciously in the humidity of the bathroom. He could spill his seed just at the look in your eyes, he’s sure of it. 

“In,” he orders, crowds you towards the edge of the tub and grips the bend of your elbow between his thumb and index finger – as little contact as possible – to help you into the water. “Sit.”

You immediately obey, and that fills him with more pleasure than the sight of your naked skin. The control you’re granting him right now, allowing him the privilege of ordering you for the sake of his own comfort – he’s going to reward you very well for being so good for him.

He bends over the edge of the tub, hovering over your beseeching upturned face. He brushes his thumb softly over your full bottom lip. “Good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut, you look down into the water, a lovely pink blush blossoming over your cheeks. “Relax. Soak for a while.”

He can tell you want him. Badly. The flush of your cheeks down to your breasts, rosy little nipples peaked, your quick breath. That want, compounded doubly by his refusal so far to really touch you — his inability. The more he stays his hand, the more you want him, and the more you want him the harder his cock grows, the more frightened he becomes. He thinks it’s very true, that old adage, the harder you try to push a woman away from a man, the closer she will go to him by virtue of rebellion.

You sit in the warm bath for close to an hour, and he watches rapturously, hypnotized by the slick wet of the water rolling over your skin, from his seat on an ottoman at the center of the room. The weight of his gaze on your skin, almost violent in its intense desire. He wants to lick every single droplet from your body and then bite into the heavy lush weight of your tits until his teeth are imprinted in the soft flesh, bruises sucked into the pale globes. He hopes you’ll let him. He hopes he’ll let himself. 

Your returning look is equally wanton. He watches your gaze trained and hungry on the heft of his cock hiding beneath his trousers. You spread your legs for him beneath the water as you wash yourself, putting on another show, private, just for him. An unjustly jealous wrath stirs within him, coiled and hissing, at the thought of any other human on earth ever getting to see you the way he is now. Largely a passive man, the violence that surges within him has him surprised and not, in equal measures. For he thinks that no being ever having beheld you, could ever possibly be driven to feel any other way than obsessively possessive over such a creature as yourself. You’re like a siren in this moment, languishing in the warm water of his bath, in his house, where you agreed to come with him tonight. A nymph willingly slinking into the depth of Tartarus, knowing she’s in peril of being wholly devoured by the beasts that lay at its depths, and still going anyways. 

He helps you out after a while, tiny little fingers and toes soaked to wrinkles, elbow once again caught between his two fingers, and the heat rolling off your skin sears him. Has a violent tremble running jaggedly down his vertebrae. 

He wraps you in a plush white towel, pulled from the warming rack, helps you dry your long hair. Then goes to his room for one of his shirts to put you in. He pulls one he’d worn a few days ago off the pile from the chair in the corner. He wants to know you’re sleeping in something that’s already been on his skin, that smells like him, that you’re soaking now in his own scent. 

As he pulls the towel from around your body to once again reveal your bare form to him he presses a soft kiss to your naked waist – can’t help himself, the soft slope entirely too beguiling. Overtaking any apprehensions he may have, and his gut clenches with fear and desire. He can feel the weeping of his cock dribble down his thigh as he presses his lips to the warm, fragrant skin. 

You’re quiet, watching him, letting him do with you as he wants. His own little sentient doll, created for his pleasure only. “I have a farm in Brazil,” he says. He rounds your form, starts to braid the long strands of your hair into a single plait. You put up no protest – it feels like water, slipping through his hands.  “We grow organic fruit and vegetables and there’s cows, lots of cows. We never kill them, they just live there, graze.” One of his favorite places in the entire world, but perhaps, second to the place he resides now, staring at you, dressing you, touching your hair. “I love it there, I’ll take you.”

“Okay,” you say easily. “I’d like that,” the gift of the gentle curve of your smile. He wants to lick into your mouth, fuck you with his tongue, slap your pussy and watch the blood rush to the surface, feel the tight clench of your asshole as he fills you with his come. 

“Will you let me watch you play with your cunt?” he asks gently.

“Won’t you do it?”

“I’m scared to touch you yet – to find out if you’re actually real.” He feels an uncharacteristically self conscious blush mar his cheeks. “I–I’m not ready. I want to watch first.” He comes to kneel between your parted thighs that dangle off the high bed. “Pet your cunt for me – show me how you like it, sweet girl. Please.” He is not above begging. Not for this. Not for you – for the sight of you playing with your wet, pink pussy. 

You spread your legs wider, give him the tantalizing peak of your bare sex, your glistening folds. You’re already fucking wet for him. He feels an unrestrained growl claw up his throat like fire. His mouth goes dry, parched. The only way to sate himself, to drink straight from the source of your glossy slick. 

You press your fingers to the pearl of your clit, swollen and needy already, he can see. You start to swirl little circles over your slippery flesh, your wet mouth falling open in a gasp. “That’s it, yeah–” he whispers, bringing his face in closer to the apex of your thighs so he can smell you directly from the source. His eyes flutter as he breathes in the scent of you, the deep amber and citrus from the bath oil, but beneath that, entwined in the rich notes, the musky scent of you. Fucking mouthwatering. He hears himself moan, the sound pulled almost unconsciously from his body. 

“Inside– put your fingers inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” You press a single finger in, all the way to the last knuckle, and start to rock your hips. He can feel your gaze on his face, the weight of it heavy and pleading.

“Ezra– p–please, please, you do it,” you beg, let your head roll back as you press another finger in and start to rock your clit against the mound of your palm in earnest.

“But you’re doing so well, sweet girl. About to make that little cunt come for me. Look–” He gives you the weight of a single palm on the bend of your knee and you moan deep and ragged at just that compact touch. He can’t help himself – he pulls the edge of the t-shirt up to bare your tits to him and holds it up against the base of your throat where he cradles the delicate column in his hand – the entire large span of him completely engulfing your smallness. “Your thighs are trembling, treasure. You’re going to do it just for me, aren’t you?.”

“Y–Yes, yes–” 

He pushes your knee in his grasp wider, opening you more for the fileting of gaze. “Make yourself come – I want to see it. Fucking come,” it’s a demand you answer, just the sound of it causing the heat of your skin to seemingly ricochet even higher. You start to come – he watches the clenching of the muscles in your stomach as you grind your fingers deep. He can hear how wet you are, the sopping wet squelch of your pulsing cunt, and he worries for one second that he’s about to come in his pants. 

You let out a reed high mewl, like you’re singing just for him. “What a good, good girl you are,” he praises, and your eyes flutter shut, pulling your fingers away so that he’s left to admire the clenching of your stretched hole. He can see the glossy shine of your slick sliding down the crevice of your ass, and he wants to lick through your sticky arousal so fucking badly he bites down on his cheek until he tastes blood. He bends his head to press his brow to the edge of the bed between your spread thighs, tightening his grip around your knee until you whimper in pain. He loosens his hold immediately, thumb brushing soothingly over the bend before he stands, lets out a long breath. He stares down at your panting, flushed form. Wet and sated after your orgasm. Fuck all the art in the world. He’d set fire to every single masterpiece he owns in this very moment if he was granted the gift of getting to watch you come even one single time more. 

He passes his palm over his mouth, feeling the soft bristles of his scruff. He’d like to see the smooth insides of your thighs rubbed raw with it, he’d like to see the stretch of your cunt as he stuffs you full of himself, the milky white of his spend leaking from all your holes. 

“It’s time to put you to bed,” he says instead. 

Your brow creases in the sweetest little frown, red mouth puckering, still panting. “You’re not staying?” 

“No, sweet girl. I think it’s best if you sleep here tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But–”

“It’s alright. There’s no rush.” He leans over you to press a lingering kiss to your brow, pulls his shirt down to cover your breasts. You give him a little whimper, and he allows your hand to come up to clutch the thick swell of his bicep, the heavy muscle there bunching at the feel of your grip. He moves to help you settle beneath the silk duvet, pleased beyond belief at the sight of you tucked into a bed in his home, wearing his clothes, flushed and wearing the sated look of a recent orgasm. 

“Goodnight, treasure.”

“Goodnight, Ezra.”

-

You find his room later. You can’t help yourself, following the glow of the soft light spilling between the crack of his slightly open door, like he’d left you a bread crumb trail to follow, like he knew you’d come searching. You can’t sleep knowing he’s so close, this dazzling creature come straight from a dream. Twisting and turning in the plush monstrosity of a bed he’d left you in. His shirt, butter soft, the dark, gray blue swimming around your much smaller frame. It smells like him, his cologne – you recognize the scent of Le Labo Another 13. Musky with the softest most subtle hint of jasmine, paired with something earthier – greener, and folded between all that: the soft saltiness of his sweat.  Why would you sleep when a figure from your very fantasies was right here in the flesh. Your cunt clenches, wet and aching, even after he’d watched you make yourself come. You need more, want to feel the press of his cock inside of you, the heavy weight of it. 

He’s sitting up in bed, reading something on an iPad, glasses propped low on his nose. He looks up at your small knock, not waiting for his permission to slip inside. 

“I promise, I’ll be good.” You hold your hands up in surrender. “I won’t touch you. We can put a pillow between us if you like.” You move towards the bed.

There’s a large stack of books sitting on his bedside table, flooded by the warm moss stained light of the antique Tiffany lamp. A single idiosyncrasy of old world charm in a room made stark by its bright modernity. The pile is made up of a book of paintings by Howard Hodgkin, the diaries of Alma Mahler, The Spectator Bird by Wallace Stegner, the fourth volume of In Search of Lost Time – you appreciate his excellent taste – and at the very top, laying open, facedown, as if he’d just put it down a moment ago, My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgaard. You find it fascinating to see a book that spoke of life in such a granular way — realistic, simple, a normal man in a normal world, speaking in such extensive, caring detail on the small things in his life — on the bedside table of this enigma, this person who seemed to be, by far and large, a different species to all other men you’d ever met before. To see the spine so cracked and worn — as if he’d read it over and over again, in search of the equation for that simplicity, to thus inject into his own existence – a way to embalm his own world in such appreciation for the small but infinitely significant moments. You wonder if it’s taught him much— if he’s been able to find and implement whatever it was he’d searched for through so many reads. 

“Alright,” he says easily, but the look in his eyes is slightly wary. You recognize Glenn Gould’s rendition of the Goldberg Variations playing softly on the surround sound as you crawl into his bed – under the silk smooth sheets, bringing a pillow to blockade you from him, protect him. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable, but you desperately want to be close to him also. The two of you have barely talked tonight – too caught up in the observation of one another, like two animals circling in the wild. You want to talk to him. Want to hear the sound of his deep voice vibrate through your nerve endings. 

“Intimacy is… difficult for me,” he says slowly, swallowing. “It’s hard for me to get close to people… emotionally, physically. I need time to — I suppose, to warm up to them.”

“That’s — that’s okay. I understand,” you say, because you do, because you’re the same in many ways. 

“It’s why I love art,” he continues. “You can be close to something, feel its warmth, beauty – whatever feeling it is the artist intended to pull out of you, from a distance. Untouched – it’s untouchable. That comforts me for some reason.”

“I think – I think I understand that as well. Something, perhaps, about the idea of a thing remaining as it was initially conceived as, for all time, undisturbed by outside influences.”

“Yes – yes, exactly.” His eyes are alive with the fire of being understood.

You look down at his straining erection. You can’t help it. “You’re hard,” you say. You want to touch him so badly it’s a physical ache inside of you. 

“I’ve been hard since I first saw you.”

“Let me help.”

He shakes his head, “Not yet.”

“I was embarrassed that the other patrons would be able to tell how wet my pussy was lying there staring at you.” Shocking words. His eyes flutter shut, fuck, he murmurs under his breath, brings his hand up to rub at his jaw. You’ve noticed he does that a lot – a tell of sorts. He takes several deep breaths, the tension seeming to seep out of his body by sheer force of will. 

You take him in as he settles back into the pillows, relaxing, or at least pretending to. His face, smooth and serene, laying there watching you, despite his heavy erection, but the look in his eyes – it’s also slightly provoking. As if he wants you to challenge him, question him, but also afraid, perhaps, that you’ll force his hand, that he’ll be forced to give in to what you both want before he’s ready. You decide to choose mercy – change the subject. More curious to see how he chooses to play this out.

“Let’s play the question game.”

“The question game?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” he turns to lay on his side, facing you. Both of your hands are tucked beneath your cheeks. He’s wearing a soft, worn sweater, a tiny hole at the collar, the sleeves stretched and overly long. Oh, this may just be too much for you to handle. 

“We’ll start with something easy – what’s your favorite color?”

“That’s easy?”

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at him, laughing.

“Depends on the day,” he says very seriously. His blinks are slow, his pupils huge and dilated in the warm light of the lamp. You wonder if he’s taken something. Every time he blinks the thick fringe of his lashes fans over his cheeks, the pause of his languor allows you a moment to appreciate them.

“That’s not an answer – you have to give a real answer.” You want to reach your finger out and brush along that thick fringe, through the patchy hair on his face, threaded through with the smallest hint of silver, stick your nose in his hair and smell him right at the source. 

“It’s the only real answer there is – no one’s favorite color stays their favorite color forever.”

“Do you do this a lot?”

“What’s that?”

“Make things purposely difficult.”

A flash of his brilliant white teeth, “Oh, always.” You want very badly for him to bite into your flesh. 

“Okay, fine. What’s your favorite color right now?”

Without hesitation: “The color of your eyes – they’re very strange,” you can tell it’s a compliment, and he finally touches you again. A single finger, just the tip, to the point of your chin, tilting your head back slightly for his inspection, as if you were one of the pieces in his collection. You think you may become one by the end of this. You think you’d like that very much. You can feel the slight edge of his fingernail dig into your soft skin. 

“I already agreed to fuck you. You don’t have to woo me,” you breathe. You realize that, as of yet, he’s not overtly asked you to have sex with him – you throw the words out anyways, hoping to provoke him. This is too much. This man is too much. You don’t know what it is about him, but you want him desperately, like no one you’ve ever wanted before. You want him to overwhelm you – to take you by force. To take all choice and will and autonomy from your hands. You don’t care what will come of this, what will become of you after he’s done with you, if he discards you, forgets you –  none of that matters. All you care about, in this moment, is that he finally decides to take you, that he gives you the opportunity to let go, to relinquish control. To unfold from the pose for just a moment. A slightly deranged spark fizzes in your belly. Your heart pinches a burning little pain at the thought that he hasn’t kissed you yet, that you still don’t know the taste of his mouth. 

“None of my answers satisfy you. And yes, I do need to woo you. I find it very necessary.”

You try and emulate an unaffected scoff, his finger is still on your chin, but you feel your brow unwittingly fold into a confused frown. There is a tight knot of want coiled at the very center of you, burning hot and smoldering, and you need him to pick it apart with these strong fingers. He takes his hand away. The look on his face is very telling. He can read everything going on in your mind, you can tell. He looks like the cat that ate the goddamn canary. You try and take a deep, calming breath. “Alright, now you have to ask me one?” you divert. 

“Me?”

“Yes, you – that’s how the game works. I do one, you do one.”

“Alright,” he’s quiet for a second, contemplating, “Do you have siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child. Do you?”

“I had a brother, Damon. He died when we were younger.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, well– it was a very long time ago. But thank you. His daughter, Cee, is my ward now. ” Not his niece, not someone mentioned in any capacity as his family. The connection, maintained as if at a distance — his ward — cold. But he gives himself away, his tender vulnerability made transparent, with the sudden flash of bright fondness in his eyes at her name, despite his trying to remain aloof. You are not so easily fooled. You see him despite his attempts to deflect from the true core of himself. 

His gaze is so mercurial – at once relaxed, uncaring, and then flaring into something bright hot like a flash fire. But remote, remote always. Like the very center of him, his true gaze is very far away, very deep within him, and this gaze, the one he presents to the world, is merely a farce, a mask. A shroud he pulls over himself to keep others out. His own golden gossamer. You’re shocked that he’s shared this with you. 

“My parents died when I was very young,” you offer, your own morsel of ragged soul in the face of his sudden vulnerability. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, as well.”

“It wasn’t so bad, after the fact. I went to live with my aunt – my mother’s sister. She was a dancer. My childhood was… unconventional, but wonderful.”

“What about it was unconventional?”

You laugh a little, looking up at the coffered ceiling above you, the thick beams a rich, glossy mahogany. You feel his gaze on your face like a brand. He has not stopped looking at you since he first started. In a sea of years being observed, his gaze is singular in the pleasure it brings you.

“She was a dancer. I mean—” you hum, “What wasn’t unconventional about it? We lived in New York for several years, then Budapest for a time, and then she brought us here, to Paris, where we stayed until her death – where I’ve stayed since. Her girlfriends were always around – fellow dancers, costumes and makeup, drinking and men. They taught me how to smoke when I was eight — Gauloises like a fucking chimney, at all hours of the day, after that — I forced myself to stop a few years ago. Now I only have one on special occasions, sometimes.” He looks at you like he knows you’re the sort to make a special occasion out of a trip to the market. “She had many lovers. Parties… disaster everywhere, but the riotous, happy sort – not the tragic kind.”

“No?”

“No. Perhaps, to the outside eye it may have appeared different… I don’t know. No life for a child, I think. But it was wonderful. She always protected me. But– but never like a mother. She was never like a mother – more like – a friend, or an older sister.” You laugh fondly at the memories, but also a little sadly. In the eyes of an adult now, you’d never want such a life for a child of your own, as exciting as it was at the time.

“One time someone told me I ended up as I did, naked for the world to ogle at, as a means to earn money, because of her. Because of how she was. And perhaps they were right, but… but not in the way they meant —  to insult me. She taught me what art was, gave me the means to turn myself into it.” 

“Who the fuck said that to you?” His tone makes you look back at him now. All the mystery in his gaze is gone, only fury burns now – very clearly. If he’d let you, you’d cup his cheek, soothe him. 

You can see he isn’t ready yet, though. So all you say is: no one that really mattered – the truth, but you can see that it does not soothe him. 

 “What about you? What was your mother like?” You can appreciate how easily distracted he pretends to be, the deception of it, merely another shroud. 

Another one of his long pauses, filled with his eyes on you. He gives you the gift of his touch again. Thick fingers picking up a strand of your hair, running it between his grasp. You feel the slight ghost-like tingle of the tug along your scalp, there but also not, and a jerking shiver moves through you. All the hair on your body standing on end. Fuck, this man. 

“She was very beautiful – very cruel,” he says slowly, mesmerized by your hair sliding through his fingers. 

“Cruel to you?”

“To the world.”

“Why?”

“But also me.” Succinct in its truth. The thought is a terrible one – for anyone to have been cruel to this magnificent dream of a man. The backs of your eyes pinch. Another long pause. “Hmm,” he tilts his head side to side, still sliding your hair through his fingers, twisting it gently around his hair. He gives it a tiny tug, and you want to scoot forward, even just the smallest bit, just to be a little closer to him, to feel the brush of his belly against yours with the movement of his breathing. “It’s difficult to say – unhappiness, bitterness, boredom. A great and complicated concoction of things that made her into the eternally complex creature she was.”

“She died?”

“Yes. She killed herself.”

“Ezra– I’m so sorry,” the words leave you choked and breathless. 

He says it so plainly, starkly, like a slap to the face, one not meant to cause pain or harm, but shock. One meant to cause fear, something to say, look at how fucked up I am, stay away or I’ll infect you with it too. You scoot closer now, you can’t help it, and he goes immediately still, frozen – eyes wide, hesitant, but you don’t touch him. Your hair is still clutched in his hand, and his eyes move back and forth between your own and his hold on you. You’re close enough now, though, that you can feel the heat rolling off his body. Your eyes flutter shut, you say again: “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“She was too vain to grow to old age.” You feel him relax, comforted by the indication that you’re not going to touch him just yet. “I think she felt it was the only recourse for her.”

You open your eyes again, and he’s still staring at you. You so badly want to know what he’s thinking, to feel the press of his mouth against yours, to know the taste of his tongue, the feel of his incisors pressing into your skin. 

You pivot three-sixty again: “Do you want kids?” He lets out a loud barking laugh at that, head thrown back so the tendons in his neck jump out starkly. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Wet and jealous. 

“This is a very difficult game,” he says, giving you a sly look. 

“We don’t have to play anymore, if you don’t want to.” A great lie – you never want to stop playing with him. 

“No, I want to keep going.” He slides his whole hand into your hair now, palm cupping the entire side of your head in its broad expanse, and you can’t help the desperate moan that claws out of your throat. His responding hum is all-knowing.  “I don’t know. But I love being… I like being able to imagine it.”

Your mind has been lost to a daze induced by the heat of his palm. “Children?” you murmur.

“Yes.”

Your fingers are twisted into the front of your shirt, clawing at yourself to maintain respect for his boundaries. “I want them. Lots of them. I hated being an only child. I always felt alone. I want to have lots of babies.” And his eyes flare with heat at that. The first blazing sign of lust in them tonight. Everything else before this, you realize, was merely a low simmering boil. The fist in your hair tightens so that your head tilts back slightly, the line of your throat exposed for his eyes to follow. 

“Lots of them?” You nod your head minutely, wide eyed, equally ensnared by that look in his gaze as you are by his hand. 

“Then you shall have them, Sparrow.” You let out a shuddering breath, turn your face into the pillow, enjoying the slight pull to your sensitive scalp as his hand follows, try to breathe deep, temper your racing heart. You’re so wet, you can feel it seeping out of you in a constant throbbing stream. The conversation serving as a more intense form of foreplay than anything else you’ve ever done with a man. 

“It’s my turn again. When was the last time you fucked someone?” Blunt – thrown at your face to throw you off kilter. Oh, he fucking loves this. A broken little whimper claws out of your throat at that. Your cheeks are flushed, you can feel them burning, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. The smug look in his eyes taunts you, tells you he knows just how soaked you are. But it is also wild, as wanting as you are. 

“Hmm?” he presses.

“Three years ago.” It’s his turn to be shocked now. You see the pause of surprise in that bright light within his gaze. 

“Three years? Why?”

“You’re not the only one who finds it difficult to be close to people.”

“And yet you agreed to come here with me?”

“And yet I agreed to come here with you.” You don’t return the question. You wouldn’t like to know, you don’t think. And you can tell he sees that in your gaze, for he doesn’t offer up the information either. You like the mystique of him. Like some eldritch beast, a deity of old, something amorphous, not to be contained or understood. The unknowable aspect of him is appealing to you for reasons you haven't quite figured out yet, despite this game of questions you’re flirting with. 

You go next: “Are you lonely?”

“Yes, very.” A pause, and then: “You are too.” This is no question. He can see it, recognizes the same scent of it that permeates the air around him, following you. “You seemed it, laying in the center of that crowded room, naked – bared for everyone to see.” It is not said cruelly. He is only telling you that which you already know about yourself, that which is plain for the whole world to see. “And then shrouded in gold, as if you wanted to hide that vein of aloneness that flows through you – it didn’t work very well.”

