#manager has lost his mind

[flyhighisco]

looking forward to absolute radio silence from them all again

[moeblob]

OC

[haml3t]

My vacation was better than I could’ve dreamed like it wasn’t even the festival lineup so much (though I did meet another of my top 3 journalists) even as all the people I interacted with in D.C. and the museums I saw this time that I didn’t last time like I cannot tell you how free I felt during this trip..

Also DO meet your heroes. They will be fantastically excited to see you again and treat you like an old friend even when you’ve only met once before and they will find you just as intelligent, interesting, talented, and dope as you find them and give you a massive hug because they’re so speechless because they think you’re a brilliant artist and are that honoured by your gifts

[tonycries]

Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam”, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too. 

The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.

Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room. 

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”

God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this. 

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle. 

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already. 

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked. 

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them. 

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious. 

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.

. 

A weighty beat passes. One. Two. 

He wins.

And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this? 

“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”

What? 

The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face. 

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity. 

“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better. 

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word. 

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually. 

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth. 

“Out.” 

It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.

Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now. 

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?” 

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him. 

Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?���

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but. 

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar. 

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal. 

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away. 

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.”

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan. 

“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo���s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”

Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his. 

So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this. 

“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth. 

At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended. 

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast. 

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers. 

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. 

You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth. 

And Gojo keeps going. 

Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily. 

“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”

“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”

“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good. 

And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?” 

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs. 

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit. 

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous. 

All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.

Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together. 

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute. 

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone. 

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife. 

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch. 

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly. 

Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”

“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance. 

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you. 

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there. 

“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least. 

Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.” 

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.”

Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear. 

It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side. 

“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?” 

You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him. 

“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find- 

“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”

That.

So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”

Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted. 

“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”

You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.

Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles. 

“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”

And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are. 

“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”

Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices. 

And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-

“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”

So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper. 

Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you. 

But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.

Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes. 

And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his. 

“Clean that room up.” 

Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie. 

But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.

A/N. On my period I’m gonna cry. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#not to be like ‘character of all time’ but man he’s a fascinating villain character. #villain loved by one our protags villain killed by another villain except SHE is only a villain bc of how ROBERT broke her down…….. #no one is doing it like the baratheon boys!!!!!!!!!!!

robert understanding that jaime was basically still a child when he killed aerys, a child given this MASSIVE and RIDICULOUS duty of being the sole defender of like 60% of the royal family except one of those royals was INSANE and EVIL, and that he reacted the way a child might which was just killing aerys before he could do any more damage……like being able to see so clearly the exact catch-22 jaime was stuck in when he’s still a teenager…..but then being completely unable to apply that same understanding to his own family, or even to lyanna & why she might have not wanted to marry him……..

[blythesarchives]

Sugar Plums. | W.S

summary: The soldier has an attachment to you.

warnings: Suggestive 18+ MDNI & Fluff | Fem!reader | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Brief mentions of PTSD | Brief talk of HYDRA | Heavy petting | Love biting/hickeys

a/n: This came to me randomly but thought it was cute and somewhat spicy. I added some fluff to balance it all out and tried to keep the sexy scenes sweet too. I see so many fics of him being super aggressive in bed and those are great, but for me I think he'd be a little more like this. Takes place after the events of CA:TWS. Contains roughly translated Russian, native speakers can correct me if anything was translated wrong. Ty. ;; wc: 5.5k

It was so awkward.

Everyone sat frozen in place, their eyes locked on the imposing figure of the Winter Soldier as he towered behind you, his piercing blue eyes methodically scanning the room and studying each occupant with an intensity that made them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Absolutely not!" Tony was the first to break the suffocating silence, his voice sharp and decisive as he beat Steve to speaking by a mere second. There was absolutely no way he would even consider allowing the fist of HYDRA to take up residence in his tower, treating him like he was nothing more than some lost stray that needed sheltering. "He's not staying here, no way in hell - this isn't a halfway house for reformed assassins."

"Tony, come on. HYDRA is gone, their control over him is broken," you reasoned desperately, your voice taking on a pleading tone as you gestured toward the silent figure behind you, "He's been surviving on his own for weeks, barely getting by. Just look at him...he's exhausted, malnourished, and clearly needs somewhere safe to stay and recover."

"Uh, how about no?" Tony fired back, staring at you like you had grown a second head...or like you had a towering sleeper soldier looming behind you.

Tony wasn't your favorite person in the world, but he was usually somewhat reasonable.

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

"Your state-of-the-art security cameras can't give us a heads up before that happens?" You asked with dry sarcasm, your tone deliberately flat and unimpressed, clearly making a joke while you tried to find some kind of middle ground that would get the agitated, self-proclaimed playboy to calm down and think rationally.

"No chance in hell, sweet cheeks," he folded his arms and glared at you with sternness that etched across his features. "Too dangerous."

"He's staying, whether you like it or not," you replied in the same unwavering tone, standing your ground with resolute conviction. "He's hurt, weak, completely vulnerable. There's absolutely nothing he could possibly do in this state. He needs somewhere warm and safe to stay, especially since he's been struggling to survive out on the streets for weeks now. Besides, winter is coming fast and there’s no way he won’t get hypothermia or something." You added with concern, knowing full well that while the soldier hadn't been entirely helpless during his ordeal, he certainly hadn't managed to secure any kind of stable shelter.

His temporary refuges consisted only of cold spaces beneath bridges, dark corners tucked away in forgotten alleys, or the remains of abandoned buildings - not a single place where he could truly let his guard down or feel protected from the harsh elements. With winter's rapid approach and already light dustings of snow, the temperatures would only get more brutal as the nights went on.

You continued to argue with Tony, Steve butting in every so often, luckily siding with you, desperate to have his old friend somewhere safe. It was a long, frustrating argument that lasted much longer than need be.

Earlier that day, while you had been making your way down the frost-covered street of New York's downtown district, his eyes had caught sight of your familiar form. Something deep within him told him to follow you, a magnetic pull that he couldn't explain. He obeyed the instinct, trailing silently behind you all the way back to the tower. When you finally became aware of his presence, he was thoroughly drenched from the steadily falling snow, his cheeks and nose having turned a bright, rosy color from the biting cold as he tried to suppress his constant shivering.

The moment you made your sudden turn to approach him, he visibly startled, immediately taking a defensive step backward as his mind raced through all the possible scenarios and potential threats. His eyes darted across your face with obvious wariness as you fully turned to face him, his entire body subtly shifting its weight from foot to foot, muscles tensed and ready to bolt away.

"It's okay...you look cold..." You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying not to startle him as you took in his disheveled appearance. The soldier, the one whose face had practically been plastered across every news channel, the same one Steve had spoken about with such raw emotion in his voice.

You remembered how Steve had mourned his best friend, utterly confused and devastated about why he had saved from the river, while Bucky fell to what should have been his death. Steve held onto that grief, that guilt, like a lifeline. He held onto it so desperately, clinging to the faintest hope that a sliver of Bucky was still somewhere deep inside the persona of the Winter Soldier.

Looking at him now, you couldn't see any trace of the man from Steve's stories - the soldier's eyes were too wild and wide, filled with fear and confusion.

But despite everything you'd heard, despite the destruction you'd witnessed on the news, despite the intense warnings from everyone in the tower, there was something about his presence that didn't trigger your fight or flight response.

He didn't make you feel unsafe.

He looked absolutely beat down, exhausted to his very core, his shoulders slumped in a way that made you wonder when he'd last had a moment's rest. You weren't even sure he could take you down if he tried in this state, though you knew his reputation suggested otherwise. He was shaking from the cold air as it blew in a stinging breeze, his metal arm gleaming dully in what little light remained, while the incoming winter storm brought with it a thick haze and countless tiny pinpricks of needle-like snowflakes that seemed to cut through the air.

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

After a few silent moments where his piercing blue eyes studied you through the thick haze, he finally shifted his weight forward and took a step in your direction.

The water in the shower had set a steady steam in the bathroom, the mirror had fogged and the tiles sweat below your bare feet.

You could hear the gentle splashing of water against the bathtub as he cleaned himself. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm caught your attention, hopefully that thing was waterproof, but it must be, right?

After setting out a fresh towel and clean clothes for his use, you quietly excused yourself to provide him with privacy. The state of his current attire was awful, every piece was thoroughly saturated and carried an unmistakable stench that made you wrinkle your nose. The clothes were in such poor condition that you couldn't help but wonder if they had been scavenged from someone who no longer needed them.

You wouldn’t put it past the soldier to steal from a cadaver.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel. His gaze fell upon the fresh clothes you had thoughtfully placed by the sink, while his previous garments had been discreetly removed.

The soldier hesitated momentarily before donning the clean outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy, a pair of grey sweatpants emblazoned with the Avenger's logo along the side and a simple yet comfortable black tank top. When he finally emerged from the bathroom to face you, his body language betrayed his uncertainty as he stood there, not sure what to do now. Comfort was completely foreign to him, and care was a dream away.

"Tony finally gave in," you replied softly, your voice sounded in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. "He said you could stay here with us."

He remained motionless, his expression blank and unreadable as he stood there, offering neither response nor the slightest hint of acknowledgement to your words. You weren’t sure what to expect but that seemed pretty in character for him at the moment.

"You'll be staying in my quarters since no one else is comfortable having you in their space just yet...but don't worry too much about that," you reassured gently, though you could tell from his demeanor that others' opinions held little weight in his mind. "They'll come around after some time, I'm sure of it."

His gaze fixed upon you then, his brow creasing ever so slightly with an unspoken question as he began to move. Each step was deliberate and measured as he crossed the room, closing the distance between you until he stood directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets from his freshly washed hair beading at the ends and falling onto the fabric of your top, leaving dark spots where they landed.

"Everything's going to be fine," you said with gentle reassurance, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get you something to eat? You must be hungry." You offered, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation.

The soldier shadowed your every movement, following closely behind like a faithful companion who refused to stray from their master's side.

Upon entering the expansive kitchen, you immediately made your way to the industrial-sized refrigerator, searching through its contents for something suitable to offer him. The kitchen was perpetually stocked to the brim with an array of foods, snacks, and ingredients, practically anything one could imagine or desire. It was like having a private, fully-stocked grocery store.

Though with a the ravenous super soldier with enhanced metabolism, the mighty Asgardian god whose appetite matched his status, and Banner's surprisingly hulk-ish consumption…the team still depleted their food with an efficiency that would put a pack of famished wolves to shame.

"Hm...what should you have...do you want anything specific?" You turned over your shoulder to address him, but he maintained his characteristic silence. Unmoving, and completely stoic, like a statue carved from marble.

"Нет [No]," came his quiet response, the Russian word rolling off his tongue deeply. He remained perfectly still, observing with careful attention as you continued your search through the refrigerator's contents, trying to determine what would be most appropriate for him to eat. Your mind was working quickly, knowing you wanted to avoid anything too time-consuming to prepare. You wanted to get some food into him sooner rather than later.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold." You turned back toward him once more, studying his features carefully for any hint of reaction or preference to your suggestion, any subtle change in his expression.

But, he didn't provide even the slightest indication of his feelings.

You decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese anyway, you figured it was best and immediately set to work in the kitchen.

Although you typically prided yourself on preparing meals completely from scratch, this particular circumstance called for something different. You assembled the sandwich, buttering the bread before placing it in a heated pan to get a golden-brown crust while keeping a watchful eye on the pot of soup simmering beside it, occasionally stirring for even heating.

Once everything reached the perfect temperature and consistency, you transferred the meal onto clean dishes, relieved it didn’t take too long. You presented him with the steaming bowl of soup and perfectly grilled sandwich, watching as the soldier deliberately took his place at the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the rising steam from the bowl before him.

You watched him, noting how his entire body remained unnaturally rigid and motionless, as though every muscle was locked in place and braced for something. His lips bore a slight sheen of moisture, like he had licked them at some point when you weren't watching. Yet despite his obvious hunger, he hadn't made even the slightest attempt to reach for the food. His eyes held intense longing and hesitation, briefly meeting yours before quickly darting away, as if making eye contact was somehow forbidden.

"What's wrong?" You asked with growing concern etched across your features, "You're hungry aren't you? I can tell you haven't eaten in a while. Especially not anything warm, at least. I know it can be hard out there, all by yourself…"

His response came in the form of an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the bowl and sandwich before him, as though they were the most important and most dangerous objects in the room.

"So why aren't you eating? The food's getting cold, it won’t be as good if it cools too much."

"Я не могу совершить действие без приказа. [I cannot perform an action without an order]," the soldier responded in barely more than a whisper, his voice carrying the weight of years of conditioning.

You stood there, completely lost in the language barrier between you. Your limited knowledge of Russian extended only to the most basic words - 'да' and 'нет' - leaving you clueless by his response and worried about the implications of his behavior.

You didn't want to wake Natasha, even though she would certainly understand what he was saying in Russian, but disturbing her sleep for something as simple as a quick translation seemed unnecessary and might put her in a bad mood. Instead, an idea popped into your head that would avoid an angry widow. You reached for your phone and placed it on the smooth counter surface, navigating to a translator app before looking up at him again. "Can you repeat that?"

The soldier's eyes flickered briefly to the phone screen, taking in the sight of the translation app with what seemed like recognition, before his gaze deliberately returned to the untouched food laid out before him. "I cannot perform an action without an order," he stated in perfect, albeit mechanical English this time.

You blinked in surprise, thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden switch to English when he had been persistently speaking Russian up until this point. "Okay...well...eat then, you can eat freely here, you don't need an order to do that." You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket as his right hand gradually lifted from where it had been resting in his lap, reaching out to pick up the sandwich.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but he wolfed down his food within a minute, that sandwich was gone within maybe three bites. The soup swallowed just as fast.

God, he was starving, and the realization made your heart ache.

"Better?" You asked gently, to which he only nodded, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth.

This became routine, the soldier stuck by your side like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

He followed you diligently around every corner of the tower, his protective instincts activated as he positioned himself like an ever-vigilant guardian. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, noting how others would cast uncertain and sometimes suspicious glances in his direction.

These looks made him increasingly self-conscious and anxious, as though he were some exotic creature put on display at a zoo for others to gawk at. But in your presence, he seemed a bit more at ease. He genuinely liked being around you.

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

He accepted these tender ministrations without the slightest resistance or complaint, though a nagging worry lingered in your mind that his compliance stemmed from years of conditioning to submit to others' wishes. Each time you worried about that, you’d see a genuine warmth and contentment in his gaze rather than submission, showing you that he truly found comfort and pleasure in your gentle touch.

It was evening, the room reflected the warm glow of festive holiday lights emanating from a miniature Christmas tree nestled in the corner. The soldier found himself transfixed by the small decorated tree, his eyes lingering on each twinkling light as their vibrant colors danced and shimmered. The sterile, monotonous walls he had grown accustomed to during his confinement were nothing compared to the colorful lights. The gentle play of red, green, and gold seemed to awaken something long dormant within him, he almost wanted to plant himself in front of the tree and just stare at it.

Tony may have allowed his stay, but that didn’t mean there weren’t restrictions. He was stern about where and when the soldier could go anywhere with you, and he demanded that he not leave your room afterhours. It wasn’t hard to follow, the solider showed reluctance to leave your room at all, having been so accustomed to being kept in one room. You didn’t push him, but you felt bad for him because he was missing how the tower had been decorated for the holidays. So, you got a smaller tree for the bedroom to provide some kind of festive look for him to take in.

You emerged from the bathroom, wisps of steam following in your wake, your damp hair leaving little droplets on your shoulders as you continued to towel it dry with scrunches. He remained motionless on the edge of your bed, his attention immediately shifting as he turned and blinked up at your approaching figure.

His icy eyes traced a deliberate path across your form, which was barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, the hem teasingly brushing against your mid-thigh with each movement. "I am beat," you sighed heavily, your voice carrying the weight of the day's festivities. The marathon of holiday activities had clearly taken its toll, leaving you thoroughly drained. The tower often held an array of things to do because Tony loved to show off what he could afford, and it wasn’t like anyone else would object.

He observed with rapt attention as you made your way onto the bed and settled back against the pillows, releasing a deep exhale that seemed to melt away the day's tension. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on the rhythmic, hypnotic motion of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

You felt the bed shift beneath you as he moved, his weight causing the mattress to dip and creak softly. He crawled over to where you lay, his arms positioning themselves on either side of your body, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering directly above you, his presence overwhelming in its proximity. This was something new…he had always maintained somewhat of a distance before, never daring to position himself so intimately over top of you.

"Я скомпрометирован. [I'm compromised]," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone, his voice carrying that distinctive gravelly pitch that made you feel tingly. The tension between you had become damned near impossible to ignore. What had started as a subtle pull had grown into an overwhelming force of attraction that seemed to draw you both together like magnets.

Still, you forced yourself to hold back, maintaining that last thread of restraint. You had no way of knowing the depth of his emotional capacity, if he was even capable of genuine feelings, or wanted to experience them at all after everything he endured.

"Soldat...?" The whispered word escaped your lips as you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles tensed as he remained suspended above you, perfectly still. "You know I don't understand-"

"I am compromised," he repeated, switching to English this time. His voice had dropped even lower, carrying an edge of frustration that vibrated through the minimal space between your bodies.

"Comprom..." You sat up slowly on your elbows and shook your head in confusion, your brow furrowed as you tried to process his words. That’s what you’d say about a machine or computer, not a man. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes wandered downward, suddenly drawn to an unmistakable tent in his fitted briefs that became obvious from your new viewing angle, causing you to freeze in place as your breath caught in your throat.

So, he could feel things.

"Oh..." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you remained frozen in place, your cheeks growing warm. "I think I understand now...you're feeling a bit pent up, aren't you?"

His metal arm whirred softly, the sophisticated machinery humming as he moved to adjust his hand placement. "Да. [Yes]," he responded in a low voice, his gleaming titanium fingertips delicately ghosted across the bare skin of your thigh, just barely grazing beneath the hem of your thin sleep shirt. Goosebumps erupted along your body in response to the contact, the cool metal sudden against your flushed skin.

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You swallowed reflexively, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his warm, steady breath caress your sensitive skin, sending a visible shudder of growing excitement through your body.

He continued his gentle exploration, encouraged by your acceptance and the absence of any resistance. He pressed a trail of soft, purposeful kisses along the curve of your jaw, each one more intimate than the last, before gradually working his way down to your neck. His lips carefully followed the rhythmic flutter of your pulse beneath your skin, his tongue peeking out shyly to touch against you.

"Ah-" You voiced softly, feeling him settle on a particularly sensitive spot, right against the delicate side of your neck. It was nestled perfectly between the graceful junction where your neck connected to your collarbone, the skin there warm and inviting, holding a faint trace of blood flow from the intricate network of smaller veins positioned just beneath the surface.

He kissed many times with increasing intensity, clearly finding this spot ideal for his attentions. The soft, tentative pecks gradually became more passionate, open-mouthed kisses as each one was placed. His tongue began gently pressing against your skin with each lingering kiss, the pressure slowly growing in need. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth when he finally latched on, your eyes widening in surprise as the soldier's strong arms held you a little tighter.

Soldat began to suckle a mark, his ministrations gentle and teasing at first, but quickly growing in force and intensity as his skilled tongue swirled expertly around the trapped skin between his lips and teeth. The sensation drew a breathy moan from deep within you, making your entire body feel as though it were engulfed in flames of desire. Though you were completely helpless beneath the assassin, you had absolutely no intention or desire to push him away.

This felt too damned good.

Without thinking, your leg came up and hooked around his hips, drawing him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you grew and you felt his painful erection trapped in his briefs, straining against the fabric as his arousal was staining them. Soldat exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening possessively, but he did not let go.

His suckling grew increasingly intense, the sensitive skin tingling and starting to sting and burn with each passing moment. Still, he didn't release the bruised skin just yet.

Instead, he just bit down harder, ensuring the mark he left would last for days. You moaned loudly, your fingers gently tangling in his thick hair as your pleasured sounds encouraged his attention. He became more attentive when your little sounds of pleasure turned into sharp, quiet hisses - clearly indicating that the sensation had crossed from pleasure into discomfort, silently telling him to ease off.

When he did finally relent, he pulled back to admire his handiwork, looking down at the deep purple mark blooming on your neck. His breath came in heavy pants through his parted lips as he stayed quiet, watching intently as you struggled to catch your own breath too. The sight of you beneath him, disheveled and vulnerable, with flushed skin and labored breathing, was enough to draw him right back in.

He dipped back down with renewed hunger, his metal hand slowly threading through your hair before gently fisting it at the base of your skull, though his careful control ensured it wasn’t painful, just firm. He tugged just enough to guide your movement, encouraging you to expose more of your neck to his hungry gaze.

"E-easy..." You whispered, a note of anxious anticipation in your voice. You wanted more, god you wanted more, but his sudden change of behavior was a bit surprising for you.

"Понял. [Understood]," he whispered against your skin, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck. Those soft kisses began again, trailing along your skin, but his restraint didn't last long as he quickly sought a new canvas for another mark. He latched onto a spot just a little bit higher on your neck, alternating between sucking and carefully controlled bites to gradually darken and bruise the sensitive flesh.

You felt bite after delicious bite, hickey after possessive hickey.

He marked the tender flesh of your neck in several deep, purple marks that bloomed like violent flowers across your skin...each one throbbing with a sweet ache when he pulled away. His tongue always swirled over the mark with care to soothe the sting of it, making you arch into his touch as you fell into a complete daze.

"S-Soldat," you muttered breathlessly, cheeks flushed crimson and eyelids heavy with desire. Your pupils matched his own - completely blown with hunger and desperate need. Those bermuda swirls meeting yours as he continued a torturously slow trail of hot kisses down your chest, nipping your collarbone with just enough pressure to make you gasp before following the gentle dip of your sternum.

He paused deliberately, pulling up so he could lift the thin sleep shirt over you and expose more of your bare chest to his hungry gaze, giving him better access for his heated kisses and teasing nips. Once your top was discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands gently but firmly held your sides, trailing up with reverent touches until settling against your ribcage. His larger hands completely encompassed your torso, making you feel small but protected.

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

You felt in charge now.

"What is it? Do you like them?" you purred softly to the soldier, your body swaying in a deliberately teasing motion that made them gently move. His eyes remained fixed, drinking in the sight before him as his lips parted ever so slightly. Slowly, his head tilted down again, surrendering to the moment. He let his face nestle against your chest, his lips trailing a constellation of unhurried kisses across your skin.

He began to nip and suckle the tender skin of your breasts, his mouth working to create deep, purple love bites on that delicate flesh. The bruising blossomed easily beneath his ministrations, almost like they were eager to show themselves.

His lips would find a promising spot, then he would begin lapping at the skin with gentle strokes of his tongue until he felt you squirming. The soldier took the sensitized flesh carefully between his teeth, rolling the captured skin while his talented muscle swirled and sucked.

Your chest displayed his passionate handiwork when he finally drew back to admire his creation. The plum-colored bruises created an intimate pattern across your skin, their rich hues made even more striking by the soft glow of the holiday lights that danced through the room, highlighting each carefully placed love bite until they seemed to shimmer like twilight stars against your flesh.

"Soldat...I think you covered enough surface area," you breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the intense throbbing that radiated from each mark he'd left. The sensation pulsed in waves across your skin, making it difficult to focus. Your neck was thoroughly covered in the passionate marks, and now your chest bore an equally impressive collection.

The soldier gazed down at you with intensely, his eyes taking in each little sugar plum bruise that decorated your skin like a masterpiece. Though they were scattered without any deliberate pattern, the overall effect clearly pleased him. You lay there looking thoroughly affected by his attention, hair mussed and breathing uneven, cheeks beautifully darkened with a dust of blush, just from his careful application of bites alone. The sight of you in such a state, marked so thoroughly, brought deep set satisfaction in his gut.

"Моя теперь. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own. The almost-kiss was delicate, just the faintest brush of contact that sent electricity dancing through your nerves. He almost seemed nervous to close that final distance, his confidence faltering despite the passionate trail of marks he had already left scattered across your skin.

He drew back slightly, seemingly snapping out of a trance, and you could see the vulnerability written plainly across his features as that nervousness flickered in his eyes. Shifting his weight, he settled back onto the bed, his right hand finding your knee and tracing gentle, soothing circles there with his thumb. The tender gesture matched his hushed voice as he spoke, "Я не хочу идти дальше. [I don't want to go any further]," the words carrying both certainty and a hint of apology.

Your brow furrowed deeply as you struggled to understand what he was trying to stay, the confusion evident in the slight crease between your eyebrows and the questioning tilt of your head. You really needed to study Russian. "Do you not want to continue?" you asked slowly and carefully, focusing more on interpreting the subtle nuances in his tone rather than trying to parse the exact words he was using.

His facial expression held hesitance and uncertainty, the slight downturn of his lips and the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet yours telling you what you needed to know. Body language was his primary mode of genuine communication, and you had become very good at reading these silent signals he unconsciously broadcast.

"It's okay, we can stop," you replied with a reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice soft to help dissipate any lingering tension he might be feeling. "Let's just lay here, okay? We can cuddle without any kind of pressure to do anything else, if you want." You offered with a warm smile, wanting him to feel that his comfort and boundaries were completely respected and that there was no expectation or obligation to continue.

This was a lot of good progress with him, you typically just cuddled or he kept to his side of the bed but he had shown you a lot of sweet affection tonight, and you loved it, it meant he was growing more confident in himself and your relationship. The evidence of his passionate yet tender attention remained visible in the form of gentle, plum-colored marks that decorated your neck and chest as you lay beside him, watching as his silent form trembled slightly beneath the heavy warmth of the thick blankets that enveloped you both.

You opened your arms, offering him a warmer space, and he quickly scooted forward, tucking himself against you. Prone to being cold, he liked being under many layers of blankets, so you made sure to provide plenty for him to not only feel warm but secure. Plus...having you to hold him always helped.

Without the worry of being a soldier, he could rest easy like this.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[s0dium]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐗

A/n: Almost kinktober guys ;) Synopsis: How many rounds can JJK men go for? Characters: Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Geto Suguru, Choso, Sukuna Ryomen Warnings: Doggy, mating press, multiple orgasms, sub space, overstimulation, dub-con, photo taking, cock warming, nipple sucking, finger sucking, breeding, unprotected sex, virgin!Choso, mentions of masturbation, pussy drunk men

☆ Gojo Satoru: 3-4

The longest three rounds of your life

You think he can stop just cumming in you once? Hell no. The best part about sex is when he can see his cum oozing out of you with each push.

Also loves overstimulating himself until he is a groaning mess.

Unfortunately for you, Gojo Satoru is NOT a one-minute man.

"Awe come on don't go zoning out on me now~"

Gojo's voice is teasing, a low, melodic coo that slides into your ears as you struggle to focus. His grin is wide, almost predatory, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he leans in closer. You’re hazy, breathless, your mind clouded with pleasure, barely able to register the words.

"S'cant... feel too...” You mumbled and thrashed against Gojo's hold, forcing him to pin your wrists together above your head while he pistoned into you with brute force. Sure it's only the second round for him but for you, he's brought you over the edge more than your poor poor body can handle.

Your body feels completely spent, trembling with overstimulation as your legs, sore from the constant tightening and untightening, hang limp in Gojo's grip. He’s folded you in half, his hands pressing your legs against your chest, locking you in place with ease. The room feels heavy, a warm haze clouding your thoughts as you realize you’ve been drooling, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure to even care.

“Feel fucking amazing Jesus Christ.” Gojo manages to groan out between pants followed by a string of curses. Every time he leaves the clutch of your cunny, his cock is coated in a thick shiny sheen of creaminess, and when he snaps his hips back in, it settles right at the base of him, painting your puffy pussy lips as well. Gojo effortlessly lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, sinking even deeper into you with each forceful thrust. The new angle, paired with the relentless pace of his hips snapping against yours, sends you spiraling dangerously close to the edge. Your grip on the sheets falters, hands slipping as tears streak down your flushed cheeks. Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling beneath you, completely mind-fucked and overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumes every inch of your body.

Your limbs have no strength left to resist—no, you don’t want to. Every nerve in your body is thrumming, begging for more as you let him take control. His every movement draws out a fresh wave of sensation, each thrust sending you spiraling closer to that next high. You can’t stop it—there’s no chance to. Your body is his to use, to pull pleasure from again and again, and all you can do is surrender to the bliss as it builds, crashing over you uncontrollably.

"Come for me baby," Gojo coos. "I'll cum in you and if it spills we can start all over again."

~

☆ Toji Fushiguro: 6

First three you are riding him and doing all the work.

Then when your legs give out thats even he fucks you silly

He is so big :( Sometimes he has to let you cock warm him for a bit so you can catch your breath

This is it you where going to die.

You were going to be fucked to death.

"Shhh, stop crying would you? Yer' taking it like a champ I promise."

Two big hands come up to your face to wipe the hot tears streaming down your face. Your body is trembling uncontrollably, every muscle quivering as waves of pleasure leave you numb and overwhelmed. It’s like your senses have short-circuited, leaving you shaking, barely able to register anything beyond the intense, lingering sensation pulsing through you.

Even though Toji is unmoving inside you, your pussy cannot stop spasming from the pleasure of his fat tip pressed up against your g-spot. Even if he wanted to pull out right now, Toji doubts that your cunt would give up the vice grip on his cock. Coincidentally that meant that he was keeping you plugged with 3 loads of warm sticky cum in your tight walls.

"Fuck still so tight baby, you want me to fuck you more don't you?" Toji's voice is a low, teasing coo as his focus shifts to your breasts, his tongue flicking over each hardened nipple, tracing slow, lazy circles that send shivers down your spine. One hand squeezes your breast, kneading the soft flesh, while the other glides over your sides and stomach, his touch warm and deliberate, drawing out every sensation. With all the strength you can muster, you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer to you so that you can feel his cock push impossibly farther into you, and he moans into your breast, biting your nipple softly. 

Then, without releasing your nipple from his mouth, he begins the slow roll of his hips into your sloppy cunt. Toji's hips move in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each roll pressing him deeper into you with a tantalizing, unhurried pace. His movements are controlled, almost teasing, as he grinds against you, making you feel every inch, every pulse of his dick as he draws out your pleasure with each smooth thrust.

"Just take it m'kay? You can handle it."

~

☆ Geto Suguru: 4

Geto is a real fiend

The breaks between sex consist of him drinking water and kissing the water into your mouth. After that it's right back to fucking.

Loves taking photos of his cum oozing out of you. Looks at it when he is bored.

“So pretty….”

Drool dripped from your chin onto the pillow below, mixing with the tears streaming from your eyes, which were rolled back in bliss. Your breath hitched the moment Geto's hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to catch his gaze out of the corner of your eye. As your eyes lock, a dark, knowing smirk curves on his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. You were finally getting used to the dizzying, mind-numbing pressure of his tip crashing into your cervix—but the bad news? Your legs were completely numb, trembling and useless beneath you.

 “Did you hear what I said doll?”

 Whatever was left of your mind tried to reign back its focus on the man pistoning into you from behind, but as it turned out, there wasn’t much. The friction of his cock dragging against you was unbearable, even with the syrupy cum soaking the walls of your quivering pussy. All you could do was dizzily nod, earning a chuckle from Geto while he eyes the way your hips instinctively raise so his cock can sink even deeper into you from behind. If you could only know the heaven your cunt you're putting his mind in, he is sure you'd be the one smirking. Geto even has to bite harshly on his lip to stop himself from whimpering every time your sticky pussy spasms from pleasure.

The euphoria came in waves of electric current that pulsed through your sloppy pussy and the only thing keeping you grounded his loads of warm sticky cum dripping down your thigh.  

 “Come on speak to me baby, I've only come two times, we've barely even started.”

 The wet sounds of Geto's dick slipping in and out of you filled the room and your senses. His cock filled you so much better than your hands ever could, hitting that gummy spot inside your walls over and over again perfectly, and you wondered how you were ever satisfied with the way you masturbated before you met him.

 “I’m a lucky man arent I? To have such an obedient baby with such a pretty pussy.” His hand comes to your face to caress your cheek, and you nestle into his touch while his thumb wipes away your tears. Your too busy immersing in the warmth of his palm to notice the flash of light and the sound of a shutter above you. Even when you turn your head back in curiosity, all you see is Geto staring at the screen of his phone with a lazy grin spread on his face.

~

☆ Choso: 2

Give this man a break! He's a half century old curse who has never fucked before!

You should be glad that he didn't cum by just slipping his tip in, because oh god lord he is seeing colors.

Choso swore he wasn't a whimpering man. Nothing that good could ever make him stumble over his words like a schoolboy. But Jesus Christ, he was not expecting you.

“F-fuck, you’re tight,” Choso groans hoarsely. You felt good? Try god-like, Choso's mind was in euphoria right now. His hand or a fleshlight could never compare to the way your gummy walls sucked him in and hugged his cock.

"M'feel good Cho~" You whine, head thrown back against the plush pillow. The stretch was delicious. It had you squirming and writhing and you couldn't help but tighten as your body tried to push out the large foreign intrusion. You gasped when you felt his tip smush against your cervix, little bolts of electricity being sent through your stomach as he pressed against you.

Choso was slow at first, wanting to still admire the way your cunt swallows him up, the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He whines at how hot you are on the inside, but he’s quick to change to a faster pace.

Choso’s voice comes out in a deep, breathless groan, his grip tightening as he leans closer, his words heavy with need. "W-wanna do this all the time. Every day, baby," he rasps, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, completely lost in the sensation. Each thrust seems to pull the words from his lips as if he can’t hold back, his body trembling with how good it feels. The thought of having you like this, over and over, only spurs him on, his pace quickening as he grinds against you, desperate to make this moment last forever.

Unable to handle the sensation, your hands grab his shoulder and grip them for dear life. Choso doesn’t let up his pace, in fact he increases it, pounding your poor little cunt with no remorse. His mind is foggy, everything just feels and looks so so good, he’s not even thinking when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, digits pressing down on your tongue and swirling around in the spit.

“Your gonna let me use you when ever I want right? Gotta lot of time to make up for, you gonna be a good girl and always make me feel good right?”

~

☆ Sukuna Ryomen: Lord have mercy

It depends.

Its either the longest no-break sex marathon of your life or 6 even seven rounds with small breaks in between.

Unfortunately, Sukuna is a sadist, it's a headcanon that he might prioritize his pleasure over yours. Combine that with his godly stamina and you have an insane combo.

Kneeling helplessly, both your wrists pinned behind you by just one of Sukuna’s powerful arms, you can only brace yourself as he thrusts into you from behind, each powerful movement sending shockwaves through your body as he effortlessly controls your every breath, your every tremble.

"C-cant do this!" you cry, your voice breaking as Sukuna's grip tightens around your wrists, holding you firmly in place. Your legs are sore from this kneeling position and the angle that his cock hits you is so euphoric it's almost painful from the sheer collision. Sukuna chuckles darkly, his pace relentless as he leans in closer, his hot breath ghosting over your neck.

"Oh, but you will," he growls, each word dripping with wicked amusement, his hips driving into you harder. "You don’t have a choice."

You can only wail in response, the sound escaping your lips uncontrollably as the overwhelming pleasure consumes you. Every thrust sends a wave of heat surging through your body, your mind going blank as Sukuna fills you completely, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. The pressure builds with each deep, forceful stroke, your body trembling beneath him, and all you can do is surrender to the intense, all-encompassing bliss that threatens to pull you under.

"Such a good girl, you're a natural submissive, aren't you? Or maybe you just loved being fucked like the slut you are."

How much time has passed? You can’t even tell anymore—everything blurs together in a haze of pleasure and heat. The rhythm of Sukuna’s relentless pistoning becomes the only thing grounding you, your mind foggy and lost as your body responds to him instinctively. Each second feels stretched out, an eternity of raw sensation as you teeter on the brink, utterly consumed by the moment.

"Gonna fuck you like this till I’ve had my fill, got that?" Sukuna’s voice is a low, dangerous growl in your ear, the words sending a shiver down your spine as he presses deeper.

[hellokittyish]

continuation of this.

★ thinking about choso who, despite having only recently lost his virginity to you, easily has the highest sex drive out of any of your previous partners.

he's practically always raring to go, no matter where you are, what time it is, or who you're surrounded by — it all blends into nothing more than mere background noise, the only coherent thought left in his mind being that he needs to have you.

he doesn't know exactly what happened... but ever since his first time with you, it's like a switch he never even knew was there has flipped, leaving him physically unable of going even a few hours without feeling your sweet warmth wrapped around him.

and he'll be all desperate and whiny about it to begin with, pale cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and clammy hands fiddling restlessly with the sleeves of his shirt as he timidly asks if the two of you can go someplace more private.

but the moment you're behind closed doors, it's just like that night all over again, with choso swiftly pinning you to the nearest wall and unforgivingly jackhammering the entire length of his cock up into you over and over again, all the while grunting incoherent words against the shell of your ear.

and if you do manage to make out any of his slurred speech, it'll usually be along the lines of "couldn't help myself, you just looked s'good today." or "i-i think you've ruined me... all i can t-think about anymore is being inside this tight, perfect little pussy. 's not fair."

it's almost like having two entirely different boyfriends; the usual shy, quiet version of him that hides behind you during conversations with strangers — and the rough, overly vocal version of him that only rears its not-so-ugly head while he's fucking you.

not that you'll ever be caught complaining. because after all, it's like having the best of both worlds.

[jaysbaefie]

babysitter | pjs

synopsis: in which your reckless driving leads to you spending your summer babysitting your father’s business partners son.

genre: rich dad au

pairing: chaebol!jay x younger bratty!reader

warnings: 12 year age gap! reader is 23 and jay is 35, lots and lots of tension, bratty!reader, meandom!jay, possessive!jay, bickering, lots of cornering (like a lot), forced submission, spanking ass + pussy, dub-con in some instances, (oral f. rec), fingering, choking, manhandling, binding with belt, rough p in v (unprotected), forced confession of feelings, cum eating, lots of talk about age. i think that’s it ….

wc: 22.4k

a/n: holy fuck balls you guys. this was the longest piece i’ve written and i feel like ive lost my mind. i feel like a changed woman with all this plot and the minimal smut… like what happened. also wtf is a 1000 block limit…? i had to go back and merge paragraphs because tumblr has a limit apparently. so now, it’s just merged together which is so annoying. anyways, this is for those who voted for babysitter jay! stay tuned i plan on putting another pole out for the next fic. thank you for all the love on my fics <33 notes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. enjoy :)))

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

 

you should've known something like this would happen. when your father instructed you to go to his office to pick up some papers for him, you had a gut feeling that something bad was going to happen.

it was your father's fault, really. if he hadn't called you in the middle of the day, nagging about how you needed to "grow up" and "take responsibility" and "learn a thing or two from your old man," you wouldn't have been so distracted. and if you hadn't been so distracted, you wouldn't have slammed your car straight into the back of someone else's.

a very expensive looking car at that.

your heart was still hammering against your ribs as you sat stiffly on the sidewalk, your car parked haphazardly next to the damaged luxury vehicle you had just rear-ended. you stumbled out of your car, not having the guts to walk up to the car you had absolutely demolished to talk to the owner.

people passing by casted you pitying glances, but none of them could possibly understand the deep, all-consuming regret swirling in your chest.

your father was going to kill you.

worse, the owner of the car was going to kill you.

"you've got to be fucking kidding me."

a deep voice cut through the sound of honking cars and murmuring pedestrians. you squeezed your eyes shut, already dreading the moment you'd have to turn around. but you had no choice, so with a slow inhale, you finally lifted your gaze.

oh fuck my life.

and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

"oh, you've really done it this time," you muttered under your breath, swallowing harshly as the man you recognized as jay park, your father's business partner, the ceo of a multimillion-dollar company, and the man whose car you just destroyed—stood in front of you.

looking absolutely livid.

jay was wearing a crisp black suit, but his jacket was slung over his arm, and the top buttons of his white dress shirt were undone. despite the clear annoyance twisting his sharp features, he still managed to look ridiculously handsome. infuriatingly handsome. disregarding your history with the man, you didn't know if you wanted to jump his bones or get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.

his dark eyes flickered from the dent in his car's bumper to where you sat on the sidewalk, one brow raising as realization dawned on him.

"you have got to be kidding me," he repeated, voice laced with disbelief. "of course it's you". his dark eyes narrowed down on your smaller frame, his mouth twisted in a scowl as he ran his hand through his thick black locks in frustration.

you scowled, crossing your arms. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

fuck his forgiveness.

jay let out a sharp laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. "it means i'm not even surprised. reckless, irresponsible, and spoiled? sounds exactly like you."

"let me guess? daddy's going to take care of this for you? typical," he sneers down at you.

your blood boiled, immediately getting up from the sidewalk so you could stalk up to him. "oh, please. don't act like you know me." he scoffed, leaning down slightly so that his face was closer to yours. "i don't need to know you. your reputation does all the talking, brat."

you clenched your jaw at the name.

he wasn't completely wrong, but you'd rather die than admit that.

jay exhaled heavily, moving back up and pulling out his phone. "i'm calling your father."

your eyes widened in panic. "wait! no, you don't have to do that—"

but it was too late. jay was already dialing, his expression unreadable as he brought the phone to his ear.

you felt like you were about to throw up.

you didn't hear the full conversation, but based on the way jay's jaw tightened and the glance he shot you, you could tell it wasn't going well. after a few more exchanges, he hung up, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"so?" you asked hesitantly, already bracing yourself for the worst. jay crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself. "your father and i came to an agreement."

you narrowed your eyes. "what kind of agreement?"

jay smirked. "instead of paying for the damage, you're going to babysit my son as reparation."

you stared at him. blinked. "what?"

he checked his watch, clearly done with the conversation. "i'll send you the details later. don't be late." and just like that, he walked off, leaving you standing by the sidewalk, utterly speechless.

this could not be happening.

babysitting? you?

you groaned, letting your head drop back.

this was going to be a nightmare, and you needed to wake up.

you make your way to your car, your fists clenching as you mentally prepare yourself to talk to your father.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

"this is so unnecessary, dad."

your father scoffs half heartedly, "you made a mistake, this is the least you could do, __."

"why can't we pay for the repairs, this is completely unnecessary!" you exclaim, your perfectly maintained brows shooting up as you cross your arms—staring at your father with a pointed look.

"besides, he could get anyone who's actually good with children to babysit his kid," you add on with a huff.

he sighs, his eyes shutting in temporary defeat, "__," he says with a warning tone. "mr.park is being nice enough to not file a report and get points deducted from your licence and possibly have your permit suspended. the least you could do is babysit his son, it shows that you are remorseful for your actions. the kids well behaved and you only need to be there for a few hours." 

you roll your eyes, this was stupid. it's not like he even cared about the car, so what you crashed into it.

"fine, but just this once. this isn't going to be a reoccurring thing, right?" you hiss at the end, looking at your father with resentment when his face changes into one of relief.

"i may have mentioned that you're not taking classes in the summer, and that you're free throughout the week so we'll see..." he trails off, watching your expression morph into one of disbelief.

"are you ser—" you begin only for knocking at the door to interrupt your sentence. you whip your head around harshly, ready to verbally abuse whoever had dared to interrupt you. "come in."

the door opened slightly, a house maid peering her head between the crack. "mr.__, mr.kim is here," she informs timidly, catching onto the bad energy in the room.

your father smiles, "we'll be right down, thank you teresa."

you scowl at her, her eyes widening for a moment before she scurries off—shutting the door behind her.

"dad i—" he cuts you off, "—__, we will continue this conversation next time. mr.kim is waiting for us downstairs, you know what to do when mr.park contacts you, right?" his eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you with narrowed eyes.

you let out a frustrated sigh, "yes, dad."

"good, be on your best behaviour."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

later that evening, you had sufficiently screamed into your pillow and considered packing your bags to flee the country. you were on the phone with one of your best friends, minho, who attempted to comfort you through your mental break down.

"you don't understand, minho. my life is ending," you wailed softly, pressing your face against your pillow—almost suffocating yourself.

minho rolls his eyes behind the screen, he was lucky you weren't on facetime or you'd have his neck.

"__, you're literally just babysitting for the man. you'll be fine."

"no, minho. you're still not getting it! it's the fact that i have to babysit for that asshole. i swear to god i've had beef with him for the last 4 years. he always has a stick up his ass," you ramble.

"are you sure you have beef with him? sounds one sided to me.." he trails off making you let out a gasp—offended at his words.

"you're supposed to be on my side, dick. whatever, i'll talk to you later. if i'm not dead," you whine dramatically.

minho scoffs, "yeah, yeah. love you, talk soon."

"love you too, bitch. bye."

you hang up the phone, staring mindlessly at your roof as you think about the events of today. jay wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so uptight all the time. he was actually hot. really, hot.

you think back to the times where the two of you interacted, the fake polite nods you sent his ways and the way he tried to hide his dislike for you behind his charming smile whenever there were others around. the way he'd brush up against you whenever he walked by you, or how his voice deepened when he said your name.

you had noticed his gaze slide up and down your frame on multiple occasions, choosing to ignore it but secretly loving the way he looked like he hated you. however, all these moments get pushed aside when you remember all the times he was an absolute dick towards you.

jay had a way of making himself the most infuriating person on the planet—whether he did it on purpose or not. and judging by the smug way his lips always curled whenever he got under your skin, you knew it was always on purpose. he liked seeing you riled up, he liked it when you bit back at him.

the first time you met him, he completely ignored you. it was at some stupid business dinner your father had forced you to attend. while everyone exchanged pleasantries, jay didn't even acknowledge you. not a single glance. not even when you introduced yourself. instead, he sipped his whiskey, eyes trained on anything but you. it wasn't until you had walked past him that he finally said something.

"spoiled little princess, huh?"

you turned back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "what did you just say to me?" this was the first time he had talked to you, and this is what he has to say?

he smirked over the rim of his glass. "nothing."

you scoffed, rolling your eyes in distaste before sauntering away. jay's eyes following every movement of your hips as you slowly get lost in the crowd.

he loved pointing out your mistakes.

when you got a flat tire outside your father's office, jay happened to be walking by. you were already frustrated, struggling with your phone to call for roadside assistance, when his voice rang out behind you.

"let me guess. you don't even know how to change a tire, do you?"

you scoffed, glaring at him. "do you?"

he chuckled, shaking his head. "of course i do. but i don't help people who look at me like they'd rather set me on fire."

he always had a comment about your attitude. "you pout too much."

you blinked, pausing mid-sip of your drink. "excuse me?"

jay leaned against the bar counter at yet another business event, swirling the ice in his glass as he looked at you with mild amusement. "you pout too much. like a brat who didn't get what she wanted."

you scoffed, setting your glass down with a little too much force. "maybe that's just my face."

he smirked, eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "yeah? then why do you only do it around me?"

it was safe to say that you hated him and overall wanted nothing to do with him or his kid.

you groan into your pillow, "why me," you whine. suddenly, your phone pings.

you received a text from an unknown number.

jay: 9 am sharp. don't be late. i don't tolerate irresponsibility.

you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of your head.

you: don't worry, i wouldn't dare disappoint you, your highness.

his reply came almost immediately.

jay: that's mr. park to you.

you: my deepest apologies, park jongseong.

he didn't respond after that.

dickwad.

you tossed your phone onto your bed, groaning into your hands.

this was going to be a very, very long summer.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

you were not a morning person, and your lack of sleep was not helping. so when your alarm blared at an ungodly hour, your first instinct was to throw your phone across the room and go back to sleep—but you couldn't. because you had a job to do.

a job that you weren't getting compensated for.

or, more accurately, a job you were being forced into doing. it was unpaid labor by your father.

"consider it a way to build character and experience," he had said to you, sipping his coffee without a shred of sympathy or remorse as you gaped at him.

"consider it a way to ruin my life," you had shot back, but it hadn't mattered.

so here you were, running on three hours of sleep and a whole lot of resentment, pulling up to jay park's house—a sleek, modern mansion that screamed wealth. the kind of wealth that made you roll your eyes but also, begrudgingly, admire just a little. the driveway alone could fit at least six cars, and the front door? massive, dark wood, and intimidating as hell.

jay displayed his wealth proudly, whereas your father preferred to keep himself grounded. you get out of the car, your father had insisted that the driver drop you off.

"we don't need you crashing into another one of mr.park's cars," he had said, ushering you out the door.

you rolled your eyes, begrudgingly agreeing, not because you agreed that you were a terrible driver. but because you were tired and didn't have it in you to argue with him and get your way.

"when shall i pick you up ma'am?" your driver asked you.

you think for a second, "i'll inform you when."

you sighed, running a hand through your hair before pressing the doorbell.

within seconds, the door swung open. revealing a rather, dare you say, scandalous looking jongseong.

his typically neatly slicked back hair was frazzled, strands of his dark locks picking onto his forehead. he was wearing a thin white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, a thin silver chain adorned on his neck and his exposed collar bone. his plump lips were pulled into a rather lazy smirk in contrast to his typical scowl that you were used to him greeting you with. his sharp gaze flickering over you like he was already unimpressed.

it was entirely unfair how good he looked this early in the morning.

his lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smirk but wasn't exactly friendly either.

"you're late."

your eyes narrowed, glancing at your phone. "it's 9:02."

jay raised a brow. "exactly."

your jaw clenched. two minutes. he was seriously acting like two damn minutes was a crime.

you forced a tight-lipped smile. "where's the kid?"

before jay could respond, a small figure peeked out from behind him—a little boy, no older than five, with round cheeks and big, curious eyes.

jay made a cute kid, you'll give him that. jay placed a hand on his head, his expression softening just slightly. "this is seojun. seojun, this is __. she's going to be taking care of you today."

he steps aside, allowing you into his home. you admire the interior, mouth opening in awe as you take off your shoes.

seojun blinked up at you before stepping forward, arms crossed in a stance far too judgmental for a five-year-old.

"do you know how to make pancakes?"

what happened to 'hello, how are you?'

you hesitated for a moment, looking up at jay in confusion only for him to give you a 'well, do you?' look. "uh... sure?"

seojun narrowed his eyes. "do you actually, or are you lying?" jay let out a soft chuckle, and you immediately shot him a glare.