“Do you think everyone could see it?”

“No.” Good. You only wanted him. 

You take another turn, you can’t help but break the rules with him. “Have you ever been with someone who– who you didn’t really want to be with, but you were– you were so lonely and needed… something… or someone?” All the surety you’d posed your previous questions with is gone now. He’s already discerned so much of you, what’s a little more bared skin? “So you just– you just settled for being with that person even though you knew it was wrong, and the only thing on your mind was the other person you really wanted to be with?”

Without hesitation: “Yes.”

“I think that’s the only type of relationship I’ve ever had. Although, the other person hasn’t really existed – just – just something I’ve thought up in my own head.”

“I accidentally called her by the other person’s name. She never spoke to me again. It was terrible– terrible of me.”

“I want to touch you so badly,” you plead suddenly. Unable to hold it in anymore in the light of all he’s shared with you. Your voice cracking and begging. “I want you to touch me, so badly.”

“I know.” Yes, he does. “You want me to fuck you.” All you can do is let your eyes flutter shut, try to continue to breathe, nod your head. 

“Why was your mother cruel to you? What did she do?” You feel like crying now. 

“Many things… I had terrible night terrors as a child. Scared her half to death. I’d scream and cry and sleep walk. For years. She didn’t know what to make of me. Some sort of demon come from her very womb to possess and haunt her house. She hated me – would lock me in a closet furthest from her bedroom to keep my howling away from her.” 

The blazing heat of anger floods your cheeks, your eyes filled with tears, and he clicks his tongue, smoothes his thumb over the slope of your cheek. “None of that, sweet girl.”

“You were just a little boy – she should have– she should have comforted you. Helped you.”

“It wasn’t in her nature. You cannot fault a thing for not being what it was never made to be. She was a killer of soft things – within herself, within me too, I think. Or she tried, at least. She tried to kill everything soft she came into contact with. But she did love me. In her own way – a wrong way, but she did. That comforts me immensely.”

“That she loved you even if it was the wrong way?”

He nods, “And that I loved her – despite all her flaws.”

“Why?”

“I… I appreciate the idea of being a bad person, and still being able to find someone to love you.”

“You’re a killer.” It is not a question for you already know the answer – you can see it in his eyes, it is his inheritance. You know that either way, it won’t make a difference to you. 

“I am, indeed. But, are you?.” The soft curve of his cunning smile is so incredibly beguiling. The most tempting thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You shake your head, you’re not, you never have been. You think it must be very obvious at first glance, for the patronizing look he gives you as he asks anyways. 

“Sometimes I can be very bad,” he whispers slowly, drags the tip of his finger over your shoulder, down the swell of your breast, stopping just shy of your peaked nipple, circling the point. 

“What do you do?” your voice is breathless, beseeching. 

He smooths his thumb over your bottom lip, pushes between to get inside, presses down on the hard edge of your bottom teeth to inspect the wet gleam of your tongue. “I steal beautiful things for myself–” His voice is like smoke – his confession fortuitous, on the verge of disappearing. His mystique enshrouds the both of you. You hope you disappear alongside him. 

“Is that what you’re doing now? Stealing me?”

“Yes.”

“I think I like being stolen.”

-

He wakes, very late into the night, or very early in the morning, the confounding blue hue of the outside world seeping in through the heavy drapes over the tall windows. Shielding the two of you from the real world.

Your body is entirely draped over his own. You’ve invaded him in your sleep, taken over all the space and air and thought he’s ever possessed. The soft weight of your breasts presses into his chest, your head tucked in the hollow of his clavicle so that he can feel each pass of your damp breath wash over his throat and chin. He expects to feel overwhelmed, uncomfortable, perhaps even disgusted, so much skin, so much heat, your legs intertwined with his – but all he can focus on is the fullness of your tits pressed up against him, the hot wet apex of your cunt against his thigh. You’re wet in your sleep for him – he can feel your dampness seeping through the silk of your extra panties. 

One of your hands is curled over his shoulder and he brings it to his mouth, presses a kiss to the soft, small palm. His hand dwarfs yours, swallows it whole. He sucks each one of the tips of your fingers into his mouth, bites down as gently as he can. Your hips start to shift over him, needy cunt trying to unconsciously rub up against his thigh. 

He’s going to fuck you now. His cock is hard, aching, leaking, balls heavy – has been for ages, but finally, finally his mind has caught up. Thank fuck. 

He passes his palm down the smooth line of your back, pushes his t-shirt you’re wearing up your back to get to your skin. This lovely smooth back he’d spent almost an hour staring at in that gallery. He feels a terrible, unfounded curl of jealousy, once again, that anyone else in the world has ever gazed upon the magnificence that is your skin. He wants it to be only for him, he wants you to be only for him – to own you.

His hand moves down to clutch the full swell of your bottom, pushes under your panties to take a handful of your bare flesh. He bends his knee slightly to put more pressure on your core and starts to roll your hips over him. You let out a soft little moan, sleepy, so sweet. 

“It’s time to wake up, Sparrow. I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Ezra–” you murmur, coming to. Your body seems to take stock of the situation before your mind does, little cunt suddenly grinding down more firmly onto his thigh. You let out a moan that goes straight to his cock. He grips your hips and flips you over, settling between the spread of your thighs, slotting his length into your wet cleft, he starts a slow rock that has his head pressing up and into your clit. 

“Tell me how you want to be fucked.”

Your eyes are glassy, dazed and confused. He says again, “Tell me how you want to be fucked, or I will decide for you.”

And then your soft little voice, grabbing him by the balls and showing him that as sleepy or drowsy or small as you may appear, you’re still aware of the power you hold over him: “I think I’d like you to decide for me, please.”

Fuck– he deepens the pressure of his thrusts so that his tip presses into your opening over your panties. Your jaw is hinged open, panting wet breaths as you moan for him. 

He sits back on his heels then, pulls his t-shirt up over your head and then slides your panties over your hips and down your legs, grips your knees to spread your legs wide for him. 

He was right, your cunt is the same color as your nipples. Beautiful. 

It’s drooling, begging for him, and oh, how that fills him with pleasure – for such a beautiful thing to desire him, as much as he desires it. He ghosts the back of his knuckles over your slit, using his thumbs to spread your lips wide – he bends for a taste, moans deep and long from his chest. 

“Fuck, you’re so sweet. Do you want me to feed your cunt, baby?”

“Ezra, please – yes – I want it so bad.”

“I know, I could see – all night, I could see how hungry you were. I’m going to eat you now.”

Please, please. 

He settles between your thighs. Soft little licks to your swollen clit, then down to thrust his tongue into your hole. He grips the back of one thigh to press it up and back into your chest, uses his other hand to press down low on your pelvis, gives you more pressure as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. He can feel the clench of your pussy around his tongue, the shake in your thighs. Your keening moans move through him, have him grinding his aching cock into the mattress. You’re going to come in his mouth, he can feel it, taste it, your slick running from you, sweet and musky, all for him. 

Your hands clutch at his curls, pulling and tugging hard as you arch your back and start to orgasm. Ezra, Ezra, Ezra. It’s a litany, a benediction. You are a work of art come to life to sing into his ear. 

He gentles his mouth over your quivering sex, laps slowly at your pulsing entrance. He wipes his mouth over the tender slope of your inner thigh and goes back to his knees, licks his palm of your wet as he watches your gaze on him. 

He cradles your small foot in his hold. He likes the thought that he can grasp that which has carried you through your life, in his hand. For some reason, it fills him with immense pleasure, the feel of your soft foot, the thought of you walking through life, walking through the world, towards him, to find him. Always him, only him. 

There is a wound in him, dark, and putrid, overwhelming his existence always. It was only through the cathartic fulfillment of holding a beautiful thing in his hands that he felt reprieved of the terrible thing. He feels that reprieve in this moment, with the delicate weight of your small foot cradled within his palm. 

He brings it to his mouth and digs his thumb harshly into the elegant arch, forcing a moan out of you, deepening the curve of your spine, then drags his teeth along the instep, presses a soft kiss to your first toe. He can see the clench of your little hole at his ministrations, the flush of your skin from the peaks of your breasts to your cheeks. 

Your breath is hitching, breasts quivering with your gasps. He bends to lick into your mouth, thin ankle still held in his grasp, finally, finally taking the taste of your tongue onto his own and you moan, wanton and desperate, your legs wrapping around his waist to bring him closer. 

“I’m going to give you my cock now,” he presses into your skin, open mouthed kisses to your throat, your neck, your breasts. He nips a gentle bite to one swollen little nipple. 

He grasps the base of his cock, passes his hand slowly from root to tip once, twice, and then presses the flushed head to your clit, grinds there for a moment, you jerk, then moves down to your hole, feeds you just the tip. You cant your hips, try and take him deeper, but he holds back, pulls out and moves back up to circle your clit again, and then back down again to press inside. “No, no, no, Ezra, please – I need it so badly – so badly.” He watches a tiny tear, track down your temple and back into your hair, and he gives you the entire thick length of him at that, fucks inside, all the way to the end of you. 

“There? How’s that?” He presses a kiss to your breast, sucks it into his mouth. The taste of you is godly. “Is that better, needy thing?”

“So good – so good,” you sigh. Stretching your arms high above your head, arching your back to let him in deeper. 

“Fuck, yes–” he groans. He sits back on his heels, grips your hips and starts to give it to you hard. The strong swing of his hips causing the soft jiggle of your tits with every thrust. Your eyes are closed, lashes fluttering, soft mouth open and wet. So fucking beautiful. 

“Will you let me fuck your ass too?” Your head is already nodding, all rational thought currently being fucked out of you. “You will, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes – anything you want.”

“Good girl.”

He changes the angle, fucks up into that spongy devastating part of you he plans to own after this is done, and he starts to feel the tight pull of your inner muscles working to suck him deeper. “That’s it, beautiful, just like that. Taking me so wonderfully.” 

“God– I– I’m–” you press your palms to his belly and he brings one of your ankles up to his shoulder, presses a kiss to the bone. 

“God isn’t here right now – just me–” He grits his teeth, gives it to you harder. He can feel his orgasm start to pool, hot and liquid, at the base of his spine, balls drawing up tight. 

“Give me another, Sparrow, one more. Need to feel it around my cock,” spit through clenched teeth. 

“Oh, fuck – that’s so good,” you moan, and then you’re milking him, pulling his come out of him with the tight wet clutch of your muscles. 

“Fucking perfect, yes – just like that.” He lets his head roll back on his neck, hand grasping your ankle as he fills you. 

-

He watches you eat your pain au chocolat. Sitting in the warm morning sun of the observatory. Tiny bites of the flaky sweet bread, dollop of chocolate sitting at the corner of your mouth that he plans to lick off in a second. He is mesmerized. He knows, empirically, he probably looks like a fucking creep, staring you down as he is, but he can also see the subtle preen in your gaze when you glance up at him every so often. You enjoy this part of your play as much as he does, so it seems. The watching. 

“Will you let me take you somewhere today?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Brazil? I’d show you the farm.”

You swallow, the most guileless eyes he’s ever beheld, shining in the light. “Brazil? Really?”

“Of course, treasure. Or anywhere you want. Your happiness is mine to watch over now. I would do anything for you.” As he says it, he can tell, you did not lie when you said you’d like to be stolen. 

[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.” 

[rewritingcanon]

next gen characters and their favourite parent 🫣

victoire: fleur but maybe only by a margin (very close, bill should not take it personally that victoire just specifically admires fleur more because they are more similar in character, she really loves her dad)

dom: bill because he let her get tattoos before she was 18 and he will brush her hair in the morning when she’s too tired to do it herself

louis: fleur because their mother would never allow louis to leave the house looking ugly and they really appreciate that

molly: percy, because they are similar in person and when he gives her approval it just makes her feel more satisfied yknow

lucy: audrey because her mother lets her get away with more stuff than her dad does, so she feels more comfortable being goofy with her than her dad

fred: george because his love language is irritating people and george will just give the same energy back without any qualms

roxanne: angelina, she feels they have a greater understanding between them and she goes to her mother for advice more often

james: ginny, he is the definition of a momma’s boy who would always go soft on her

albus: ginny, even though he feels he’s more similar to harry, sometimes ginny just saying shit as it is gives him a rare sort of calm he appreciates

lily: harry, she loves making her dad interested in anything and everything shes interested in and he’s always genuinely listening to her

rose: no. she genuinely has no preference she loves her parents the same. she is very consistent in her love for them

hugo: contrary to rose, it honestly depends on the day. ron will sneak him toffee and hot chocolate late on a saturday evening and hugo will deem him the favourite parent, the next day hermione buys him a squishmallow and she is

teddy: …andromeda

scorpius: even though he would rather keel over than ever think of liking one parent more than the other… he was closer with astoria growing up (due to their likeness she could bond with him easier), but obviously as scorpius grows up he gets closer with his dad, and he’ll have more experiences with him than he ever had with his mother.

lysander: rolf because he takes lysander all over the world to pursue his interests in geology. rolf will be trying to tame some swedish serpent whilst lysander is inspecting the pebbles in its cave and thats a normal father-son bonding time for them

lorcan: luna. lorcan has been illustrating for the quibbler since he was 13 because luna genuinely doesnt believe there is any other artist that can perfectly mirror the complexity of peculiar fantastical creatures as her son (it’s literally a stick figure)

alice: neville. she’s a daddy’s girl who has her dad wrapped around her finger. i mean, he loves her so much that he forgives her for hating gardening

frank: hannah. she forces him to help her fold the laundry with her and he hates it, but he still loves her (forcing him to help her with her chores just so she can spend more time with him, i see you hannah)

delphi: voldemort 😻😻 (she needs therapy immediately)

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God | m.m

Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter thirty-eight: Lavender Haze

series masterlist

Summary: Their first date might have started rocky, but everything goes according to plan after that and for the first time, Eliza and Matt can breathe and enjoy each other's presence in more ways than one.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Fluff, slight angst, but it's just tooth-rotting, Taylor Swift references to the nines, unprotected p in v (wrap it folks), oral (f!& m!receiving), coming untouched, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft dom!Matt, praise kink, cum play, cum eating, breeding kink if you squint, forced orgasm, squirting (bye)

a/n: Um, I said I had a schedule and everything but things keep getting in the way like my birthday on Friday??? Roaring 20s incoming. I’m not ready. I’m probably getting Comic Con tickets for next December from my dad, so that’s fun. Finally some bonding time after my childhood was screwed up and I got daddy issues, but he’s trying ig? I will have officially outrun teen pregnancy on Friday, let’s appreciate that instead.

Wednesdays come before Thursdays, right? And I hate Thursdays. So let’s just keep it that way and enjoy this.

Anyway! Holy shit, this is so cute and hot and I'm so proud of myself for this. The light in this gif might not be lavender, but I incorporated this exact move in the chapter so you know it'll be good. You're welcome.

Brb taking my clothes off for Matty boy...

18+ MINORS DNI

Thursday happens a day before Friday, and Friday is the last day before the weekend, so on Thursdays, the week is pretty much over. Especially students and working people think that way because it makes the week go over faster and gives you something to look forward to – a much-needed break.

Eliza never paid much thought to Thursdays. Any day of the week was a nuisance. Waking up in the morning was incredibly hard and she hated the body she was in. That was until she decided that this was no way to live and Matt Murdock made her feel like the most important person in the world. The only woman, for all eternity. She didn’t need to be anyone else’s favorite as long as he loved her, and life got a little less exhausting with him. 

They met on a Thursday. She didn’t remember the day, but she remembered the date and the exact moment she felt his arms around her, trying to stop her from making a mistake. She went ahead anyway. He saved her life that night. Without him, none of the things she accomplished would have been possible. Without him, she would have drowned. She couldn’t have done this alone. 

Now here she was on a Thursday, four weeks after all hell broke loose, alive and well, squeezing herself into a burgundy dress she got on Happy’s very generous account. Matt told her that he made reservations at a small, local restaurant, nothing too fancy, but that she should probably wear a dress nonetheless. He wanted to treat her right, and if his wallet had to bleed for that, he would even sell his soul. 

The dress she chose was made out of pure silk, wrapping around her frame and tied on the side with a small bow that she tied herself. The sleeves were loose and reached down to her elbow, flowing around with every move. Eyeing herself in the mirror, she suddenly grew self-conscious. The top of the very prominent scar poked out of the rather deep cleavage, and the bra that kept her breasts pushed up enough to give a good picture to anyone watching didn’t distract from the fact that it was there. 

She bought expensive lingerie just for him, but as she stared at herself in the mirror, all she wanted was to cry. Repulsive; the first word that came to mind. She hated how she looked in a dress now. 

Eliza blinked the tears away, not wanting to destroy her makeup. She put a lot of effort into looking presentable, to make her figure feel good for him, she even applied the perfume he liked on her so much, but none of that mattered because all she wanted to do was tear the burgundy silk off her skin, get out of the lingerie and lock herself away in the closet where no one could see her in the dark. 

She considered getting a pair of flowy pants and a dress shirt and call it a day. She could still look fancy with something that wasn’t a dress. But it was silk and he loved silk. She bought everything she had on just for him, even the heels because she wanted to give him a show for his senses. She wanted him to feel her smooth, shaven skin and the way the clothes hugged her figure. She knew Matt was a sucker for everything he could explore with his hands. He couldn’t see her, so this was the least she could do. Besides, she wanted to look good for herself. It had been the plan, anyway, before she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. 

Fuck, she thought. She couldn’t go out like that, and if Matt smelled the unshed tears tangled in her lashes, he would ask what was wrong. She wasn’t even sure why the small top of the scar bothered her so much, but the sight alone had her clenching her fists. She wanted it to be gone so that she wouldn’t have to be remembered anymore, but that was nearly impossible. 

She hated her body as much as she hated herself. To think she just started getting better… she worked so hard for what? Just to be thrown back again? She didn’t want to feel so worthless, but the more she thought about everything that was wrong with her, the more she needed to cry. She couldn’t hold it anymore. The first tear rolled. She wiped it away fast, checking if her mascara started to run, but it was still intact. At least something went right. 

She hated Thursdays. 

The door to the bedroom creaked open. Of course, he heard her. She sometimes forgot how good Matt was at picking up certain clues. His senses were enhanced, after all, but he also knew her well enough to check in on her every once in a while. While it might not have seemed that way to others, this was a big deal for her, and the anxiety wore her thin. 

Eliza felt overwhelmed by everything. Going to dinner in a crowded, fancy Manhattan restaurant would only make it worse. At this point, she would have settled for a cheap burger at the diner across the street, or a sandwich from the deli. 

Matt leaned against the door frame. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

He already knew the answer. 

“Yes,” she said. His eyebrows shot up. Quieter this time, she admitted, “No.” Her voice cracked. She lowered her head. His gaze which wasn’t a gaze much rather than a concerned look burned under her skin and her cheeks started to burn from the embarrassed blush. 

She got caught up in her insecurities. He would try to pull her out, but she wasn’t sure if that was possible. She was too deep in now. 

Still, he was nothing if determined, and perhaps she misjudged his abilities. She underestimated him time and time again. 

Matt stepped up behind her. His hand found her shoulders, tracing over the skin of her upper arms before he reached the sleeves. “Silk,” he murmured, “Nice.”

“I made sure you’d be comfortable,” she said. 

“That’s nice of you, but that’s not what’s most important tonight. What’s on your mind?” He pulled her hair aside, pressing gentle kisses to the skin of her neck. She sighed. 

“Too much.”

“Why were you crying?”

“Do you think that the scar…” Eliza fidgeted with her fingers, toying with the rings and chipping away the black nail polish she applied. He patted the back of her hand, telling her to stop. “Do you think I look repulsive?” she asked him. 

He wasn’t sure what the right reaction would have been in a case like this. Her fear seemed so irrational because she was anything but repulsive, he couldn’t take it seriously. But to her, the scar and how it looked to others meant the world. She wasn’t particularly interested in how other people viewed her body, but the scar was a ghastly reminder of darker times, and to have people staring at it would have been even worse. The thought alone felt humiliating enough to make her stomach churn, and she got sick. 

Matt’s thumb slid over her shoulder blade. Goosebumps followed in his wake. “What?” he asked. “Why would you ask me that?”

He was the last person to think that way about anyone, especially her. 

“Be honest, are you still attracted to me?”

Moving his hands from her shoulders around her waist, he began to trace a finger over the exact spot where the rest of her scar lay covered under the dress. “Honey,” he purred into her ear, “You could never repulse me.”

“I’m serious, Matt.”

“I am, too. That scar…” he stopped at the top, sliding his hand between her breast. He outlined and she watched his every move in the mirror. Something about the sight of his lust-blown eyes and his hand on her chest had her gasp softly. 

“It’s proof of all that you survived,” he said. “It’s part of you. If anything, it makes you even more beautiful because it reminds me that you’re still alive. I’ve never been more attracted to you than I am right now, and it’s not just the dress, although it feels so fucking amazing. You amaze me, Eliza, and I want nothing more than to spend an eternity touching you.”

“If you could see it,” she began.

“I don’t care,” his voice grew firmer, “It’s just a scar. Look at me! My entire chest and back are covered in thick lines of scar tissue. Are you repulsed by me?”

She stuttered. “What? Of course not!” That he would even say that was outrageous. “You’re beautiful.”

“Then why hate on yourself?”

“I…” he had a point. She scoffed, turning away from her reflection. “It’s different.”

“Different how?”

“Different because…”

She tried hard to find a reason why her scar wasn’t the same as his – it wasn’t, she was sure of that – but the more she desperately looked into his brown eyes for any sort of agreement in them, she found none.

Eliza looked down at her heels. “Different because it’s me,” she said.

“Sweetheart, no.” He cooed softly as he tilted her head up by the chin. “Stop talking about yourself that way. I know it’s hard to accept your scars – I have trouble accepting mine and I can’t even see them – but they’re there for a reason. They’re a reminder of all that you’ve survived.“

“Exactly!” she cried out, though the sound instantly turned into a whimper when he locked her in place, forced to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be reminded,” she said, “and I don’t want the people around me to know or fantasize about what happened. I can’t… I don’t want to have other people stare at me because they’ll whisper. They always do.”

And she couldn’t drown them out, no matter how hard she tried.

He licked his lip, eyes soft as he gave her the most understanding look he could muster. He always managed to make her feel comfortable even when she didn’t feel like it.

His thumb stroked her cheekbone. “I’m sorry, baby. I know what it feels like, but that doesn’t make you repulsive. People talk, yes, but they have no right to judge you. Those who do are wrong,” he told her. “And they don’t get to tell you what you’ve been through, what that makes you or who you are.”

“I just…” she nuzzled into his hand, eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling.

He nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” she said. “I just know that I do and it sucks. I hate feeling this way. I hate letting the fear of what other people might think about me influence the way I feel about myself, but I know that as soon as I step into that restaurant, I’m going to ruin the mood because I can always feel them staring even when they’re not. It’s been like this ever since my face first became public in 2012. The whispers…” Eliza shivered and he wiped the lone tear that had slipped from her eyes before it could ruin her makeup. Considerate, he was. “I hate them,” she said. “I just hate it and I hate myself for being self-conscious enough to let it happen. I’m not usually like this, Matt, I promise.”

But Matt only shushed her again with the softest of smiles. “If it’s other people you’re worried about,” he said, “I have an idea.”

He pulled up her dress a little to cover what little he had revealed before, smoothing out the fabric before he stepped away, taking her hand in his.

“Screw the reservation I made. Let’s go somewhere else. Somewhere I’m sure there won't be many people.”

“But Matt, you planned all of this, and I-“

He squeezed her hand, cutting her off with a harsh tug at her arm. Matt tilted her chin up to brush his lips against her. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yes, but-“

He kissed her to shut her up. “Then let me take you somewhere quiet instead.”

Eliza didn’t deserve him.

The quiet place he mentioned wasn’t all too far from his apartment. From the outside, the Brownstone looked like any other building, but the sign outside read the title of a Chinese proverb.

One generation plants a tree, the next enjoys its shade.

They stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Where are we?” she asked.

Matt grinned like a kid on Christmas Day, knowing and perhaps a little sheepish. “Remember how you told me you don’t like flowers but I could bring you a plant for our first date?” he answered.

“I do remember that.”

“Well, I think you’re gonna love this even more than me just buying you a potted plant.” 

“What do you mean?”

He held on tightly to her elbow. “Lead me up the stairs and you’ll see.”

She counted each step they took, five in total, and she held his hand so he wouldn’t stumble. The stairs were steep; he could seriously injure himself if he missed one. 

At the door, he let go of her, searching for the handle before opening it for her. “After you,” he said. 

Eliza rolled her eyes playfully at his cliché antics. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Maybe,” she said. 

The humid air hit her straight across the face once she stepped through the entrance into the warmth of the building. Every breath felt like a retreat for her lungs, the oxygen pure and untainted. It didn’t smell like fried food or boiled vegetables - the air was clean, void of any unnecessary scents that could cause overstimulation. For a second, she doubted he took them to a restaurant and rather to one of the many public gardens New York had to offer. 

Folding his cane and closing the door, Matt stepped in behind her. His hand searched for her rather aimlessly before he found the corner of her silk sleeve, and he wrapped his arm around her bicep to get closer. 

Beethoven played from the speakers in the ceiling, Für Elise from the sound of it, and the soft buzzing of the several fairy lights reverberated in his ears. They hung from the ceiling and flowed down the curtains and the poison ivy covered walls like streams of rain, frozen in place. Not many heartbeats could be heard inside, only the faint clanking of porcelain in the kitchen and the breeze of the air conditioning that came from the vents. 

The velvet curtains separated the entrance hall from the restaurant itself. Eliza stopped, not being able to see through them, and it had her uneasy. She trusted him, but she didn’t trust the strange place. 

His hand on the small of her back urged her forward. Soon enough, he had her shoved through the curtains - they were tinted in the softest lavender shade she had ever seen before. She touched them with her fingertips. It was real velvet, probably expensive too. 

Upon their entrance, the song ended, instead replaced by another classical piece of music - she took a moment to recognize the artist, but after the first three notes she realized that it was Tchaikovsky, one of his lesser-known piano pieces. 

The inside of the Brownstone appeared as if taken from a fairy tale. There was not an inch of the golden-painted walls that weren’t covered in poison ivy or strings of roses. Whites ones, not red ones. Trees raked from the ground and grew into the ceiling, covering the ancient painting of angels and demons with purely green leaves. Every corner of the room was home to a different kind of plant, mostly those that could easily survive inside a sunless environment. The furniture consisted mostly of pieces made out of natural wood, the colors varying with every table and every chair, and the bar at the far end looked like it was cut from Mahagoni.

The plates and cutlery all had precise paintings of nature on the edges, not perfect but something much rarer. You couldn’t find pieces like this anywhere. Not to speak of the fairy lights and candles that offered the only source of light. Scentless candles burned inside the chandelier, only far enough away not to set the plants on fire, but the engraved glass of the lamp hung low enough so that you could see every detail.

The fairy lights reflected and broke against the glass, projecting little rainbows onto the poison ivy on the walls. Everywhere Eliza looked, another shade of green - another source of light opened up. Her lungs filled with pure oxygen, and the rigorous waves of the ocean in her mind eased up, retreating into a state of calm with only a little wind to disturb her. 

Some of the leaves to her right rustled. She gasped when a small butterfly broke out of the confines and continued its way across the room into the next tree. 

“This is so beautiful,” she whispered, Matt’s name only a breath on her tongue. “If you could see this place…”

She didn’t know that he had seen it once. The only reason he knew that it existed was that his father took him there on his seventh birthday the first time, and then for two more executive years until he turned nine. It was his last birthday before the accident — before he lost his eyesight forever.

The Chinese restaurant was a small interior garden with an oxygen quality that exceeded the polluted New York air and managed to calm his overworked senses in a way that he would only ever get in a rainforest again. The picture remained, imprinted in his brain. He could never forget the day his father surprised him by taking him there. 

As a boxer, Jack Murdock barely made enough to get himself and his son by, but he tried his best. Every once in a while, he would put one or two bills of his win aside and save it for a later time. He would refrain from buying anything for himself to make sure Matt received a gift and dinner for his birthday. On the same day in November every year, Jack Murdock constructed a day that was all about his son, and he gave him everything he could have possibly wanted. And even though it wasn’t much because money was limited, Matt was more than grateful that he got the memories with his father. Playing football in the park, eating ice cream, buying him a cheap toy car, and then going to dinner together - his life before he got blind and his father died had been somewhat normal and every last thing he remembered about that time was happy in one way or another. 

Sometimes, when he would set foot into the restaurant now, he thought back to simpler times and how relieved his father had been every time they went there. Only on his birthday had he laughed so much, happy to have Matt in his life, and he made sure he felt that. Ever since his father died though, Matt hated his birthday, and that was one of the reasons why. 

He had never actively shared the restaurant with anyone in his life. It was his and his father’s little secret. A happy place they frequented and Matt often went to long after Jack died because he knew the owner and they got along well. He helped her out of legal trouble once when he was still at Landman & Zach, and ever since then, he visited the restaurant once a month to make sure the family that owned the place was alright. And when someone tried to break in, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t so far off and beat the intruders senseless before they could burn down what the kind Mrs. Chao built for herself. Her kids were to inherit the place someday - it was a family legacy. He had to make sure it stayed that way. 

He was afraid that if he showed this childhood memory to anyone, he would get pitied again. He was afraid that his bubble would burst as soon as he introduced his present to the past and then it wouldn’t be just his memory anymore. It would become a widely known fact. 

Taking Eliza there had been a last-minute decision, but weirdly enough, when they stepped in, Matt no longer cared about the fact that this was a memory he and his father shared and that his childhood was his to keep, no one else’s; he wanted her to know. He wanted to show her where he came from, and he wanted to share the happiness with her.

He knew how relaxing the colors could be and how the pure oxygen made breathing a little easier. It offered an escape. The entire place was so beautiful, looking at it appeared like a fever dream. The lights worked their magic to get you into a dreamy mindset. The more you gazed around, the more the enchanted forest bewitched you. 

Mrs. Chao greeted Matt like she would an old friend. She nodded knowingly at the girl, then pointed to a table in the back. He nodded. “Table in the back would be nice,” he said. 

She guided them there, but Eliza was lost in another world. She had been to many enchanted places before and had seen rainforests and castles covered in gold, but the restaurant was beautiful in a whole different way. It was pure, not manipulated. 

Matt listened to her elevated heartbeat, the clear sign of adoration in the way she sighed ever so often at the sight of a new plant, and her fingers raking over the leaves closest to their table. She shook her head. 

“Do you like it?” he asked. 

“Like it? This is… I’m so overwhelmed right now,” she said. 

“In a good or a bad way?”

“I love it, Matt. This place is so beautiful.”

And it was more than quiet. No curious stares, only them and a few couples on the other end of the room, but the wall and the plants protected them from being seen. 

He smiled. “Just like you.”

“What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Her heart jumped. 

“And you’re more than perfect to me.”

“Oh, screw you!” Eliza gave a broken laugh. She could already taste the salt on her tongue. “Why do you have to be so fucking adorable?” she said, wiping her cheeks. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Matt shrugged. “You’re you and that’s more than enough.”

“Fuck. I just… I love you.”

“I know you do,” he took her hand from across the table, “And I love you too.”

The pocket of his suit jacket suddenly weighed more than a hundred pounds. She kissed his scarred knuckles, but he barely felt it. The nerves had him bordering on insanity. He managed to hold off for the past day, not once hinting at what he bought, but as she sat before him now, he couldn’t control the nauseating feeling of anxiety that got him shaking on the edge of his seat. 

Eliza swallowed the lump in her throat to tell him what she struggled most with expressing. Words were never enough, she wanted to show him somehow, but as incompetent as she was with emotions, that seemed impossible. She didn’t know anything. At twenty-three she was even more clueless than she was at eighteen when Natasha saved her from hell. She was useless when it came to relationships. 

“Thank you for staying,” she murmured. “I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t wait for me.”

She told him he didn’t have to, but it was a blatant lie she told herself. If he had told her that he didn’t love her anymore, it would have torn her apart. She wouldn’t have survived him leaving for good, even after telling him to. Why did no one tell her how twisted that had been?

“And thank you for not giving up on me, Matthew. Really, I- okay, you were the only one who didn’t give up on me, even when I did, and if you hadn’t done that, I’m sure the universe would have found a way to eradicate me.”

He shook his head, softly turning her hand so that her palm pointed toward the ceiling. “If you love someone, you’d do anything not to lose them,” he told her, “and I’d be an idiot if I ever gave up on you, not when you are the one person I love and need the most in this entire, god-forsaken world. God failed me,” he said, “But you’re here, and it makes me think that maybe the lord does have funny ways of showing he cares. You were my sign. You screwed up but so did I. We both hurt each other. That’s human nature. We might be slightly toxic, but that doesn’t make me want you any less. If anything, it makes me want to try and be better with you. Just the two of us, together. The way things are supposed to be. Why else would we have found back together if not to actually be together?”

“The odds were never in our favor,” she said. 

“Yeah, but we beat the odds. Can’t say that about just anyone.”

“I always thought I was never meant to love anyone…” Eliza trailed off, her voice dangerously close to breaking, and the tears once again pricked at the corner of her eyes. She blew raspberries, trying to hold off the inevitable. She was so in love, it made her emotional. 

Matt smiled at her, his teeth showing with how giddy he looked. “What happened?” he asked.

“You did,” she returned his smile, “It’s always you.”

And it would be always him. 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He finally reached into his pocket. His cheeks displayed the faintest of blushes. A sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He struggled to reach what he was searching for. 

Her eyes narrowed. “Matthew,” her tone took on a warning tinge. 

He retrieved the small box, placing it into her palm. Her fist closed around it, eyes wide as she stared at him, and she wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking at.

“Relax,” he told her, “it’s not a ring.”

“Oh, thank God!” She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. 

Matt nodded toward the box. “Open it.” He played with his dress pants. “There’s no reason for you to worry, I promise.”

He was worried though, worried she might not like it. 

“I saw it and I thought of you, so I had to buy it.”

“Here’s the thing,” Eliza began, reaching for her purse, “You’re not the only one who had that thought.”

She pulled out a box the size of the one he got her, though hers matched the burgundy of her dress. She placed it into his open hand, closing his fist around it and urging him to open it.

He stuttered, tracing his fingers over the velvety material. “Are you kidding me?” There was no bow, but the box had an easy clasp he could open with one pull. 

Eliza made her gift accessible enough for him and he wanted nothing more than to scold her for even buying him something in the first place, but he couldn’t, not when he could imagine her innocent look and the nervous biting of her bottom lip. 

Awkwardly, she chuckled. “I was shopping for a dress with Happy – and his credit card – and I saw it in one of the shop windows, and I couldn’t help myself,” she said.

“You actually got me something?” He stroked over the velvet again. 

“Yeah.”

“So I worried for no reason?”

“I mean, I’m not sure if you’re gonna like it…” she shrugged. “I just thought it was cute.”

“You know whatever it is you bought me, I can’t see it anyway, right?”

She kicked him and he laughed, his nervosity beginning to fade. “It’s not something you have to see to enjoy,” she said. 

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

“You first.”

“What is it with you and this box?” Finally, she managed to get the bow off. Her heart sped up the closer she got to opening it. 

Matt fidgeted with the box that held his gift. His knee bounced. Agonizingly slow, Eliza opened the clasp and took a look inside the dark confines. What he bought her laid splayed out on a white cushion, golden and thin, and the pendant itself had the form of a puzzle piece. 

She didn’t speak for a whole thirty seconds. He doubted she even breathed. Eventually, she gasped, and her hand reached for the necklace inside the box. 

“Oh, my God,” she choked, “This is…” She couldn’t find the words to describe it. 

He had bought her a necklace with a small pendant the shape and size of a tiny puzzle piece that held three tiny dots filled with amethyst, two in a row and one below, and on top of that the letter M was engraved. Eliza didn’t know much about Braille, but the alphabet wasn’t all too hard, so she recognized the series in which the crystals were aligned.

“Why’d you do that?” Her lip quivered and soon enough, a tear slipped past her red-tinted lips, into her mouth. “Now you made me cry.”

This was not the reaction he expected. “I’m sorry,” said Matt, but the smile that adorned his face told her that he wasn’t sorry. He enjoyed the fact that she liked it enough to cry. It was a compliment. 

She sniffled, searching for the clasp before slipping the necklace around her throat and closing it at the back. It aligned perfectly with the necklace Natasha gave her, but she doubted that was intentional. 

“Amethyst is meant to-”

She cut him off, “Protect the people you gift it to, yes. It’s a protecting crystal, just like hematite. I know.”

“Well, the jeweler I got this from had a sale and he was about to throw it out because he doesn’t sell many Braille necklaces, so I asked him if he could engrave it one more time and I’d take it for the original price.”

“And you took it,” she concluded. 

“I took it,” he said, “Because I figured it was a sign that M was the only letter he had left.”

“I love it.” Eliza hugged the pendant close to her chest. “I will never take it off again.”

“Maybe you should while showering, I’m not sure if it’s real gold.”

“I don’t care if it stains me green, I’m not taking it off. You got me that so I’m not letting it out of my sight.“

She was a very serious person when it came to gifts. 

He could only imagine her pout. “That’s fine by me,” he said and started undoing the clasp on the box she got him.

Matt popped the cap open. Unlike her, he had to feel first before he could give an appropriate reaction. He could tell it was metal, too, alone from the smell of it. He felt around the soft inside until he reached the object.

A round pendant attached to a chain, a broader one than the one she wore. The silver – gold felt much different, even fake one; it was much heavier than silver – was kept thin so it wouldn’t disturb his skin too much, and she made sure not to use any cheap material that could stain or be itchy to him. He took it out, analyzing the surface. That was when he felt it. 

His chin tilted up, his mind processing the letters he felt. Small dots spread over the metal, bulging in a frequency that formed a sentence. 

He scoffed, “You did not.”

“Yeah, I guess we both had the same kind of luck. Jewelers selling Braille necklaces. Except mine wasn’t on sale.”

The necklace spelled:

I love you 

- E.

In the letters of the Braille alphabet.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked jewelry that isn’t your cross necklace, but I saw it and I had to buy it,” she said. “I made them add the E because I wanted you to know that it was from me, not some random person, so if anything ever happened to me you’d have something to hold onto, to remind you of how I felt about you. Or if we ever hit a rough patch you can look at me and know that I love you. It’s… it’s a promise necklace.”

Matt raised his hand, shushing her. “Don’t say that,” he said. “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

“We know how fast things can change, Matthew, especially with the way we’re living, and proving my love to you is something that I want to do in all the ways I can. I want you to know that I accept you, all of you. You should have a piece of me with you always so you know I support you in everything you do. I choose you, ragged edges and all.” She leaned in, lowered her voice, and added, “Daredevil and Matt Murdock. I choose you both.” 

“Okay, fuck it!” He expertly closed the clasp of the necklace, then pulled at her arm to get her to the other side. “C’mere.”

She ended up on the chair next to him and he didn’t waste a second smashing his lips into hers. Holding her face with both of his large hands, there was no more space between them. He had full control over her. 

The softest moan got stuck in her throat when he started to nibble at her bottom lip. Matt pulled away only hesitantly, clasping his hand over her mouth. 

“Shh,” he cooed, “not so loud, sweetheart. You’re gonna attract everyone’s attention.”

As Eliza leaned her forehead against his shoulder, he buried his nose in her hair, pressing another gentle kiss to her scalp.

She tugged at the necklace she bought him, pulling him further down until she could reach his ear. Licking her lips made enough sound for him to hear the pull of saliva off her skin and how she still smelled of the coffee they had for lunch. 

Between the heartwarming gifts and the atmosphere of the oxygen-rich environment, he forgot how much of a tease she could be. Rather forcefully, she grabbed his hand and brought it between her legs, under the silk dress, and right onto the waistband of her underwear.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He could feel the lace that slowly turned into silk around her crotch. A high-waisted thong. The more he traced the lines, the clearer the picture in his mind was painted. Once again, he could only growl when she bucked her hips into his wandering fingers over her covered clit. 

Matt chuckled, his voice slightly husky and thick with arousal. He tried to keep the blood in his head, but he was this close to getting an erection in a very public space. “Did you buy that for me too?” he asked.

She nodded, head still pressed against his shoulder. “I have more,” she said, using the closeness to bite his earlobe gently and fast, making sure no one saw the way he bowed forward to stop himself from moaning. 

He followed with the guidance of her hand down her upper thigh. He didn’t miss the elastic attached to the panties with a thin string.

“Oh, fuck me!” He curled his fist around the fabric and tugged hard enough to let it snap against her skin. “Did you plan this?”

“If you could only feel the bra I’m wearing…” she let out a prolonged sigh. “It’s see-through, made out of lace and the straps are pure silk,” she moaned. “God, you have no idea how good it feels.”

“Eliza,” he warned.

“What?” She blinked innocently with her dark lashes.

Matt bared his teeth. “Stop.”

“If you insist, Matthew.”

His hand slipped from her thigh and she returned to her chair on the opposite side of the table. “Well,” Eliza said then, “Should we eat?”

His mouth hung wide open. She had grabbed the menu halfway through her sentence and now flipped through the pages as if she hadn’t just turned him on like it was nothing.

“How about sushi?”

“I know what I want to eat,” he stated, “and it’s not on this menu.��

His cock rested painfully hard against the inside of his thigh. He tried not to think about it or reach his hand out to relieve some of the pressure – pulling her into the bathroom was no option.

She couldn’t see his eyes, but she suspected they were dark and full of lust, the brown more dominant as his sightless glossed over with the sexiest sheen of arousal. 

“And I want sushi,” she told him, deep down proud of herself for how far she got him – her plan was in full motion. 

He huffed, fist clenching in his lap. The other played with the glass of water on the table, courtesy of the owner. When she asked them for drinks, he declined and told her to bring them some water instead. He would refrain from drinking alcohol in her presence, not sure if it would be triggering. She didn’t talk much about the process with him, but he knew that if he started abusing alcohol with her around, she might get the same idea again.

He brushed the thought off. It was their first normal night out together as a couple and he didn’t want to worry about her too much. Nothing else mattered but her. Everything that happened in the past would remain there for the foreseeable future. 

The waiter came soon enough, breaking the sexual tension in two when she asked, “What can I get you two?”

Matt was about to utter his regular order when Eliza opened her mouth to say the same thing. 

They spoke at the same time, “The fried sushi plate.”

She blinked at him. “How did you-“

“It’s my regular, how did you-“

“I love fried sushi,” she stated. “The question is, why did I not know you liked sushi?”

“Because I never talked about it. I didn’t know that about you either. I mean, picky vegetarian eater… sushi wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Well, you know now, so you can take me out for sushi more often.”

“I noted that, thank you.”

“Should I just bring one big plate then?” the waiter intercepted. “For you guys to share?”

Matt nodded. “That would be nice.”

They knew hardly anything about each other, they realized. They shared their deepest, darkest secrets but when it came to the easiest pieces of information, they were like strangers to each other.

The entire time they ate their food was spent in silence. Eliza’s eyes traveled around the room, following the path of the fairy lights and the endless vines of poison ivy, an extraordinary piece of decoration. The light broke on the chandelier again, projecting the rainbow onto her plate and making the vines next to her head appear like a kaleidoscope of nature. 

Her lips parted in a sigh that sounded much more like contentment than it would have if they had chosen to eat at one of the expensive restaurants in downtown Manhattan. It was quiet and she was happy where they were. Nowhere else could they have been granted so much privacy, and the sight was truly phenomenal.

“God,” she said, “I wish I could make you see this right now. If we weren’t in public, I would. It’s so beautiful, Matt. With all the lights and the different kinds of plants, I… I’ve never been to such an enticing place before, let alone have eaten in one.” 

An enchanted forest inside of a Chinese restaurant. It sounded like something many tourists would frequent, but there was no one there but them. The peace felt almost illegal, getting to enjoy such a beautiful sight as if they were the only people on earth with no one to disturb them. 

Matt chuckled, placing his chopsticks on the now-empty plate. He crossed his hands. “Describe it to me,” he said.

“What?”

“Describe what it looks like in here. I want to see the world from your eyes.”

She got up to sit beside him again, this time all innocent when she leaned into him and began to point out every last detail that caught her attention in the best way possible.

“The walls on our right are painted in old gold, covered by strings of poison ivy. It’s growing wildly and entangled with fairy lights that hang from the ceiling like curtains. They shine a soft yellow light that, mixed with the green, offers a serene atmosphere that’s neither too light nor too dark, and it’s not too colorful either. Just enough to be easy on the eyes…”

Eliza turned to the right where the tree grew from the floor into the ceiling.

“There’s an oak tree on our side,” she told him. “Branches and leaves decorating what’s left of the gold and covering it. The fairy lights are here too. And the empty corners are adorned by different kinds of green plants, like Monstera deliciosa, there’s also a small growth of bamboo in the far right corner, Cast Iron plants, Rubber Plants and there is a small fountain that holds water lilies.”

“Water lilies?” he asked, “Really?”