"i can make pancakes," you insisted, then quickly added, "probably."

seojun sighed like a man three times his age, shaking his head. "we're doomed."

jay patted his son's head, lips twitching. "good luck," he says. he reaches for his trench coat and bag that were set neatly by the door on a cushioned bench.

your eyes widened. "wait, you're leaving?"

"that's usually how work goes."

"you could at least pretend to care about abandoning your child with a stranger." 

jay gave you a pointed look. "you crashed into my car. this is me pretending. and i have 911 on speed dial." you opened your mouth to argue but stopped when you felt a tiny hand grip your wrist.

"you're wasting time," seojun said seriously, already pulling you toward the kitchen. "if you burn my breakfast, i'm calling the cops."

jay smirked as you shot him one last glare before getting dragged away by his tiny, opinionated son.

ten minutes later, and you were already regretting everything. you stumbled around the kitchen blindly, allowing the spawn of satan to boss you around.

"that's too much flour."

"are you sure you cracked that egg right?"

"why does the batter look like that?"

"are you even qualified to be in a kitchen?"

you turned slowly to seojun, who was sitting on the counter with his arms crossed, watching your every move with a level of scrutiny that made you nervous. truth be told, you had never made pancakes. you were going off memory of what your housemaids had put into the batter when you asked for pancakes one morning—happening to pay attention to them cooking.

"do you wanna make the pancakes?" you asked, raising a brow—getting tired of his attitude and critiques.

"no," he said simply. "i just don't want to die eating them."

you exhaled sharply. "listen here, you little—"

"language," seojun cut in, and you swore you heard jay's smug influence in that tone.

you were never having kids.

ever.

despite his relentless judgment, you somehow managed to make edible pancakes. you plated them with a dramatic flourish, sliding one in front of seojun before grabbing a plate for yourself. he stared at it for a long moment before finally taking a bite. you held your breath.

"...not bad," he muttered.

you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest dramatically. "was that a compliment?"

he rolled his eyes. "don't get used to it."

little shit.

you smirked, finally digging into your own breakfast, only to be interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

jay was home. already?

he stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off his coat, his eyes scanning the scene in front of him. the not-burnt pancakes. seojun eating without complaint. and much to his disappointment—you, still alive.

his brow lifted in shock, "huh."

you glared at him, "what?"

jay leaned against the counter, arms crossed, "i figured you'd give up by now."

you scoffed. "sorry to disappoint."

seojun swallowed his bite, glancing between the two of you before shaking his head. "you guys fight too much. i thought adults were mature."

jay smirked. "we don't fight."

you scoffed. "we absolutely do."

"no, you just get mad when i say things that are true."

your eye twitched. "i literally hate you."

"see? fighting," seojun interrupts.

"oh my god."

seojun groaned, dropping his fork. "i liked it better when you were just burning pancakes."

jay chuckled, grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet. "get used to it, kid."

you narrowed your eyes at him. if you weren't being forced into this, you would have walked out already.

but you were being forced into this.

which meant you had no choice but to deal with jay fucking park.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

babysitting, as you had quickly come to realize, was hell.

seojun was a tiny dictator with far too many opinions for a five-year-old. after breakfast, he interrogated you about your ability to tie shoelaces, your knowledge of dinosaurs, and whether or not you knew how to build a proper lego tower.

you did not, apparently.

"how do you not know how to build legos," he exclaims, his tiny hands waving in the air dramatically as he watches you go through a mental break down.

"well, i'm sorry. i didn't play with legos as a kid, i played with barbie's."

seojun twists his face in disgust, "barbie's? that's for girls."

you look at him with a deadpan expression, "i'm a girl."

"oh."

"what do you even do all day?" he asks, hands on his hips as he watched you struggle to connect two lego pieces. "i exist," you grumbled, scowling at the colorful bricks in front of you. "isn't that enough?"

seojun sighed. "you need better life skills."

"oh, i'm sorry, i didn't realize i was signing up for a performance review."

"i'm just saying," he shrugged, "i expected more from someone who's supposed to be an adult."

this kid.

"i'm only 23," you grumble to yourself. you exhaled sharply, deciding to ignore his judgment as you tried again to build something that wouldn't collapse within seconds.

but then—the sound of the front door opening.

jay was home. again.

you weren't sure why this surprised you. maybe because most ceos didn't have time to just pop in and out of their mansions all day. you begin to wonder, what was the point of having you babysit his son if he wasn't going to fuck off?

seojun perked up at the sound, immediately abandoning you and your lego struggles to run toward the living room. you followed, stopping just before the hallway, eyes landing on jay.

he was pulling off his coat, dressed in a fitted dress shirt and slacks, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms.

his oh so veiny and thick forearms.

not that you were looking.

except you were. damn it.

"why are you back?" you asked, forcing yourself to look anywhere else.

jay glanced at you, expression unreadable. "this is my house." answering you as if you were stupid and unable to comprehend basic knowledge.

"you know what i meant. don't you have stuff to do?" he walked past you, ruffling seojun's hair before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"had a meeting nearby," he said, twisting the cap off. "figured i'd check in."

"to make sure i haven't killed your son yet?"

jay smirked. "basically."

you rolled your eyes. "wow. the trust is overwhelming."

before jay could respond, seojun tugged at his sleeve.

"dad, she sucks at legos."

you gasped, glaring at the boy. "excuse me?"

jay chuckled, taking a sip of his water before glancing at you, "i can't say i'm surprised."

oh, that was it.

"you know what?" you huffed, hands on your hips. "if i suck so much, why don't you do it?"

jay's brow lifted. "you want me to build legos?"

"i want you to prove you're better," you challenged. "unless you're all talk, park."

seojun gasped dramatically. "she's challenging you, dad."

jay stared at you.

you stared back.

then, to your absolute horror, he smirked. "fine," he said, setting his water down. "let's play."

oh.

you immediately regretted this.

twenty minutes later, and you had never felt so humiliated in your life.

"how the hell—" you gaped at the fully functional lego castle jay had built. "this is rigged."

jay leaned back, completely smug. "some of us have talent."

you glared. "some of us have jobs that should keep them too busy for this. old man."

seojun, sitting beside his dad, was thrilled.

"you suck at this," he declared.

"okay, you don't have to rub it in," you muttered, feeling sad that the older man had beat you.

jay stood, dusting off his hands. "guess that settles it. you suck, i don't. end of discussion."

you groaned. "i hate you."

jay smirked. "i know."

seojun clapped. "yay! dad wins!"

you slumped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. you were never agreeing to anything ever again. jay checked his watch. "i have another meeting. try not to lose to a five-year-old while i'm gone."

you didn't even have the energy to glare at him. but you did flip him off.

jay just laughed, disappearing out of your sight.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

babysitting seojun had somehow turned into babysitting jay's goddamn ego.

he was infuriating.

it had been a full week since you started watching seojun, and in that time, jay had developed an annoying habit of randomly showing up at home between meetings, offering you nothing but sarcasm, smugness, and unsolicited criticism.

"you can't cook."

"your attention span is worse than my son's."

"what do you actually contribute to society?"

you had held your tongue, barely, choosing to channel your rage into rolling your eyes so hard it was a miracle they hadn't gotten stuck.

but today? oh, today you were done playing nice.

"__, can we please go to the park?"

the boy had asked you nicely and hadn't bullied you all day, so you said yes as a reward. seojun had wanted to go to the park, so you took him. simple. no issues.

until jay called.

"where are you?" his voice came through the speaker, low and sharp.

did the fucker have a tracker on his kid or something?

"out," you answered, watching seojun run toward the swings. a small smile makes its way on your face as you watch him giggle and make himself comfortable on the swing. he waves his hands around, trying to catch your attention.

"push me, noona!" he squeals. you grin, making your way to seojun.

"out where?" you almost forget he was on the phone.

"does it matter?" you roll your eyes with a huff.

"jesus, __." his frustration crackled through the line. "you're with my kid. tell me where you are."

you sighed. "we're at the park five minutes from your house. calm down, dad of the year."

there was a pause."stay there. i'm coming."

he hung up before you could argue.

okay then...

you huffed, shoving your phone into your pocket.

"jay's being dramatic again," you muttered to yourself, giving the little boy a push as he squeals and giggles to himself.

"he does that a lot," seojun said wisely.

even his son agrees.

when jay arrived, he looked pissed. tight jaw. furrowed brows. stiff shoulders. his hair was tousled and his shirt was ruffled slightly as he stalked his way up to you.

hot. 

not the point.

"you didn't tell me you were taking him out," he said, crossing his arms. his biceps bulged in his shirt, your mouth watering slightly before seojun's giggles break you out of your trance.

you mentally slap yourself for thirsting over the man. "because it wasn't a big deal," you shot back.

"it is when you're responsible for a five-year-old who isn't yours."

you groaned. "god, you're so controlling."

jay took a step closer. "and you're reckless."

"it's a park, not a battlefield."

"it's about responsibility, __." his voice dropped, tone edged with irritation. "but i wouldn't expect you to understand that."

you froze. "excuse me?"

jay tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "you heard me."

oh, hell no.

you stepped closer, chin lifting defiantly. "what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

his gaze flickered over your face before settling on your eyes. "it means you're a little spoiled brat who doesn't know how to take care of herself let alone another person."

you scoffed. "oh, i'm sorry, are you my father now?"

"god, no," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "i don't have the patience for that. but if i was, trust me, you'd be put in your place a long time ago."

you pause, your mind blanking at his words. "then stop acting like you know me."

jay let out a dry laugh. "oh, i know you just fine."

"bullshit."

his brows raised. "you think i don't see it? the way you pout when things don't go your way? how you expect everything to be handed to you? the way you act like the world owes you something?"

your hands clenched at your sides. "you don't know a damn thing about me."

fuck you. he did know you.

jay leaned in, his breath warm against your face. "i know enough."

your heartbeat spiked. not from anger. not entirely.

because up close, jay was all heat and intensity, his cologne clouding your senses, his voice a slow drag down your spine. your lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue—but then he smirked.

that arrogant, knowing smirk.

and just like that, the spell broke.

you shoved him back, ignoring the way his chest was way too solid under your hands. "get over yourself, park." his expression darkens at your touch, the heat of your palms against his chest making his body twitch.

jay barely budged from your shove. but his smirk did fade.

his jaw tensed. his fingers curled into fists.

"watch yourself, __," he murmured, his voice darker than before. "you're playing a dangerous game."

so why did it feel like he wanted you to keep playing?

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

your entire body was on fire.

standing in jay's kitchen, chest heaving, hands curled into fists at your sides, you couldn't decide whether you wanted to slap him or...

no. not that.

for the past eight hours, you had been subjected to jay's controlling and condescending attitude. the constant comments, the smug little smirks, the way he seemed to take way too much pleasure in watching you struggle. you had tried, really tried, to keep your cool. 

but now, standing in his sleek, modern kitchen, you were done.

"are you kidding me?" you scoffed, slamming the fridge shut. "you don't even have juice? what kind of psychopath only stocks sparkling water and black coffee?"

you were crashing out over some juice, for fucks sake.

jay barely looked up from his position, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. "a grown man who doesn't drink sugar like a child?"

your eyes narrowed. "oh, fuck off."

his lips twitched. "watch your mouth, princess."

princess. you hated when he called you that. hated the way it sent a pulse of heat through you, how it made your stomach twist and your thighs clench. you turned to glare at him. "why are you even here? don't you have some billionaire meeting to attend?"

he shrugged. "i cleared my schedule."

"why?"

jay's smirk deepened. "because i don't trust you alone in my house."

your jaw dropped. "excuse me? i think i've proved myself trust worthy in the last few weeks."

he pushed off the counter, stepping closer, his gaze lazy and unimpressed. "you're reckless. irresponsible. spoiled."

it was always the same few adjectives that he used to describe you, it was starting to grow old. your nails dug into your palms. "and you're a control freak." he hummed, pretending to consider. "maybe. but at least i don't go around crashing into people's cars and then whining when there are consequences."

oh, fuck him.

your nostrils flared. "it was a tiny scratch!"

jay arched a brow. "a tiny scratch that cost six figures."

you gritted your teeth. "maybe if you didn't drive a car worth more than some people's houses—"

"maybe if you learned how to drive—"

your breath came short, your heart pounding in your ears as you held yourself back from launching yourself onto jay and tackling him to the ground.

"you're so fucking full of yourself," you seethed, eyes locked on his, fury bubbling under your skin. "you walk around like you own the whole damn world." jay smirked, taking another step forward, forcing you to lift your head to keep glaring at him. "maybe because i do." you let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms which, unbeknownst to you, pushed up your chest under your tank top. "god, you're insufferable." 

jay swallowed a groan, he held in everything in him whenever you'd show up in your tiny shirts and skirts. giving a clear opportunity for  his gaze to wander down your form.

he wondered if you wore those things intentionally— if you’d bend down in front of him with purpose, and genuinely, he was starting to think so. all the times you'd brush up against him when wearing your little skirts — how you'd push up your chest when you'd cross your arms in frustration — it was slowly driving him insane.

his eyes flickered over your posture, his smirk deepening as he watched your chest rise and fall heavily. "and yet, you're still here."

"i didn’t have a choice!" you snapped. "if it were up to me, i wouldn't be within ten miles of you."

he hummed, looking entirely too amused. "funny, considering the way you're looking at me right now."

your jaw clenched as you glared at him, "and how am i looking at you exactly?" jay tilted his head, studying you like he knew your every thought, every single fucking move you made. like he could see right through you— the way your breath came a little quicker, the way your fists weren't just curled in anger but in restraint of jumping his bones.

his voice dropped, soft but teasing. "like you want me."

your stomach flipped violently.

"fuck you," you spat.

his smirk didn't waver. "say the word, princess."

your whole body burned.

you wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face, to shove him away, to yell at him until you couldn’t. but you also wanted to have him bend you over in the kitchen right then and now.

you sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head. "this is ridiculous." jay took another step forward, erasing the last bit of space between you. his chest nearly brushed yours, his scent clean, musky, and undeniably him—flooding your senses.

thank god, seojun was asleep.

you refused to back down. refused to be the first to move. you maintain eye contact, your eyes flickering to his lips occasionally making your breath stutter.

his voice dropped lower, rough around the edges. "tell me to stop."

you should.

but you didn't.

because deep down, you knew this had been building for years. every heated glance, every sharp-tongued remark, every little touch that lasted a second too long—it had all been leading to this very moment.

you liked pushing him.

you weren't stupid, you knew there was an age gap—and that's what was holding him back.

12 years.

you were 23, and jay was 35.

so what?

it wasn't like he was some old man. if anything, he was in his prime—successful, powerful, hot as fuck. he carried himself like a man who had already conquered the world and wasn't pressed about proving anything to anyone.

except, apparently, to you.

because you made him nervous.

you saw it. the way his jaw clenched whenever you got too close, the way his eyes lingered on your legs when you crossed them or how they glanced down at your chest, the way he gripped his glass just a little tighter whenever you threw some bratty comment his way.

you knew he wanted you.

so why was he still fighting it? you knew the answer before you even asked yourself.

it was the age gap. he thought it was a big deal. he thought it mattered, and that pissed you off.

because to you, it wasn't about age. it was about power.

jay hated that he wanted you. hated that you weren't intimidated by him. hated that you saw right through his self-control. that you saw the way he stiffened when you brushed past him, saw the way his eyes darkened when you tested his patience.

you liked seeing him unravel.

he acted like he was above it, like he was some mature, responsible man who didn't get affected by a girl like you.

but you knew better.

because every time you got too close, every time you laughed at his scolding—you could see his self control break.

jay's fingers brushed against your waist, testing his limits.

your breath stuttered.

his smirk widened, "what's wrong?" he murmured. "cat got your tongue?"

"noona? dad?"

jay immediately pulls back as if your touch suddenly burned him. he looks at you in shock, as if you had made the first move.

little seojun had woken up from his nap, now stumbling into the kitchen half asleep. he immediately makes his way to you when he sees you cornered into the kitchens counters. "noona, i'm hungry," he mumbles before he's reaching his arms out indicating that he wants you to pick him up. you swallow harshly, leaning down to carry him before you shoot jay a sharp glare.

"how'd you sleep, jun?" you ask the boy, rubbing his back as he slowly regains his energy.

jay watches the scene with a heavy heart, seeing you and seojun get along was endearing. he never expected to see his son get close to another woman this way, let alone you—not after his wife.

"good. what were you and dad doing?"

you immediately whip your head around to stare at jay who looked equally as shocked.

"uhm."

"i was just helping, __ with her uh...hair. it got stuck in her necklace," jay fibbed, nervous that his son would catch onto his lies. he mentally curses himself for making his son so smart.

seojun just nods, still half asleep. "__, hair is long. pretty."

you smile down at seojun who has his head leaned against your chest. it was a rare occurrence that the little boy wasn't on your ass and teasing you, so you basked in his innocent silence.

"well, i'll be going now," jay coughs out lamely, turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

you roll your eyes, "what does junnie want to eat?"

"grilled cheese!"

"grilled cheese it is."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the day had been long and draining, filled with the usual chaos of babysitting seojun.

"noona, you burnt this side."

"the waters too cold, you're going to turn me into a popsicle!"

"it's a shame that you're not improving on your lego skills."

you had spent most of your day absorbed in your own thoughts, determined to keep your distance from jay's constant, prickly presence. you didn't know what was going between the two of you, but the constant teasing and proximity was starting to affect you—and you did not like that. but nothing could have prepared you for the moment when you saw his car pull into the driveway again.

it was late in the afternoon, your mind occupied with tidying up the living room after seojun's afternoon nap when you heard footsteps approaching. you looked up just in time to see jay step through the front door—this time, accompanied by a woman whose presence sent an unfamiliar twist of jealousy and confusion through your chest.

she was striking: tall, elegantly dressed, her dark hair falling perfectly around her shoulders. for a split second, your mind raced with possibilities. was she just a friend? a casual companion? or something more? the answer was not provided—jay made no attempt to introduce her with any clarity. he simply walked past you with a polite nod, the woman silently following at his side—not acknowledging your presence.

the bitter taste of jealousy swarmed you, she was exactly what you'd think jay would go for in a woman. beautiful and sophisticated.

you forced a neutral expression as you went about your tasks, though inside you seethed. you couldn't help but notice the way jay's hand briefly brushed against hers, the soft laughter they exchanged in the hallway, as if they shared an intimacy that you weren't meant to be a part of. every detail stung, and you kept your face impassive, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled up.

the rest of the night passed in a haze of quiet tension. seojun remained asleep in his room, unaware of the storm brewing between you and jay. you moved through your duties with mechanical efficiency, silently cursing the timing of his unexpected guest. every time you caught a glimpse of jay glancing in her direction or sharing a private smile, a bitter mixture of jealousy and humiliation washed over you. you had no idea why you felt this way—jay was never yours, and you were only here to babysit his son. yet, every little detail of that moment lingered painfully in your mind.

you wondered if the woman was seojun's mother, they shared a resemblance of some kind. jay had never mentioned seojun's mother before, and you had never asked. all you knew was jay was a single parent and the mother of his child was simply not in the picture.

unable to bear the emotional turmoil, you decided to leave earlier than usual. you slipped out of the house quietly, leaving a brief note on the counter that simply read, "i'm done for today." the cool night air hit your face as you got into the car, your driver picking you up.

the next morning, you arrived at jay's house for your babysitting shift, your mood still dark and distant. as usual, jay greeted you at the door with his characteristic calm, yet something in his eyes held a note of confusion. "good morning, __," he said, his tone neutral. "i'm glad you're here."

oh, are you now?

you gave a curt nod and stepped inside without making eye contact. throughout the day, you kept your responses short and your distance intentional. jay tried several times to spark small talk, commenting on seojun's behavior, asking how your night was—but you offered nothing more than a hum and silent stubborn stares.

by late afternoon, the tension had grown almost unbearable. the usual spark that might have accompanied a playful banter was replaced by a wall of silence that left the air thick. finally, after seojun was settled in his room for a nap, jay approached you in the quiet of the kitchen.

the silence in the room was palpable as you stood there, hands on your hips, glaring at jay. his presence in the room felt overwhelming, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, never leaving yours. you were getting under his skin, and you could feel it.

the problem was, you liked it.

"you've been so difficult all day," he muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. "what's your problem?"

you crossed your arms, taking an exaggerated step back, trying to assert some space between you and him. the way his eyes followed you made the hairs on your neck stand up, and you hated it. you hated the effect he had on you. you hated how badly you wanted him even though you knew you never could.

"my problem? you're the one being impossible! i didn't sign up for this. i'm not your babysitter," you snapped, fighting the urge to back down. "your son isn't even the issue. it's you."

actually, it's the woman you brought home yesterday.

he raised an eyebrow, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "me? you're the one acting like a spoiled brat. maybe you should learn some patience."

your fingers clenched at your sides. the way he spoke to you, like he was trying to control you, was beyond irritating. you took another step back, but jay didn't move. instead, he shifted, closing the distance between the two of you in one fluid motion, trapping you against the counter. his chest was a mere inch from yours, his presence suffocating. it humoured you that you two always ended up on the same position, jay closing in on you.

"i don't need a bratty attitude right now. i've had a long day, and the last thing i need is you making it worse," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the edge to it sent a shiver down your spine.

"long day? you've been home all day! what's even the point of me being here if you're going to be up my ass," you hiss.

"__, enough," his tone low as he warned you.

your heart raced as you stared up at him. "what are you going to do about it, huh?" you shot back, not wanting to back down. you didn't know what it was about the situation. maybe it was the tension, how he made you feel when he was this close, or maybe it was just that damned smirk on his face.

jay's eyes darkened, a spark of something dangerous in them. "i think you need a reminder of who's in charge here."

your breath hitched, and you could feel the heat building between you, but you refused to give in. you had enough, you didn't need to deal with him. you pushed past him, walking toward the kitchen, only to feel a firm grip on your arm—strong, unyielding.

"don't walk away from me," jay growled, spinning you around to face him. you were so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

his grip on your arm was firm and rough, but not rough enough to where it hurt. his knuckles turned white as he tries to hold himself back from pushing you against the nearest wall and have you at his mercy.

you glared up at him, your face flushed from the proximity and the argument, but you knew you weren't going to let him win. "you don't control me, jay," you said, trying to keep the defiance in your voice.

he smirked again, stepping closer so your arm was planted against his chest, forcing you to tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze. the air between you crackled with uncontrollable tension, keeping you on your toes for god knows how long. "you keep acting like this, and i'll make sure you know exactly who's in charge."

your breath caught. something shifted in the way he looked at you—a warning, a promise, a dare. the line between anger and attraction was blurring, and you weren't sure where one ended and the other began.

before you could respond, he stepped forward, backing you against the kitchen counter, again. his hand found the counter beside your hip, trapping you in place. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, his jaw tense.

"look at me," he said, voice low, almost a rasp. "if you want to keep pushing my buttons, go ahead. but i'll make sure you regret it."

your heart raced in your chest, your breath shallow, but you kept the same defiant expression. "you think you can scare me, jay?"

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "i don't need to scare you, __. i just need to show you what happens when you push too far."

you stood there, rooted to the spot — your body trembling under the weight of his words,  the unbreakable tension that had emerged between you two. his fingers brushed against your arm, and for a moment, you could feel the undeniable pull. the fight between you was reaching a breaking point, and you didn't know which way it would go.

but for the first time, you weren't sure if you wanted to fight anymore.

the tension was unbearable, and in the silence that followed, jay's hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. your body responded before your mind could—his lips brushed against yours in the smallest of touches, enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. he pulled back just as quickly, a dangerous smirk on his lips. "you're lucky i don't have time for this right now," he muttered, his tone sharp, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of something more intense. "but don't think for a second this is over."

with that, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again. you were left standing there, caught between fury and something else you couldn't quite name. your heart was racing, your mind spinning, but you refused to let him see how much he affected you. you turned away, trying to steady your breath, but the tension between you two was getting overbearing. it wasn't over. you both knew that.

but one thing was for sure—you were both playing a dangerous game. and neither of you was ready to stop.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the kitchen was quiet, the only sound being the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. you leaned your head against your hand, staring off into space and you rethink all of your life decisions.

you had spent more time at jay's home than your own for the last month—not that you minded. as much as you hated to admit, seojun had grown on you. what you hated was how you didn't get to enjoy your summer how you originally wished, with your friends—getting drunk and high, maybe dosing on random shit at some frat party.

minho had been blowing up your phone for the last few weeks, asking, no—begging to hang out.

"__, why have you left me?" he groaned dramatically into your ear when you finally picked up his calls.

you rolled your eyes, "i told you i was going to be trapped, but no, you didn't want to take me seriously."