She nodded. “Have I mentioned the roses that cover the wall of the bar that is made out of the darkest Mahagoni? And our tables,” she guided his hand over the natural material, “It’s wood of the purest kind. They sanded it down, obviously, but nothing else has been done to the furniture. It’s amazing, Matthew. And the chandelier… God, the chandelier. It’s completely made out of glass with little candle holders, and the glass is engraved with all these native Chinese paintings. The same ones are on the porcelain, but it looks different on each one because it was hand-made. The engravings are so precise, I wonder which artist made the chandelier. I would love to have a chat with them about their amazing art.”

“Sounds wonderful,” though as Matt said that, his focus was on something other than the restaurant. He listened to her heartbeat and the excitement in her voice, the smile on her face, and the mental picture of her eyes sparkling with the yellow of the fairy lights. 

She was beautiful. 

“What if I told you that I simply asked you so that I could hear your voice?”

She frowned at him, subconsciously toying with her necklace. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know what it looks like in here. I saw it, a long time ago,” he said. “My father… He took me here for my birthday every year since I turned seven. The accident happened about two months after my ninth birthday, so I remember vividly what the interior looks like, even though it’s been years.”

“Oh, Matthew, I’m so sorry.”

“The owner and I are acquainted with each other. I help her out every once in a while. After my father died, I didn’t feel very comfortable taking anyone back here, you know?” Matt paused to chuckle, a bitter sound in the light-hearted atmosphere of the room. He cut right through it, tearing her heart in two with the pain that displayed on his face even without seeing his eyes behind the glasses.

Eliza took his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to tell him that she was there for him. She cursed herself for not connecting the dots sooner. He took her to the place he connected his childhood with to make her feel more comfortable. It was the most selfless thing anyone could have possibly done for her.

“I came here often, but always on my own. I don’t like to be asked how I know this place or the pitiful glances I get whenever I tell them the truth. The tragically blinded kid who lost his father and grew up in an orphanage because no one else wanted him. It’s… I don’t know, it’s not something you like to tell people, I guess, so I used this place to find some peace amongst all the noise and the smell. Almost like the flower shop that sells those Anemone bouquets, except that here, the world doesn’t exist. It’s my little bubble of safety, and it used to be my and my dad’s little key to happiness. It was our secret hideout.”

“If I had known, Matt,” she said, “I wouldn’t have agreed to this.”

He placed a finger on her lips. “I wanted to take you here,” he said, “because it was the first place I thought of when I could tell you were uncomfortable and I think… you’re the first person I’ve ever taken here since my dad died and somehow it doesn’t even bother me. It feels normal, like you belong here too, not just me. My world opened up and let you in and you’re a part of it now, so you’re a part of everything inside of that world too. I love you, Eliza, and I want you to be a part of my life, all of it, not just the broken parts.”

“I love you too.” She took his hand, pressing a kiss to each fingertip, the gentlest of promises whispered without using actual words to voice what she meant, and he understood. 

Matt cradled her cheek and guided her to kiss him, slow, sensual and passionate, a loving kiss shared between two people who had been without hope for so long and finally found their forever home in the aftermath of destruction. Their lives fell apart, but they got back on their feet and crawled back to each other. Broken and bruised they opened their arms and finally came home. They survived the war, they survived the worst of the worst, and now it was just them against the world - because if you survive what these two went through, there is nothing you can’t conquer with the person you love. 

He breathed her in like the air around them. “Let’s get the bill,” he said. 

Her eagerness barely surprised him. She nodded, “Okay.”

Matt tipped generously, using what little money he had left in his pocket to pay his thanks to the chef. He waved goodbye to Mrs. Chao and then they stepped outside again, the polluted New York air hitting them like a brick after spending so much time in one of the cleanest places in the city. 

A car honked, the motor howling as the exhaust spurted into the air. They shared a look. Eliza snorted, starting to laugh, and he soon joined in. 

Ice cream was on his schedule next. He promised to spoil her and he made true to that promise. He got a vanilla cone while she got chocolate and hand in hand the couple made their way down the darkened street of one of Hell’s Kitchen’s few parks. Only the faint buzzing of the street lights above them told him that they weren’t entirely lulled in darkness. 

“I love New York,” she said upon seeing the faintest outline of a star in the night sky. “No matter how dirty it is, the city owns my heart. And sometimes, if you look closely enough, you can see the world beyond it.”

He hummed in approval, switching her cone for his momentarily to taste and she did the same with his. It didn’t taste artificial like most vanilla flavors. She took another lick, enjoying how the cold felt on her heated tongue. 

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Do you want it?” he asked. 

“What?” she blinked innocently. “Oh, no. This is your ice cream. I wouldn’t want to…”

Of course, she wanted it. If she had known beforehand, she would have chosen vanilla too, not chocolate. 

He smiled. “Take it.”

“Thank you.”

She was so eager, the entire thing was gone in a matter of two minutes. He could only chuckle when she wiped her mouth with a tissue and moaned, “God, that was so good!”

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart.”

“Are you kidding me? This was amazing. Not just the ice cream,” she clarified, “But the entire night. It was perfect, Matt.” She stopped, pressing her lips to his stubbled cheek. “Thank you, so much.”

He slurped up what was left of the chocolate ice cream before discarding the cone into the trash. Tonight, he couldn’t stand the crunching. 

Taking her hand, he pulled her down the street with him. “We’re not done yet,” he said. 

“Wait, what? OH!” She squealed. 

Not the sprinklers.

It was that time of night when the remote sprinkler systems started wetting the grass to keep it nice and wet over the hot summer night. They turned on just as they started to walk by. Eliza tried to fight back, but Matt already had her pulled under the stream. She squealed again, louder this time, the cold water soaking her dress almost instantly, and her hair already started to stick to her forehead. Not to speak of the makeup running down her face. 

“You are an awful person!” But she laughed anyway. 

Another sprinkler turned on right next to her and aimed straight at her face. She ducked, running into Matt who simply pulled her into him.

“Look at us!” she said. “We’re getting soaked.”

“You said you don’t mind the rain with me,” he said. 

“Sprinklers don’t count as rain!”

“In my book, they do.”

“What kind of book are you reading? ‘Cause, we’re definitely not sharing the same one.”

He wiped his wet face underneath the glasses he somehow still hadn’t taken off. With a scoff, she pulled them off his face. He shook his hair out of his face, using the newfound freedom to clean his lashes off the excess water. It was of no use, the sprinklers just kept raining down on them. 

Once so ready to flee, Eliza kept her hands on his upper arms, staring into his endless brown eyes. The love and adoration she had for him were suffocating but in the best way possible. 

Matt’s lips found hers as if she had been lost his entire life and he finally found her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the sheer eternal connection. 

The lights along the path that went through the park met the streams of artificial rain in purple shades, hulling them in a lavender haze that grew around them like a castle. The curtain kept them hidden from the world, shining down on them in the same explosion of color shades as the Billboard outside his apartment would. Though it was just lavender this time, no other color was anywhere in sight. Purple through and through, just the two of them, together.

“Dance with me,” he breathed. 

She chuckled. “But there is no music.”

“We don’t need music to dance.”

“But that’s not the definition of dancing.”

“Would you shut your mouth?” He swallowed her next sounds with his mouth. “You’re so annoying,” he said between kisses, “You’re making me furious.” 

“Doesn’t feel like you’re furious,” she said.

“Oh, I am. But I’m also very happy right now.” 

He twirled her around her axis before pulling her back in. She giggled. His hands were hot on her clammy, wet skin. The silk stuck to her body like glue. Every time he turned her, the fabric slapped against her skin. 

At the last pirouette, she pulled against him. He stumbled and tumbled into her arms. Eliza used that to her advantage and kissed him with all she had to give, standing on her tiptoes and hugging him close to her. The sprinklers were still going strong, but she tuned them out.

The sight of Matt in lavender lighting was truly a beautiful one, much more beautiful than the enchanted forest they came out of.

“You wanna go home?” she asked.

He sighed against her warm lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

They barely made it through the door before his lips were on hers. He kicked the door closed with his foot, tossed the key into the bowl next to it, and used the other hand to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer. 

Her back hit the wall, his hand sufficing as a barricade from getting injured on the bricks. She raked her nails over his chest, up to his shoulders until his suit jacket slipped off and landed on the floor. His tie followed. 

He tried hard to stay in control, but her strength outmatched him, and when she pushed him, he followed. He fell back into the couch, legs spread wide as she seated herself on his lap, resuming her kisses along his neck before moving back to his swollen lips. 

Matt grabbed her face to have at least some say about where this was going and she let him shove his tongue down her throat. She tangled her hands in his brown air, searching for something to hold onto. In return, his hands slid from her thighs to her ass, giving a gentle squeeze, and moved on to her waist where he held her closer than ever. At the same time though, he tried to stop her from grinding on him too much - this was going to end way too soon with how worked up he was if she kept moving her hips so desperately against his. 

Her lips pressed gentle kisses to his cheeks and eyes, nothing like the fiery mouth-to-mouth kisses they previously shared. Eliza tried to regain some of the oxygen she lost; he was breathing just as heavily, eyes fluttering close at the soft touches she left on him. Her hands would stay imprinted forever, he thought. He could feel her everywhere at the same time. 

The continuous movement managed to ride her dress up enough to reveal the garter belt she wore on both sides and when his hands brushed the rubber, he growled. “What color is it?” he asked. 

His finger dug into the soft flesh of her thigh and she sighed, matching the sound of his voice with a soft moan, “Red,” she said. “Burgundy.”

“And the dress?” His hands traveled under the silky skirt, tracing over the lace underwear where it nestled perfectly between her ass cheeks and upon her waist. He let the band snap against her skin. “Is it red too?” 

She jolted. “Yes.”

“You thought about this when you bought it, didn’t you?”

Instead of answering right away, Eliza guided one of his hands to the bow that kept her dress wrapped around her body. It was a gift waiting to be unpacked. He choked on nothing but air, the broken moan that bubbled up in his throat swallowed by the flush of arousal that suffocated him from how red he had gotten. 

She leaned down against his ear. “Why else would I have bought it if not for you to fuck me in it?”

The rational center of his brain shut off. His hand gripped her ass cheek firmer, pulling her up until her legs wrapped around his waist and he hoisted her up into his arms. She giggled. Matt made his way into the bedroom, almost forgetting that the armchair stood in his path. He stepped aside just in time before they would have both fallen, which made her laugh even more. 

“I get the feeling you forget that you’re blind sometimes,” she said. 

“I know where my furniture stands,” he snapped. He was way too eager to be making jokes.

She giggled again. “I doubt that applies when you think about fucking me. Oh!”

He threw her on the bed. She bounced off the mattress slightly, his lips back on hers in no time as he covered her body with his. Her leg wrapped around his hip to push him further against where she needed him most. His hand traveled under her dress again, the other stroking rather lovingly through her messy hair while he kissed her with a different intensity. The heat from before was still there, but the flame seemed tamed now. Like he wanted to spend hours kissing her, feeling her with his fingers, and painting picture after picture in his mind. There was no rush, they had all the time in the world, and he wanted to use it. 

“Matthew,” she breathed against his lips, “Do you want to undress me?”

“If you’re ready for that,” he said. 

His eyes opened to point down at her. She traced his features with her index finger. “I want this,” said Eliza. “Even though it might be a bit more complicated now, I want to try. I want you. I’ve been thinking about nothing else for the past few days, wanting to feel you again. Not just in my mouth but inside of me, marking me, making me yours. I want this.”

Matt ground his teeth. “Fuck, sweetie! You are so good with your words, it’s insane.”

“Please, Matthew, help me take this dress off.”

He got up on his knees, allowing her to slip out underneath him and stand at the edge of the bed. He moved, sitting down right before her, hands on either side of her hips. She stood between his spread thighs, looking down at him with blown eyes and her lipstick smeared anywhere but her lips. He even had some stains on his white shirt, but neither of them cared enough to do something about it. 

Slowly, he pulled at the bow that held the burgundy silk together. It opened, leaving behind a small button to assure that she wouldn’t lose the dress if the belt ever failed to hold it up. He only flicked his fingers once before the fabric slipped open and off her shoulders, onto the floor. The cold air of the apartment had the hairs on her body standing up and she gasped at the feeling on her almost exposed nipples. She wanted to cross her arms over her body, suddenly so exposed and insecure about what he might think, but he left her no space to move. 

He started at her calves, feeling the smooth skin and missing hairs - which he didn’t really care about, but it felt nice nonetheless - then moved on her thighs. His fingers traced the garter belt that was attached to her underwear, playing with the rubber a few times before he continued to the pair of lace panties she hid under her dress all this time. He kissed her stomach, licking a long stripe over the scar she was so insecure about, kissing over her naval some more. 

She gasped, holding onto his hair. He played with her nerves one by one, surely driving her insane. A firm slap against her ass made her cry out, bucking her hips and therefore her stomach further into his mouth. He grunted greedily, sucking at her hip bone until he felt the blood pool under his tongue. 

Her hand flew his shoulder in an instant when he dipped his head between her legs and pressed a firm kiss to her covered cunt. The hand that was already tangled in his hair held on tighter. He licked over the silk covering her crotch, tasting her without even trying, and moaned against her clit. 

“Fuck.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that again,” he said. 

“But you haven’t even-” she had to pause to let out a soft moan, his lips attacking her core with newfound enthusiasm, making out with her folds, and the fabric between him and the most sensitive part of her managed to produce enough friction to make her feel the shocks of electricity in her lower stomach. The sensation was much weaker than before, but he knew what he was doing, and with every kiss to her clit, the scent of her arousal became clearer. “Fuck, you haven’t even touched the rest of me,” she finished her sentence. 

Matt hesitantly pulled away, attempting to look up at her through hooded eyes and full, black lashes. “I’m trying to pay some much-needed attention to my girl, would you let me do that?” His lips ghosted over the waistband of the panties. “Someone’s been a bit neglected in the past couple of days. I have to make up for that.”

He cupped her pussy.

With someone he didn’t just mean her, he meant what was sitting between her legs.

“Man, she must be aching to be touched.”

She was. Eliza was, and the rest of her too. She needed to be set on fire by his touch. It was necessary for her to feel human again. She wished she could make him see this, see her again, but she would only ruin things.

She almost completely lost it when his hands finally reached her aching nipples, the lace of the bra barely covering her breasts. The fabric was see-through, the band made out of red silk, and on top of the cups, two bows held the straps together. He wasted no time tugging at her nipples through the thin layer of silk, pulling her toward him before squeezing both breasts hard between his calloused hands. She chose the right fabric, indeed. 

“Fuck, you’re being so good to me,” Matt murmured into the skin of her abdomen, “and I’ve been nothing but selfish. Having you suck my dick almost every day, but I’ve never even touched you the way you deserve. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

Eliza pushed at his forehead to bring him back, staring into his eyes with a look of bewilderment in her own. “Matthew, that’s not true,” she said. 

“Yes, it is. I have to change that.” Reaching behind her, he searched for the bra clasp. “Good girls deserve to be rewarded.”

The piece of lingerie snapped open. She gasped at how easy he made it look. The bra fell off her shoulders and he discarded it into a random corner of the room. 

“As much as I like what you got for me, it’s in the way.”

And with that, the panties were detached from the garter belt as well and fell to the floor in soundless excitement.

“And you’re keeping that one.” He snapped the rubber again. “It’s so incredibly sexy, I just want you to wear that every day, even at work so I can snap it against your skin as I bend you over my desk and fuck you like the dirty little whore you are.”

He didn’t even give her time to step out of her panties before his head returned to its previous position between her legs. 

“Oh…” Eliza gasped at the hot contact. “God, fuck!”

He lapped at the folds of her cunt, parting them with his tongue as he always did. He licked a long stripe from her entrance to the top, then back down and up again until he finally reached her clit and wrapped his lips around the nerve endings. He sucked the bundle into his mouth, kissing and nibbling until it was swollen and red and she was breathless atop of him.

Keeping her upright with one arm around her hips, he kneaded at her upper thigh with the other. The tip of his tongue unsheathed her clit when he finally released it, drawing circles directly on the sensitive nub and she cried out again.

No matter how good it felt, her orgasm seemed worlds away. 

She bucked her hips into his mouth again. He sucked, the motion filling the room with an obscene slurping, and she realized he managed to get her wet with just a few kisses to her cunt already, but that was about it. Still, he didn’t stress, he kept doing exactly what he started with, and the repeated motion and attention to detail of his tongue had her legs shaking soon enough. The immense pleasure he pulled out of her made her wish she could be lying down instead. But perhaps he knew something that she didn’t about this particular position. She certainly didn’t know much about sex. She couldn’t judge.

Eliza cursed herself for thinking too much. “This might take a while,” she said. 

He chuckled, the vibrations sending a thrill down her spine. “And what’s so bad about that?” he asked. 

“I want to… fuck, I want to cum, but I can’t.”

“That’s okay.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t know if I can… If I can ever…”

“Yet.” 

His mouth was gone, suddenly, and then his back laid flat against the mattress, pulling her with him until her legs were on either side of his head and his hands rested on her ass fully. He gave the cheeks a gentle squeeze, feeling how her flesh jiggled with his ruthless grip.

“Let’s try this again,” he said, his breath hot against her wetness. “You’re going to show me exactly what it takes to make you cum and if I have to lie here for hours, I will gladly keep licking at your pussy until you do.”

She blushed so deeply, her cheeks resembled the red of her discarded dress. “Matthew,” she whined, “I can’t.”

He tugged at the garter belt. So that was why he wanted her to wear it. He wanted to have something to pull her like a dog on a leash.

Fuck. This shouldn’t have turned her on the way it did.

“This is the only way you can control what you need,” he explained. “The only position that allows you to experiment with your movements in a way that will make sure you cum first. I’m not stopping before that, even if the overstimulation kills me.”

He tugged at the rubber again. She moaned. “Matthew, I don’t know,” her voice bordered on a pathetic cry. “I don’t know if I can,” she said.

“You did it before, do it again. Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

“No, I don’t want you to… it’s uncomfortable.”

“For you?”

“No, for you.”

Matt’s chest rumbled as he laughed. “Sweetheart, I’m anything but uncomfortable, now stop fucking hovering and sit down.” He smacked her ass. She didn’t comply. “You’re not sitting,” he stated. 

“Isn’t that enough?” she asked, her voice quiet and throat tight from the pure embarrassment that came from the position. 

“If I have to move even just an inch to wrap my lips around your clit, you’re not sitting, you’re just kneeling over my head. Now stop being a brat,” he said, pulling her down on his lips with one harsh tug of her garter belt, “And make yourself cum on my tongue like the good girl I know you are. Use me.”

She kept herself steady with a hand in his hair, the only clinging onto the silk sheets for dear life as his tongue went to work and, even though she was more than shy about the whole thing, she started to move in time with his thrusts until his kisses met her cunt at the right angle.

“Right there?” he asked before she could say it.

With her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded. Her chest and cheeks already flushed hot red from the need coursing through her veins. He was in her blood stream now, so close yet so far away.

She ground her hips harder, feeling all of him. Eliza played with the intensity of her thrusts a little while Matt simply stayed there, body unmoving and doing the same motion with his tongue over and over again while she fucked herself on his face. His nose caught against her clit and she gasped again, losing all control over her limbs. 

He caught her thighs, helping her resume her movements in the same spot.

“More,” she choked out. “I need more.”

He nodded. “What exactly?”

“Just…”

He started to paint a precise picture over her clit, spelling his and her name before shoving his tongue into her hole. She twitched. 

“That! God, yes! Fuck, that’s it.”

She chased the high that started to settle into her bones with the eagerness of a mad woman. She could feel it, resting right where his nose and tongue worked wonders over her slick cunt, and her lower stomach got tied in all kinds of shapes, an explosion waiting to happen. She reached for her breasts, squeezing her sensitive nipples. 

His moan reverberated against her clit and he replaced her hand with both of his, rolling the sensitive nubs between his fingers the same way he started to suck on her clit, hearing the wetness of her walls as she clenched around nothing, her movements getting sloppier and more desperate, and he tugged a little harsher at her nipples. 

She forced his face closer by the hair. “Fuck, Matthew,” she moaned his name like a mantra.

How was he so good at that?

He groaned again when she pulled at his hair, his scalp burning from the harsh assault, but the pain shot right to his aching cock in his dress pants. His hips lifted, finding no relief, but the sounds she was making and the taste of her juices exploding on his tongue might as well just have been a hand stroking up and down his shaft. 

With another broken cry of his name, her legs locked around his head and he caught her by the throat before she could dive off the bed. Matt eagerly sucked at her pussy until she was quivering, the entirety of her juices landing in his mouth and he drank up everything she had to give. 

The wave crashed in hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. She forgot how good it felt to be the one to receive the pleasure, how it felt to cum in his mouth and be completely at his mercy. She forgot how good it felt to be so turned on, her body was in full control of her actions. The high was unlike anything she could feel with a recreational substance. 

She breathed deeply, walls spasming and her legs shaking.

More, her head screamed.

“Can I-“ she swallowed hard. His eyes fluttered open, a questioning look on his face while he lazily kept licking at her folds. “I want to go for another one,” she admitted quietly.

He grunted. “Please do,” he said.

If she kept this up, he would cum too and it was all he needed.

Her hips started to resume her movements, sloppier and weaker this time. He used the garter belts to move her in the way she showed him before.

“Fuck!” She quivered completely against him, his tongue merciless as it licked and thrust, wringing moan after moan from her chest.

At this point, she didn’t care, she rode his face at an intensity and speed, his beard was sure to leave a bloody burn on the inside of her thighs. But fuck did she need it. She had needed this for so long and finally having it, finally being able to cum after such a long time was heaven on earth. And at his hands she would gladly do it all over again.

She threw her entire body back, hands now resting on his thighs. He had planted his feet up on the mattress, allowing her more leverage. One hand searched for his belt, undoing it and reaching for his aching cock.

“No,” he moaned against her cunt, “Later.” The words came choked up and needy.

She whined, wanting to feel him come apart in her hands, but she was barely present. The orgasm built and built and built until it eventually set her world on fire the same way his vision burned.

“Matt, I’m…”

He squeezed her breast with one hand, the other rubbing her clit as he fucked her with his tongue.

“Uh-huh,” his voice vibrated through her inner walls.

Her legs locked around his head. The orgasm was more intense, more progressed than the first and she moaned so loud, her voice bounced off the walls and she was sure the nice lady next door fell out of her bed at the way she let out Matt’s name.

The entire building must have heard them by now and the thought turned her on so much, she came even harder, thighs locked around his head and hips bucking desperately and wildly as he helped her get down from her high.

Her lungs opened and Eliza could finally breathe again, still holding onto his hair. “Thank you,” she said.

The relief was short-lived.

Matt didn’t plan on stopping at two. She had asked for them, now it was his turn to ask for one of her orgasms, and if she didn’t say yes, he would take it anyway. She tried to pull her hips away, but in the wake of her orgasm, she was weaker than him. 

He flipped her onto her back, forcing her legs back into the mattress, and went back to sucking at her abused cunt with a low growl. Her back arched into him. “Matthew, please,” she whimpered, legs tightening around his head. He forced them apart, pushing them so deep into the mattress, it felt as if he split her in two. “I came,” she told him, “I promise! I can’t… God, fuck!”

“I know you did,” he said. “But I want you to give me another one. I want you to cum as hard as you can.”

She moved back on the mattress, trying to evade his stupidly skilled mouth, but he found his way back. He simply followed where she went. Keeping her legs spread like a fucking pro, she lost herself in the abyss of ecstasy, feeling the pressure building up inside of her like a crescendo. Whenever he sucked again, heat spread through her entire being. He alternated between thrusting his tongue inside of her and kissing at her folds, doing exactly what she showed him that she needed when she sat on his face.

She arched her back, lurched forward, then fell back into the sheets again. She wasn’t sure what to hold on to, but his hair wasn’t it. She managed to find a pillow somewhere, digging her nails into the silk and pulling at it so hard, she could feel it tear under her fingers. 

Soon enough, he plunged two fingers inside her tight walls. Her lips parted in a silent scream. The world around her exploded into stars and pits of endless fire. She saw white and black at the same time, pussy clenching around his fingers and gripping him like a vice. 

This was… different. As he kept massaging her g-spot and applying pressure to her clit every so often, the feeling that started to bubble up inside her was new. The pressure that spread through her lower half and even set her nipples on fire as she squeezed one of them in her hands was so intense, she felt as if she was a hand grenade about to explode in his hand.

“Think you can take another one?” he asked. 

She must have made a sound of approval. Her walls stretched with a delicious burn as he inserted a third finger into her pussy.

“God, yes!” She met his thrusts. “Yes, fuck, yes! Right there.”

“Here?” Matt’s eyes fluttered innocently as he curled all three of his fingers upwards. 

She squealed. “Yes!”

His thumb joined his tongue on his journey to stimulate every last nerve that sat in her clit, pulling the highest amount of pleasure out of her that was humanly possible. 

The blood rushed in her ears, her throat dried up and unable to make sounds with how deep he was, how good his mouth felt, and the sounds he made spurred the intense stone on to roll down the hill and crash into her with full force.

“Matthew, what are you doing to me?” She was crying, sobbing even, and her body convulsed with each perfect thrust of his fingers.

“Making you cum,” he stated.

He flicked her clit from side to side with his tongue, enveloping it with his lips again and making out with her cunt agonizingly slowly. He didn’t answer, he just continued at the same pace with the same intensity he started with. He didn’t rush, he played her like the keys of a keyboard, waiting for the notes to turn into a melody. Her voice already sounded like the cacophony of an angel’s choir. All he needed was the music to add to it. He wanted her screams. He wanted the sound of his name to be the only lyrics she would ever memorize, and for her to only respond to the touch of his fingers, no one else’s. 

Matt suspected she could do it if he took his time and tried hard enough, pushed the right buttons, and kept her on the edge for long enough, but he didn’t want to wait. He wanted to test his theory as soon as possible, and judging by how badly she was trying to steer off the almost painful pressure that had her clenching around him so hard, he thought his fingers would break, he almost had her right where he wanted her. 

“Are you getting close?” he rasped. “Are you gonna cum for me soon?”

She nodded feverishly, a tear making its way down her perky breasts and onto his mouth. He moaned at the taste. 

“Yes,” she choked out.

He lapped at where his fingers kept disappearing inside of her. “Don’t,” he told her. 

“What?”

“Not yet, sweetheart. Give me a minute.”

A minute was an overstatement, but her whine was sweet enough for him to consider edging her for longer. 

“No,” her tears multiplied with every thrust of his fingers, “Please, I need to… let me cum, please. I’m begging you! I can’t hold it. Matthew, fuck!” 

He dared to slightly bite down on her clit, not enough to seriously hurt her, but the pain instantly added to the pressure that was already hard enough to keep from bursting at the seams.

“Wait for it,” he instructed. 

The weight of the orgasm resting in her lower stomach grew to a painful extent and she was sure she would explode any second now, even without permission. Her hand found his hair, trying to push him away, but he stayed right between her legs, eating her out to get his fill, and he would get it soon enough. 

“Stop, please.”

It wasn’t their safeword, although he considered asking her if she wanted to stop. 

“God, fuck! You’re gonna make me… I can’t.”

Her words made no sense and he chuckled again, feeling the desperation seep out of her pores. Perhaps he wasn’t just a masochist but a sadist as well. 

“Oh, you can,” he purred.

“No, I really can’t. Fuck!” She cried again. She was best at that. “Don’t stop,” she couldn’t help herself. It hurt but was so damn good at the same time. “Don’t fucking- oh, no.”

He chuckled again. “Oh, yes. You’re doing so well, baby. Just a little more.” He sucked her clit between his teeth and released it again, his fingers curling one last time before he pulled them out, “Do me a favor and cum, now.”

Eliza slapped the pillow against her face because she was sure if she didn’t, she would scream. What was about to happen felt embarrassing enough. 

She had read about it before and she knew that the female body was capable of so many things, especially when it came to sex, but she never thought she would be one of those women. She never thought she could be so stimulated and turned on to the point her orgasm would tear her body apart, shake her world and exorcize her soul so that all her body could do was release all the pent-up stress she had by releasing an obscene amount of wetness while her cunt clenched around pure pleasure for dear life. 

She was sure she passed out for a moment there, her muscles locking up with the explosion of dopamine and oxytocin, and her eyes rolled back to the point she could have sworn she saw her brain being tossed into the mixer, shredded into pieces at full speed. 

His head got caught between her thighs as they shut around him, but instead of pulling away, he dove in to catch all she gave him. He swallowed every last drop as if he hadn’t eaten or drunk in months. 

His thumb kept rubbing her pulsating clit gently until her lungs filled with air again and she regained consciousness. The pillow slipped from her hands and back onto the bed. Her chest heaved. She must have looked so pretty in the luminescence of the Billboard.

His forehead leaned against her mound, breathing in the sweet scent of her arousal and listening to the wetness trickle out of her cunt with every twitch of her inner walls. Every muscle in her body was riddled with heavy aftershocks, but the soft caress he left along her thighs and hips eventually eased the wave and brought awareness back to her body. 

She swallowed. The mess between her legs was more than palpable. 

“Damn,” Matt murmured with a chuckle that bordered on proud and cheeky, “I knew it.”

“Oh, God,” Eliza gnawed on her bottom lip, her voice hoarse and higher than usual. 

“God isn’t here tonight, sweetheart, but I know that this must have been a heavenly experience.”

“Did I… I just… fuck, Matthew!”

“Oh, yeah, you did.” He pressed a kiss to the hickey he had left on her hip bone. “And it was so good, I’ll probably smell and taste you for weeks now.”

“What about the sheets?” she wondered. “Fuck.” The blush crept back to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think-”

He was back up and hovering over her in seconds, shushing her with his lips on hers. “Don’t apologize,” he said. 

“No, I am.” Eliza disappeared into a ball of shame behind her hands. She tried to close her legs to get rid of the cold, sticky feeling that had her shivering, but his large figure between her thighs made it impossible to move further than his hips. 

“Did it feel good?”

She nodded. 

“Then why the fuck would you apologize?”

The lower part of his face glistened wetly in the soft purple light that came in through the bedroom window. It was ironic to see him enveloped in the same shade they had just danced in, though this time it wasn’t the sprinklers that had him all wet, it was her. Peaking through her fingers, she looked at him. He had never looked happier with his hair disheveled, lips swollen, cheeks red, and face covered in her cum. And he had also never looked better. He smirked, feeling her gaze on him, and the wave of arousal that hit his nose was a new one.

Her eyes slipped lower, hovering over his crotch. The black of his dress pants was damp where his cock rested, only half-hard now and less aching. She reached for him and he dropped his head in the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath. The rough fabric mixed with the sound of her moans and the taste of her all over his tongue had been enough to make him come apart in seconds. She hadn’t even finished before he did, but he got her there in the end.

“That was enough for you?” she asked him. Her fingers met the tip of his clothed cock, playing with the cum that had soaked into his pants. Sucking her now glistening thumb between her lips, she sighed at the familiar taste. 

He answered without a word, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. Her hands grew desperate again. She fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and his belt buckle, but they wouldn’t open. 

Only one flick of his fingers and the leather of his belt loosened. “Easy tiger,” he mused. She pulled it out with the most adorable pout, joining her bra on the floor. “Haven’t you had enough yet?”

She pulled at his hair, beyond frustrated. “Shut up and get naked!”

“Alright, if you insist.”

Matt rolled off of her, standing in all his glory at the foot of the bed. She sat up on her elbows, watching him undress slowly enough she could tell he did it on purpose. But God, did she enjoy the show. 

He stepped out of his pants first, discarding them with the rest of their clothing, followed by his shoes. he was left in his boxers and sweat-stained dress shirt. She bit her lip. He didn’t move for a good thirty seconds and she wondered if he changed his mind. Just as she was about to open the buttons for him, cunt aching with the need for his cock, he tore the shirt open with his bare hands and absolutely no regard for his shirt. 

Her breath got caught in her throat. The scars that adorned his chest shone almost silver in the purple atmosphere that filled the room, reflecting off his eyes and his teeth, making him seem like a fairy, almost. He was an angel, something only to be found in fairytales - he was a rarity, something not many could have, but she did. Eliza had him and the show he put on was for her alone. Only she was allowed to see him at his most vulnerable and touch him so sensually. 

At that moment, he could have done anything to her and she would have followed. He owned her. 

“Fuck me,” she growled. “Tear your clothes off more often, I dare you.”

Matt snorted. “I wouldn’t have anything left to wear,” he said.

“Exactly.”

She sat up on her knees, the bed creaking under her weight. He grabbed her face softly and pulled her lips against his. She moaned into the kiss. His hands stroked over the scars on her back as she traced the ones on his. It was almost innocent, the way they touched each other. 

Her hands disappeared beneath the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down, too. He was naked now, just like her, and she could only stare in awe at the fully hard size of his length. 

“Fuck,” she growled in the back of her throat, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Says you,” he replied, kissing her again, pouring his entire soul into the way he held her against him, heartbeats soon beating in the same rhythm and bodies yearning for each other.

She kissed the weeping tip of his cock, licking a long stripe up the base of him. His hand tangled in her hair and he sighed, the feeling all too familiar. But this wasn’t his plan for tonight.

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he told her. “Tonight is about you.”

“But,” she began.

“No, I mean it. No blowjobs today.”

She pouted and it was truly adorable.

Matt pushed her onto her back, slotting himself between her thighs again. His cock rested against her stomach as he continued making out with her, not rushing anything, just feeling her up and down with his mouth and hands alone.

Finally, after what felt like a billion light years, he grabbed her leg to hook it around his waist. 

“Lift your hips for me, my love,” he said.

He slid a pillow under her lower back, positioned the head of his cock against her entrance, and then leaned down to her again, pressing his nose tightly against hers. 

She pulled him down, breaking the distance. As her lips collided with him, he thrust forward and buried his cock inside of her to the hilt in just one swift motion. Her mouth dropped open, passing the softest moan, and he forced his tongue into her mouth in the process, exploring the warmth that consumed her in more ways than one. 

He didn’t move, he stayed for a moment, reveling in his right she was around him. Every time he was inside of her, she hugged him just right. It was a feeling he could never tire of. His cock felt at home buried between her folds, swallowed and claimed by her every time he fucked her, able to pull orgasm after orgasm out of that beautiful person and render her mindless. Her pleasure belonged to him, as did she. The necklace around her neck proved it. He hadn’t bought it because he owned her but because he knew her better than anyone and loved her more than anything and he knew that she had an Affiliation for such small gifts with a lot of thought behind them.

But he also bought it because he, indeed, owned her and everyone could know that. The same way they would see the hickeys and know she was taken. 

“Matthew,” she moaned his name right into his ear, sending his already hypnotized senses into overdrive. “Look at me,” she said. “And fuck me, please. I need you. I need you to move.”

His hand fisted the sheets above her head. His reserves crumbled. He grabbed the leg that he had thrown over his hip and held it close against him as he started to thrust his cock into the tight confines of her pussy. What started as slow strokes soon enough turned into vigorous movements of his pelvis as he drove home into her most sensitive spot, tickling all the sweet, lewd sounds out of her. They spilled from her lips like wine and he drank them up, sucking them into his mouth and stealing her breath away.

His thrusts came hard and deep. Her heart echoed in his ears. He focused on how she clenched around him, how her nails raked down his back and were sure to draw blood. She bit into his shoulder to keep herself from screaming and he grunted, changing the angle so that he could hit even deeper and feel even more of her, her leg now almost over his shoulder, the other flat against the mattress.

“God,” her head thrashed wildly as she clenched down on him, “You feel so fucking good. Fuck!”

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to drown in her, become one and never wake up again. 

In her delirious state, the words she uttered and the sounds she made were senseless. “More,” she breathed. “Feels so good. Please, Matthew. Harder.”

“Yeah?” He stroked her hair back. “You feel so fucking good too. I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk.”

She looked into his eyes when she moaned this time, he could feel the full extent of her pleasure coursing through his veins at the same speed. 

“Is that what you want, baby? For me to fuck you until your legs are shaking and you’re ruined with my cum buried deep inside you?”

“Yes!” She met his thrust. “Fuck, yes! Please.”

Matt kissed her, deep and passionately. “You were made for me.”

Her legs tightened around his waist, heels digging into the curve of his ass, and one of her hands joined to claw at the cheek. 

But she was still not close enough.

“Turn around,” he said. “Need to be deeper. Need you to take my cock deeper like a good girl. Need you to swallow me whole, baby.”

She whined at the loss of him, but followed his instructions nonetheless. He repositioned the pillow so it rested under her stomach now, tilting her hips enough to make her comfortable and for him to dive as deep as he humanly could. He sank back into her smoothly, her walls tighter now, and she could feel every vein of his cock the same way he could feel the exact texture of the velvety walls of her pussy clenching around him. 

“That’s it. Fuck! You’re so tight.“

The sound she let out bordered on a gurgled scream, one hand reaching behind her to cradle his head. He buried his nose in her neck with every thrust, holding her hips in place by locking an arm around her. That way, he could even press down on her lower stomach, and that was enough to finally get the scream of his name to fill the bedroom. 

He reveled in the sound of the echo, the clear arousal, desperation, and mindlessness of her voice, and the way she said his name. The volume was rather tame for a scream, but the octave was high and uncontrolled. Her hips rocked back into him and he hit her g-spot just right every time he brought his hips forward to plunge his cock completely into her again.

There would be blood on him the next day from how hard she scratched him, but he got off on the pain. He wanted her to dig harder, if that was even possible, pull just a little more on the strands of his hair and bite down on his forearm. 

He sunk his teeth into her shoulder. She keened, cunt clenching around his cock as the wave of her orgasm became this close to crashing in on her.

“Matthew, please,” her voice was raspy, “I’m so close.”

“I know,” he said. “I know, baby, me too. You just gotta hold on a little more, yeah?”

“Fuck!”

“Can you be a good girl for me and wait until I tell you to cum?”

Thrashing her head around, she still managed to nod. “Yes.”

Anything for him.

The straight position started to grow uncomfortable, so she tried to angle her leg a bit further up. Matt caught her. For a second, she feared he might punish her for trying to change position, but instead of scolding her, he helped her bend her knee enough so she could have some leverage and he held her that way with each of his thrusts, using the newfound space to circle his fingers around her aching clit. Eliza shivered, goosebumps following where his lips brushed her neck and her nipples kept rubbing against the silk sheets.

He could feel his cock disappearing inside of her while he rubbed at the sensitive bundle of nerves. He felt how perfectly he fit and right where he split her open. 

The temptation was stronger than his common sense. 

She bit down on his arm when he decided to plunge a finger into her tight, already abused hole at the same time his cock stretched her out. She was full beyond anything she had deemed possible before. He was everywhere and there was no space for her to move. She could clench, but there was no way she could get any tighter than that, and the wetness only did so much to keep the burning at bay. 

The added size made her cry out, though instead of causing indescribable pain, it turned her on even more. The orgasm knocked on her door, ready to crash in. 

She gasped, “Please, Matthew, can I- fuck! Can I cum?” she asked. “I’m so close, please.”

He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this going, so he nodded breathlessly, giving her permission to, “Let go for me.” And with the way he kept thrusting into her with both his cock and one of his fingers, his thumb still rubbing her clit and his moans filling her ears like the most beautiful symphony, she came fast and screaming for him, face smushed into the pillows and body shaking.

Matt’s finger slipped from her cunt. He grabbed at her ass, pulling her against him. The flesh jiggled and he couldn’t help but bring his palm down on the tender flesh. Again, again, again, and again. The sounds she made bordered on broken sobs. Her nipples rubbed against the silk sheets as his thrusts grew more vigorous, and the stimulation to the sensitive nubs on her chest had her clenching around him again in no time. 

She reached back to grab his ass, holding him so deep inside of her, his tip rested against her cervix. “God, Matt, fuck!” He had her in a metaphorical chokehold, her body only responding to the pleasure he gave her and it was enough to have her bordering on the edge of climax.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said. “Cum again for me.” He forcefully pulled her hips flush against his, cock resting at the right angle that it pushed all the way down on her g-spot and she came again with a loud cry of his name and her legs shaking harder than the world she was in. 

His thrusts grew sloppy, and he followed only shortly behind with his release. With his hips glued to hers, his cock twitched and he came, cum spurting into her pussy, and he stayed right where he was, wanting to feel every last convulsion of her walls around him.

He panted heavily into her ear, “Good job,” he said. “You took me so well. All of me. I’m so proud of you, baby. I love you so much.”

When he pulled out, he could hear his cum dripping out of her hole, down her clit, and her thighs. She jolted against the cold air. He stroked over her ass cheeks again, collecting his cum and shoving it back inside of her.

“Don’t want to waste anything,” he told her.

She whimpered, though she let him overstimulate her and stuff her to the brim with his seed. Only like this could she feel complete. It was obscene and sinful but God, she loved walking around with his cum as a sign of being marked more than anything. A dirty fantasy she carried around with her all hours of the day. She needed him so badly, no matter where she was or what she did. It was almost as if she was addicted to him and all the acts of service he could provide in and out of the bedroom.

Her cunt spasmed, his cum leaking again. He sighed at the sound and the scent of them both mixed into a cocktail.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste us together.”

His tongue swiped over her lower back first, then her ass cheeks.

“Can I just…” He stopped just above her folds. “Give me another one,” it wasn’t a question anymore. “Just one more, sweetheart. One more orgasm and we’re done. I just want to taste you so badly.”

That he wasn’t completely exhausted yet surprised her, but that man was known for his high stamina and pain tolerance. Overstimulation was nothing new to him and he seemingly enjoyed eating her pussy until she was shaking.

She was useless, she couldn’t fight back, not even when his tongue met her folds. He licked a long stripe over where the aftermath of their orgasms mixed. The taste was phenomenal. He shoved his tongue inside of her, hazy and high. She had a safe word, but she enjoyed this as much as he did, so she let it happen.

She met the feverish thrusts of his tongue, keeping her thighs spread with his veiny hands. He fucked her deliciously, her clit brushing the pillow underneath with every gentle smack to her ass. 

It wasn’t long before the knot of pleasure tightened in a painful twist, her cunt pulsating with the release and her muscles too weak to wait for him to tell her.

“Matt-“

“I know.”

She came on his tongue for the third time that night, coating his face in both her arousal and what was left of his cum, which he hadn’t lapped up yet. He took it eagerly, cleaning her up with desperate moans and whimpers, grunting every so often when his tongue picked up traces of her sweat and tears in the mix.

One last smack and he was gone, finally yet, unfortunately. She panted into the sheets, gone into a world where time and space didn’t exist. She was just floating around in gray matter. 

A large hand stroked up her heated back until it reached her neck, gently brushing the hair away before Matt kissed her shoulders. He worked on the tense muscles, using his fingers for something other than pleasure this time as he tried to coax her back to life.

The rubber of the garter belts he left on started to burn. She lifted her hips. “Matty, take them off,” she whispered. “Get them off, please.”

He nodded, slipping them down her legs and off. “There you go. I’m sorry,” he returned to whispering gentle praises into her ear, “You did so well for me.”

She relaxed slowly. The thudding of her heart in her ears moved into the distance and the earth came to a halt. She stopped spinning around her axis, the air in her lungs returning to where it was supposed to be. While her limbs kept shaking and her clit pulsated with every breath she took, she slowly started to come back to herself, and the haze of pleasure turned more into a state of relief than submission. 

After a while, she turned her head to the other side. Matt lay on his side, finger carding through her hair absentmindedly. The glaze over his eyes told her all she needed to know. He was just as done and thoroughly fucked out as she was. The silence managed to slow their heart rates back to a healthy speed. 

He smiled when he felt her eyes on him and she smiled back, tired but alright. “Hi,” she murmured. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For doing this.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. He told her once before she didn’t have to thank him for doing nice things or even having sex with her, to begin with, but she told him she wouldn’t stop, so he had to accept it. 

She would eventually start accepting this as a regular occasion and orgasms would no longer feel like a rarity she had to thank him for but rather like something she had every right to. 

Rubbing his thumb over the bridge of her nose, the one button he could press to instantly calm her down, Matt asked, “Do you need anything?”

But Eliza only shook her head. “Just stay with me like this,” she said. 

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And then I need a shower.”

She smacked her lips. 

“How about I get you some water first?” he suggested. “And then we can rest for a bit.”

The bottle next to the bed was empty, he had to get up to get a new one. 

She gave him an incredulous look but gave in eventually when her throat started to hurt from the dehydration. She nodded, letting go of his arm so he could move into the kitchen and retrieve two fresh bottles from the fridge. 

She took it gratefully, downing the entire thing in one gulp. 

She didn’t care that she was covered in cum, spit, tears, and smudged makeup. All she cared about was lying in his arms for a few minutes and forgetting the world existed, which it didn’t have with him around. Their sex bubble was her favorite place to be and she had missed it, even though it had been just a week. A week without sex with a man like Matt was an arduous task, especially for an addict. Eliza was down so bad, she missed having an actual sex drive to have sex with him. She hadn’t been horny and she still missed sex with him. He had that much power over her. He taught her what pleasure truly meant and she couldn’t get enough of it. 