"i didn't think that you'd have any days off. can you ask for one day off, please? i miss my best friend," he pleas. if you could see him right now, he'd most definitely be flashing puppy dog eyes at you.

you sighed, "fine, i'll try to ask jay. but if he says no and i get scolded, i swear to god.” you'd ask jay if you could have the weekend off when he got back home.

you sat perched on one of the barstools, one knee drawn up, the other foot lazily swinging. your fingers traced the rim of a glass of water you hadn't even taken a sip from. seojun had gone to bed over an hour ago, his tiny body curled up under his blankets, blissfully unaware that his father still wasn't home.

you, on the other hand, were all too aware.

your phone sat face-up on the counter beside you, dark and undisturbed. no messages. no missed calls. nothing.

jay was late. really late.

your brows knitted together in irritation. you weren't sure why you cared so much—it wasn't your problem if he wanted to stay out all night. you weren't his wife, his girlfriend, or even someone he owed an explanation to. you were just the babysitter, forced into the role by your father's guilt. but something about his absence, about the way he hadn't even bothered to check in, made irritation simmer beneath your skin.

your knee bounced impatiently as you stared at the front door, waiting.

then, finally—the sound of keys jingling.

the door swung open, and jay stepped inside, looking unfairly put together for someone who had clearly spent the night out. his dark button-up was slightly unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms. his black dress pants hung low on his hips, and his hair—slightly tousled like he'd run his fingers through it. he looked so good it made your stomach twist in frustration.

he barely even looked at you at first. instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he kicked off his shoes. it was only when he turned toward the kitchen that his eyes finally met yours.

he slowed to a stop.

you pretended not to notice the way his gaze flickered down, the momentary pause as his eyes dragged over your frame. you were only wearing a thin tank top and an old pair of shorts—the kind you only ever wore to bed, soft and barely covering your thighs. but the way jay's eyes darkened for just a split second, the way his jaw tensed, told you everything you needed to know.

he was flustered.

good.

he covered it quickly, masking whatever flicker of thoughts had just crossed his mind with that insufferable smirk of his.

"you're still up?" he asked, his voice as smooth as ever.

you rolled your eyes, shifting in your seat just enough to make the hem of your shorts ride up slightly. "obviously."

jay's gaze flickered downward again, just for a second. you caught it, and your lips twitched. "what, were you waiting for me?"

you scoffed, tilting your head. "don't flatter yourself. but since i'm responsible for your kid while you're off doing god knows what, yeah, i was expecting you to come home at a reasonable hour." jay exhaled sharply, finally stepping fully into the kitchen. he walked past you to the fridge, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders squared slightly—like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts had just plagued his mind.

"seojun was fine, wasn't he?" he asked, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off.

"that's not the point," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. "the least you could do is let me know when you're coming home late. or is common courtesy too much to ask from a man like you?"

"plus, what's this sudden trust coming from? just a week ago you talked about how you had to monitor me because you didn't trust me to take care of seojun." jay let out a low chuckle, taking a slow sip of water before leaning back against the counter.

"jesus, you're dramatic," he muttered, shaking his head. "were you worried about me?" completely ignoring the other things you had said. 

you clenched your jaw. "no," you lied smoothly. "i just don't appreciate being left in the dark. i'm not some live-in nanny, jay. if i'm stuck here, i at least deserve to know when you're coming home. look at the time, it's 1am, what time do i even go home?” his tongue ran over his bottom lip as he tilted his head slightly. "you're acting like i abandoned you here with seojun."

"you might as well have."

jay exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed now. "you really don't let shit go, do you?" you smiled sweetly. "not when it's my time being wasted."

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath. then, after a beat, he glanced back up at you, his gaze sharp and unreadable."or maybe," he said, voice slower, "this isn't about me coming home late at all."

your stomach twisted, but you refused to let your expression falter. jay took a step closer, arms crossing over his chest. "maybe this is about something else." you scoffed. "like what?" his lips twitched like he knew something you didn't. "like the other night," he murmured. your brows furrowed, but he didn't give you time to respond. 

"you're mad about the woman i brought home." your body tensed before you could stop it, and that slight reaction was all jay needed to confirm his suspicions. his smirk widened.

"i don't care who you bring home," you said quickly, hoping he wouldn't call you out on how unconvincing you sounded. "mm," jay hummed, unconvinced. "so if i told you that woman was mi-na, my sister, you wouldn't feel stupid for being jealous?"

you blinked. the irritation in your chest fizzled out for a moment, replaced by confusion. "your—your sister?" jay's grin widened. "yeah. my little sister. the one who came to visit for the weekend." your face burned. you had spent the past two days brooding over nothing.

but you refused to let him win.

"whatever," you muttered, crossing your arms again—the action causing your tits to spill out of from the top. "i wasn't jealous." his eyes immediately zero in on your chest, swallowing harshly before he lets out a chuckle—stepping closer. you could feel the warmth of his body now, his scent lingering in the space between you. "yeah?" he murmured, voice dipping. "then why are you blushing?"

"i'm not."

jay reached out, his fingers grazing the hem of your shorts before ghosting over your hip. his touch was barely there, but it made your breath hitch, "you sure?"

your heart pounded. your skin tingled where his fingers had been. but you refused to back down. "you're insufferable," you gritted out. jay smirked, his fingers teasing along your hip before pulling away just as quickly. "and yet, you're still here."

"forced to be here," you mutter under your breath, but jay heard it. your body was on fire, your skin still warm from where he had touched you. but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "i hate you," you muttered, turning away. jay only chuckled, voice rich with amusement. "whatever you say, princess."

you rolled your eyes at him, getting off of the barstool as you make your way to the living room to grab your belongings and change out of your clothes—preparing to go home. "wait. stay the night, it's late," he says coolly, his eyes racking down your frame as you bend down to grab your things.

your shorts had bunched over your ass, your legs on full display to his hungry eyes. jay mentally slaps himself for his gaze, but it continues to linger. you scoff, "and who's fault is that?" jay sighs, his brows furrowing, "quit being a brat. i'll get a room set up for you," and with that he walks away—setting his decision into stone.

as much as you wanted to argue, to remind him that you had your own place to go back to. jay had already walked off, leaving no room for discussion. "asshole," you muttered under your breath, but you still set your bag down on the couch with an annoyed sigh.

jay's house was big—too big for just him and seojun. it had that cold, modern look, with spotless marble floors and sleek furniture, the kind that felt more like a showroom than a home. you doubted he spent much time here outside of work and parenting, and somehow, that made it worse.

you waited a few minutes before deciding to move, begrudgingly heading toward the guest room he'd set up for you. it was next to his, with seojun just down the hall. as you stepped inside, you had to admit—he at least had good taste. the bed was huge, covered in soft gray sheets, and the room smelled faintly of clean linen.

but there was one problem.

the pillows sucked. they were flat and thin, one would think that someone as rich as jay had good quality pillows. with a dramatic huff, you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling before finally giving in to your annoyance. you deserved at least one decent pillow if you were being forced to stay here. without much thought, you swung your legs off the bed and padded down the hall toward jay's room. the door was slightly ajar, and you didn't bother knocking—if he was going to boss you around all night, you had no problem returning the favor.

"hey, do you have—"

you stopped dead in your tracks, mouth suddenly dry.

jay was standing near his dresser, shirtless, his toned back facing you as he ruffled a towel through his damp hair. he must have just taken a shower because his skin still glistened slightly, water droplets trailing down the sharp lines of his shoulders and back. your eyes dipped lower, taking in the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing just enough of the defined v-line that disappeared beneath the waistband. you should've looked away. you should've turned around and walked out like you hadn't just shamelessly checked him out.

but you didn't.

instead, you stood there, gripping the doorframe a little too hard as heat crept up your neck. jay finally noticed your presence, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. his dark eyes flickered with amusement as he caught the way you quickly averted your gaze.

"something you need?" his voice was deeper, rougher, probably from exhaustion, but it still sent an embarrassing shiver down your spine. you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "i need another pillow." his lips twitched, and you hated the way his smirk made your stomach flip. "you barged into my room for a pillow?"

"it's not my fault the ones in the guest room suck," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. jay turned fully now, walking toward you with that lazy confidence that always managed to get under your skin. you took an instinctive step back, but he reached the doorway before you could fully escape, his tall frame now blocking your path.

"you always this demanding, or do you just save it for me?" he mused, tilting his head slightly as his eyes dragged over your face, down to the curve of your throat, lingering there a second too long. your breath caught, but you refused to let him have the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. "i wouldn't have to demand anything if you had done it right the first time."

jay let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "always got an attitude." you were about to snap back when you noticed his gaze flicker downward, his smirk faltering for just a second. it was quick, barely noticeable, but you caught it—the way his eyes lingered on your tank top. his eyes zeroed in on your chest, you had taken off your bra when you got into the room—your nipples poking out of the thin fabric.

you raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at your lips now. "something wrong?" jay's jaw ticked, and just like that, his expression was back to that unreadable mask. "go to bed, __." you should've listened. you should've taken the damn pillow he handed you and walked out. but the way his voice had dropped an octave, the way his fingers had brushed against yours when he passed it to you, sent a thrill through you that you weren't ready to let go of just yet.

so instead, you lingered.

"why? am i making you nervous?" you teased, tilting your head up at him, watching for any crack in his composure. jay let out a low breath, his hand gripping the doorframe as he leaned in just slightly. "trust me," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "if you were making me nervous, you'd know." the air between you was heavy, thick with something unspoken, something that neither of you were willing to address just yet.

but it was there. and it wasn't going anywhere.

jay finally took a step back, running a hand through his still-damp hair before nodding toward the hall. "go to bed, __." this time, you listened. but as you walked back to your room, pillow in hand, you couldn't ignore the way your skin still burned from his gaze. and from the way he had looked at you, you knew you weren't the only one feeling it.

it was just a matter of time before one of your cracked.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the sizzle of bacon filled the kitchen as you flipped another pancake onto the growing stack. you had seriously improved on your cooking skills in the last month you had been taking care of seojun. the pancakes were round, crispy and the perfect shade of golden brown.

the morning light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops. you had woken up early, deciding to make seojun's favorite breakfast before he got up.

but, apparently, you weren't the only one awake.

a warm presence appeared behind you, and before you could react, a large hand reached out toward the plate. without looking, you smacked it away. "ow," jay muttered, shaking his hand. "what the hell?"

"it's for seojun." you barely spared him a glance as you poured more pancake batter into the pan. jay let out a low, sleepy sigh, ruffling his already messy hair. his dark strands fell over his forehead, making him look effortlessly good despite just rolling out of bed. dressed in sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt, he leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy gaze.

curse him for looking so good.

"so i don't get breakfast?" he asked, a small pout gracing his face. 

"nope," you said simply, reaching for another egg. he scoffed, pushing off the counter to stand beside you, crowding your space. "wow. what kind of babysitter are you? neglecting the person who actually pays you." you rolled your eyes. "oh, please. you don't pay me."

"you live in my house, eat my food, use my water." his voice was dripping with smugness. "sounds like payment to me." you narrowed your eyes at him. "your house? last i checked, my dad is the reason you even have half your company's assets."

jay just smirked, watching the way your brows furrowed in irritation. he loved getting under your skin. before you could throw another insult his way, you decided to change the subject. "anyway, i wanted to ask if i could have the weekend off. i wanna go out with my friends." jay, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, barely reacted. "fine."

you blinked. that was easy. too easy.

"minho's driving, so i don't have to worry about taking my car, that means no chance for accident. he's a pretty good driver, i actually learned how to drive from him," you added casually, turning back to the stove. jay froze. the silence was thick enough to make you glance over your shoulder. his expression had darkened. his grip on his coffee mug tightened.

"he?"

you frowned. "yeah. minho. my friend." jay set his mug down slowly, the sound of ceramic meeting marble eerily sharp. "no."

you turned fully to face him. "no?"

jay leaned against the counter, his posture too relaxed, too controlled. but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "you're not going."

your brows shot up. "why not?" jay took another sip of his coffee, completely unfazed. "i need you here."

you scoffed. "for what?"

"seojun likes having you around."

"seojun will be fine for one weekend,” you retorted. jay tilted his head, pretending to think. "hmm. no, i don't think so." 

you let out an exasperated laugh. "you literally just said i could go." jay shrugged. "i changed my mind."

"bullshit," you snapped. jay's eyes flickered with something dangerous. "watch your mouth."

you rolled your eyes. "you're just mad because minho is a guy." jay didn't react at first. then, slowly, he placed his coffee cup down and took a step closer to you.

got him.

you refused to back away. "you don't know what you're talking about," he said, voice low, controlled. "don't i?" you shot back, all of sudden feeling smug. "it's not my fault you can't stand the idea of me spending time with another man." 

jay's jaw ticked. "this isn't about me."  you let out a humorless laugh. "sure it isn't." he stepped even closer, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. the space between you was nonexistent, his body radiating heat.

"you think i care that much?" his voice was nearly a whisper now, but there was an edge to it. "you think i'm losing sleep over who you spend your time with?" you smirked. "seems like it."

you were right.

jay's fingers curled into fists at his sides. you could feel the restrained tension rolling off of him in waves. "you're not going," he said again, this time firmer. you crossed your arms. "and what if i do?"

jay exhaled through his nose, his patience running thin. "you won't," he said simply, his confidence making your skin prickle with irritation. "watch me," you challenged. jay's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk but wasn't amusement either. "you really wanna test me right now?" the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to show weakness.

"maybe i do," you whispered. jay's gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before he clenched his jaw and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "fine," he muttered, grabbing his coffee. "do whatever the hell you want."

you frowned. that was... unexpected.

he turned on his heel and walked toward the living room. but then, just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. "but don't come crawling back when you realize no one else can handle you like i do."

and with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, fists clenched.

jay cursed at himself for wearing his feels on his sleeve. it felt wrong for him to feel the way he did about you. jay hated thinking about the numbers.

12 years. he was 12 years older than you. it shouldn't have mattered.

right?

jay had spent his whole life doing whatever the hell he wanted, without a single care for what people thought. he made decisions with confidence, stood by them, and never looked back. but with you? you made him hesitate.

you were 23. young, reckless, still figuring out life. and jay? he was 35, a father, a man who had seen and done everything—a man who should have known better. but fuck, he didn't feel old when he was around you.

you were a problem. not because you were immature. no, that wasn't it. you were sharp, stubborn as hell, constantly challenging him, constantly making him feel like he was the one being tested. but that was the problem.

you weren't a little girl with naive ideas about love and life. you were a grown woman, a dangerous woman, who looked at him like he was something worth teasing, something worth playing with.

and he let you. god, he let you.

you tested his patience like no one else. you talked back, you got under his skin, you pushed him to his limit. you walked around his house like you belonged there, like you belonged to him. in those tiny shorts and tight tops, throwing him looks you knew would drive him up the wall.

it wasn't just the way you looked. it was the way you knew. you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and jay hated himself for liking it. because he shouldn't want you.

he shouldn't want you the way he did—shouldn't think about you at night. he shouldn't imagine what it would be like to take what you clearly wanted to give him. he told himself, over and over, that it was just a stupid attraction. that it was nothing more than an itch he could ignore. he had to hold himself back from giving into your temptations every time he had you cornered, telling himself that it was wrong.

but his restraint was starting to fall weak. 

but then you'd bite your lip and roll your eyes at him. or you'd throw some snarky remark his way, just to get a reaction. or worse—you'd act like he wasn't a threat at all, like he was just some older guy who didn't intimidate you in the slightest.

it fucking killed him. because the truth was, the age gap only mattered when it worked against him. when it made him hesitate. when it made him question himself.

but when you smiled at him like that—when you pushed his buttons and made him feel like a man, not a father, not a boss, not some guy who should be acting his age.

he didn't give a fuck about the numbers. and he surely didn't give a fuck about some boy who thought he could have you, when you belonged here—with him.

this wasn't over. not by a long shot.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

you had been looking forward to this all week.

a night out. no responsibilities. no bratty five-year-old testing your patience. no jay fucking park. the music was loud, the bass thrumming through your body as you nursed your drink. the club was packed, neon lights flickering against a sea of bodies, and for once, you could finally breathe.

"so," minho drawled, draping an arm over your shoulders, "you gonna tell me why you've been checking your phone like a girl waiting for a text from her sneaky link?" you rolled your eyes, shoving his arm off. "i have not been checking my phone."

minho gave you a knowing look, sipping his beer. "uh-huh. so you're just casually looking down at your bag every five minutes? right." you huffed, taking a sip of your cocktail instead of responding. but then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed again.

you peeked at the screen.

jay (23 missed calls).

you turned the phone face down. minho whistled. "jesus. who the hell is blowing you up like that?" 

"no one important," you muttered. minho smirked. "sure. that's why you look like you're about to throw your phone across the club." 

"it's just—" you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "it's jay. he thinks he owns my time." minho raised an eyebrow. "the rich, single-dad jay?"

"the asshole jay," you corrected.

"so why don't you answer?"

"because i'm off tonight," you said, exasperated. "and whatever he wants can wait." minho chuckled. "damn. he must be real desperate if he's calling you this much."

you were about to brush it off, but then another buzz. you groaned. "i swear to god, if this man does not—"

but then you read the message.

jay: seojun has a fever. it's bad. he keeps asking for you.

your stomach dropped. "shit," you muttered, grabbing your bag.

minho frowned. "wait, seriously? you're actually going?" 

"it's not for him," you said quickly. "it's for seojun." minho sighed, grabbing your wrist before you could dart off. "you really think this isn't a setup?"

you hesitated.

minho's voice softened. "look, i don't know this dude. but if he's calling this much, and now suddenly the kid is sick on the one night you're not there? sounds sketchy as hell."

"minho," you sighed. "i don't have time for this." minho raised his hands in surrender. "fine, fine. but if he's lying, you owe me a drink."

"deal." you had practically sprinted out of the club, gotten into a cab, and rushed over in record time.

when you got to jay's house, you were pissed. the second you stepped inside, you knew something was off. the house was dimly lit, silent. too silent. you stormed down the hall toward seojun's room, but before you could even reach for the door the sound of clapping stops you.

slow, deliberate claps echoed behind you. you turned, and there he was. jay park, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, wearing a smirk that made your blood boil. "look who finally decided to show up."

your heart was still racing, the adrenaline from the panic you felt for seojun's health still surging through your veins. but now, it wasn't panic—it was anger. "what the hell is wrong with you?" his voice was low, rough, his grip firm around your wrist as he yanked you away from seojun's room and into his own—slamming the door shut behind you.

your heart pounded, still catching up to everything. rushing out of the party, speeding over here, the sickening worry that had settled in your gut the moment you saw his message about seojun. but now, standing here, looking at him, you soon realized. seojun wasn't sick.

the house was quiet, the lights dim. you peeked past jay, your brows furrowing. "where's seojun?"

"asleep," he said, his tone maddeningly casual. your eyes snapped back to his. "what?" jay didn't let go of your wrist, his grip tightening just slightly as he stepped closer. "he's asleep," he repeated, slower this time, like he was spelling it out for you.

the realization hit, sharp and cold. "you lied to me?" his jaw clenched. "what was i supposed to do, huh?" you yanked your arm back, glaring. "i don't know, maybe not fucking manipulate me?"

jay's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk, but held just enough arrogance to make you want to slap it off his face. "and if i didn't? you would've stayed out all night with him?" you exhaled sharply through your nose, shaking your head. "are you serious?" jay stepped forward, closing the space between you in an instant. your breath caught when your back hit the wall, his body mere inches from yours.

"tell me," he murmured, voice lower now, softer—but no less dangerous. "did he touch you?" your stomach flipped, heat rushing up your spine. "minho is my friend," you gritted out.

jay's hand lifted, fingers brushing against your chin. "did he touch you?" he asks again, his tone threatening. you turned your head away, jaw clenching. "you're insane." his fingers caught your chin, gently but firmly turning your face back to his. "i don't like repeating myself, sweetheart."

the pet name sent something electric through your veins. you hated that it did. "and i don't like being controlled," you shot back, voice sharp.

jay let out a quiet chuckle, dark and humorless. "funny, because you sure came running when i told you to." your face burned. you hated that he was right. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, almost absentmindedly, like he was testing something. his eyes flickered down for a fraction of a second, then back up. you hated that even now, with how pissed you were, your body still reacted to him. the way he carried himself, the way he looked at you, the way his voice dipped just low enough to make your stomach flip. you shook your head, trying to push past him, but jay grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

"let me go," you snapped. "or what?" his grip didn't tighten, but he didn't let go either. "you gonna run back to him?"

your brows furrowed. "what?" jay exhaled a short, humorless laugh. "minho," he bit out, like the name itself annoyed him. "you think i don't know where you were? at the club. surrounded by men. men that would eat you alive if you gave them the chance."

you glared. "you don't get to be mad about that." his eyes darkened. "the hell i don't." you tugged your arm back, finally breaking free. "you're not my fucking boyfriend, jay. i don't owe you anything."

his jaw ticked, but he didn't say anything. you scoffed. "god, this is ridiculous. i'm leaving." before you could take another step, jay moved. one second you were standing there, and the next, your back was against the wall, jay towering over you, his hands planted beside your head.

"you're not going anywhere," he murmured. your breath hitched. "you ran the second you thought seojun needed you," he said, voice lower now, rougher. "but what about when i need you, huh?"

your chest tightened. "you—" jay leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours. "you think i don't see it?" your pulse pounded against your skin. "see what?" you respond, almost breathless. his hand lifted, fingers brushing over your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his, "how bad you want me."

your breath stuttered. "you can play your little games all you want, sweetheart," jay murmured. "but we both know where you belong." 

"you belong here," he murmured. "not out there, playing games with some guy who doesn't even know what to do with you." your breath hitched. "and you do?" jay didn't answer immediately. he just looked at you—really looked at you. his hand moved, sliding down the side of your neck, fingers grazing over your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath his touch.

then, he leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. "you have no idea."

your breath hitched. he was so close now, his cologne wrapping around you, his body heat pressing into yours. you swallowed hard. "you don't own me, jay."

his jaw ticked. "maybe not." his gaze dropped, trailing down your frame. you were still in your club outfit—tight dress, heels, your skin still warm from the alcohol. his tongue darted out, running over his bottom lip. "but you still came running, didn't you?"

your pulse pounded in your ears, attempting to move out of his hold only for him to pin you down with his hips. "you're not leaving," he murmured, voice dangerously low. you lifted your chin defiantly. "watch me."

jay exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "you're so fucking difficult."

"because i don't let you control me?" you shot back. he tilted his head. "because you pretend you don't like it."

your stomach flipped. jay leaned in, so close his breath ghosted over your cheek. "you want me to let you go?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft.

your throat bobbed. his fingers traced the inside of your wrist, featherlight, sending shivers up your arm. "say the word," he whispered. "say you don't like it when i tell you what to do."

your heart hammered against your ribs. but you didn't say anything.

because you didn't want to lie.

jay smirked. "thought so." his thumb brushed against your jaw, tilting your chin up. your lips were inches apart. you were still angry. furious. but that fury burned into something else, something hotter, something more dangerous. you should leave. you should shove him away.

but you didn't move. neither did he.

and in that moment, you both knew. you weren't going anywhere.

his eyes narrow down to your lips, something switches in his gaze—almost as if he had finally had enough.

"fuck this," he mutters lowkey before he's crashing his lips onto yours. your eyes widen in surprise, feeling his lips mold onto your own as you stand frozen in shock. you feel jay run his hands down your side, situating themselves on your ass as he squeezes your fleshy mounds. you gasp into his mouth, jay seizing the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

you moan when you feel jay grip your bare ass, lifting your short dress up to your hips—your arms wrapping around his neck as you push yourself up against him. "you think you can go see other men while you spend your days with me and my son?" he says against your lips, his grip on you getting rougher as pushes your dress up higher. you groan against him, "minho is my—" you try to explain only for a sharp smack to interrupt you.

he had spanked you.

your mouth drops open in shock, "what the f—" jay's hauling you up, your legs now wrapped around his waist as he pushes you down on his painfully hard cock. "i don't care who he is. you're not to be alone with another man," he says gruffly, dropping you down onto his bed.

you're flat against his soft linen sheets, legs now spread apart roughly by jay who stares down at you with a dark glint in his eyes. you glare up at him, breathless. "you can't tell me what to do." jay scoffs, leaning over you, one hand gripping your thigh as he spreads you open further. "the hell i can't," he murmurs, voice low and rough. "you think you can act like a brat, push me to my limit, and then run off to another man?"

"it's not like that," you argue, voice shaking, but he just smirks, eyes flickering down to where your dress is bunched up around your waist. "doesn't matter," he says, dragging a rough hand up your thigh. "you're mine. do you understand that?" you bite your lip, refusing to answer, which only makes jay angrier. he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "say it," he demands. "say you're mine."

you tilt your head defiantly. "make me." jay lets out a dark chuckle, his grip tightening. "oh, you don't want me to do that, sweetheart." he leans in, lips brushing against your ear. "because if i do, you won't be able to walk out of here, much less run to him."

"yeah right," you scoff, taking his threats lightly but your heart still stutters in your chest. his chest heaves up and down erratically, as if he was fighting himself from what he was about to do to you. his expression turning grim at his words yet his eyes sparking up in excitement. he finally had you where he wanted you, and not even god could pull him away.

he reaches to pull off his shirt, your mouth watering when you see his toned abdomen come into sight. jay took pride in his body, eating well and working out consistently to maintain himself throughout his years.

he grabs your hips roughly, a small squeal leaving your mouth when he drags you to the edge of the bed—your core connecting with his crotch. your legs wrap around his waist automatically while he kneels on the bed—looming over you. jay's hand grips your waist firmly as he stares down at you, his jaw tight with frustration. "you really don't listen, do you?"

you smirk up at him, still feeling defiant. "i listen just fine. i just don't take orders from you." his eyes darken at your words, and before you can react, his palm comes down sharply against your thigh. the sharp sting makes you yelp, your body jerking against the bed.

your mouth drops open in shock. "jay, what the—" another smack lands, this time on the curve of your ass, harder. your whole body tenses, the heat from his palm lingering. "you don't take orders from me?" jay scoffs, pushing your legs off of him before he's flipping you over and dragging you up so you're on your hands and knees—arching your back just the way he wants. "then why do you keep acting out just to get my attention?"

"i'm not—ah!" you gasp when another slap lands, harder than before, making your skin burn. jay leans over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "minho doesn't get to see you like this," he growls, his hand smoothing over the spot he just punished, before giving you another harsh slap.

smack!

smack!

smack!

your fingers clutch at the sheets as you let out a broken whimper. "you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. "and i'm going to make sure you never forget that." he looks down at the sight in front of him, just how he had always wanted you to end up. bent over for him, battling submission as he forces you into it. your behind was a bright red, your panties doing a poor job at hiding your soaked core.

"fuck," jay groans, his palm smoothing over the burning skin of your ass before landing another sharp slap. you jolt, gasping, but his grip on your waist keeps you from moving an inch. "such a fucking brat. but you love this, don't you?" you bite your lip, refusing to answer, but jay sees right through you. his fingers trail up your spine, sending shivers down your back. "you fight me, you push me, but at the end of the day—" he lands another slap, harder this time, making you cry out. "—you always end up right here."

his voice dips lower, rough with something dangerous. something raw. "you don't even realize what you do to me, do you?" he mutters, his lips brushing against your temple as he pulls you up against his chest. his breath is hot against your ear. "watching you play house with me and seojun. cooking breakfast, tucking him into bed, walking around my home like you belong here." his hands tighten on your hips, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against you with no shame.

his lips graze your jaw. "you love it too, don't you?"

"jay—"

"shh." his grip slides up, fingers curling around your throat—not tight, just enough to remind you who's in control. "you act like you don't, but i see the way you are with him. how soft you get when you think no one's watching. how you look at me when i come home late and you're the first thing i see standing in my kitchen." he chuckles darkly, dragging his lips down your neck. "you play the role so fucking well, baby. the perfect little wife—except you're still a goddamn brat." his confession makes your breath hitch. you can feel it now, how deep this runs for him. how much he's wanted this—wanted you.

"you think i don't see the way you tease me?" jay murmurs against your skin, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "walking around my house in those tiny fucking shorts, looking at me with those defiant little eyes, making me chase after you like some desperate idiot." his hand lands sharp smack on your thigh, and you let out a whimper before you can stop yourself. jay groans, gripping your throat even tighter. "fuck, i love that sound. love every little thing about you."

his words send a thrill through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. "i love this, baby," he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. "love your bratty little mouth. love putting you in your place. love how you fight me just so i can take you apart like this." he kisses the corner of your mouth, his grip firm, unrelenting. "and you love it too, don't you?" your breath is shaky, but you refuse to give in so easily. "i hate you," you whisper, even as your body melts against his. jay chuckles, dark and knowing. "you hate how much you love this."

"you're delusional."

his hands roam lower, his lips finding yours in a heated, possessive kiss. you're drowning in him, in the fire between you. and as much as you want to fight it, you already know—jay park always gets what he wants. and right now, what he wants is you. he grips your arms, a small whine escaping your mouth when he manhandles them behind you. he pushes you back down, "oh, princess. you're going to eat your own words."

you feel something wrap around your wrists, your eyes widening when you realize what he was doing. he had taken off his belt, wrapping the leather material around your arms to stop you from moving around. everything happens so quick, your pushed flat against your back with jay now face to face with your throbbing core. his fingers dug into the plush of your thigh, holding them back from closing. "look at you," he coos softly, looking at giant wet patch on your panties as you squirm in shame.

"fuck you," you spit weakly. he smirks, "we'll get to that, princess. we have all night." you mewl when you feel him lick up your covered slit, his tongue tracing up your cunt as he digs into your thighs. you buck your hips up, jay's laughter making you stop your actions. "so fucking needy. you must be so used to getting what you want, hm? my spoiled bratty princess," he hums.

you huff, "do it." he raises his eyebrows in faux confusion, "do what?"

you rolls your eyes, "take them off and eat my pussy."

his smug expression drops at your bratty words, "seems like you haven't learned anything from earlier." you open your mouth to retort only for a sharp pain between your legs to stop you. you squeal out in surprise, jay landed another strong smack to your centre. "it's okay, by the end of this i'll have you begging and crying. then you'll finally behave yourself."

your body jolts at the sharp sting between your legs, a breathy gasp slipping past your lips before you can stop it. jay tilts his head, watching you with dark amusement, his hands never loosening their grip on your thighs. "there she is," he murmurs, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles along your skin. "i was starting to think you'd never stop running your mouth." your wrists pull against the restraint of his belt, but it's useless—he's tied you up too well. the frustration bubbles in your chest, mixing with the unbearable heat pooling in your stomach.

"you're such an ass," you hiss, glaring up at him. jay only smirks, completely unfazed. "and yet, you're still here. still dripping for me." his fingers ghost over the soaked fabric of your panties, pressing down just enough to make you whimper. you try to twist away from his touch, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but jay isn't having it. he grips your hips firmly, keeping you in place, his strength making it clear that resistance is pointless.

"you keep fighting me like you have a choice," he scoffs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "but we both know how this ends, don't we, princess?" your breathing is ragged, your body betraying you as he drags his lips higher. your skin burns where he touches, and the worst part is—you want more. but you refuse to admit it.

"you're crazy," you bite out, even as your body shudders at his touch. jay chuckles, his breath hot against your core. "am i?" his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down at an agonizing pace. "because from where i'm sitting, you're the one desperate for me." the flimsy fabric landing on the floor as he situates himself right front of your leaking cunt. he pauses, eyes locking onto yours with a wicked glint. "and the best part? you know i'm right."

your lips part, a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue—but before you can say anything, jay moves, leaving you utterly speechless. his tongue comes down to run over your bare slit, moaning at the taste before he's yanking you down by your hips—nose buried into your cunt, you squeak at the sensation, his tongue gliding up at down your clenching hole as his nose nudges your clit with each movement.

"f-fuck, jay," you pant softly, your body writhing as you fight against his belt. jay grins against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds your legs back from completely suffocating him. his tongue moves slowly and skillfully, circling your clit before making its way down to your sopping hole.

he moans at your taste, not afraid of getting messy with his movements. he peers up, watching your head lull back as he begins to lick figure 8s on your clit repeatedly. your thighs tremble, your back arching off the bed as jay's tongue flicks over your swollen clit with torturous precision.

every swipe sends sparks shooting through your veins, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you tug uselessly against the belt binding your wrists, the leather only tightening the more you struggle. you whine at the almost painful sensation of being bound, his leather belt now digging into your wrists—slowly cutting of circulation. jay hums against your soaking cunt, the vibrations making you whimper. his grip on your thighs is ironclad, refusing to let you squirm away—not that you really wanted to.

you gasp when you feel his digits intrude your walls, a load moan escaping you before you could even hold yourself back. "fuck look at you, princess. you're sucking my fingers in so well," he groans, watching your cunt greedily take in his digits as he begins to roughly pound them in.

your mouth stays open in an 'o' shape as you move your hips in hopes of catching more of what he was offering. jay catches on to your movements, clicking his tongue as he looks at you smugly. "so desperate hm, princess? look at you, so fucking filthy." you whine at his words, "go fuck yours—" jay removes his fingers from your sopping cunt and smacks them down on your clit. "—oh fuck!" you sob out.

"you're going to learn to control that mouth, __. and here i was, being so gentle and kind with you. but clearly, bratty girls like you don't deserve such treatment," he tsks while teasingly rubbing your clit in small firm circles with his thumb. you scrounge your mind for an insult to throw at him before his actions take your breath.

literally.

jay moves quickly, suddenly his hand is wrapped around your throat and he's looking over your shaking and twitching body. he moves behind you, letting you lean against his strong chest as he spreads your thighs wide open—hooking his legs with your own, leaving you unable to squirm. he clamps down his hand firmly between your legs, cupping your cunt as you look up at him dumbfounded.

he gives you no answer, looking down at you with what you could only assume was pure deep dark desire. you moan out in pain, the stretch of his fingers making your eyes rolls back as jay leaves you no time to adjust. his begins to fuck three of his fingers into your cunt, his grip on your throat tightening.

"who knew you took things in you so well, hm? look at you, gushing all over my fingers," he murmurs darkly into your ear. his pace was ruthless, his palm smacking your clit with each thrust. you're a moaning mess, crying out everytime jay pushes into your gummy walls. jay had enough of the noise, moving his hand from your neck to stuff two fingers down your throat—gagging you.

you choke against his digits, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. your makeup was smeared, your mascara running down your cheeks and your lipstick smudged around your mouth—yet jay thought you looked beautiful. he could see tears run down your cheeks and saliva running down his fingers and you struggled to contain yourself. "you close, princess? i can feel you clenching around me," he grins, curling his fingers in you in a 'come here' motion.

"m'close," you try to say only for it to come out as muffled sobs due to his fingers down your throat. he smirks against your skin, "so fucking greedy. come on princess, cum for me. cum all over my fingers," he murmurs in your ear, your eyes rolling back as you feel your body violently convulse at your high. jay looks at you in surprise.

you had squirted.

"holy shit, princess." he removes his fingers from your mouth, finally letting your aching jaw rest—his thumb still rubbing at your clit, helping you ride out your high. "do you know what you just did?" he asks, his hands grabbing at your waist before hes pulling off your dress completely. you lay against him, unable to comprehend anything after you came. when you don't respond he continues, "you just squirted, princess. that's not going to waste."

he moves you away from his chest, letting you lay back against the bed before he's between your parted thighs again. he doesn't give you a chance to recover before his tongue is licking up your slit, his hands gripping the plush of your thighs—holding them back from closing in on his head. "you taste so fucking good," he growls, lifting his head just enough to watch your face twist in painful pleasure. "all that attitude, and here you are, shaking for me like a good little slut." you slowly regain your sense of thought, still hazy from before—but not enough to stop you from acting out.

you bite your lip, glaring down at him through hooded and now swollen eyes. "fuck—you," you pant, but your words lose all their venom when he dips his tongue back inside you, curling just right against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl. jay chuckles darkly, the sound sending another jolt of heat straight to your core. "still talking shit?" he pulls back, smirking at the way your hips chase his mouth. "maybe i should just leave you here, all tied up and desperate. let you think about how badly you need me."

your stomach clenches at the thought, but you force yourself to let out a weak scoff. "like you could walk away." jay's eyes darken, his fingers trailing up to circle your clit, pressing just enough to make you gasp. "try me."

you don't get the chance to respond. in one fluid motion, jay flips you onto your stomach. his weight pins you down, his hard clothed cock pressing into the curve of your ass.

"you don't get to call the shots here," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "not until i say you've earned it." you whine as he grinds against you, the friction maddening. "jay—"

"what?" his hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back. "use your words, princess. tell me what you want." you swallow hard, pride and desire warring inside you. but the way his fingers tighten in your hair, the way his cock pulses against your ass—it's too much.

"i want—fuck—i want you to fuck me," you finally admit, your voice shaking. "i'll fuck you when you stop being a brat and admit it." 

you whine, shaking your head in defiance. you had made it this far without admitting your feelings, what's a bit longer?

"say it."

you shake your head furiously, breath shaky as you glare up at him. "no." jay clicks his tongue, his grip on your waist tightening. "wrong answer, princess." you whimper, body trembling, but you still refuse to give in. you won't let him win—not like this. jay leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "you're so fucking stubborn. but you'll say it. we both know you will." your fingers curl into the sheets, your pride the only thing keeping you from giving him what he wants.

"fuck you," you grit out.

jay only laughs, shaking his head. "not until you tell me the truth." you squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to look at him. you can't. not when he's so close, not when his voice drips with that dangerous confidence that makes your heart race. he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "look at me." you do, reluctantly, your body burning under the weight of his stare.

his eyes darken. "you love this. you love me." you inhale sharply. "i—"

"say it," he commands. "say you love me, or you don't get my cock." your pride wars with your need, but jay is relentless. he watches you like he already knows he's won. you try to hold out, but his smirk deepens as he pulls away slightly, putting even more distance between you. your chest rises and falls rapidly. you can't take it anymore.

"i—" you hesitate, jaw clenching. jay waits, patient but smug. you hate him for this. you hate him for making you want him so badly.

"i love you," you finally gasp out, the words falling from your lips like a confession you've been holding in for too long. jay exhales, his smirk turning into something deeper, something real. "that's my girl," he murmurs, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your lips.

you barely have time to recover before he pulls back, eyes locking onto yours with a dark promise. "now," he breathes, "let me show you just how much i love you too." in one swift motion, he flips you back over, his hands sliding under your thighs to hook your legs over his shoulders. he leans down, his lips brushing yours, so close you can taste yourself on his tongue.

"good girls get what they want," he murmurs, his hands pulling down his boxers. and then he's pushing inside you in one sharp thrust, stretching you, filling you, stealing the breath from your lungs. your back arches off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat as jay bottoms out inside you, his grip bruising on your hips. you cry out in pain and pleasure, the stretch of his cock making you dizzy as your walls flutter around him—struggling to adjust.

"mine," he growls, his voice rough with possession. and as he starts to move, hard and deep, you realize—you always have been. the years of back and fourth bickering, dirty glares and snarky comments. all of that, had led to this moment.

jay's hips snap forward, each brutal thrust driving the air from your lungs. his cock is relentless, pistoning into your slick cunt with a rhythm that leaves no inch of you untouched. the slap of skin against skin echoes in the room, mingling with your desperate whimpers as he fucks you into the mattress. your bound hands twist against the belt, the leather biting into your wrists, but the burn only feeds the fire coursing through you. jay's fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, his grip possessive, claiming—like he wants to leave bruises. like he wants you to remember this tomorrow when you try to walk away like you always do.

"f-fuck, jay—" his name spills from your lips, ragged and broken, as he drags his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, the tip hitting that perfect spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. jay feels you clench around him, grunting as he fucks into you—making sure there was no inch of you that he hadn't touched.

one of his hands come down to grab at your tit, pinching your nipple almost painfully when you begin to close your eyes—making you whine. he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a mockery of tenderness. "what, baby? gonna come already?" his voice is rough, dripping with amusement. "you're so fucking tight around me. bet you're close, aren't you?"

you squeeze around him involuntarily, your walls fluttering as pleasure coils tighter in your belly. you don't answer, you can't. he's angling his hips just right, grinding against that swollen spot inside you with every thrust—your orgasm is right there, hovering just out of reach. jay growls, sensing it, and suddenly his thumb is on your clit, rubbing tight little circles that make your whole body jerk.

"come on," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "cum on my cock like the greedy little spoiled slut you are." you shatter. your back arches off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure explodes through you, white-hot and consuming. your cunt clamps down around jay's cock, milking him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. he doesn't stop.

jay fucks you through it, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release. his fingers dig harder into your hips, the pain of your high coursing through you. "gonna fill you up," he snarls, his voice thick with need. "gonna pump you so fucking full of me, you'll drip with it." the filthy promise sends another shiver through you, your oversensitive body trembling beneath his. and then he's burying himself deep, his cock twitching as he spills inside you with a groan, his hips grinding against yours to make sure every last drop is where it belongs.

you pant beneath him, boneless and wrecked, the only sound in the room the ragged pull of your breaths. jay finally pulls out, his cum already leaking from your well-used cunt. he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a slow, filthy kiss. "now," he murmurs, his thumb swiping through the mess between your thighs before pushing it past your lips, "tell me again how you feel about me."

you suck his thumb clean, your eyes locked with his. and this time, you don't bother lying.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

you wake up to the warm morning light slipping past the curtains, painting soft lines across jay's sheets. your body aches, sore in places you didn't even know could ache. your throat dry from the sounds he pulled out of you the night before.

you blink slowly, adjusting to the light. the bed is cold beside you. jay is gone. you groan softly as you shift, the soreness between your thighs making it nearly impossible to move without wincing. "jesus christ," you mutter under your breath, rolling onto your side. your fingers instinctively brush the soft cotton clinging to your skin. it's a plain white t-shirt, oversized and hanging low on your frame. his scent clings to it, to you.

your legs dangle over the side of the bed, and you wince as you slowly stand. every step is careful, every movement a reminder of what he did to you—what you let him do. you spot your phone on the nightstand and grab it with shaky fingers. it lights up immediately.

minho (12 missed calls) dad (8 messages) dad (4 missed calls)

you sigh, heart sinking a little. it all comes rushing back—what you left behind last night. the party. the lie. jay's anger. and now... the aftermath. you pull your hair up loosely and make your way downstairs, your bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. the house is eerily quiet. no tv, no kitchen sounds, no jay.

your heart sinks in your chest. your eyes dart around as you descend down the flight of stairs—no trace of him. the living room is spotless, the kitchen untouched. not even a half-drunk cup of coffee left behind.

your heart skips for a second.

did he leave?

you glance toward the hallway and peek your head into seojun's room. the little boy is still curled up under his blankets, breathing soft and steady. safe. peaceful. you step back out and stand in the middle of the quiet house, unsure of what to do with yourself. "where the hell did you go, jay..." you mutter, fingers tightening around your phone.

your thumb hovers over minho's name, but you can't bring yourself to call him. not yet. not when your body still carries evidence of last night. not when you still smell like jay. the silence around you is loud—too loud. and the way your mind spins with questions only makes it worse.

what did last night mean? 

why did he leave you alone like this?

is he even coming back?

you let out a soft sigh and head toward the kitchen, aimlessly grabbing a glass of water just to keep your hands busy. your reflection catches in the oven door—jay's shirt draped over your frame, legs bare, lips still a little swollen. you noticed that your face was clean and bare, jay had taken off your makeup last night.

well, whatever was left of it.

you look like you belong here. but for the first time. you're not sure if that's a good thing.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the sound of the front door unlocking makes you flinch slightly as you're crouched down in the living room, gathering all of seojun's toys. jay walks in like he didn't flip your world upside down last night.

"hey," he says casually, shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes. his voice is easy—too easy. like nothing happened. like he didn't press every button you had until you broke, until you confessed things you'd been biting your tongue about for weeks. "morning," you mutter without looking up, trying to keep your expression neutral as you tug the lid of his toy basket open.

jay steps into the living room, eyes glancing over the scene— the living room now spotless as you sit on the floor with your legs folded awkwardly under you like you hadn't spent the entire night being ruined by the man. the same man who was now acting like your confession wasn't still echoing in his ears. your phone buzzes again beside you on the couch. minho's name flashes across the screen for the sixth time that morning. you finally texted him.

minho: hey u get there ok?

minho: heeelllloooo

minho: istg if ur getting dicked down rn

minho: U SO R

minho: OMGGG

minho: u slut

minho: call me after or ill acc burn ur house down

minho: u so owe me a drink

you: i'll call u later ..

minho: U BETTERR

your dad had also called twice. he was worried, demanding to know where you'd disappeared last night. you told him the lie you'd practiced in your head: i stayed over at minho's. i'm at work now.

jay gives you a glance then, brief and unreadable. "he still asleep?" he asks, nodding toward the stairs. you nod once, "should be up soon."

jay hums. he runs a hand through his hair, moving past you both to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. no acknowledgment. not of your night together. not of your confessions. not even the smallest smirk or sly comment he's usually so quick to throw your way. it stings more than you thought it would.

"so this is just nothing?" you say quietly.  you keep your voice low, tense. "you're really going to pretend nothing happened?" jay doesn't turn around. he twists the cap off the bottle, takes a sip. "didn't say that."

"then what are you doing?" you snap, standing. you're still in his clothes—his t-shirt drowning your frame and his sweatpants tied loose around your waist. "you spent all night dragging it out of me. making me say things i wasn't ready to admit, and now what? you ignore me?" jay finally turns, his jaw set, expression unreadable. "what did you expect?" he says flatly. "you think we can just pretend like that shit doesn't complicate everything?"

you blink, stung. "you complicated it. not me. you crossed the boundaries. not me." he takes a step toward you. "you think i didn't feel it too?" he snaps. "you think this is easy for me?"

"you sure act like it is." jay's breathing hard now, his eyes dark as they search your face. "i'm trying not to make things worse. you said what you said, and yeah, i heard you. but i don't know what the hell to do with it yet. it's not like i didn't tell you how i felt."

your throat feels tight, heart racing with hurt and frustration. "then maybe you shouldn't have forced it out of me." he doesn't respond right away. just stares, like he's trying to figure out whether to argue or admit you're right. you glance away, swallowing hard. "i meant what i said," you whisper, "and i hate that i did."

jay steps closer then, enough that you can feel the heat from his body. he's silent, watching you, torn between his own emotions. "...i didn't hate hearing it," he finally says, voice lower, softer. "but i can't pretend i know what to do with it either." you don't say anything, just cross your arms tighter over your chest.

it's quiet for a long moment. then jay murmurs, "but if it means anything... i don't want you with anyone else." your gaze snaps to his. "last night wasn't just sex," he says, voice rough. "and you damn well know it." you swallow around the lump in your throat, arms still crossed tight like it'll protect you from how exposed you feel. like it'll keep your heart from beating too loud.

"so... what now?" you ask, your voice quieter than before. more hesitant. "what are we supposed to do?" jay's eyes drop, his thumb tapping against the water bottle in his hand. he looks like he wants to pace but forces himself to stay still. "i don't know," he admits. "i've been trying to figure that out since last night."

you frown. "what's stopping you?" he exhales sharply. "everything. you're 23, i'm 35. your dad would kill me if he knew what happened last night." he glances up at you. "you were just a kid when i met you."

you flinch at that. "i'm not a kid now." "i know," he says quickly, his jaw clenching. "believe me, i know. last night proved that more than anything." you look away, chewing the inside of your cheek. "you think this is just a phase? that i'll grow out of it?" jay steps closer, his voice low. "no. i think that's what scares me the most."

you meet his gaze again, your heart thudding. "...was it ever just me?" you ask, needing to know, needing to hear it. "or am i just filling a space someone else left behind?" his expression hardens slightly, like the question caught him off guard.

"is this about her?" you push, barely whispering. "seojun's mom?" jay's face shifts, something bitter and tired flashing through his features. he looks away, jaw tight. "she left the second he was born." your eyes widen in shock, "what?" 

"she didn't want to be a mom," he says flatly. "we were never in love. it was a mistake. she got pregnant, and i told her i'd raise him. she agreed and walked out of the hospital with a suitcase and a plane ticket." you stare at him, stunned. he's never talked about her. never even hinted.

"so it's just been you," you murmur. he nods. "just me. for the last 5 years." you don't know what to say. you feel your chest ache for him—for the boy upstairs, for the man who's been carrying the weight of parenthood alone, pretending like it never crushed him.

"and then you," he says, voice quieter now. "you crash into my life, literally. and then suddenly you're here, and seojun loves you, and i—" he cuts himself off. you blink. "and you...?"

his eyes lock with yours, expression unreadable as he forces himself to swallow his words, "—and i don't know how to let myself want something that feels like it'll ruin everything." you step forward this time, closing the space between you. "what if it doesn't?" jay looks at you like he wants to believe it. like the hope hurts more than the fear. you reach up slowly, resting your hand against his chest. his heart's pounding under your palm. "you don't have to protect me from this," you whisper. "just... tell me what you want."

he looks at you, his voice hoarse. "i want you." you feel it in the way he says it—like it's been sitting on his tongue for days, weeks, maybe years. like it's the one thing he's been trying not to say. your breath catches. "then why are you acting like last night never happened?"

jay exhales, finally turning away from you—unable to look you in the eye. he runs a hand through his hair and mutters, "because i don't know how to be around you without wanting more." you bite the inside of your cheek, heart pounding. "you think i don't want more too?" his back is still to you, shoulders tense. "you don't understand what more looks like with me. it's not just cute dates and taking seojun to the park. it's complicated. it's messy."

you step toward him, slowly. "i'm not scared of messy." he finally turns around, eyes meeting yours again—and this time, it's all there. the frustration. the want. the guilt. the hunger. "i forced you to say it last night," he says quietly. "i made you admit you loved me just so i could hear it. do you know how fucked up that is?"

your chest tightens. "maybe. but it doesn't make it a lie." jay doesn't say anything. his eyes just search your face like he's trying to make sense of you. the silence stretches, so loud it feels like it might shatter between you when suddenly— "daddy? noona?" a sleepy voice calls from the stairs.

you both snap your heads toward the sound. seojun stands there in his pajamas, hair sticking up in every direction, clutching his stuffed lion. jay's face softens instantly. "hey, buddy."

you blink away the emotions clogging your throat, quickly moving toward the stairs. "come on," you say gently, crouching down to his level. "you want breakfast?"

he nods, rubbing his eyes. "pancakes." you laugh softly. "you always want pancakes."

as you lead him into the kitchen, you feel jay's eyes on you the whole time. there's so much unsaid between you both, but right now, you fall into routine—mixing batter, pouring it onto the hot pan, seojun sitting on the counter watching you with half-lidded eyes. it looked like a scene out of a movie, jay admires your relationship with his son based one the circumstances the two of you had bonded. seojun loves you, and as complicated as his feelings make things—jay loves you too.

jay joins eventually, helping slice fruit, moving around you like muscle memory. and then he brushes past you to grab a plate, and his hand lingers a second too long on your waist. your breath hitches.

you don't look at him. but you feel it.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the house was finally quiet. seojun had gone down for his nap without a fuss, leaving you sprawled across the couch in jay's living room, phone pressed to your ear.