With her back pressed to his chest and his arm around her shoulder, they lay there for a while. She played with his fingers, releasing the tension in them by cracking his knuckles. In return, he ran his hand over the knee, calf, and upper thigh that she had placed over his leg, feet planted on the mattress. He enjoyed the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips. 

The room smelled of them, of sex and love and her perfume that lingered on the dress, as well as the water from the sprinklers they had danced through. 

She loved him more than anything, and she would gladly risk getting cold again and again for a chance to be so carefree with him. And the sex was a nice way to end the night indeed. 

But it wasn’t quite over yet. Matt’s eyes fluttered open suddenly, his head tilting toward the window. Eliza looked at him, worry etched in her features. She knew that look. He had heard sometimes and continued to listen. It must be serious, she thought. He usually tried to pry himself away and focus on her, but not even the hand on her heart grounded him this time. 

She touched his bicep. “What’s wrong?” she asked, the sheets slipping from her body slightly as she sat up. 

Matt jumped out of bed, back into his boxers, and stalked toward the window. He tilted his head again, hand placed on the wall and his ear close to the shut window. She watched his eyes twitch every time he heard something new, the source of the noise finally in his reach. His knuckles turned white from how hard he grabbed onto the stonewall. 

She threw the covers off her body with a prolonged sigh, slipped into his ruined dress shirt, and walked out of the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with his suit in hand. 

Matt only returned half of his attention to her when she shoved the leather into his hand. “Go,” she said, the faintest of smiles on her face. 

And she meant it. She wasn’t mad or upset with him for wanting to choose Daredevil as if it was the primal need of a werewolf to change during a full moon. He hesitated, fighting with himself. The woman he loved was half-naked in his bed, they’d just had sex and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in her arms. 

But the city needed him. The women at the docks screaming for help before being carted away as means to make money needed him. They reminded her so much of what happened to her and the kids at the White Room, he couldn’t ignore this nagging feeling of the need to jump in and beat these disgusting creatures who took them senseless, enforce at least some justice and drop them mindless before the police station. 

Hell’s Kitchen needed Daredevil. He had to come out of hibernation, and she offered that escape to him. He didn’t have to feel guilty, she wanted him to. She wanted him to be who he needed to be because she chose him, both of them, Daredevil and Matt Murdock, the lawyer by day and vigilante by night, and the occasional devil in the sheets. 

It was Daredevil who saved her life all those weeks ago, after all.

She shook the hand that held his suit. “Go,” she repeated her previous word. “Put the suit on, Matt, and go. It’s okay,” she said. 

He made his decision. He took the leather, ignoring how much bleach it reeked, and pressed a loving kiss to her lips, holding her chin in place. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. And he added, louder this time, “I love you so much.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, nodding in the direction of the staircase to the roof. “Get your cute butt into that suit and save your city.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Right before he could leave though, she put a hand on his arm, the knowing and proud smile mixing what that of worry. She kissed him again, softly, carefully, not wanting him to break. 

“Be careful out there,” she said, “and come back to me in one piece.”

“I will,” he reassured her with a gentle tap on her nose. 

She tapped his back and retorted, “Good.”

“Get some sleep.” Pecking her lips, which proved to her that he was still hesitant to leave, he put the cowl on. The red eyes of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen stared down at her and she had never felt more proud of him for overcoming his fear. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

She slapped his ass on his way up. “Okay.”

“I will note that and get you back.”

“Oh, please do.”

“Don’t start this now, sweetheart, or you won’t get any sleep tonight.”

The couch cushion she threw after him hit the door right as he closed it. His laugh rang out from the other side and she shook her head, trying to look serious, but she failed miserably. 

In the breeze of the wind, he was gone and she was left alone in his dark apartment, slightly anxious and hoping he would come back to her with all his limbs still intact. But this was Matt Murdock. If anything his father taught him it was how to take a punch, and he swore to always come back to her, no matter the circumstances, so she went to bed anyway, praying to a God she didn’t believe him to bring her devil back home to her in one piece.

And he would, in time, because Matt would always get back up when he was beaten down. Always.

[jinkicake]

BIG MOOD PATHETIC SCARAMOUCHE IS SO FUNNY HES RLY THE LITTLE MEOW MEOW😭 need him to be absolutely obsessed w me but he’s too embarrassed that he wants to hold my hand so he pretends to hate me and im like “ that’s mice sweetheart what di you want for dinner?” Saw someone make a dc where you ignore him for like 5 days and he’s on his knees begging like “PLEASE LOOK AT ME” like thats so real to me😭😭 bc once you’ve given him affection he’s gunna do everything to keep it within his grasp😔 ALSO HE DEF WOULD TIE YOU UP AND LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN💀 childe and singora are so casual about it😭 when he comes back they talk like you’re not even there “how long have they been here?” “I lost count after the fourth hour” “ they’re still conscious I’m impressed” like he’s such an asshole but he will do the 🥺🥺👉🏼👈🏼”can I have a hug” afterwards💀 love that for him. Keeps him in my pocket like a little purse dog, he’s my guard dog boyfriend bc he will kill first and ask questions later. “ I don’t like how he looked at you” “he’s the waiter” AND YOOOO DONT EVEN LET DOTTORE UGLY ASS COME CLOSE TO YOU ITS OVER FR-don’t like his new design he’s just a creep like I was the “clones” back the short haired funny scientist dude like I like them unhinged in a clown way!! He’s fuckable, the abusive leather daddy dom on the other hand😒 like he’s fun if he has a tired annoyed uncle personally like he lives to bully childe. But just going around threatening scaramouche and collei bc I forgot he did experiments on her too in the manga is musty like that mask is lame!! WHERE IS THE CLOWN KING😡- he would reflexively go for his throat like he opens his mouth and suddenly his throat is slit “ my bad I got anxious” SGDHSHS UNDERSTANDABLE😭😭😭 and the streets is saying he’s gunna have a claymore??? BE SERIOUS HES A SCIENTISTS TWINK WHOS HUNCHED IVER IN A LAB ALL DAY HE CANT CARY THAT SHIT?? Like he only experiments on KIDS bc he could never kidnap a whole adult like imagine he tries to get itto?? HIS ASS WOULD BE DEAD IN 10 SECONDS!! HE CANNOT FIGHT DELUSION OR NOT!! I would beat his ASS like if you don’t get your ass out my face looking like an X-ray 😒 like be bothering all them people bc he wants so ass he weights 70 pounds soaking wet so he needs to borrow childes body weight

no exACTLY. listen, i love mean!scaramouche as much as the next person but if he's not obsessed then i dont want him. pathetic!scaramouche is the best scaramouche

i saw this scaralumi fanart of him drunk at a bar and diluc calls lumine to calm scara down and when she answers hes like 'hey ugly' and she hangs up and he starts crying again and ugh it's too perfect like that artist captured his best side with that simple fanart heheh

HAHAH yeah scaramouche is the worst bc he would do something so mean to you like ignore you while working but the second he finds out youre mad at him he'll be begging for your attention like he didn't just starve you for two days.... hes a great yandere me thinks-

Scaramouche = purse dog is the best comparison ive ever read T T

okay hear me out... i can forgive all the heinous crimes dottore has committed but i draw the line at him being UGLY. Maybe if he were cuter I would also be obsessed w him but he's so..... eh- LOL i like the clones better than him! (rip to the clones :-(() but also.... him being ugly is kinda the appeal? am i right??? i can never make up my mind-

dottore is supposed to have a CLAYMORE?! WHAT THE HLLL,,,im very confused about his leaks bc i heard that the shit company can't let characters be playable if theyre evil and tbh i dont want him to be redeemed bc he literally cant be redeemed and hes fun as a psycho like??? idk idk idk im just focused on sexy yelan in 3.4 she will be mine!

also isn't dottore one of the top three strongest in the fatui??? right i think....? i seriously dont know how but tbh i dont care! i just focus on mr hottie soooooooooooo sexy capitano teehee

[lacontroller1991]

QAAAAAHFUEGHI9RHGIRHEIDIOTRIOFIOJREIEF P0LFNEGIREIOEWIFOW I DIED HOW DARE YOU (thank you)

FIRST:

Friday came quickly and Lawrence found himself standing on Robert's door step with a bottle of wine in hand.

Lawrence bringing a bottle of wine is so precious. Even though it's such a normal thing to bring a glass of wine to a housewarming party, it's so out of place for a threesome XD but I loved it all the same.

SECOND:

Your face lit up when you saw Lawrence, but his stomach dropped when he saw you. "Dr. Lawrence!" you say excitedly, coming over to both men. Lawrence stares down at you with his mouth slightly agape.

Lawrence being double as dubious as before when he sees reader as if fucking another man's mistress wasn't already questionable enough is sending me reeling.

THIRD:

Lawrence slides his chair back to make space in front of the table, then drops to his knees in front of you. He's staring directly at your clothed cunt and he can practically smell your desire from there. "What are you doing, Lawrence?" Robert asks. Lawrence looks over at him and expects him to be angry, but he is smirking. "You're not going to fuck my woman on the dinner table. You'll take her to the bedroom like a gentleman."

Lawrence was SO READY to take reader right there on the table shows just how PLIABLE he really is and that's SO HOT. That and Robert taking control is just so 😩😩😩😩😩

FOURTH:

Lawrence hesitantly puts his hands on your waist and Robert grabs your hips from behind. Both of them explore your body with your hands, and when they touch, Lawrence gasps.

THE HAND TOUCH????? TOP TIER

FIFTH:

"He's so easy, Daddy," you giggle. Robert wraps his arms around your waist and presses his chest against your back. "It's been a while for him, honey. Don't be mean." Lawrence's cheeks are a delicious pink and it makes you want to tease him even more.

Robert and Reader teasing Lawrence is the best, because anytime a person is bashful and the other person (or two in this case) are teasing is literally the best.

SIXTH:

Robert moves from behind you to stand next to Lawrence. He gently places his hand on the taller man's hip and leans close. You watch eagerly as Robert reaches up to press his lips to Lawrence's. Lawrence is stiff, but he's not rejecting the kiss. He's pliant for Robert, allowing him to take control.

DECEASED. I LOVE SUB LAWRENCE AND DOM ROBERT and with their size difference it makes it all the better.

SEVENTH:

His hands grip your thighs as he buries his face deeper into you, making his glasses dig into your skin.

Idk if you knew this or not, but Ernest wearing his glasses is my ABSOLUTE WEAKNESS.

EIGHTH:

Lawrence whines at the tug on his roots. It's an accident, an entirely involuntary reaction and one you will file away for later.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HIS WHIMPER??? HAIR TUGGING???? FUCK ME

NINTH:

"Spank her, Ernie. Makes her even tighter," Robert says. "Can't get much tighter," he says, breathless. He brings his hand back and delivers a slap to your outer thigh. You choke on a cry and like Robert said you would, you got tighter. "Shit." "Her cunt feel good?" Robert asks. He knows how hot it makes you when he talks about you like you're not there. "So fucking good." "You like sticking your dick in students, Doctor?" Lawrence moans low and long. He drapes himself over your back to rut into you with a newfound desperation. "You're never going to look at her the same."

THIS SENT ME TO THE MOON AND MARS AND JUPITER AND SATURN AND URANUS AND NEPTUNE AND BACK LIKE HOLY FUCKING HELL THIS PART IS JUST TOO GOOD from the "Spank her Ernie" and the "He drapes himself over your back to rut into you with a newfound desperation" has me on the floor in a puddle. 🫠

TENTH:

"You better pull out," Robert says, still forcing you down on his cock. "You wouldn't want to knock her up, would you?"

OH THE IRONY OF 'you wouldn't want to knock her up'. ALSO ROBERT BEING THE BOSS IS 10/10

ELEVENTH:

Robert reaches over to the night stand and takes a cigarette out of his case and lights it. He takes a long, slow drag of it before speaking.

"See you on Monday, Doctor."

Lawrence smiles sheepishly and walks out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

I love love love love cheeky Robert and bashful Lawrence because it just works SO well.

ANYWHO THIS WAS A MASTERPIECE AND I DEFINITELY WILL BE RE-READING THIS AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN

The Doctor is In

Kinktober Day 11- Threesome

warnings: AFAB!Reader, student/teacher relationship, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, snowballing, dirty talk, smoking, alcohol consumption, robert x lawrence, 18+ minors DNI

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When Lawrence confided in Robert about his recent dry spell, he was never expecting this to come from that conversation. Robert had told him he has a mistress, one Robert is certain his wife knows about but has yet to confront him about. She's young, pretty, bright, and has an interest in physics- or at least is attracted enough to Robert to pretend to care about his ramblings.

Lawrence was skeptical. He doesn't know many men who are eager to share their woman, but Robert has never been like most men. Maybe it's a kink for him to have another man fuck his mistress. Robert was open about what the two of you get up to, and it's safe to say that neither of you are very reserved in the bedroom.

After thinking about the offer for a day or two, Lawrence agreed. Robert already had a time and place in mind. Seven o'clock on Friday at his house for dinner. His wife would be away with the kids until Sunday, giving them the perfect opportunity to explore.

Friday came quickly and Lawrence found himself standing on Robert's door step with a bottle of wine in hand. Robert came to the door and greeted Lawrence with a smile, then lead him into the kitchen. Once there, he saw your behind bent over in front of the oven.

You take the chicken out of the oven and place it on top of the stove. Lawrence thought it was a bit odd to have a mistress cook in the wife's kitchen, but he supposed you and Robert were playing house for the weekend.

You turn around and saw both men standing at the kitchen table. Your face lit up when you saw Lawrence, but his stomach dropped when he saw you.

"Dr. Lawrence!" you say excitedly, coming over to both men. Lawrence stares down at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"You two know each other?" Robert asks.

"Oh, yes, he's one of my professors," you grin. "When you said you had a friend from work joining us, I was afraid it was gonna be one of those weird old guys."

Lawrence snaps out of his shock and looks over at Robert. "I didn't know your..." he feels it's inappropriate to call you a mistress to your face, "was a student."

"I didn't think it mattered," Robert counters.

"Please come sit, I made chicken," you say, drawing both men's attention.

Robert sits down at the head of the table with Lawrence to his right, leaving the seat to his left for you. The table is already set neatly and you bring over the tray with the chicken on it. The meat is steaming and the herbs are fragrant. There's mashed potatoes, a salad, and enough wine to leave the three of you drunk.

You make polite conversation over dinner, and Lawrence can't help but find it a bit humorous that you're making a date out of an arranged hookup. He is enjoying himself, though, so he can't complain too much.

The conversation revolves around work, and each time you speak, Lawrence is reminded that you're his student. His kind, polite, curious student who always brings him an apple and sits in the first row. You are a brilliant student and your work is always impressive. He never thought you would be the type to get mixed up in an extramarital affair with Dr. Oppenheimer, but Lawrence supposes he doesn't really know the true you.

Your food is delicious, the best Lawrence has had in a while. He thinks to himself that you would make a good wife, then chastises himself for thinking that way about a student.

"What's the matter, Lawrence?" Robert asks, breaking Lawrence's train of thought.

Lawrence looks between the two of you. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little nervous," he says. There's a blush rising to his cheeks and he feels shy under your attention.

"Don't be nervous, Doctor. We'll take good care of you," you smile reassuringly.

You reach over and grab his hand. Your fingers are delicate and your hand is small compared to his. His heart races and he suddenly has the urge for more wine.

"I suppose since we're on the topic, we should discuss how the rest of the night is going to go," Robert says.

"That's a good idea," Lawrence agrees.

"To get the awkward question out of the way," Robert starts, as if this won't all be awkward. "Do you fuck men?"

Luckily Lawrence's mouth was clear of food because it would have been lodged in his airway after hearing the question. Lawrence clears his throat and looks between you and Robert.

"I... haven't."

"Are you interested?"

"In you?" Robert nods. "I don't know... I haven't really thought of it."

"We'll start off slow, then."

Lawrence's head is spinning. His coworker just asked him if he wanted to have sex and now he has to continue on living his life as if that's normal. As if he's not intrigued.

"What kinds of things do you like, Doctor?" you ask.

"Um..." Lawrence says as his mind races to find an answer.

"Any particular turn-ons you have?" Robert asks.

When he still doesn't answer, you speak up. "Well, I can tell you what I like and you can tell me what you think about them."

"Yeah," Lawrence nods. "That sounds good."

You scoot closer to him and rest your chin on your hand, somehow making yourself look even cuter.

"I like older men who have experience. They know what they like and aren't afraid to take it. I like a strong hand to guide and to please me. And I want to be worshipped." Lawrence listens intently with wide eyes. "How do you feel about that?"

"I, um," he clears his throat, "I like it. All of that. Sounds good to me."

You smile widely and look over at Robert. "How about Dr. Lawrence and I take turns on you, dear?" he says. You agree excitedly.

"You don't have to call me that," Lawrence says, feeling unusually timid.

"Call you what?" you ask.

"Doctor."

You stand up from your chair and push Lawrence's plate back so you can perch yourself on the table in front of him. Your legs are crossed but your skirt still shows a fair amount of thigh. It's nothing Lawrence hasn't seen before, but now he's allowed to look. Your feet hang between his parted legs and he traces the seam of your stockings with his eyes.

"But I like calling you that," you say, batting your eyelashes. "But I could call you professor if you'd prefer."

Lawrence's eyes flick over to Roberts, searching for signs of discomfort or objection, but only found a smirk.

"This is... inappropriate," he says. "You're my student."

There is a slight pout to your bottom lip. "Doesn't that make it better? I've seen the way you look at me in class, Doctor. I bet you've thought about what would happen if I came to your office and asked for extra credit."

Lawrence shouldn't be surprised. Robert wouldn't spend time with a girl if she wasn't a firecracker. You just look so sweet and innocent, it's difficult to fathom these dirty words are coming out of your mouth.

You uncross your legs and part your thighs, giving him a peak of your delicate panties. "No one has to know, Doctor."

You're a seductress disguised as an angel. You're the snake tempting him to take a bite of the apple and let the delicious juice drip down his chin.

Lawrence slides his chair back to make space in front of the table, then drops to his knees in front of you. He's staring directly at your clothed cunt and he can practically smell your desire from there.

"What are you doing, Lawrence?" Robert asks.

Lawrence looks over at him and expects him to be angry, but he is smirking. "You're not going to fuck my woman on the dinner table. You'll take her to the bedroom like a gentleman."

It's a bit ironic that Robert wants Lawrence to be a gentleman and fuck his mistress in his wife's bed, but he's the guest here, he's in no position to argue.

Lawrence nods and rises to his feet. He holds out his hand to help you down from the table, which you eagerly accept. You lead him through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, Robert following close behind.

You turn the lamp on and turn to the two men standing in the center of the room and sit at the foot of the bed. "Daddy?" you ask, voice sweet as honey.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you take my shoes and stockings off please?"

Everything about this situation surprises Lawrence. You call Robert Daddy? He is eager to kneel at your feet and take off your shoes and stockings when you are perfectly capable of doing so yourself?

Once your pantyhose is balled up next to your shoes on the floor, Robert begins to kiss up your legs. You hum with contentment as he does so, but you don't look down at him, no. You're looking at Lawrence.

"Come here, Doctor," you say, beckoning him forward.

He crosses the room to stand next to you. You reach out to grasp his tie and you pull him down to your level. His breath hitches in his throat at the display of dominance, eyes glued to your lips.

"I like when Daddy's in charge, but I always get what I want. He spoils me rotten, but that's the way I like it. Daddy knows what happens when he denies me, doesn't he?" you ask.

Robert peaks up from underneath your skirt. "I've learned my lesson," he says before resuming his exploration of your thighs.

"Are you going to give me what I want?" you ask, turning your attention back to Lawrence.

He swallows thickly. "Yes."

You grin. "Wonderful. Now, take off your shirt."

You let him go and he stands up straight. Lawrence is surprised that you're so demanding, almost entitled, but he's working open the buttons on his shirt anyway.

He reveals his pale chest dusted with light hair. His pink nipples are peaked from the cool air in the room and he feels a flush rise to his chest under your gaze. As he opens his shirt further, you can see the happy trail that leads underneath the waistband of his pants, and your desire for him grows.

While you watch Lawrence, Robert pushes your panties to the side to touch your pussy. He gently strokes your clit with his finger and tongue, caresses your folds with slow licks, and dips his fingers just the slightest bit inside you. He's teasing you, but you're not worked up enough to complain about it yet.

"Now the pants," you order.

Lawrence slips off his shoes and undoes his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles. You lick your lips at the sight of him standing in his briefs.

"Daddy," you say, pulling him away from your cunt by his hair.

"Yes, dear?"

"Take your clothes off too."

Robert does as he's told and undresses. You watch Lawrence trying not to watch Robert and it amuses you. Once both men are left in their underwear, you pull down your skirt and take off your blouse, leaving you in your own undergarments.

You stand up and step between the two men. You place a hand on both of their chests and urge them closer. Lawrence hesitantly puts his hands on your waist and Robert grabs your hips from behind. Both of them explore your body with your hands, and when they touch, Lawrence gasps.

"No need to be so shy, Doctor," you say while looking into his eyes. "Daddy doesn't bite."

Robert tucks his face into the crook of your neck and does just that; he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin and you gasp. Your back arches and your chest presses against Lawrence's.

The man in front of you looks down at your breasts, almost entranced by them. You notice, of course.

"You can touch them if you want," you say.

Lawrence studies your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he sees is you batting your doe eyes at him. He slides his hands up your torso and cups your breasts in his large hands. You hear him let out a shaky breath and both you and Robert chuckle.

"He's so easy, Daddy," you giggle.

Robert wraps his arms around your waist and presses his chest against your back. "It's been a while for him, honey. Don't be mean."

Lawrence's cheeks are a delicious pink and it makes you want to tease him even more. You run your hand down his chest, stomach, over the fuzz under his navel, and over the bulge in his briefs. His body jolts at the contact, so you do it again.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"That's a naughty word, Doctor. I didn't think someone like you would do something like this."

Your hand slips underneath the waistband and you grasp his cock. You give it one firm stroke and when he lets out a groan, you grin.

"Haven't you tortured Dr. Lawrence enough for one night, dear?" Robert asks. He's phrasing it to sound like he's trying to benefit Lawrence, but you know he's getting impatient.

"I just want one more thing, Daddy," you say, looking over your shoulder at him.

"Anything for you," he smiles.

You have a devilish twinkle in your eye, one Robert knows well. "I want you and Dr. Lawrence to kiss."

Lawrence gawks, his eyes flicking up to Robert's to see if he's also shocked. To his surprise, Robert looks as if you've just asked him the weather.

“You’re a scientist, Ernie. Do it in the name of research,” Robert suggests. “Or in the name of getting your dick wet. Whatever works for you.”

"Okay," Lawrence says hesitantly.