"okay, wait—start from the beginning," minho's voice crackled through your speaker. "did he take his shirt off or did you rip it off?" you rolled your eyes with a laugh. "neither! i wasn't some feral animal."

"please, you definitely were," he teased. "i know that tone in your voice. you're trying to act like it wasn't the hottest night of your life."

"shut up," you said, biting back a smile. "you're so annoying."

"you moaned his name, didn't you? tell me you did." he then pauses, clearing his throat as he prepares his best girly impression, "oh jay! jay right there." you roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh before glancing down at the little scratch marks on your thighs. "...maybe."

minho gasped like he'd just won the lottery. "i knew it! i need the full play-by-play. what was he like? slow and sensual? aggressive? did he say something like—'you're mine now, princess'?" he deepened his voice dramatically. you snorted. "why are you like this?"

"i live through your drama. and honestly? the hot single-dad boss fantasy? ten out of ten." you rolled your eyes again, but the smile stayed on your face. "you're insane."

"no, i'm just invested. i mean, your dad's going to lose his mind when he finds out you're hooking up with his business partner. this is better than any k-drama." you were mid-laugh when a throat cleared from the doorway.

you froze. you turned your head slowly to find jay standing there—back early from his meeting, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes fixed on you with that unreadable expression he wore when he was annoyed... or worse, jealous. your heart dropped.

"i gotta go," you mumbled into the phone.

"why? what's—" you hung up before minho could finish. jay didn't say anything at first. he walked in slowly, setting his keys on the counter. his gaze stayed on you the entire time."minho, huh?" he said finally, his voice casual—but the edge was there, sharp and unmistakable. you shifted on the couch. "he's just a friend. you know that."

"yeah, i know," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. "didn't realize your 'just a friend' needed all the juicy details about what happens in my bed." you flushed. "you were eavesdropping?"

"i walked into my own house," he said coolly, raising an eyebrow. "and caught you giggling about our sex life." "we weren't giggling,” you murmur, embarrassed.  "sure," he said, stepping closer. "so you didn't tell him how good i made you feel? how you squirted all over the bed? how loud you got when i—"

"okay, stop," you cut in, face burning. "you're being jealous over nothing." he tilted his head. "maybe. or maybe i just don't like the idea of some boy thinking he's got a chance with you." you blinked in confusion, "minho doesn't—"

"he does," jay interrupted, stepping even closer. you crossed your arms, not backing down, "and what exactly are we, jay? we haven't talked about last night properly. what we did, what we are. so you suddenly get to be possessive now?" his jaw flexed. "i don't know."

that caught you off guard. "i don't know," he repeated, softer now. "i didn't plan for this to happen. i didn't plan for you. but now you're in my house, you're in my bed, and my son asks for you before he asks for me." you blinked, heart stuttering.

"i think about what this means," he said. "what your dad would say. how he'd probably try to kill me." you cracked a smile. "he would. slowly and painfully." jay didn't smile back, not finding amusement in having to deal with your father, "and what seojun would think... if he knew. if he understood."

your expression sobered. "i don't want to confuse him," jay said quietly. "he's already had to grow up without a real mother. your chest ached.

"so it's always been just me and him," jay continued. "and now... there's you." you looked at him, your voice gentle. "do you want me to be there?" his eyes met yours, something raw in them, "yeah," he said. "i do." your breath hitched.

"but this won't be easy," he said. "not with the age gap. not with your dad. not with the way i feel when some kid like minho calls you and makes you laugh like that." you stepped closer. "i'll deal with my dad, and you know minho is my friend." jay scoffs at the last bit. "and seojun?" you paused, a smile appearing on your face when jay mentions the little twerp, "he loves me."

jay softened, "he does." you looked up at him. "so maybe this can work. maybe we just take it one day at a time." he studied you, then nodded slowly. "one day at a time."

and just like that, you felt the air between you shift—something fragile and uncertain, but also real. jay reaches for your hand, the warmth of his fingers interlocking with your own. you sigh in content. "no more secrets," he said.

you nodded. "no more eavesdropping." he smirked. "we'll see."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

"are you and appa married now?"

the question drops like a bomb in the middle of the warm living room. you freeze where you're kneeling, halfway through tying seojun's tiny sneaker. your eyes snap up to meet his, wide and innocent—but there's something suspiciously knowing behind them. he had a small grin on his face, looking at you mischievously. 

smart ass.

"what?" you blink, confused and shocked. "what makes you say that?"

"because appa never lets anyone touch his hair, not even me!" seojun says seriously, eyes narrowed like he's putting the clues together in his tiny head. "but you touched it yesterday and he didn't even yell. and you didn't yell at him either. you said 'thank you' when he brought you water."

"i always say thank you," you mumble, suddenly very interested in the velcro strap you're adjusting. you begin wondering if they make velcro sneakers for adults. "no you don't," he says bluntly. "you fight all the time. but now you smile. and he smiles too. and he puts his hand here when you walk." he pats the small of his back, mimicking jay's subtle touches. "so... are you his wife now?"

you sigh, resting your forehead lightly against his, "no, junnie. i'm not his wife."

"but do you love him?" your heart lurches. you swallow at his bluntness, "you ask a lot of questions for a 5 year old." he shrugs like an old man. "i'm smart. i know things."

you pull back, smiling softly at him, "yeah, you really do." just then, jay walks into the room, ruffling seojun's hair. "ready to go, bud?"

"appa," seojun turns to him seriously. "if she's not your wife yet, you better hurry. i want her to stay. she makes good pancakes." you look at the boy offended, gasping at his words, "so you only want me here for pancakes?" seojun grins in response, squealing when you attack him with tickles on his tummy.

jay glances at you—eyes dark, flickering with something unspoken and then he chuckles, low and affectionate. "working on it, buddy," he murmurs.

you roll your eyes, cheeks burning at his words "liar." jay smirks when he sees your face turn red, "brat."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

jay gave you a quick pep talk before you left his home to finally see your father.

you chew at your lip nervously as you stand in front of your father's study door, your fingers twitching by your sides. he had texted earlier asking where you'd been the night before, and you lied—again. but you're not sure if he believed you this time. not when he knows how close you've gotten with jay. not when he's always been a little too observant for your liking. you take a deep breath, knock once, and step inside.

he looks up from his laptop, brow furrowed. "so. you're alive." you wince. "hi, dad."

he leans back in his chair, arms folding. "i'm guessing you didn't spend the night at minho's like you said." you hesitate. "no."

"then where?" you glance down, then back up. "jay's."

he doesn't respond at first. the silence thickens. "and?" he finally asks, voice tight. "is there something you want to tell me?" you swallow hard, fingers locking together. "we've... gotten close." his eyes narrow slightly at the term, repeating it with distaste, "close." 

"i care about him," you admit. "and seojun. it's not just... it's not a fling, dad. i know he's older, and i know he's your business partner, but—"

"23 and 35, sweetheart." his voice is low, clipped. "he has a child. responsibilities. baggage. you really think you're ready for all that?"

"i've already been dealing with it," you fire back, trying to stay calm. "i've been helping take care of seojun for months. i love that kid. and jay... he's—he's good to me. in his own grumpy way." your father scoffs. "grumpy is one word for it." you cross your arms. "you don't get to judge him. you've worked with him for years. you know he's not some asshole." he sighs, rubbing his temples. "i know. i know he's not. he's a good man. he's just... not who i pictured for you."

"me neither," you say quietly. he looks up at you again—less angry now, more tired. "does he make you happy?" you nod. "yeah. even when we fight. especially when we fight." he huffs out a reluctant laugh, knowing that jay at the very least was able to deal with his daughter's attitude,  "sounds like you two deserve each other."

"but that doesn't mean that i'm fully okay with this. i need to chat with mr.park as well, about this." you nod at his word, a small laugh escaping you as you watch your father struggle to contain his protectiveness.

a beat of silence passes. "just... be careful," he says finally. "this changes a lot of things."

"i know," you say softly. "but i think it's worth it." he nods once, slowly. "alright." and just like that, a line has been crossed. awkward tension still lingers in the air, but there's something softer now. something almost like acceptance.

you step forward to hug him, and after a beat, his arms wrap around you too. "just don't let him break your heart," he mutters.

you smile. "i'll break his first."

he groans. "god, you're still your mother's child."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

it's been a few weeks since everything changed—since your father reluctantly accepted the relationship, since seojun's wide eyes and perceptive little voice called both you and jay out, and since you finally stopped pretending what was happening between you and jay was just physical. things had shifted. not abruptly, but with slow ease.

the mornings in jay's house were no longer just routine—they had rhythm. you're in the kitchen, barefoot and sleepy, stirring the oatmeal you promised seojun the night before. the little boy's perched on the counter next to you, legs swinging as he munches on an apple slice with a bag of gummy bears wound tightly in his palms—humming some made-up song under his breath.

"you gonna tell your dad i let you have gummy bears before breakfast?" you tease, bumping his knee with your hip. seojun giggles. "hmm... depends. will you make pancakes this weekend?"

"blackmail? wow, you really are his son."

"damn right," jay's voice cuts in from behind, gravelly and amused, his hair still damp from the shower. he's buttoning up his shirt slowly, eyes scanning the scene in front of him like it's his favorite sight in the world. his son and you in his kitchen, soft morning light catching the curve of your cheek, your voice warm and teasing. he lives for this now. these little domestic moments of peace. "don't tell me you're bribing my kid," he mutters, brushing a kiss against your temple as he grabs his coffee.

you roll your eyes, "he's blackmailing me and bribing implies i'm getting something out of it." jay smirks, "you get to wake up in my bed. that's gotta count for something." you shoot him a look, but your cheeks warm anyway. he never misses a chance to fluster you, and he knows exactly how to do it—especially when seojun's around and your only defense is a quiet huff and a shake of your head.

breakfast is chaotic in the way that all good families are. seojun accidentally knocks over his juice, you forget the toast in the oven, jay's tie somehow ends up in the butter dish, and yet... it all works. it's loud and messy and full of laughter.

later, after jay drops seojun off at school, it's just the two of you again. you're curled up on the couch with your laptop, trying to work as the summer was over and you no long had the pleasure of rotting around. you can feel his eyes on you from across the room. he's supposed to be reviewing contracts, but instead, he's watching you—his bratty, stubborn girl who somehow wormed her way into the quiet places of his life and made them glow.

"what?" you ask, not looking up. he shrugs. "nothing. just thinking." you lift a brow, "dangerous."

"about how you were made for this," he adds quietly. "for me. for him. for all of this. even though the beginning of our relationship revolved around constant bickering.” you scoff, half touched, half embarrassed. "so dramatic." but he doesn't deny it. just leans back, arms crossed, eyes soft. "tell me i'm wrong."

you don't. not because you can't, but because for once—you don't want to.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[plethorawrites]

Image how confused the entire Bat family would be if Jason— touch repulsed, wants to work alone, barely even tolerates them most days— Todd finally gets sucked into one of Bruce's charity events, only to come with a date who he *cannot* keep his hands off. I'm talking, has his arm draped around her waist or over her shoulder whenever they're walking, hugging her from behind with his jaw on top of her hair (carefully though, so he won't mess it up), occasionally randomly kissing the back of her hand, or her cheek, or very quickly her neck before she smacks him away playfully.

And the media LOVES this.

The reporters who usually bother Bruce about his company, Dick about his romantic life, Damian about school, Duke about being recently legally adopted, Cass about her improving speech skills, Tim about recent publicity statements, all suddenly leave them alone to take picture after picture of Jason and whoever his date is. And Jason—has threatened, attempted, and actually punched reporters— Todd doesn't even care. He doesn't bat an eye, (pun intended) because they should take pictures with how gorgeous she looks.

He'd be offended if they didn't.

And when she blushes, getting a bit shy after hearing a few too many clicks, he runs a hand up and down her arm, tearing her away from the buffet to dance. Dance. Yes, Bruce thought he'd lost his mind when he saw his son whisk a beautiful woman into the middle of the room, willingly, even eagerly wrapping his arms around her comfortably and familiarly, while she rests her head against his chest and he rests his cheek against the side of your head, his eyes fluttering shut every once in a while.

Of course, his family tried to get to talk to him, really, they did. Something or someone conveniently got in the way every single time, until the event is over and Jason and his date manage to slip out in the crowd before the family gets to interrogate him about it.

His phone? He has to shut it off from all the calls and texts that overwhelm his inbox. Alfred even sent an email.

When he eventually does pick it up after having it on do not disturb for a while, he simply types in the group chat, "You told me to bring a date." Before putting it face down on the nightstand and rolling over in bed to wrap his arms around her, kissing her temple softly as she sleeps, out of your fancy dress and in his arms, where she belongs.

[catcze]

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !!

Cw afab reader, breeding, impregnation kink, manhandling, belly bulge from cock ♡

Sylus takes you apart on his cock like a man playing an instrument. He knows all your tells, all your signs, all your spots like it's the back of his hand. Has spent hours on his hands and knees familiarizing himself with your body— using his hands and his mouth and his cock to see what has you fracturing for him in the most beautiful way possible.

With your legs on his shoulders, ankles hanging limply over his back and locked behind his neck, it certainly feels like this man was put on this earth for the sole purpose of taking you apart at the seams and putting you back together with each thrust and each kiss. His hands are broad and rough on your skin, borderline greedy as they dig into your hips, dragging your pliant body into each of his thrusts. He plays you like you're a doll, manhandling and moving your body to his whim, making your eyes roll each time his hips slap against yours.

You're so lost in the pleasure that he grants you that you hardly realize it when Sylus removes one of his hands from your waist, pressing it instead against your lower tummy, and pressing down slightly like he's trying to feel something, and you whimper.

His breaths are coming out in ragged pants, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but his eyes are glued to where his hand rests. He's so deep inside you— so deep, so hard, so thick that you're damn near losing your mind. You gasp when you feel his cock twitch, and groan against the hungry kiss that he presses against your lips.

“Here,” he grunts, lips brushing against your, eyes unfocused from the pleasure and sweat dripping from his brow. You swear that, in the low light of his bedroom, his crimson eyes glow with an unshakable hunger. Unshakable desire.

"W-what?" is all you can manage to gasp, barely able to cling to coherency with how he stretches you out on his girthy length. His hand insistently presses against your lower stomach again, and you squeal as he groans. He can feel himself under your skin, feel himself stretching you out just for him. "What do you—"

“This is where my baby is going to go." His voice is little more than a growl, now. Sylus' eyes meet yours— crimson pools, swirling with love, lust, and a promise. "This is where it’s gonna be when I fuck it into you, sweetie.”

[webism]

Hiromi Higuruma + accidentally saying ‘i love you’ during sex.

For Hiromi, letting down his guard is a dangerous thing. He’s an intelligent man who has to walk on eggshells with almost everything he does—being vulnerable isn’t his thing.

Except, of course, when he’s balls deep inside of you. You’re a reprieve, a statute of pleasure that he can’t help but over-indulge in. You’re so warm and tight and perfect wrapped around his pulsing cock and he’s so cumdrunk that lust starts to feel like something a whole lot more serious.

You’re on top tonight, helping the poor man destress after a particularly long day. His hands are cramping from hoee tight they’ve been gripping your hips, and he’s so lost in pleasure that he can’t remember if he’s trying to slow down your ride on his cock or guide you to orgasm even quicker.

What he does know, though, is that you’re breaking his damn mind. He can’t form a coherent fucking thought, not when you lift yourself up to eagerly just to drop back down on his cock. The sound of skin hitting skin and your breath hitching with each tiny bit deeper he manages to reach inside of you.

He looks a mess, eyes heavy and lips parted and hair strewn all over the place. He’s not even out of his suit—you just hooked him out of his pants because you were so fucking eager to take his cock to the base that you had no time nor care to undress him.

He loves it, how needy you get for him. He loves how good you feel on his cock. He loves the look on your face as you try and match your orgasm to his. He knows he’s close, and he loves the way you encourage him with a quickened pace and the prettiest of praise spilling from your lips.

“I love you, I fucking love you,” his hips jerk upwards as he cums—your own climax matching his in time and intensity. “I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.”

You aren’t so sure if he means it, because for a solid few seconds as he lowers his head back against the pillow and returns from the high of his climax, he doesn’t register his own words. He’s mindless, senseless, speaking without thought or reason.

But you watch his pretty eyes widen, and his kiss-swollen lips part in surprise at himself. And before he can apologise, or try to take his words back, you shut him up with a kiss and affirm his thoughts in the same breath.

Yeah. He loves you.

17 days of disco promptlist

[erwinsvow]

𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠

summary: jack abbot really needs to stop overhearing conversations that he's not a part of.

author's note: here it is!! my first ever jack abbot fic ♡ thank you to everyone who has been reading the little paragraphs so far! hope you all like it!

word count: 9.7k

warnings/tags: virgin, fourth year med student reader and attending jack. age gap relationship. loss of virginity, oral sex, lots and lots of praise kink <3 normal hospital lingo and descriptions of procedures.

jack abbot knows better than to listen to the nurses gossiping. he does—because listening to them never leads to anything good. if he’s caught eavesdropping, he gets dragged in. loses money that was never meant to be spent on the bets—and seriously, the employees of this hospital have a gambling problem. 

other times he hears things he really wish he hadn’t heard. it’s just not relevant to him, he doesn’t want to know things about people that he’s not meant to know. maybe it’s a military thing, but he can’t really explain it. maybe jack is just used to keeping secrets and minding his own business. 

and the last thing that jack really doesn’t like about overhearing gossip is that sometimes, rarely and reserved only for special information, it gets trapped in his brain and becomes the only thing he thinks about for the rest of the shift. 

this is one of those times. 

he knows better—that’s what keeps coursing through his mind when he stands on the opposite side of the nurse’s station at central. keep his ears shut, eyes down, because the last time he was standing here unarmed, he learned about a pregnant technician upstairs and the married surgeon who was the father. information that he did not, does not, want to know. nor did he want to learn about the surgeon’s wife who was a nurse in the pediatric ward, or the technician’s boyfriend who is on a work trip in florida.

he thinks that was child’s play compared to this conversation. 

when jack glances up, he sees you on the other side of the desk, leaning forward on your elbows, smiling and laughing with the nurses. 

you’re a fourth year—he should let you smile and laugh while you can. you’re in that perfect, peaceful transition period between your audition rotations ending and finding out where you’re going for residency. it’s supposed to be an enjoyable time—there’s no exam prep waiting for you at home, no stressful surgery rotation coming up next week. 

jack didn’t know too much about you—you’d mostly been on the day shift for the duration of your rotation. that was normal, keeping all the students together when the majority of the doctors were there too. made it a little easier to manage.

you were a little different though. just a little. you’d specially asked to try out the night shift for the rest of the time you’d be at the hospital. it’s not the weirdest request they’d ever heard, but just unusual. fourth years cherish sleeping and spending time with family and boyfriends and organizing their life before being thrown head-first into intern year. 

(at least, that’s what jack thinks you’d cherish. the little he knows about you has been transferred from robby and a comment from the residents every now and then. all good things, and when he’d told you the night shift was your chance to prove all the good things he’d heard about you, you had beamed at him.

a smile so bright he had lost his train of thought and had to walk back to what he’d even said to begin with. he tries not to think about it when he sees you smiling like that to your patients or the nurses, like you are now. but it’s not the same one, he can tell. the one you smiled at him had been a little different, something in your eyes had lit up too, you had stood up straighter, like a current had made its way through you at the compliment. or something like that.)

and you had definitely been proving yourself. jack had learned maybe last week that you had applied emergency medicine. it made sense then, why you wanted to try out night shift, since first year interns eventually do night float. it was just practice for the future. which was great, and very exciting for you, but just not what he had expected. 

you were just so… happy. patient. you had seemed disappointed on your first day to learn that most of the emergency docs only wore black scrubs. you made up for it in other ways—a pink stethoscope, colored pens, a badge reel with a little cartoon on it. 

even looking at you now, fiddling with the pulley on your badge, listening intently to whatever the nurse was telling you, and then smiling in that reassuring way that he’s seen you do, you look like you shouldn’t be here. he briefly considers finding that surgeon’s wife, the pediatric nurse, to take you up there for a couple of hours. jack doesn’t think you would want to come back down, but, well, what does he know about you?

certainly not much. even if he had noticed the way you are with your patients—filled with an abundance of caring, a melodic tune to your voice, trying your hardest to comfort, repair, heal. he had seen you fetch cups of water and sandwiches yourself, not wanting to bother nurses. every sentence had a please and thank you attached. it didn’t take long for you to win over the patients. then the nurses. then the residents, and the attendings.

it seemed that your goal was to win over all the attendings. 

jack is still staring at you. but you’re so focused on your conversation with the nurse that you don’t even notice. and he has to stop before someone else notices, forcing himself to look down at the chart in front of him, trying to remember why he’d even come over here in the first place.

and that’s when he hears it. 

“-but i would have never guessed. you’re so pretty!” the nurse says, and he knows she is talking about you, because, well, who else would she be talking about? 

you are pretty, as unprofessional as the thought feels even entering his head. you’re very pretty, and the way you talk to everyone like they’re the most important person in the world to you only makes you prettier. 

jack almost clears his throat, before realizing that he is, in fact, eavesdropping. he can’t interrupt a conversation he’s not even a part of. and much to his chagrin, realizing that he is terrible at this, he tunes back into your conversation. 

“yeah, but it’s not about that,” you say, and you sound a little different. like you’re flushed. the words come out hesitantly, quietly. “it’s about... finding the right guy, right? i didn’t want to rush it and then regret it.” 

he hears the nurse laugh, and you laugh a little too, followed by a little groan. “i guess it is embarrassing,” you continue, before stopping, interrupted by the nurse. jack looks up briefly—you’ve got your head resting on your forearms, leaning down against the counter. he keeps looking until you bring it back up.

“no, it’s a good thing. especially in hospitals. keep your legs closed otherwise you’ll end up like that pregnant tech upstairs-”

“but that’s so horrible. his poor wife works here. and she has a boyfriend, how do you do that-” 

he keeps listening, his own face a little flushed. he both wants to and absolutely does not want to hear the rest of your conversation, but even through the fog, he thinks about how your only reaction to that bit of circulating gossip was how bad you feel for the wife. his heart beats a little faster.

“well don’t worry about that, you won’t have to deal with it as long as you stay a virgin-” you and the nurse laugh, and the phone starts ringing, and the charge nurse answers. 

she calls out, yelling for dr. abbot, and so lost in his thoughts—in your thoughts—he doesn’t even hear his own name being called for a couple of car accidents that were incoming. when he turns back to look, you’re already gone.

he needs to shake off whatever you’ve just done to him. his feet automatically take him to the trauma bay, gearing up for whatever is coming, but when he gets there, you’re standing there, waiting. a yellow gown already on you, gloves pulled. and in your hands, another gown and set of gloves—extra large, he can tell from the color. the ones that he wears. 

“dr. abbot,” you say, handing both items to him. “i heard from bridget, is it okay if i assist?” 

“yeah, sure, kid-” he thinks for a moment that he hasn’t felt this way in a long time. and how the hell is one tiny piece of gossip enough to have his head spinning like he’s some teenage boy? how does that work, when he’s never cared about workplace rumors or any of the other hundreds of medical students he’s worked with before? 

you beam up at him again, saying thank you. eager to prove your worth like always. you disappear behind him, and jack is confused for half a second before he feels your fingers on the skin of his neck—briefly, just another half of a second. you’re tying the gown for him.

how is that you’re this kind, this pretty, and you’ve never had someone to take care of you the way you take care of everyone else? that can’t be right. that can’t be fair. 

oh god.

jack wants to tie the back of yours, thinks that maybe twenty years ago he’d be a lot quicker on his feet to do what he wants with the information he’s just learned. but instead he hears the ambulance sirens pull up, and he sees the back of your head while you rush out to meet them, and he actually, for the first time in years, has to force his feet to move. 

you were so close behind him, he could smell it. not perfume, that would wear off quickly with how much they run around. it was your soap and your shampoo. clean and sweet and something like strawberries lingering in the air after you’ve taken off.

but he’s stood next to you before—how is it that this is the first time he’s noticed?

half way outside, you turn around, realizing jack’s not right behind you.

“dr. abbot?” you question, taking half a step towards him, the opposite direction. 

“yeah, coming,” jack answers and he follows you outside.

-

the mvc’s weren’t in the worst shape jack’s ever seen, but still bad enough that he needed to snap out of it. he doesn’t even want to think about how bad the rumor mill would be if word got out that he lost a patient because he couldn’t stop staring at the twenty-something medical student. (though it is hard to stop staring. how the hell did robby ever work with collins? how did he get anything done?) 

it’s not like jack is going to find out. you are strictly off limits. 

he tries to do what he always does—asks you questions. how many milligrams should you give the patient? what are the three things you should be the most worried about? the patient’s got a broken wrist from trying to brace for the impact but that’s the least of your worries, so how do you deal with it for now? 

the first one gets stable pretty quickly. the second one is where there’s more concern. he comes in, ellis saying something about the patient’s crashing and there’s a big piece of debris jammed in his chest. 

jack goes in there and he spares a glance at you. the intensity of the situation is enough to make you a little flushed, even though you’ve done an emergency rotation during third year and two auditions already this year. but it’s a good thing—you take every case as seriously as though it’s your first. worry about each patient like they’re your own family, like each step is your responsibility. 

he calls you over, asks you what medications you would give if you had to intubate. 

“uh, etomidate a-and rocuronium?” it comes out like a question, like you’re still a little uncertain, even though you’re right, like you don’t believe in yourself enough to say confidently.

he’ll have to change that. help you work on that. he can think of it now—maybe you would learn best if you had some kind of a reward system. you seem like the kind of girl who would benefit from that. maybe if he asked the questions from between your thighs and your reward was—

“dr. abbot?” the sound of your voice snaps him out of it.

“yeah. good. very good,” jack says, and he turns his head just slightly, just so he can see you beam again. “you heard the doctor. let’s get prepped for the intubation.” you move out of the way for ellis to come in, when he stops you. “no, you’re going to be doing it.” 

you pause, uncertain eyes staring up at your attending.

“a-are you sure? don’t you think you should-”

“i think you’re perfectly competent to intubate.” “you guys got this,” ellis says, taking her stethoscope around her neck and heading out. the nurse tells you that they’re all set up. you hear the blare of the heart monitor, another nurse reading off the vitals, all the way to the pulse-ox that’s too low. 

“i’ll be here the whole time,” jack says, and you really, really wish he hadn’t said that. he’s close to you, handing you the laryngoscope. 

in moments like these, you realize why you were always meant to do this. you pick up the scope, carefully lowering it into the mouth and the top of the patient’s throat.

“don’t make any sudden movements. you don’t want to break his teeth,” jack instructs, his voice a gentle guide. you do know how to intubate, you must have done it a hundred times on the dummy in the skills lab. but you’ll never get over how different it is when it’s a real patient, how scared you get even when you shouldn’t be, because the doctor should never be scared like that.

but then you hear dr. abbot’s voice again. quiet, maybe even quiet enough that the other people in the room can’t hear. 

“i-i don’t see the cords-”

“take a breath. use your hand to extend the neck, get it straighter.” you listen to his instructions, hands moving by themselves to comply. “try again.” you’re looking down, and the nurses are looking at the video, and jack is looking at you. “past the epiglottis.” you push the tube a little further. “past the larynx.” a little further. “and cords.” 

you take a breath like you’ve never taken one before. the capnometer turns yellow and you finish out the steps, the rest feeling like muscle memory before handing it over to the nurse. the patient’s going up to surgery, but you make it outside the trauma room taking deep breaths to ground yourself.

“you okay?” dr. abbot asks from somewhere behind you. 

you turn to see him taking off the gown and gloves, the ones you had handed him. maybe you’d never noticed it before, but he’s got freckles over his forearms. maybe he spent a lot of time in the sun as a kid. when you don’t reply, thoughts trapped in your head and words not forming, he speaks again.

“come here,” and he guides you to the empty corner between the trauma room and the hallway. his hand hovers over the small of your back as he leads you there.

you’re going crazy—there’s no way you could feel his body heat through your scrubs. and yet the sensation lingers. he faces you, and you look up, blinking quickly. you don’t think you’ve ever been close enough to dr. abbot to see the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, or how the hair along his temples is more salt than pepper. his eyes bore into yours, and you stare up, forgetting the reason that you had even needed to speak to him. 

“are you sure you’re okay, kid?” he asks again, and you nod quickly.

“yes. yes, i’m sorry, dr. abbot.” you turn to look at the trauma room, looking at the nurses hovering over the patient you had just intubated. when you turn back to look at your attending, you realize he’s staring, just like how you were staring. 

“what are you apologizing for?”

“i-i forgot the steps. you-you had to talk me through it. i should have known,” you try to explain, though words and sentences become harder to form with each passing moment. 

“you’ve done how many of those, now? a handful? less than ten?” you nod. “you don’t have to be perfect here. you just have to try. and keep going, which you did.” you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “good job, doctor. you saved the patient.” 

“thank you dr. abbot.” you smile, beaming again, just not in the way you usually do. you’re still not that proud of yourself, jack can tell. 

the voice in the back of your head tells you that you should have been better, faster, more confident. you can’t imagine that ellis or shen or even your attending had been this hesitant as a medical student. 

“it’ll come with time, you know. no one’s perfect when they start out.” 

“did i say that out loud?” you question seriously, confusion spread all over your pretty features.

“no.” 

you’re so stupid—but maybe being so close to your serious, yet growing kinder by the millisecond attending was getting to you. the attending that you really want to impress, for reasons still unbeknownst to you. you want him to like you, to take you seriously, to think that you’d be a great candidate for their intern class starting in july. 

and then you lose your train of thought, staring at his eyes. it’s been too long, people are going to wonder where the two of you went.

but his eyes aren’t actually brown, like you thought. they’re hazel. 

“yeah,” he says, with a laugh. “they are.” 

your own eyes go wide like coins, and then you run straight to central to find a patient to preoccupy you from the embarrassment that is seeping out of you, leaving jack abbot laughing to himself in the empty corner between the trauma room and the hallway. 

the rest of your night shift is surprisingly uneventful. you had heard it was a bit calmer, but you didn’t expect such a drastic difference. but maybe it was just one of those nights. ellis wouldn’t let shen say the actual word, but you were all thinking it. it was kind of quiet tonight.

and normally, jack appreciates a quiet night. it’s like a little peace offering from god, akin to a slap on the back and a ‘thanks for your service’. he needs one every now and then, it’s the way only way to make sure for certain that he doesn’t end up on the roof a step closer than the last time.

though, staring at you from across the emergency room, watching you drink from your colorful water bottle and smile at shen and ellis, thanking them for their help while you work on notes, is certainly another way to make sure that jack abbot doesn’t think about that roof.

it’s only three in the morning though. there’s always time for the night to get worse. they’ve got four hours left, and he knows you’re off tomorrow.

well, he knows that he’s off. and then he took a peak at the schedule in one of his many free minutes tonight to see where you’ll be. he hopes the answer is at home, sleeping and eating and letting your body recover from the damage night shift does to your circadian rhythm. 

(he needs to cut it out. attendings have no business wondering what their bright eyed and bushy tailed fourth years are doing on their days off.)

but god if it doesn’t plague him—the fact that unlike what he thought, there’s no boyfriend waiting for you at home. no one to hear about your stressful day at work, the intubation that you did—perfectly, just with a little help from your overbearing attending, all the patients that you helped, and the great impression you made on the night shift. how he sees you answer every nurse carrying a question from patient with all your energy, even in the middle of the night. how you fill up a cup of ice chips for the patient waiting to go up to surgery, comforting them while knowing it’ll be sunlight outside when they’re finally taken up. 

and then he sees you sit down, taking a breath like you need to remind yourself to breathe sometimes. 

it’s just a little bit wrong. whatever he’s thinking, before he’s even thought it, it’s wrong. but how is it that you have all these things to be proud of, and no one at home to be proud of you? jack can sense it in the way that your smile grows every time you find out someone has something kind to say about you. every good job and well done is catalogued somewhere in your mind, and you wait ceaselessly for the next one, like an addiction. 

jack would spoil you, he thinks, for other people. for other men. he would praise you. he would tell you how perfect you are so many times that you wouldn’t be able to forget, that you would never doubt yourself again. that’s what you need waiting for you at home—the thing that can make it all better. 

and as wrong as it is, he knows he could do it for you. 

you look around the room and find hazel eyes staring right at you. your heart thuds in your chest. 

you smile at dr. abbot, and then look back down your notes. a minute later, you look up again, and he’s still looking. smiling. and now you can’t look away either. you had heard about the eye contact thing from other residents, it’s just a habit, they had said. you try not to flatter yourself that your attending is looking at you like he knows everything about you, including the things you don’t say out loud.

why does he have to be so nice to you? why does he have to laugh and smile even when you’re making an idiot of yourself? you should go up and apologize for that bit about the hazel eyes, though you think you might collapse into a puddle and melt into the ground if you have to bring it up again.

but you’re on for six more night shifts before the audition ends, and you ranked ptmc pretty high on your list—which may have been a mistake if you can’t stand in the presence of one of your attendings without turning into a flustered mess.

he hasn’t even done anything besides be nice to you. of course it’s that easy to unnerve you. you keep looking, watching the nurse who stopped to ask dr. abbot a question, how jack turns to talk to him, making eye contact that you were just at the receiving end of.

when the nurse walks away, jack turns back, looks right at you again. you can feel your face heat up like you just ran a mile. is this one of those things that’ll go away when you’re not a virgin anymore? that’s a heavy question for three-thirty in the morning.

here’s another one—how is every person in this hospital not in love with him?

you fluster and turn, breaking eye contact and keeping your head firmly staring at the computer screen. he laughs to himself again, walking off to check on a patient from earlier. the next time your eyes look up, they automatically go to the counter where jack was. you turn back and finish your notes.

“hey,” shen says, sliding into the empty seat next to you a while later. he opens the drawer under the desk, lifting up papers and pulling out a packet of goldfish from underneath. “forget what all these other people told you. your first rule is eat when you can.” you smile at that.

“noted. that’s a good hiding spot. inconspicuous.”

“that’s the goal. don’t tell the day shifters. it’ll be empty in an hour.” 

“i won’t. promise.”

“is your mvc still waiting for surgery?” 

“i think so, yeah,” you sit up a little straighter. you have this fear that you’ve done something wrong, that it’ll all be revealed in time.

“don’t worry, that’s normal this time of the night. i’d go check on him like once an hour and report to abbot. just because it’s-well, i’m not gonna say it.”

“right. got it. will do.” you get up, feet stumbling a little. it is pretty late. your watch says four-thirty, but you’re not tired. you’re just anxious.

you make your way to the patient’s room, the nurse filling you in on the updates in the last hour. there’s not many, thank god. you stare at the pulse-ox on the monitor for way too long, going over and checking to see that he is, in fact, still breathing. it’s silly. you know it is.

the nurse says she’ll be right back, and you look at the chart for another minute or so, trying to formulate the words you’re going to say to dr. abbot now so you don’t have to form them on the spot—god only knows how that might go.

you turn to head out, looking at the notes on the tablet in your hand, when you run into a brick wall.

“oh my god-” you almost drop the ipad, clutching onto it while it nearly tumbles out of your grip. jesus, how tired were you? walking into walls? but then the wall brings a hand to your shoulder, and that voice that’s been haunting your thoughts all night speaks.

and for what can only be the hundredth time that night, dr. abbot asks you if you’re okay.

you stare up at him. 

“you okay, kid?” 

“yes. i’m so sorry, dr. abbot. i was coming to find you.” 

“i figured. how’s your patient?”

“stable. waiting for surgery. i-i… nevermind.”

“you what?” he asks, gently taking the ipad from your hand and reading. he uses one hand to wipe his eyes, like he can take away the tiredness that way, and then runs a hand through his hair. you put your trembling fingers to your sides. he brings his eyes up from the screen to look at you. you really wish he wouldn’t.

“i was just making sure he was still breathing.” 

dr. abbot smiles at you. you smile back, but it’s half-hearted. your chest is thudding so loudly you can hear it in your ears. but his smile fades when he catches a glimpse of your shaking fingers.

“have you eaten today?”

“i had some coffee. and some water.” 

“the patient looks great. he’ll be fine. let’s get you something to eat.” 

you shut your eyes tightly, but your brain is so tired you don’t even know what you’re thinking. you’ll have to get better at this if you want to keep working here someday.

mindlessly, you follow dr. abbot. 

“between five and seven is the hardest part of the shift,” he says, opening up another drawer, different from shen’s. he hands you a protein bar. “and too much coffee is a bad thing. we don’t want your hands shaking if you need to put in a chest tube or thirty sutures at six am, do we?”

you shake your head, taking the protein bar from his hand. your fingers brush for all of two seconds. jack feels like he just touched a live wire.

“eat,” he says, and you listen. “you’re doing good, you know. it’s not supposed to be easy.”

“thank you,” you say, though your mouth is full. you lift your hand to cover, because even though it’s five am, you cannot embarrass yourself any further. “sorry about the hazel eyes thing.”

jack laughs and you smile. he has a really nice laugh, the kind that can make you calm down and forget what was bothering you all night. it really is a wonder that everyone here isn’t in love with him. you don’t even know how much longer you’ll be able to last.

“that’s okay. you’re tired.”

“everyone’s tired,” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter. “i think i’m just going crazy.”

“yeah, why’s that?”

“because i can’t stop thinking about you.”

well. looks like that’s about how long you were able to last.

you put the protein bar down on the counter. hands trembling again, mouth dropped open.

“dr. abbot, i am so sorry-” the words come out in a shaky breath, but when you look at him, when he finally moves his gaze back to your eyes, like he’s been doing all night, you see that he’s not mad. he’s not even upset.

“that’s okay-”

“no, no that is so not okay,” you blubber, words and sentences becoming harder to find by the second. “i am so sorry. that is so unprofessional.”

“well, i-”

“b-but it’s not like it’s just my fault, you’re being so nice-” 

“it’s not anyone’s fault, kid, it doesn’t work like that-” “if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours,” you say, unsure of where you’re finding these words. “you keep staring at me. what am i supposed to do?”

“have you tried looking away?” he quips, and you laugh at that. jack thinks for a moment that it’s a really beautiful sound. he doesn’t get to hear it often enough. maybe he can change that.

“am i?” you ask, after a small silence. “going crazy?”

“no. you’re not,” he replies. 

“oh. that’s good, at least.”

the two of you stay like that for a moment, shoulder to shoulder against the counter, your protein bar long forgotten. jack’s looking at you and you’re looking anywhere but him.

“dr. abbot?” you say, but before he can answer, there’s a phone going off. he hears it in the distance—mvc, truck driver, incoming, five minutes out. 

“come on,” he says, doing that thing again, guiding you but not really. even if anyone noticed through the haze of five am, he finds that he doesn’t really care right now. you wear the same flustered, confused, guilty expression until he ties the gown behind you this time, which makes you a smile.

a real one this time.

“what do you think about breakfast?” jack asks, snapping on his gloves and heading outside to meet the ambulance.

“i like breakfast,” you answer, not nearly as hesitantly as you thought you would.

“great. i’m of the belief you should always eat breakfast after night shift. there’s a place down the street.”

“do they have french toast?”

“i’m sure they do. you like sweet things?” and you can’t believe the conversation is still going, the paramedics are opening up the doors in front of you. you turn to jack, nodding to answer his question. “makes sense. alright, what’d we have?”

mouth still open, you follow him out to the bay. 

-

an hour later, both of the drivers from the accident are stable. you’re yawning at central, saying goodbye to the nurse you were chatting with earlier, and without even looking, you know jack is looking at you.

you’re too tired to be anxious. all you want is to go to breakfast with him and figure out what the hell happens after breakfast post night-shift with your attending who knows that you can’t stop thinking about him. 

he brings over a cup of coffee for you. you look up quizzically. 

“i thought you said no more coffee?”

“it’s decaf. but you need something to get you to breakfast, right?”

“shouldn’t i have a coffee at breakfast?”

“no, because then you won’t be able to sleep after.” the way he talks, you believe everything he says. you smile at him. someone from the other side of the room calls him over. 

“i’ll, uh, be right back.”

“dr. abbot?” you say, right before he leaves.

“yeah?” “thank you for the coffee.”

the last hour drags. particularly, six to six-thirty. the second half of the hour, the day crew rolls in slowly, one by one. the day shift counterparts take over patients and beds, get their debriefs. you follow around behind the residents, inform the other medical student about what you had done throughout the evening.

and around seven-fifteen, you pull on your jacket, grab your backpack, and wait for jack. you don’t know who else has left yet, who else might see you two together, but you don’t really care.

you walk to the breakfast place together, your eyes stuck anywhere but on your attending, and now it feels weird, because you can’t get his name to come out of your mouth. the idea of saying jack rather than dr. abbot feels inherently wrong.

the place he takes you to is quaint. it smells of espresso and bacon, and you smile brightly at the waitress when you order a latte, not decaf. 

“what did i tell you, huh?” jack asks, and you bring yourself to finally look back at the hazel eyes that started this whole thing.

“i never said i was sleeping after this.” 

in hindsight, the coffee was a great idea. the food would have made you sleepy, and you would have missed out going back home with jack. he lives in a nice brownstone, much nicer than your tiny apartment.

it also gave you just enough nerve to ask jack if he wanted to try your french toast. to hold his hand on the walk back. to lean against his chest while he opens the door. 

“i can still walk you home, y’know,” he says, but you shake your head, watching him get his keys out. 

“unless you want to meet my roommate, i don’t think that’s a good idea.” and inside jack abbot’s apartment is everything you had been imagining for the last twelve hours. shelves filled with records, big windows, a couch that looks tantalizingly comfortable. but you have ulterior motives today. 

you keep looking around, perusing through his records while he takes a seat on the couch. you inspect with a tilted head, warmth spreading through your chest and radiating out at his music taste. such an old man, you think briefly, looking back at him sitting on the couch in his civilian clothes. your old man.

you pick one out, the first album that’s familiar to you, and bring it over jack on the couch. you sit next to him, thighs touching, resting your head on his shoulder.

“are you gonna put on music?” he laughs, and you can feel his chest vibrate with the noise. this close, you can feel his heartbeat if you place your head just right. every word that he says, you can hear the rumble first. it’s so soothing, you’d fall asleep if you weren’t so wound up.

“how are you not tired?” he questions, and you look up at him.

“i had a latte, remember. you had coffee too. how are you still tired?” you go silent for a moment, trying and failing to conceal a laugh.

“don’t even say it,” jack says, and he’s laughing too.

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you’re thinking it.”

“i’m not tired enough anymore to believe that you can actually read my thoughts.”

“i can’t read your thoughts.”

“that’s a lie-”

“no, promise. i can’t. i can just tell.”

“how is that possible?”

“you want me to teach you?” you prop yourself up, leaning against his forearm while you do it. his skin is warm, and somehow despite everything you two went through the last twelve hours, he still smells good.

“if you’re not too tired, old man.” jack shuts his eyes, groaning. you laugh again, biting your cheek, wondering what he’ll say when—

he opens his eyes.

“i was gonna go easy on you, kid. but you’re in for it now.” 

“yeah?”

“yeah.” 

“promise?”

jack makes another noise—something in between a groan and a sigh. and then before you can think about it again, he takes your face in between both hands and kisses you.

and you’ve been kissed before. not well, but you know what it’s supposed to be like. after a date once you think, a date that had been pretty mediocre. you felt a spark a hundred times stronger in the last couple hours with jack than any date you’ve been on in your life.

at least—you thought you knew what being kissed was supposed to be like. as it turns out, while kissing jack, you realize that you didn’t know shit.

the way he kisses you leaves your lungs void of any air. he doesn’t pull away, not once, and you don’t either. you don’t want him to pull away, you think you might die if he does. he moves his hands slightly, one on your cheek and the other on the back of your head, holding you in place, firmly, gently. and he kisses you like he wants you to forget what being kissed is like, as though you should have no memory besides this one. 

your hands rope themselves on his arms, hard muscles tense under your touch. you move them up and down, brain so empty after the night you’ve had that you don’t know how to signal to him that you want him to take his shirt off. so you pull on his short sleeves and feel his bicep strain against your palm until you give up. you’d rather go at his pace than make any decisions at all, and somehow, you know that jack abbot won’t let you make a single decision, not if you don’t want to. he’ll decide everything, he’ll know what’s right for you, just like he has all night.

your hands finally leave his arm and wander to his hair, fingers working their way through the salt and pepper that you’ve been admiring for so many hours. his curls are messy, and you’ve ruined them, you’re sure, but you can’t stop. 

you don’t know how long it’s been since either of you came up for air, but then you hear the record drop to the ground and you pull away quickly, turning your head to see where it went.

jack doesn’t stop kissing you. his mouth is hot and his touch is lava, moving to your cheek and your jaw and then down the column of your neck. 

the moans you’ve been singing into his mouth are now out in the air, noises sweet like honey coming back to his ears.

“y-your record, i-i dropped it,” you get the sentence out in gasps. jack has his mouth over the place where your carotid pulses. he sucks hard on the skin there and your eyes shut instantly, the record leaving your mind as quickly as it had come in. he makes his way back through your cheek, back to your mouth. 

and you could almost die at the sight—jack abbot, lips red and swollen, darkened eyes looking at you like he’s going to make you pay for that ‘old man’ comment, though you can hardly remember what you had even said.

this time you lean back in to kiss him again, and he lets you control the pace for all of thirty seconds. you kiss him until your lips hurt, until your tongue is tired—but then again, so is every part of your body. but it doesn’t matter, not when you’re so close to getting what it is that you want. 

you don’t actually know how you got to his bedroom. you would have been content on that couch, or on the rug on the floor. against the door or on the countertop in the kitchen, but you guess you’ll have time for all of those things one day. 

there’s black out curtains in jack’s bedroom. they’re not shut all the way, so you look around while he stands in front of you, pulling off his shirt in one motion. your eyes are big, heart thudding while you take it in. his room is simple, just like you had imagined. the sheets are soft under your skin and everything smells good, like linen and sandalwood. you bring your gaze back, bringing a hand up to touch his chest, like you need to make sure that he’s really in front of you. 

jack takes his hand and puts it on top of the one you’re touching him with, pinning it above your head while he hovers over you. you bring the other one up voluntarily, letting him clasp it down, while he leans in to kiss you again. you keep moaning, not sure of how loud you’re being and not entirely sure if you care anymore. 

and then he stops. pulls away from the kiss, unpins your hands. you whine in frustration, shut eyes opening quickly to meet his.

“you sure about this, hm?” he asks, bringing his lips to your jaw again. he hovers there too, not pressing down enough for it to be a real kiss. you can feel his stubble rubbing against you. 

“i’m sure,” you whisper back, eyes shutting again. jack’s hands roam down, wandering over your waistband.

“there’s no going back,” he says, just as quietly as you had.

“jack, please—” and for the first time that morning, you hear dr. abbot break.

“oh fuck. say my name again, angel,” and you comply, repeating the syllable once, and then twice. it tastes weird on your tongue—like you’d get in trouble for saying it.

the thought makes you laugh. you keep giggling, unable to stop. you hear jack breathe into your neck, laughing with you.

“what’s so funny, hm?” he brings himself back over you, noses almost touching. you look straight into hazel eyes, bringing your hand to his cheek, running your fingers over the short hairs there.

“a couple hours ago i was calling you doctor abbot. now i’m in your bed.”

“you want me to stop, baby? i can. we can just go to sleep,” and you shake your head quickly. 

“no, please don’t stop.”

“well, since you asked so politely.” he starts again, kisses up and down your neck, hands pulling off your bottoms. his fingers tease over the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms so he can pull that off too. his eyes rake over your entire body and unlike what you’d imagined, you don’t feel the need to hide. you don’t want to cover yourself up, or feel embarrassed, or anything else. you want jack abbot to keep looking at you like he’s looking now, like he can’t believe what’s in front of him. you can’t believe it either.

and somehow, this is even funnier. now you’re naked in front of your attending, the very one who has been making your heart race since you met him during your third year rotation. you laugh again, before clasping a hand over your mouth.

“i think you might be a little too tired for this,” he says, and you regret your laughter right now.

“no, no, i want this. i’ve been waiting so long for this,” the last part comes out as a whisper. you tilt your head up, pressing in for another kiss. jack’s hands—hot like every other part of him—roam the bare skin of your hips and waist, all the way up to your ribcage and then back down. 

“yeah? how long?” he asks. his kisses go lower now, down your neck, onto your collarbone. he goes down to the smooth skin above your breasts, between them. everywhere except where you need him. you can feel the anticipation thrumming under your skin. “i asked you a question.” he pulls away, waiting for his answer.

“s-since i met you.” 

“i think it’s been longer than that, hasn’t it?” 

you look at him confused, but then the bastard actually smirks at you. and suddenly you’re back to ten o’clock last night, when the nurse was telling you to keep you legs closed—sorry, couldn’t help myself—and you saw someone in the corner of your eye but you didn’t want to be rude and look away, but when you left for the incoming trauma, you had seen—

“you dick-” you yell, sitting up in jack’s soft sheets. “you heard that whole conversation?” jack’s laughing and you start laughing too, taking one of his pillows and smacking it across his chest. 

“not-” you get him with the pillow again and he grabs it, wrestling it out of your hands. you realize how much stronger he is than you for a split second in that moment. “not the entire thing. just the important bits.”