Robert moves from behind you to stand next to Lawrence. He gently places his hand on the taller man's hip and leans close. You watch eagerly as Robert reaches up to press his lips to Lawrence's. Lawrence is stiff, but he's not rejecting the kiss. He's pliant for Robert, allowing him to take control.

The kiss doesn't last long and there's no tongue, but it was enough to satisfy you. When the two men part, they both look over at you. Robert's pupils are lust-blown and Lawrence looks like he could pass out.

"Was that what you wanted?" Robert asks.

"It was perfect, Daddy," you smile. "Now Dr. Lawrence has earned my pussy."

You scamper off to the bed and lay down on your stomach. Your feet hang over the edge of the bed a bit so there's enough room for Robert by the pillows.

Robert walks around the bed, taking off his underwear before climbing onto the mattress and sitting in front of you. His cock is hard and leaking, and you bite your lip in anticipation of what's to come.

"You tell him what to do, Daddy," you say while looking up at Robert through your lashes.

With Robert's legs positioned on either side of your head, you open your mouth and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. He lets out a groan when you suck gently.

"Why don't you come give our good girl what she wants," Robert says over your head to Lawrence.

Wordlessly, Lawrence steps forward and gently grasps the waistband of your panties. You move your legs to make it easier to take them off and Lawrence is met with the sight of your dripping cunt.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself.

Lawrence takes off his own underwear and begins to stroke his dick while looking at your ass. Robert watches him with a raised eyebrow, wondering when he'll get to it.

"Eat her out first. You can't fuck her dry," Robert says.

"She certainly isn't dry," Lawrence says as he kneels behind you and spreads your legs apart.

You squirm a bit when he leans in, his hot breath tickling your inner thighs. He starts by licking up your pussy, vaguely aware that Robert did this earlier. He can't tell if he's tasting your juices, Robert's spit, or a mixture of the two, but it's intoxicating.

He teases your clit with his tongue while you do the same to Robert's cock. You can't help the moan that escapes your mouth when Lawrence works his tongue into you. His hands grip your thighs as he buries his face deeper into you, making his glasses dig into your skin.

It's good, too good, but you know getting fucked by him will be better. You pull off of Robert and look up at him with a pout. "Make him stop, Daddy. I wanna cum on his dick, not his face."

The idea of you soaking his face makes Lawrence groan into your pussy and he is reluctant to stop. You're clearly impatient because before he has the change to remove his tongue, you're reaching back and pulling him away by his hair.

Lawrence whines at the tug on his roots. It's an accident, an entirely involuntary reaction and one you will file away for later.

"You heard her," Robert says, giving Lawrence the green light.

You work your way farther down Robert's cock as Lawrence kneels on the bed behind you, positioning himself properly. The tip of the cock hits the back of your throat and you gag. Robert looks down at you sympathetically and cups your jaw, stroking it soothingly.

"Take it all, gorgeous. Don't choke on it, I know you can do it."

Lawrence would be lying if he said Robert's dirty talk to you wasn't also affecting him. His cock drips as he nears your entrance and he is certain he won't last long. His tip bumps against your folds and you tense up at first, but then relax.

"Go ahead, Doctor," Robert says with a teasing lilt. "Fuck her."

Taking directions from Robert makes Lawrence's cock throb, but he pointedly ignores the implications of that in favor of relishing in the feeling of your tight cunt as he pushes into you.

He goes slow as to not hurt you, but your hole swallows him up greedily so he figures he doesn't have to worry about that. Once he's seated fully inside of you, he lets out the breath he was holding.

He braces himself on his hands and knees and begins to rock his hips. After so long with only his hand, your cunt feels like heaven. Even the friction of his lower stomach on your ass makes him dizzy.

At the head of the bed, your lips are pressed around the base of Robert's cock and you're focusing on trying not to choke. He's praising you like he always does, but it's hard to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

Your lipstick stains his cock, marking him in a way that makes Robert's possessive hindbrain go wild. He tries to be considerate when you suck him off like this, but it's so difficult to stop himself from bucking into your mouth and making you take him.

Pretty soon, you're getting fucked from both ends. Lawrence is pounding into your cunt, dick dragging along that sweet spot inside of you that fuels the flame inside of you. Robert instructed you to relax your throat so he could grab your hair and work you over his cock at his pace.

This is always your favorite part of the scene, when your bossy, bratty demeanor is replaced by a needy, submissive one. You're still getting what you want, but the punishing strokes of both men make it feel like they're the ones calling the shots.

Your whines and moans are muffled by Robert's cock, but both he and Lawrence are making noise freely.

"You feel so good," Robert praises. "My pretty little girl."

Lawrence doesn't do any talking, save for the occasional swear. There's mostly heavy breathing and small moans coming from behind you, and that just won't do.

"Spank her, Ernie. Makes her even tighter," Robert says.

"Can't get much tighter," he says, breathless. He brings his hand back and delivers a slap to your outer thigh. You choke on a cry and like Robert said you would, you got tighter. "Shit."

"Her cunt feel good?" Robert asks. He knows how hot it makes you when he talks about you like you're not there.

"So fucking good."

"You like sticking your dick in students, Doctor?" Lawrence moans low and long. He drapes himself over your back to rut into you with a newfound desperation. "You're never going to look at her the same."

Robert's right. The two of you have ruined Lawrence's life. He won't be able to teach or even think about physics without thinking of his student with the tightest pussy he's ever fucked.

"I'm gonna cum," Lawrence says. He's embarrassed that he was so quick, but he held it off for as long as he could.

"You better pull out," Robert says, still forcing you down on his cock. "You wouldn't want to knock her up, would you?"

Lawrence curses and quickly sits up to jerk himself off over top of you. Robert watches intently, ignoring you while Lawrence squirts his cum on your lower back. He groans and his head lolls back, the fatigue and relief hitting him once he's ridden through his orgasm.

Lawrence stands at the foot of the bed to catch his breath, watching the scene in front of him. "You're not finished," Robert says, his voice noticeably more airy now. "You're not done until she cums for you."

Resuming his earlier position, Lawrence eats you out with the intent of having you soak his face. He rubs your clit with his thumb, fucks you with his tongue, and moans into your cunt, all while you get face fucked at the head of the bed.

"Good fucking girl. You're gonna make me cum," Robert says to you. "Where do you want it? On your face?" You try to shake your head but Robert's hand on the back on your neck makes it difficult. "You want to swallow it, don't you?"

You moan loudly and nod the best you can. Robert smirks down at you and his body relaxes as he prepares to cum down your throat. You allow yourself to be used and focus on the pleasure of Lawrence's tongue inside you.

Like the last time he got you close, it didn't take much time at all. Before you know it, your cunt gushes all over his face and you cry out. Lawrence's mouth floods with your cum and he drinks it down eagerly.

With one particularly deep thrust, the first spurt of cum hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You're helpless to do anything but take it, though you don't swallow yet. You know Daddy likes to see it in your mouth.

Distracted by Robert's orgasm, you don't realize that Lawrence is still working your pussy until it becomes painfully sensitive. Robert pulls out of your mouth and lets go of your neck and your body jolts, trying to escape the stimulation.

"Stop," you whine, but its muddled by the puddle of cum on your tongue.

Lawrence immediately pulls away and you look at him from over your shoulder. He's sweaty: hair wet, chest glistening, and glasses foggy. He looks absolutely wrecked, but you don't get to admire him for long because Robert pulls your attention back to him.

"Hasn't anyone told you not to talk with your mouth full, little girl?" he asks, holding your jaw. "Open up, let me see."

You do as you're told and stick out your tongue so he can see the pearly liquid. He smiles, satisfied, but it morphs into something wicked.

"Why don't you go give Dr. Lawrence a kiss, dear? Thank him for making you cum."

Robert gives you a look that screams don't question me. You sit up, legs shaking, and turn to where Lawrence stands at the foot of the bed. You don't say a word, but you look up at him with wide, tantalizing eyes.

This time, Lawrence doesn't look to Robert before making his move. He ducks down and cups your jaw with his large hand before slotting his lips against yours. You escalate the kiss by pressing your tongue to the seam of his lips and when he allows you entrance, you let the cum flow from your mouth to his.

Lawrence whimpers, surely disliking the bitter taste, but swallows it quickly to get it out of his mouth. Despite that, he keeps kissing you for a second longer.

"Did you like it, Doctor?" you ask once you part.

Lawrence isn't certain if you're asking about the sex or the cum.

"Yes," he breathes.

You smile widely and look over your shoulder back at Robert, who is still sitting shamelessly nude and spread on the bed. The three of you sit in silence for a moment before Lawrence starts to redress.

No one offered him a place in the bed for the night and he certainly wasn't going to ask to stay. You crawl back up by Robert and cuddle into his side, laying your head on his wife's pillow. You both watch as Lawrence rebuttons his shirt and slips on his shoes without untying them.

Once dressed, Lawrence looks at the two of you and clears his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. "Thank you for having me," he says.

"Our pleasure," you giggle.

Robert reaches over to the night stand and takes a cigarette out of his case and lights it. He takes a long, slow drag of it before speaking.

"See you on Monday, Doctor."

Lawrence smiles sheepishly and walks out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Work certainly is going to be different from now on. Most notably, no one will be able to address him without him popping a boner in the middle of a lecture.

[onmyyan]

Forgot to give more context 😅. Yandere Gabe nsfw hcs please.

AN: Here ya go

TW’S: Daddy kink, yandere. size kink, creampie, oral(f receiving), panty sniffing,

Daddy Dom? Daddy Dom.

Size kink, no matter how big/small you are he's bigger than you and gets dummy hard whenever he leans down to kiss you or covers your body with his own.

Bite him please, hard as you can, you can feel the shiver that racks through his body, takes it as a sign of love

He likes leaving hickies in places juuuust outta eye sight, right below your collarbone or your inner thighs. If he sees someone checking you out and your legs are showing he'll subtly show off the love bites with that shit eating grin.

Loves teasing you, but he can never do it long because he's very bad at denying you.

He loves how it feels to cum inside you, but cumming on you? There's just something about your perfect form being so lewdly decorated by him, it made him downright feral, like he was marking his territory.

Licks every drop off.

He gets jealous easy and the way you can tell is how needy he gets when talks

"Tell me you love me." "Only I get to make you feel this good right?" "Gimmie your hands."

He whines when he gets close.

Loves interlocking your fingers.

Will fuck you anywhere, anytime.

He's pretty big down there, 7.5 inches and thick.

Sensitive tip, first time you give him head and kissed it he cried.

Thinks cockwarming is super romantic.

Likes to make you look him in the eye when you cum, he's addicted to the little twitches in your expression.

Favorite position is cowgirl, he gets so deep and the way you always struggle to keep up is so fucking cute he has to bite his fist not to cream then and there.

Likes to fuck you so good you lose all ability to do anything but moan for him, thinks the way you start babbling his name is to cute.

He learns everything you like, not afraid to ask if he's doing something wrong.

He's a naturally dominant guy but once in a blue moon he needs you to take care of him.

Aka he needs to be babied just let him suck on a titty for a few hours and he'll be good to go.

Or you could hop on top and give him everything you got, play with his hair and tell him how much you love him.

Will eat you out for hours if you let him.

Obsessed with marking you and you him. Scratches a possessive itch in his noggin.

Car sex car sex car sex

He will laugh his way into your panties

Sorta goofy, like it never breaks the tension in a bad way, but it does make you less nervous when he gets stuck in his shirt trying to take it off or slips on the floor from how eager he was to take you.

Made you squirt once and it's his personal mission to do it as often as he can.

It's never quick with you to, one round is never enough because one second he's massaging any areas he thinks are sore then the next thing you know he's fingering you.

Scent kink, obsessed with your natural smell, has stolen your underwear before, he snuck into the bedroom while you showered like some kinda creep and the second he let's his intrusive thoughts win and brings the cloth to his face he's painfully hard.

He couldn't decide between huffing them like a fiend or wrapping them around his cock, going back and forth between the two.

Every once and a while you have underwear go missing and just figure the washing machine is eating them.

He has a shrine dedicated to you in his locker at the shop, his favorite pair of your panties are securely tucked away.

Gets so worked up once, you two start grinding against each other like it's the last chance and he cums in his pants, he finds out some things about himself.

If you ever try to tease him with a sexy pic or lewd text when he's at work, unless it's life or death he's dropping whatever he's doing and is on the way home lmao.

Like he won't be able to think about anything else until he feels you surrounding him again.

If he ever had to be away from you for a long period of time he's all but insatiable when you return, sure you spoke every day and he'd grown to love listening to you play with yourself over the phone, nothing compared to having you in his arms.

Bought a bigger gaming chair so you can ride him while he plays.

Trying to shower with him always makes you late so be warned.

If he's had a particularly bad day please just let him bury himself between your thighs and eat his stresses away.

If he ever cums before you best believe he ain't stopping till you're both shaking.

Hearing your sweet voice calling out for Daddy does something to his brain, you can feel the difference, how he fucks you that much harder, how his grip on your skin tightens, it's a surefire way to get him to bust.

[lutawolf]

Between Us Episode 1 Commentary and Review.

The intro is so them!

I also adore the contrast colors of red and blue. These colors are often used to represent water and fire. Both Greek and Chinese cultures recognize these colors as Ying and Yang.

Oh! These character relationships are gonna be fun! There are so many coconuts. Names are gonna be a Bitch! Ahh. We just gonna call nerd dude, nerd dude.

Oh, look at Win coming out with that strong Daddy energy. I like it, I love it! I want more of it!

The trio is back! I love these cuties 😍 Damn Win. Just shut the elevator door. I love how sweet he is with his brother. Omg. He better be watching porn and didn't just leave someone hanging. That shits rude.

Poor Team is stressing. You got this Boo! Such coconuts. Oh, look at the feels from nerd boy. Dean and Pharm moment. Everybody losing their shit up in here! Up in here!

Oh damn. That minor flashback hit the feels. Trio giving love and support. Now, the supermarket moment. They added additional moments. I adore this friendship, so I'm good with it. Look at Team being tough and supportive. He is such a big brother even though he is the youngest.

Win followed. Why you follow Win? Hmm. You just made yourself fall more. Got nobody to blame but yourself.

I hated working out on the beach. You guys, it hurts like a bitch. Resistance. It trains like nothing else but sucks and not in a good way. Let me once again point out the red and blue to you guys.

Oops, Team got hurt. Again, I really enjoy how they portray friendships in this series. Oh, Win dropped into Daddy voice. Me likes. Look at that set face. Why are you so mad, Win? 🤪

"Have you ever lost something really important to you, and then suddenly you found it." Dude, that is the best description of meeting someone from a past life! Yes! "I've never lost anything, and if I did, I didn't care that much." That's about to change, buddy boy. Their friendship is special.

"I never had anything important.""I think more likely you never let anything be important." "There is nothing truly mine in the first place. There is nothing that will say with me forever." "Win, you can't live your life like this forever. One day. When you find the one. You'll do everything in your power to not lose them."

Win showered and changed, looking for Team. The Coconuts strike again. Bless them. Poor Team 🤣🤣🤣 Yay for us though!

Ha! Yes! Daddy and shy boy! Hell to the yeah. Oh, damn that kiss. Follow!! Follow!! There's the Brat Tamer. Ugh. Yesssss. Oh, be still my heart. He is checking in to make sure he isn't drunk. Look at him double-checking. 😍 More consent check-in! Ahhhhhhh!!!!!! 🎉😍💑 Command right out of the box. Verbally consent to this. We also setting the tone.

Fuck me! The chemistry ✨️The right out the box tone. That's all, Dom. "Where are you?" "Win's room." "Who is this person? In front of you?" This is so hot. "Win." 😍

Suddenly, it's hot in here. "Call me Hai Win." "Hai Win." Dude, look at the beautiful submission.

This was so good. I can't wait for next week. Hope you guys enjoyed as well! 💜💜💜

[pppunz]

please consider a step!dream and f!reader but every time she gets bratty (when he’s doing homework or in online classes or whatnot) she’ll record herself sucking his dick, just absolute filthy shit they do

IPhone Camera [CC!Dream x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: sub!reader, dom!dream, fem reader, stepcest, blowjobs, degradation, blackmail mention, that one kink where you get off to being watched that I can never spell

Notes: What’s this? Solar posting four days apart and not 18? Damn. Anyways, I hope you guys are doing well and stay safe. :)

You did nothing but grin up at him, slightly smushed by his hand pushing your cheek to his thigh.

“I told you I was sorry! You looked bored, I wanted to help you out.” You explained, a feigned innocence in your voice.

This, of course, wasn’t true. For the past three of his online classes, you had been teasing him. First by wearing nothing but panties and one of his t-shirts, second by kneeling down under his desk (so nobody could see you) and with no specific movements, palmed his cock through his pants.

For a moment, Clay almost wanted to believe and take mercy on you. “You know what, fine.” he said as he pulled his now semi-hardened cock out of his sweatpants. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight of his perfectly veined and thick member.

“But, you said I couldn’t interrupt you during class, Clay.” You said in confusion as you watched his hand rub his cock up and down slowly. Your confusion became worse when he also took his phone off the desk and handed it to you.

“I want you to film yourself sucking me off like a good girl, that way if you decide to pull something like this again, I have blackmail to use against you.” Clay explained, “We wouldn’t want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for your Stepbrother, now do we?

For the average person, his threat would’ve seemed like too much, but this was the way your relationship was. You knew the only people he would send it to were Sapnap and George, who already had their suspicions about you both. Regardless, the threat had you pressing your thighs together.

“Anything for you, daddy.” You mumbled as he opened the camera app and handed you the phone.

“And stay quiet, my next class is starting.” He demanded as you pressed record and put his cock to your lips. You heard the familiar sound of the professor talking, though you didn’t care enough to listen. Taking one look at Clay, he looked just as composed as he did before you were sucking him off.

You opened your mouth further and let his cock go further down your throat. Clay let out a quiet groan, that was immediately passed off as a cough. You could’ve laughed if his cock weren’t down your throat. He was losing his composure, slowly but surely, and there was still 55 minutes left of his class.

You continued at your somewhat slow pace, allowing him to adjust and get used to it. His first mistake was making you do this in the first place, his second mistake was getting comfortable.

With his phone filming both your face and his cock perfectly, you sped up as well as let more of it down your throat. The more you bobbed, the more you gagged. And you knew exactly how much he loved it when you gagged.

It didn’t take long for Clay to start to lose it, his cheeks were flushed and he couldn’t help but throw his head back when his cock hit the back of your throat. He was close to giving up.

You pulled off his cock with a pop and turned your head to face the camera. Your reflection was red-faced and spit covered, it was perfect. “Come on daddy, cum all over your slut’s pretty face.”

That was enough for Clay. “Fuck…” he groaned, quickly leaving the class and throwing his head back. “You’re such a good slut, such a good fucking slut for your Stepbrother.”

Your hand jerked his cock off, no part of him left untouched. With one more jerk, he came undone.

“Ah, fuck, cumming!” He cursed, cum shooting out of his cock in spurts that covered your face. You lolled your tongue out, letting some of his cum in your mouth. Clay’s head was thrown back, his chest moving up and down in steady but quick intervals.

“Don’t you dare turn off that camera, I’m not done showing you off.”

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[taeilskitty]

Hey there! I saw that you open for a request so here's what I thought : what kind of sound did nct make when having sex? Are they more into whimpers, groans, or maybe dirty talk? Thank you so much for answering my question and hope you have a good day!

i was BORN to answer this omg. lemme tell you, i have thought about this so SO much!! (i'm leaving chenji out of this bc i don't know how people feel about that yet)

anyways, i hope u enjoy and i hope this matches what you had in mind <3

taeil

oh fuck. taeil is most certainly a groaner. i think (and trust me, i've thought a lot) he must make these gorgeous low moans like right in the back of his throat if that makes sense - have you ever heard his bubble voice messages? oh my god, they're so fucking hot. his raspy voice in the middle of the night is just to die for. that makes me CONVINCED that he dirty talks super up close. even thinking about it makes me shiver :(( he's the king of praise, i just know it. i think he degrades too, but his favourite is when he mixes both together - "you look so pathetic there baby, how cute." "daddy loves his pretty slut so much." "god you're so fucking good for me, my cockslut~" taeil also asks things, i think that suits him so much. "yeah? you like that?" "is daddy's cock too big baby? shh, i'll be done soon..."

taeyong

whiner. whiner. undoubtedly. this boy has the sweetest, prettiest little moans... he gets all high pitched when he's close and oh god when he sinks into subspace he just mewls and his voice gets so weak </3 little "yes" and "a-ah thank you"s slip out because he such a good kitten. he's so precious... and if he gets asked to speak while he's getting fucked he just squeaks out an answer. "m.. love it... ah..." n he will never fail to say his please and thank yous - he's so well mannered even when hes getting used !!!

johnny

this is just. oh my. i think he's silent for the most part. heavy breathing and quiet grunts and groans until he's close. THAT'S when he starts moaning, all sorts of things slipping out. "god you're so good" "i love this hole so much" ahh??! i think he talks down too. fuck !!! daddy!johnny is so patronising, and not just outside of the bedroom. kinda like taeil, he asks things, but he makes u feel so dumb and cock drunk :( AH AND he like... coos when you feel all dazed from his cock... "awh~ is that good? you like that don't you sweetheart? yeah, i know."

yuta

i have this vision of yuta just SLAMMING from behind with his face right up in your ear, telling you all sorts of dirty things lowly with just the hottest voice ever. he's very vocal about what he wants, and he loves cumming inside... so expect him to talk about that. oh, he is so fucking possessive too. "hmm. mine. this is mine. you're mine." he probably bites your ear/neck when he says it... the grunts that come out when he slams are enough to send anyone reeling, but i bet he tells you "fuck. gonna. gonna cum in my fuckdoll--" n his voice just trails off as he fills you up and sighs<33

kun

now kun is !! an interesting one !! ... i envision him as a pretty hard dom, so i don't think he's any stranger to degrading. that being said, i think he's more talkative when he's giving punishments (e.g. spanking over his thigh... heaven<33) rather than when he's fucking. i think he moans lowly, semi-quietly but as he gets more and more pent up he gets louder. (i think this is the case for most of the nct doms but oh well) he'll praise how good you make him feel - assuming you've been behaved enough - but that doesn't stop him from cursing under his breath at every chance he gets ,,..

doyoung

definitely has pretty moans !! he probably does whine, but i mean that in a dom way - if that makes sense? higher pitched moans but not pathetic, in fact it's probably paired with him whispering "fuck yes, good [insert ur fave petname here]". i think he's the type to kiss you a lot during sex and like... moan into your mouth; any space not taken up by the sound of moans will for sure be filled with the sound of his panting and his tongue dancing with yours.