“well at least now i don’t have to figure out how to tell you,” you reply sheepishly, feeling particularly vulnerable. you bring your knees in to your chest, watching jack in front of you with big eyes. “do you feel weird about it?”

“weird about what, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, placing one of his warm hands on your knee and rubbing the skin there.

“the virgin thing. do you not-”

“hey,” he says, and with so much caring behind his voice that you feel whatever’s left—if there even was any—of your resolve break. “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. we can shower and go to sleep. i can take you home. whatever you want. and we can pick up where we left off when you’re ready.” 

“yeah?” you ask. 

“yeah.” 

you move back towards him, shutting your eyes and leaning in for another kiss. this time you crawl into his lap, feeling his hands roaming all over your body again. you can feel him under you—rock hard, pulsing, incredibly hot even through his pants. your hips move on their own while your hands fiddle with the tie before he takes over, undoing it for you. you hear jack groaning in your ear, and you’re positive that you’re wet enough to leave a wet mark on him. the noise is so exhilarating to you that you have to stop yourself from doing whatever it takes to get more out of him.

jack keeps one huge hand on your back, keeping you steady while he kisses you. you lock your arms around his neck, not letting go incase he tries to pull away. he flips you over in one motion—you on your back, and him hovering over you.

you don’t like this nearly as much—you want it back, the insanely rough pleasure of grinding yourself down on him. you whine again, but he murmurs one word in your ear over and over again—patience.

you’ve waited this long. you think you can be patient a little while longer.

jack goes back to whatever was on his long list of things he wants to do to you. he starts with pinning your hands down, locking you in place so you don’t flail around too much. he starts at your chest, his hot mouth working down to your nipple. he takes one in his mouth and you arch up off the bed, making saccharine noises that no one besides him has ever gotten to hear. that no one besides him will ever get to hear. 

“jack, jack,” you say his name over and over again, like you’re worried he’ll disappear if you don’t. your body reacts just like he thought you would, only taking what you’re giving, waiting patiently for more. 

“you’re being so good, sweetheart,” and he thinks the words alone are enough to make you come. he switches over to your other nipple, and he hears you curse, the swear ripping from your mouth.

and he hasn’t even touched your cunt yet. but he knows already that he’s going to drag this out, that he’s going to make sure you can never forget it. that he’ll spent the rest of his life trying to top this moment, give you something to compare to forever.

hot kisses down your stomach while your chest heaves. he watches from his position between your thighs, hands reaching out to play with your tits while he finally does what he’s been thinking about since that trauma yesterday night. 

he moves your hands for you, putting them to work, making you tease your nipples while he spreads open your legs further. 

he stares up again, watching you comply with his instructions wordlessly, being such a good girl without even needing to be told. he needs to tell you, but he doesn’t want you to come until you’re coming on his tongue.

without waiting, jack licks the length of your pussy and makes your entire body tense up, back rising off the bed again. he uses one hand on your stomach to keep you pinned down, to make sure you keep taking whatever he gives you. he can’t talk like this, but he’ll talk you through it when he makes you come all over his dick. 

that’s what he’s thinking about while he starts to stretch you out. one finger, then two. your cunt is soaking wet, leaking down and making a mess of your thighs and his sheets and his face. he teases your clit more than he should, but how can he not? when you thrash so hard that you’d fall if he wasn’t holding you down? when you have no choice but to take it, to lay back and feel jack’s tongue on the most sensitive part of your body, the part that no one but him has ever gotten to touch? 

two fingers become three, stretching you out for him while he sucks on your clit hard, finally giving you what you’ve been begging for. 

one of your hands makes its way down to his hair, pulling on it while the other stays on your breast—you want to have both in jack’s hair but you can’t just ignore what he told you to do. 

you don’t know what the punishment would be, even though you’re sure you’d enjoy it. but that’s going to be saved for another day.

right now, you were so close to cumming, so close that you could feel yourself hurtling over the edge, and then you pull on jack’s hair harder than you meant to and he moans around you.

it’s something entirely different—the vibration from his mouth and the fact that he’s moaning while he does this to you, and whatever the combination is, you feel it split you apart. the electric current that you felt earlier when you brushed hands with jack is nothing compared to this, lightening coursing through every part of your body, head to toe, inside and out. the white hot tension in your stomach snapping makes you cry out against jack’s pillows, toes curling while he keeps going all the way through it. you can hear him, and it only makes you cum harder, encouraging you, telling you how good you’re doing, how good you’ve been all this time. the only thing you can hear after it stops is your own heart inside your ribcage, bursting like it’s going to come out.

you let go of jack’s hair, bringing your exhausted hand to his shoulder instead. he comes up to where you are, meeting your eyes and leaning in for a kiss that leaves you breathless and thoughtless all over again. 

“thank you, jack,” you whisper, too tired to say it any louder. jack laughs against your skin.

“you tired, sweetheart?” the answer is yes and no at the time, but you shake your head. you move closer to him, bringing your hand to his boxers, palming him. you can tell he’s big—big in the way that’s going to hurt, big in the way that his fingers can’t compare. big like you’re going to have trouble walking tomorrow.

“please, jack?” you say, and honest to god, how is he supposed to say no to that? even in your post-orgasmic state, tired as you can be, every muscle probably screaming at you to let you sleep, you’re so sweet in your request, so polite. just like always. he can’t say no to you even if he wanted to.

jack positions himself on top of you. this is it—what you’ve been waiting for. the result of one harmless conversation half a day ago. 

jack brings your knees to your chest, and you loop your arms around them, holding yourself in place. his arms cage you in, and you look up, meeting hazel eyes. and even though you should probably be nervous, you’re not, not at all. because you know jack will take care of you. 

he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making your eyes shut.

“you ready, kid?” the nickname makes your heart flutter. you open your eyes, nodding again. “take a deep breath for me,” jack says, and you comply. and when he pushes inside of you, you swear everything in your body stops working for a second. 

every thought leaves your head, every muscle goes lax. your eyes rolls back, mouth dropping open. there is nothing left to think about, nothing to feel except jack abbot inside of you. 

“breathe for me,” he instructs, and you have to remind yourself to listen to him, that he knows what you need in this moment. jack abbot knows everything about you—even the things you don’t know.

you hear him—groaning and whispering things that you’re sure would make you pass out if you were in a state of mind that could understand him, but you’re not. so you wait for his kiss, take another breath, and feel him push inside of you all the way.

“jack,” you cry out, toes curling and head spinning. “jack, jack, jack-”

“i know, i know,” he says, and gives you another kiss. “you’re doing—fuck, you’re doing perfect.” he pulls out and thrusts back in, and the stretch is enough to make you cry out again. he’s going slowly for you but you don’t know how to tell him that you need more, that you might die if you don’t get more. but then again, you don’t have to tell him anything. 

he picks up the pace, eyes stuck to where he’s filling you up. he can’t stop watching, seeing inch after inch disappear inside you, like you were made for him, because fuck, you were. your hands claw at his back and you pull on his neck to kiss you again, and when he does, you moan into his mouth. but he can’t just let you take it like this, he needs to tell you, all the things he’s been wanting to say.

he pulls away from your mouth and you make another noise, upset. he smooths down your hair and kisses your forehead, working down to your temple and then your cheek and to your ear. 

“you’re being so good for me,” those six words that you love hearing so much make your entire body tighten up, including your cunt. you pulse around him as he pauses for a minute, taking in how you react to it. you moan against his skin, crying out when he resumes. 

“so perfect for me. you’re taking me so well, baby. like you were made for it.” another moan, more crying. but he knows—knows there’s something else still.

you had once thought your first time might be gentle, candles and flowers. you don’t think you would trade jack abbot and his bedroom and his half-pulled black out curtains for anything in this world.

he keeps fucking you, brutally and deliberately, each thrust telling you something different. you squeal out his name like it’s the only word you know. but it’s when he starts speaking again, when you clench down against him, pulsing so tightly, that he knows he’s figured it out.

“good girl,” jack says, and you have to press your mouth against his arm to stop from screaming out loud. “you’re doing so good, so perfect. my good girl, aren’t you?” 

“j-jack, jack, jack, i’m gonna-” 

“come on, angel. come for me. i want you to come around me. can you do that for me?” you can’t answer, though it’s on the tip of your tongue, and then it happens again—the lightening, white hot, running through you. even stronger than the first one—it rips through you. jack’s in your ear  and you can understand him this time—good girl. so perfect. you did amazing. 

you don’t think you can feel your legs. your eyes want to flutter shut but you still feel the aftershocks each time jack thrusts inside of you—and when you open your eyes to stare up at him, you lean up, silently asking for a kiss. 

he complies, pressing his lips against you. you don’t let go, keeping it going, until you whisper against his lips. 

“thank you doctor abbot,” and that seems to be the last straw for him. you wish you could engrain it into your brain forever, how jack sounds when he cums. you’ve been listening to him all morning but this, this was different. a real moan, wrangled from the back of his throat, from his chest. as good as he’s made you feel, now you get to help him, your cunt clenching around him while he finishes. you press back for another kiss, and jack deepens it, until he pulls out.

you suddenly feel so empty.

he collapses next to you, ushering you onto his sweaty skin. you’re sure that you’re drenched too, and you can feel the back of your head where hairs have stuck to your neck. 

you find jack’s hand, holding onto it like letting go might make all of this disappear. he presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers rubbing the skin of the dorsum of your hand.

“you okay?” he asks again, and you nod against his chest. glancing up for a moment, you catch hazel eyes looking at you already.

“are you okay?” he gives you another kiss to your forehead.

“you need to get some sleep.” 

“i’m not tired,” you lie.

“yes you are. why do you keep thinking you can lie to me?” he asks, still staring into your eyes. you want to look away but you don’t think you can. you lay down against him, so you don’t have to look away.

“i’m not lying.” you take a pause, take a breath. “do i still have to call you dr. abbot at work tomorrow?” jack laughs. you can feel the vibration on his chest. it makes you smile.

“close your eyes, kid. i promise we’ll talk about everything in the morning.”

“jack?” 

“yes?”

“you wanna go again?”

♡

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝖽' ༄࿔ 𝖡.𝖢.

⤷ Size Kink | Stomach Bulge | Teratophilia (Wolf-Hybrid)

♱ word count: 1.8k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, Red Riding Hood reader x Wolf Hybrid Chan, I never specify body type but this has stomach bulge & Chris is described to be bigger than the reader so read at ur own discretion, size kink, teratophilia, knotting, kinda corruption?, bribery/coercing, lowkey kinda mean chris (everyone act surprised. Sian wrote mean dom), rough sex + big dick chris with no mentions of prep, biting, public sex? Its in a forest but nobody is around, 1 use of “good girl’

sorta proofread

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Tsk tsk tsk… You should know better than to be this far out in the woods, Red. You know this is my territory.”

“C-Chris! Listen… I’m really sorry but I need that plant over there. Grandma isn’t doing well and the only remedy that will help needs just a few of those flowers…” The tall man looks over his shoulder, eyeing the purple-colored flowers that you had pointed out.

“Hm… Okay, you can have a few.” The bright smile that grew on your face was almost enough to let you take it for free. Almost.

“Thank-” “On one condition.” 

“C’mon, sweet girl. You know I don’t do things for free~” His rough fingers stroked your cheek and he couldn’t help but grin as your smile dropped. The canines that peeked out from behind his plump lips were enough to bring you back to reality and remind you that he was in fact still a wolf hybrid and not so much your “friendly” neighbor.

“What exactly do you want…?” His grin seemed to get wider before he took his bottom lip between his teeth. A predatory glint took over his eyes as he slowly looked you up and down.

“I have something in mind…”

“Open the fuck up.”

His growl rumbles from deep within his chest and he thrusts his hips forward aggressively, causing you to cry out. Your thighs ache from the action, along with your swollen pussy thanks to the big dick that was currently tearing your insides up. You lost count after the first 5 inches, and now the seemingly never-ending length was quickly becoming too much for you.

He knew this all too well. But that didn’t stop him from forcing you and your little human body to take every last inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“C’mon Little Red, you can take it. You need to, remember?” He chuckles and pushes your thighs further apart. “You need those pretty little flowers, so you need to take my fucking cock.” His smile drops at the end of the sentence and he pulls out just to roughly thrust back inside. You moan out in surprise and his fingers dig further into your thighs, leaving crescent-shaped divots in your skin. 

“P-Please…” He clicks his tongue and leans forward more, shoving his face into your neck with another growl. With this, he manages to push another inch or two into your puffy hole, but your mind is so foggy that you don’t even notice it right away. The feeling of him breaching your walls so aggressively, all while he growls and huffs about how he needs to be all the way in for it to “count as payment” makes your head spin.

Even more so as a sob rips from your throat when he finally bottoms out. Your jaw drops and you squeal as his hips grind against yours, causing him to feel deeper all while he rubs against your G-Spot so perfectly. He throws his head back at the feeling of you completely wrapped around him and groans deeply when you clench subconsciously.

“There we go~ Good job, baby.” He licks a stripe up your neck before placing kisses all over it, letting you take a few seconds to breathe. He wasn’t that much of a brute- he did still care for you after all. Plus, what good is a new toy if you break it so early on!? So he takes a few seconds to himself, backing away and fixing his posture, allowing him to get a good look at you. And God do you look exquisite.

He licks his lips and looks over your body multiple times, doing everything in his power to burn this image of you into his head. He starts with your pretty lips, swollen and shiny with drool, and then your flushed cheeks that are wet from the fat tears that fall down them.

His eyes glance at your arms, smiling to himself at the army of goosebumps that have littered your skin as your body shakes deliciously with what he can’t decipher if it’s pleasure or pain. Your chest catches his eyes next; the way it heaves with each breath you take makes his chest swell with pride. But the thing that took the most of his attention, was the not-so-little bump on your tummy.

His lips were slightly parted and his breath was quickening as he lightly traced the outline of his dick. It’s at this point that he realizes just how large and wide he is compared to you. He’s always noticed- it’s quite hard not to. But when he has you like this, below him and completely at his mercy, he finally realizes just how much bigger he is. The sun only urges him further, casting a giant shadow over you that completely covers you and some of the ground you lay upon.

It makes his instincts go absolutely crazy and he can’t hold himself back from experimentally thrusting, moving at an angle that makes the bulge more prominent. The squeak you let out causes his eyes to flicker back up to your face, essentially snapping him out of the daze he was in. And when he meets your confused face looking up at him, he realizes how long he has been staring.

“Haha… Take a look at this, baby.” He wipes some of your tears and tilts your chin to help you look down. The desperate moan you let out sends his ego to the moon, causing him to twitch against your walls. He huffs out a laugh in disbelief and begins to move his hips, thrusting into you slowly yet roughly.

“I’m so deep… You feel that, baby?” His hand moves from your thigh and pushes down on your lower stomach, right on top of where the bulge popped out each time he bottomed out. “Fffuck.. ‘S my fat cock in your tummy?”

“God- Fuck, shut up Chris-” You clench tightly at his words despite your words and he ignores you in favor of picking up his pace, groaning when your walls flutter around him even more.

“You feel so fucking good. It’s almost like this pretty pussy was meant for me.” You swear you almost see his eyes roll into the back of his head, but he immediately brings your attention away by folding you in half. Pushing your knees to your chest and letting your ass hang in the air as he completely hovers over you, fucking into you with carnal need.

This new position makes you see stars and he uses it to his advantage, pounding into you and not allowing you time to think straight. He chases this brutal pace until your legs begin to ache, the pain of it overpowering the pleasure and making you hurriedly tap on his shoulder and push him back, “Fuck, wait- my legs.”

He huffs in annoyance but responds immediately, sitting up straight and allowing your legs to fall to his sides. His hips continue to thrust shallowly as you breathe deeply and try to rub the ache away, but this break doesn’t last long. You owe him payment, and he wants it now.

So he pulls out, opting to quickly flip you onto your knees and push your chest into the ground. You’re given no time to object before he’s shoving his entire length back inside with a groan. Your body shakes at the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. The back of your throat even itches as if his tip was poking it. And god, did it genuinely feel like that.

It’s not hard for him to find his previous pace, especially now that you’re seemingly more pliant for him. The only disobedient action from you is your cries for him to slow down, but he has no plans to. Not when you look absolutely ruined below him.

He shushes you and leans forward, holding you down with his chest against your back as he continues to fuck you as if his life depends on it.

“Shhhhh… It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re gonna be good and take it right? You're gonna let the big bad wolf fuck your brains out? Yea?” Your fingers dig into the ground and you nod as best as you can with your cheek shoved against the floor.

He’s unhappy with the silent answer and bares his teeth, sinking them into your shoulder with a growl to “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes! Please, Chris!”

“Goood girl. Just sit there and take this fucking dick. Let Wolfy use you like the good chew toy you are.” The new name makes you clench tightly around him and he groans as you cum, causing the squelching noises to become even louder. He moans and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving small kisses before he chomps down again.

The overstimulation is starting to hit and you cry out, desperately pushing against the ground in hopes of pushing your torso up and off the floor. But that’s not what good toys do. So he growls against your neck and pushes you down, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he fixes his posture.

“No. You’re gonna sit still. Good toys don’t fucking move. I can’t knot you if you’re misbehaving.” As if to prove his point, his other hand digs into your waist, holding you even more still as he rams into you.

Thanks to his thick tip incessantly knocking into your cervix, you don’t process what he says right away. At least, not until you feel an extra mass pushing against your swollen folds. “W-Wait, your knot?!?”

You hear his earrings jingle as he tilts his head and you can almost hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he mocks you. “Yes, my knot. You’re gonna take it inside of this tight. little. cunt. And you’re going to take every last drop of my cum.” You go to disagree but your body reacts on its own, clenching around him and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

“F-Fuck- feels like you do like that idea, baby.” He grits his teeth and starts to focus on sharp thrusts. Once his knot finally breaches your hole, you sob into your arm and bite into it to hold back a scream.

He whines and grinds into you, rubbing against your G-spot roughly as he pushes himself over the edge. You can feel his breath on your neck, heavy and heaving as he pumps you full of his seed. His body shakes with each spurt of cum he releases, and the overwhelming movements are enough to push you over the edge again; the needy grinding from him mixed with the mind-numbing feeling of being overfilled, yet forced to hold every last bit, pushing you towards another orgasm.

“Mmmm… Hold it there, yeah? Keep my pups nice and safe in their new home, and I’ll let you take as many plants as you want. Deal, Little Red?”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

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[timmydraker]

Tim begins to distance himself from his family after Damian becomes Robin.

It was obvious in the way he ran off to rescue Bruce, but that was more of a physical thing at the end of the day. He was desperate and had lost any kind of safety net and support he had after Dick threatened Arkham and how badly he hurt Alfred with his instance that Bruce was alive.

Either way he was going to get Bruce back, if not because he felt like he was an aimless, nothing human being without Batman then there was that he wanted to be believed.

Then Dick handed over Robin to Damian who at that point genuinely despised Tim, though there was also a level of jealously in the young Wayne’s mind at the intelligence and analytical Tim.

It was then that Tim decided he would bring Bruce back and then do his own thing, outside of Robin and outside of Batman.

He clearly had done his job hadn’t he? Sure Bruce was dead, but Dick was acting as Batman and that Batman had a Robin, so his reasoning for being Robin was extinguished.

Tim brings Bruce back and the older man praises and thanks him for several days and then, like everything else, the attention moves away. It goes to him connecting with Damian on a vigilante level and catching up on the last several months of him being ‘dead’. It goes to Jason who, now that he’s lost his foster father has decided that maybe he could try a little harder after all.

It goes to everyone and anyone other than Tim and this time? That’s actually the plan.

Tim isn’t as good of a hacker as Barbara, but she’s basically a god at it so compared to others he might as well be master level, just not against her. This he uses to shift around peoples schedules so Alfred has no choice but to let him go to school on his own (Tim may have also invented an early morning ‘club’ that was totally legit and not at all a fabrication). He makes it so when Dick is over or Jason takes the rare opportunity to visit he had to work at WE or DI, something important he can’t neglect.

He never has to walk Ace or Titus because he’s busy with his team mates.

Team mates who think he’s busy helping out Batman.

Tim still does work as a hero, but it’s entirely through his businesses after a while. A few times he has no choice but to go out in a boring black suit with a full face mask and hoodie. It’s got nothing on it, no symbols or gadgets. Nothing to connect him to anyone.

He starts with the homeless, dishing out vaccines like candy without even doing a campaign to showcase it.

Then he changes Bruce’s rather naive approach to orphanages and makes it so every single child who is put through is given a small amount of funding. He makes it so kids have more chance to stay with siblings, makes sure everyone who even so much as enters the ground of a orphanage have a real background check and sure the adoption rate drops, but so does the missing kids and DV cases.

Tim steals over fifty million from people like Luther and Penguin and all kinds of corrupt rich assholes for the majority of the funding and not even a cent of it is traced back to Wayne or Drake businesses. Whiles he’s digging into Lex be manages to get enough evidence to put a sizeable dent in his reputation, even if Lex manages to smooch a fair bit of it back.

He’s manages to take out a large sized trafficking ring and helps get the victims into a real recovery home that he hand picks out security for.

Later, as in a few days afterward, he discovers a dog meat farm and everyone medical veterinary student suddenly finds themself free of student loans and debt and with multiple work opportunities available and volunteer work being down right pleased for.

Tim knows he’s being noticed but given that he basically lives in his office in the heart of the city, he isn’t there to hear his old teammates and ‘family’ talk about the mysterious Dread.

Dread who was named that after a report came out about a theory of an unknown hacker or ‘cyber vigilante’ who was stealing money and information from rich folk and giving it to the poor, giving all of the 1% dread that he would hit them next.

The exact quote was ‘Those with money deeper than their pockets dread the hackers next moves. And they should feel that dread as a warning for this Robin Hood like legend seems to be getting braver.’

Dick was sure the hacker would have been called Robin if he hadn’t chosen that name already, to which Barbara responded with grumbles and growl because she couldn’t find anything other than holes and traps left by the hacker. It was like they knew her every move before she even made it!

Tim, obvious to his growing reputation until it fully took off, hadn’t even considered that his actions would be framed a threat by Batman. He would say it was because he didn’t think Bruce would ever really target him like that, but in actuality it’s because he knew Bruce was one of the few good rich folk. Surely he would be on the side of a secret vigilante hacker trying to use horrible people to do good? He embraced Dread quickly and was happy he make the rich squirm and brought a sense of hope to people, it was just like Robin but instead of them being safe and given light they were given a peace of mind in a mix of revenge and justice.

What Tim doesn’t know is that Bruce is still too far into his whole image of black and white, good and evil, that he tends to forget there’s grey areas.

At least Jason is on the side of Dread, even if he still thinks the myth of a story is just that, a myth.

It’s when Tim blows up a bank when everyone has gone home for the night just so people will find the underground money ring that and he visits the manner to get a few things that he hears them talking about it.

By that point it’s been around two years since he dropped Robin and as usual Dick always greets him with a look of a desperate puppy, “Tim! Hi, you’re here. I haven’t seen you in months, how have you been?”

Tim smiles at Dick even if he hasn’t gotten over his anger at his oldest brother and moves to sit at the breakfast table with everyone (Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian).

“Good. Busy, we’ve had a lot of donations lately.”

Jason snorts, “No shit. Isn’t Wayne Enterprise one of the few ones not hit by Dread?”

Bruce grumbles and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. They’ve managed to get into our system and completely changed the Jason Project.”

Jason grins and laughs happily, “you mean improved! Crime Ally is doing great now. Not the best, but still a fuck of a lot better.”

Smiling at the man who once beat him to an inch of his life, Tim takes a sip of his tea and casually says, “You’re welcome.”

The whole table goes quiet as Tim continues to casually sip his tea.

The silence carries for a total minute before Bruce puts down his cup and leans forward with a slight growl in his voice, “Explain.”

“Explain what?”

Bruce stands over his son even from halfway down the table and very obviously tries to calm himself with a deep breath, “What do you mean ‘you’re welcome’?”

Tim makes an ‘oh’ expression before cocking his head to the side in confusion, “I was the one who fixed the Jason Project? Wait, did you guys not realise I’m Dread?”

Damian shouts out a ‘what?!’ That makes Titus jump and Tim laughs under his breath, “What did you think I was doing?”

“Running the business! Not stealing from people and black mailing politicians!”

It’s Tim’s turn to growl now and he stands up himself with a glare at Bruce that is as close as any of them have gotten to the famed Bat-Glare, “Are you fucking kidding me? Like are you a Tully kidding me with that horse shit?”

Bruce looks stunned and Alfred doesn’t even tell him not to swear.

Tim slams his chair into the table.

“What the fuck else would I be doing, Bruce? I’m not Robin, that was taken from me, so what else was I gonna do? I finished my job, not only keeping you from killing anyone but bringing you back, so I had do pick something else. I’m not stealing from the rich, I’m stealing from selfish cunts who ruin peoples lives for no reason and giving it to people like Jason. So, don’t you fucking yell at me and don’t try to make me feel bad for this, not when I’ve done more in two years than you ever have and- don’t you fucking speak Dick, not when you were the one who took my place here away from me! Now, I have a trafficking ring I need to expose so good. Fucking. Day.”

Jason is the only one who follows him.