ten

another semi-whiner. i always saw him as a dom but i'm sliiightly succumbing to the idea that he may be a switch... which is why i think there's so much BEAUTY in his moans?? ten makes really pretty, breathy whines and moans i'm sure, i don't particularly think he talks a crazy amount but rather short instructions. (yes i'm going back to dom!ten) "turn around." "get on your knees" "quiet." AH !! he always lets you know what he needs - however, sub!ten will just whine and squirm till you make him cum because he is most definitely a slut who takes anything:(

jaehyun

first of all, this man wrecks me to the fucking core, and i could talk about this for... a while. but his moans are definitely like, raspy high-pitched type. think about his vocals. esp in try again... i bet you they sound like THAT. i'm sure he talks a bit too, tbh he probably says rather textbook dirty things but it sounds so fucking hot when it's him. "yeah take it, take my cock" "fuck yes just like that", he loves how you whine when he moans right up next to you btw - it just makes him do it even more. oh, and bonus - he will never call you ANYTHING without prefixing it with my or daddy's. daddy's girl, daddy's boy, daddy's pet, my dirty slut... ahh<3

winwin

it's almost contrasting to jaehyun but sicheng's voice is so low. i can't explain this in any way other than that he's kitty, but his moans are so... puppy? and when he's fucked, he makes himself sound so dumb too. he's constantly slurring his words and biting his lip because he's trying to keep quiet but anyone who walks by the room will hear "mm.. m!!" because he just can't help himself :( when he's close he probably squeaks like taeyong and cums all over the place GOD i want him

jungwoo

oh god there's no doubt that jungwoo talks SO much during sex. he probably loses his fucking mind with how good he feels. he's such a good boy but sometimes you just need him to shut up - but he can't. he squeaks out a little moan when you push into him, or when you start touching his cock, but withn minutes he's babbling non-stop; "oh god oh god mommy/daddy i love it so much, a-ah like that, please~"

lucas

my brain used to be convinced that xuxi was a dom, but i'm now sure he's a switch. either way, his moans are pretty much the same. they're very heavy and... i guess manly is the best way to put it. in my head i can literally picture him being like "ughhh..." when you start fucking because he just feels like he's wanted to fuck you so desperately - yes, even if you fucked hours before. it's always so breathy and moany and i think he sounds like a bit of a fuckboy tbh... "fuck yeah" as he slides his cock into you? THANKS

mark

loud baby loud baby LOUD BABY:((( no matter how much you cover that pretty mouth of his he will be so LOUD!! he can't stop talking and whining and panting, kinda like jungwoo but honestly... more. he swears a lot too. he tries not to but he just can't help himself :( "aw shit... god shit!!!" under his breath UGHHFDGGDFDD SO FUCKING CUTE IM GONNA SCREAM !!! he's very polite though, so he always says sorry every single time :( he babbles like hell when he cums, he can't stop himself, again like jungwoo. "i'm gonna cum i'mgonnacumi- i'm -- ah fuck, shit--!!"

xiaojun

two words. action figure. everyone knew that was coming, HA - i'm sorry but THAT verse means we all know how he sounds. i think he tries his best to talk normally while you edge him but his little voice keeps on wavering and cracking and just... he can't help but sound all pretty and pathetic :( but surely dejun has some (very frequent) moments where he can't keep his front anymore and just whines like a whore because it feels so good<3

hendery

the things i'd let this man do to me:))) i think at first he'd actually try and hide his moans because he feels like that's what he's supposed to do, but no. for me personally, i know i would NOT LET THAT HAPPEN !! he probably sucks the air in through his teeth in an attempt to hide it - it's very fucking sexy when he does that, granted - but he can't keep doing that for long. i think he hums and laughs when he can't keep it in any longer because he almost feels some kinda defeat but then he just moans semi-loudly and lets out a "good girl/boy/baby... let me fuck you, huh?"

renjun

renjun scares the fuck out of me. why? because his moans are fairly quiet. he's master and it S H O W S. he grunts quietly, maybe muttering things under his breath like "so fucking tight" "mmh there you go..." to fill some silence but he does it subconsciously; he goes so far into domspace sometimes that he just can't control himself. when he's close he talks through his teeth and he's like "i'm. i'm gonna cum baby..."and the more you whine on his cock the more he just laughs at you because he's a sadist hhhhhhhhhhh.........

jeno

most definitely a fun one... you see when he's sub, he pants and whines and drools all over himself like a big dumb puppy boy and he just breathes so heavy n his moans are all shaky... if he's a brat he will try and talk big but he can't take it, he just gets so pathetic and !!! but dom jeno is fucking TERRIFYING because he talks down and tries his best to intimidate you. he chuckles and degrades you, but one of his faves is when he can big himself up under his breath. "look at you now. you love this fucking cock."

haechan

this isn't good for my mental health :) i fucking cannot TAKE this brat :) AHA! hyuckie is honestly such a whore, he's bratty and rude and always talks back at you like he's the king of the fucking world. he's constantly laughing at you and trying so hard to make you feel like you're not worthy but he feels so good he just gets fucked dumb by you :( he is SO loud too. he wants everyone to hear what a dirty whore he is and he makes sure he puts on his prettiest pornstar moans. he whines like his life depends on it. on the off chance that he's being a good boy, he begs and cries and whimpers when he finally cums - and i mean CRIES. sobs. he'll be heaving by the time you're done with him, but god he fucking loves it.

jaemin

fuck... fuck okay... well firstly he loves to talk. we all know how much he praises and how he's constantly showing his love off... that doesn't stop at fanservice, nope. he will fuck you like a ragdoll and keep calm and composed as ever, talking down to you as if you're in his lap for a soft cuddle. "baby loves nana so much hm~?" "oh you really love that don't you?" "you know you're so pretty. nana wants to cum in you so bad~" yes, he calls himself nana because he's a cocky fuck and loves how it sounds. especially when you're moaning it for him.

yangyang

i'm kinda in 2 minds about this... on the one hand, he's kinda like hyuckie in that he whines a LOT. but he can actually keep his composure - he's a breathy whiner, he's not quite as loud and he most certainy doesn't crumble as easily. (that's not to say that he can't, he most definitely can.) on the other hand i think when he's in a more neutral headspace rather than subby, he talks to you like a total fuckboy. not in a mean way but he's just like "hah. i know you love me fucking you like this." he gets so cocky and he sucks hickeys into your neck and hums quietly<3

shotaro

he's such a shy baby :( he wants to moan so much but he probably gets all self conscious and tries to hide it... so you gotta make him feel safe :( when he does he whimpers and it's so pretty and pathetic. the way he wells up with tears and hitches his breath is. adorable. he whispers "thank you... ah..." every time he feels that good and by the time he cums it's just falling from him like a waterfall :( the more comfortable he feels, though, the sluttier he can get... he will always be a good boy but i think he lets his whore side come out every once in a while <3

sungchan

last but most certainly not least, yet ANOTHER boy who pains me to the core. i think sungchan whimpers too. THERE I SAID IT. his cock is too big for his own good so he just... needs you to do SOMETHING to him :( he always sighs at first, maybe hissing just a little but then he gets to a point where he's quietly whimpering because he just needs to cum so fucking bad <//3 "need it... p-please..." he's always nervous to use titles but if he wants to cum he has no choice :( when his dom asks please who? he blushes bright red n mumbles a little "please mommy/daddy... 'm so good..." and god yes he is he deserves it so much ugh<33333333333333

[clefairymuke]

roommate levi who constantly has to listen to your whimpers and moans when you touch yourself and one day he’s had enough he’s about to knock on your door and tell you that you’re not as quiet as you think until he hears his own name slip through your whines 👀 feel free to throw daddy in there too because what’s a good smut without a little daddy kink ✨

anything for you🥰

no but seriously i loved writing this. i’ve been having so much fun with these smut requests <3 nsfw under the cut!

thin walls > one shot

PAIRING: levi x reader

WARNINGS: masturbation (f. bodied), vibrator use, lowkey dubcon?, fingering (f. recieving), light impact play, vag. sex, degradation, name calling, dom!levi, brat tamer!levi, a little breath play, a little finger sucking, manhandling, daddy kink, unprotected sex

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

↣ roommate!levi catches you moaning his name when he comes to make you quiet down.

requests | masterlist | personal blog

Levi fucking hates you.

He loathes the loud, shitty music you play at night. Despises the childish movies you put on in the den in the evenings. Can’t stand the disgusting tea you make in the mornings. And he hates, hates, hates how stiff it makes his cock when he can hear the buzz of your vibrator and the sweet, shameless moans sounding from your throat in the afternoons.

Today, for example — he’s sitting in the chair in his bedroom, trying his absolute hardest to get through one of his favorite novels, and Levi can’t find a peaceful moment because of you. Like always, he tries to ignore it at first, but the walls in your shared apartment are wildly thin. He can hear it so clearly, he’s confident he’s memorized your routine.

The door of your bedroom clicks softly shut, but he never hears it lock. A few seconds pass — you’re undressing, if he had to guess — and a drawer slides open. It’s close, which means it has to be your nightstand rather than your dresser. Next, a bout of shuffling and your TV popping on, turned to what sounds like a cooking channel. But you aren’t watching that — you just think it covers up the noise. It doesn’t; Levi always hears your vibrator click on the lowest setting right after that.

This is when he starts picturing you in your bed, clothes stripped off and legs spread wide while you toy with your clit in gentle circles. When his underwear begins feeling uncomfortably tight and his hand starts trailing instinctively over the bulge in his jeans. When he jerks it away out of mortification and gets fucking pissed.

Most days, he’d retreat to a further room in the apartment, or go on a walk for the half hour it usually takes. This time, Levi is beyond sick of your shit. Intending to give you an earful, he stomps out of his room and to your door, more than ready to make you cry from the embarrassment just to ensure it doesn’t happen again — but that’s when he hears it.

“Fuck, Levi,” you whimper, too quiet to be heard from his bedroom next door. It’s well within earshot now — your voice is desperate and whiny like always, but this time, he finds that he rather enjoys hearing his name in that tone. Standing in place, hovering shakily over the handle, he hears the buzz get louder as you click the setting up another notch. “Just like that, daddy.” And suddenly, he’s not in control of his body anymore.

The knob twists in his grip as he opens the door a crack, and he feels like he’s entered the gates of heaven. Your head is thrown back, one hand tweaking a nipple on your perfect breasts and the other pressing the pink, silicone bullet to your swollen, dripping cunt. Your legs are splayed out wide, just how he’d imagined them, knees bent and your back propped on a yellow-cased pillow. Eyes squeezed shut, you don’t notice as Levi slips in the door, leaving it open behind him as he approaches your shaking body.

He might look like he isn’t afraid of anything, but this is admittedly a risky move. That’s why he doesn’t look at your face as he replaces your grip on the toy with his own and attaches his mouth around one of your stiff, sensitive peaks. You tense for a moment as he shifts his weight onto the bed, and he’s bracing himself to pull off of you and move somewhere far, far away — but you relax just as soon. One of your hands tangles in the hair on the back of his head as you let out a loud, pretty moan. A bit of confidence leaking through him, he brushes his teeth over the hard nub and gropes your breast with his free hand.

“You like that?” Levi murmurs, moving to nibble at your earlobe while he presses the vibrator more firmly against your clit. He feels for the button on the bullet with his thumb before clicking it, kicking the speed up another level and listening as you whine underneath him. “So you wanted me to hear you all this time? Or were you just fucking stupid enough to think I couldn’t?”

He groans when your lips creep up his throat, placing chaste kisses along his Adam’s apple and finally settling just beneath his jaw. He wants you. Your innocent giggle sends vibrations through the thin, sensitive skin beneath his ear as you think about the question. “Just too stupid,” you answer sweetly, teeth flashing into a pretty smile. “I’m not disappointed, though— Shit, that’s good.”

You break off as Levi plunges his middle finger into your tight, needy cunt, thrusting it gently back and forth while you mewl quietly in response to his touch. He adds another, feeling the unforgiving elastic of your hole start to stretch just a bit — the squeeze around his digits alone has the tip of his engorged length leaking with pre-cum, staining through the zipper of his jeans. He lets out a satisfied little hum before speaking again. “I can make you feel better,” he whispers in your ear, feeling the static between your bodies as you shiver with need, eyes starting to roll back from the constant, overwhelming vibrations against your clit.

Wet, hungry kisses sweep down your neck as soon as Levi finishes his promise, and you feel another of his long digits prod through your entrance; your walls clench around them as he pumps into you, picking up the pace when your hips start to buck into his hand. “I doubt it,” you tease, admittedly trying to pry out his typical arrogant attitude. He chuckles darkly, teeth pricking into the dip that separates your neck from your shoulder.

The vibrator clatters to the floor, his thumb taking its place to rub hard, fast circles on your already swollen clit and while he fucks his fingers into you rapidly — a loud moan rips through your chest, stinging your throat as it passes through, but it hardly reaches the room around you as his hand clamps over mouth. A few stray, muffled sounds leak out, but he solves it quickly by pinching your nose between his thumb and forefinger, making your head swell with pressure. “If you wanted it rough you could’ve just asked. Don’t be a fucking brat.”

You gasp for air as his hand pulls off of you, shifting to set his thumb on your panting tongue. The knot in your stomach is beginning to coil more tightly than you can handle, making your cunt clench rhythmically around his digits as they twist to find your spot. There. A whine threatens the threshold behind your tongue, but Levi shoves his finger to the very back, clamping your mouth shut and making you suck it. “Shut the fuck up. I can’t ever get a moment of peace in this house, do you know that? I can’t stand you.” He digs against your spot, your climax threatening at any second. You think that he has to know as your eyes blow wide and the muffled sounds around his thumb grow louder that you’re about to cum, but he doesn’t show any signs of giving you mercy.

Levi pinches your nose between two fingers again, making your whole body shake as the coil tenses completely and your orgasm rushes against the gates. Another gasp when he lets loose, and you’re putty in his hands. Your limbs splay out wide as your cunt convulses around him, legs shaking wildly, bringing an arrogant grin to his face as he watches your eyes roll back to show the whites. “What a little slut,” he purrs as you come to, snaking his tongue along the angle of your jaw. “Tell me what you call me when you’re touching yourself like this. Wanna hear you say it.”

Your cheeks start to turn red, but the still-harsh thrust of his fingers in your cunt makes you shameless. “Daddy,” you answer, feeling a raspy groan vibrate against your skin in response.

The next few moments are a blur as Levi maneuvers your body where he wants it — he isn’t gentle by any means as his nails dig in your supple thighs and he flips you to your stomach, pulling your hands behind you and holding them taut against the small of your back. Pushing down until your back is arched, he begins to line himself up at your entrance, the head of his engorged cock prodding against the slick opening and drawing a gasp from your mouth.

He rubs one of your ass cheeks under his palm in a large, smooth circle before landing a light pop in the center. You moan in response, pressing your hips back against his length as the sting travels across your sensitive skin. “I thought you’d like that. Dirty girl,” Levi taunts, sweeping his thumb along the curve of your ass before smacking his hand against it, much harder this time as it sounds a deafening pop through the room. You feel your toes curl.

The tip of his thick cock presses past the threshold, and you feel your walls stretch to mold around his width as he sheathes himself into your pulsing cunt. A whine leaks out of your throat as he forces his length to the hilt, close to kissing your cervix as the warm, wet chasm swallows him whole. “Holy shit,” you whimper, feeling your pussy clench and throb around Levi’s impressive girth — every infinitesimal twitch of his dick sends an electric shock to your deepest spot, making you run from him instinctively — but his firm hold on your wrists keeps you well in place.

“Is this what you were driving me fucking insane for? How does it feel, huh? You’re screaming like a bad fucking pornstar.” He starts to thrust back and forth, the pull of his skin against your spongy walls sending waves of torturous pleasure through your whole body.

“Fuck,” you moan, rocking your hips back against him as he gropes your ass cheeks with his rough, calloused hands. “I love it. ‘S so big, daddy.”

You hear Levi chuckle behind you, adjusting the angle of his thrusts as he pulls out to the tip again and tightens his iron grip on your wrists. “Why don’t we see how loud you can really get?”

[muffindaddystyles]

okay but imagine waking up next to soft!dom harry in the middle of the night and snuggling closer to him because you had a nightmare or you just couldn’t get to sleep well and he just kisses you, whispers sweet nothings and holds your hand as he helps you back to sleep

SCAREDY KITTEN Y/N, CLINGY AND MELTING OVER HARRY ALWAYS GONNA BE MY FAVE

Wednesday’s are most tiring for Harry. Shit tons of paperwork, shipping and unloading and then being a visible leader at the workplace to make sure the gang runs efficiently.

Weary and knotty in his muscles Harry dragged himself all the way to the threshold of his house to his room, his comfort space for many reasons— it smells incredibly sweet of his lovie, it’s cosy and the blankets are always toasty with her warmth and the room temperatures's the perfect chilly against your skin, akin to whole house.

“Hi Mushy,” He greets her coarsely, ducking down and a bit to the left of her gaze when she busily mumbles a ‘hi!’ Back with her head stuffed into her books, crossed legs on the chunky silken duvet and blankets.

“No kisses, pretty?” He asks, patting her head gently and she looks up at him. Equally tuckered out and bushed, she’s been trying to solve this stupid stupid algebra and it seems like algebra solved her and kicked her in arse telling her to do this nonsense with someone other.

“Sorry.” She sighs, scurrying to her knees and lifts her bum to plant a soft kiss to his lips instead ends up smashing a sloppy peck to his chin making both of them giggle.

She really thought she was about to get a good sleep, after having a tummy full dinner, doing her night routine with Harry and cleaning the little mess around her room because it keeps on irking her the whole night of otherwise --- she really hoped.

Her hopes were crushed brutally with a bulldozer when Harry knocked out the moment his floppy head hit the pillows, his embrace's homey and his breath melting into her skin makes her wants to learn the pattern mentally and sleep to it— she did.

She almost lulled herself into a light slumber when their whole house shook, the windows squeaked and their bedhead banged against the wall ever loudly from the force of her jolt due to the peal of unexpected thunder.

Y/N hates thunderstorms. It hyperventilates her badly and she’s never able to sleep during them, she might ends up crying or trying to make a clever run god knows where. She’s a science student still her silly and scared brain convinces her that the lightening will fall on them and burn them to ashes.

For a moment it didn’t happen again, replaced with calming patter patter of rain and she was glad she hasn’t woken Harry up. Who’s snoring softly into his pillow, his arms lax around her body and his facial features placid and soft.

There’s an ominous roar again in the sky and this time it fucks her up properly. She whimpers like a puppy shrinking into Harry’s side, eyes bolted shut as she feels her heart pumping in her ears – thumping eerily against Harry’s chest and she gasps, her knees knocking against Harry’s lower abdomen when there’s furious amount of non-stop thundering. Quite funnily he only mutters something incoherent and tucks her further into him.

Y/N’s sleepy, loggy and her scary surroundings doesn’t makes any sense to her and she doesn’t want to wake up Harry.

She’s feeling awfully, small and little and skimpy.

Terrified her eyes blows away when she sees the light-flashing outside scarily bright, “Daddy!” She cries out, latching her elbows around Harry’s neck and her thighs around his waist -- practically haggling the dude into a bendy doll.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy. . .” She mumbles unremittingly into his throat, her tears soaking the crew neck of his shirt -- tummy jolting against him and it stirs Harry, trying to take in his wear-bouts— knuckling the blurriness away from his eyes, he looks down at his lovie in haziness worried something bad happened because last he remembers she was good and about to drool over him. His warm palm gliding up her back, the fabric of her pyjama top bunching in his hold.

It doesn’t took him long to realize why his lovie’s so rucked up, clinging onto him like she depends on him for dear life when another wave of thunder-clapped and she was shoving herself into him with a frightened sob.

“Hey, hey . . Poppy. Daddy’s here. Not g'na let anything happen t’ya, sweet girl.” He whispers, cupping her face with both of his hands and tilts it up gently to look into her scared eyes, he sandwiches her shaky hands in-between his thighs and brings her impossibly closer to him – stroking his thumb over her wobbling wet bottom lip.

“We're gonna die!” She stutters a whiny sniffle hating that this awful thundering wouldn’t stop. Her outburst quirks Harry’s lips into a small smile, his heart oozing with overloaded infatuation for his love who’s just too innocent and cute for her own sake.

He gives her an eskimo kiss, pecking the corner of her salty lips then kissing her mouth tenderly and lovingly, “Said the same thing last time baby.” He calms her down. Rubbing her back, halting at the dip of her hip to massage the soft spot gently.

“Shh, shh, ‘s okay . . . I know it scares my darling so much, hate tha’, wouldn’t want my little’s poor heart to suffer this much would I?” He says groggily, tone coy and affectionate. He brushes the frays falling over her eyes out of shakiness, behind her ear and smooches a kiss to the side of her temple.

A surreal quietness blanketed them, her timid voice breaking through it and Harry smiles foppishly and lazily down at her hands still covering her ears. He tuts caringly when she blinks and glistening moisture collects under her eyebags.

“Sorry, didn’t wanna wake you,” She skootches impossibly closer into him, nuzzling her face in his strong healthy rising chest and he shakes his head petting her hair, “Would’ve been bummed if you didn’t,” He hugs her securely, and she relaxes taking a nourishing breather. Something so protective, safe and warm his huggies makes her feel.

Harry himself is the definition of tenderness, for her.

“Good?” He inquires, pressing his lips to where her neck and shoulder meet—- rubbing his hands up and down her arms smiling assuringly when Y/N hums in meekness.

His head perks up, brows shooting up nonchalantly when Y/N groans again upon all of it starting again and he coos, tightening his hug more compassionately screwing his mind too think of any idea to distract her.

“Would my baby like to keep me inside her, keep daddy warm?” He cuddles her chuckling softly when she buries her face in his neck, fisting the waistband of his joggers out of shyness and quick to bob her head timidly as Harry showers her in tiny sloppy wet fond kisses.

“Hmm. My soft little one.” He murmurs, hooking her panties away and spitting in his palm to squeeze it around his girth and gives himself few pumps before lubricating her with his own precum and eases carefully inside, not to hurt her.

Their temples falls against eachother, whimpers mingling as Harry bottoms out inside her. Balls snug against her bum, his eyes glassy as he nudges her playfully, “Now if we get stoned to death . . atleast it’d be with me cock inside ye',” His belly does a loopy loop upon earning a shy giggle from her (he takes pride in making his lovie laugh) and she moans breathily when he squishes her bum cheek grumbling disgruntled.

“Not letting them see yer bum thou,” She hiccups a giggle, feeling ticklish from all the raspberries he’s blowing at her skin and lapping the sensitive spot then, teasing it dry.

“You’re s’nice to me, I love you.”

“I love you too, my little one.”

Harry’s forever and always gonna be her comfort person.