#me walking on my heel + big toe at the pool so the bottoms of my feet dont touch Nasty Wet Floor

[milkolya]

like ok when i was little i had a lot of tics and my mama constantly told me "dont do X you look autistic" at what point can i say. maybe i just WAS autistic? lmao

[kaitsawamura]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk.  But he was just like that you had quickly discovered.  He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn.  The kids flocked to him.  Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him.  It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts.  The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there?  You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly.  It isn’t big.  You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses.  Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous.  But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time.  Clean, straight lines and lots of windows.  In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door.  Is that a pool ?  Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro.  The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth.  You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out!  I mean, that would have been fine, of course.  I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.”  He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool.  “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!”  You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym.  I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely.  You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here.  The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves.  But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins.  You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago.  And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs.  No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side.  Shit.  His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.  He has to know .  Doesn’t he?  From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .  

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive.  Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard.  You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping.  It’s so green .  There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna.  Violets, tulips.  Huge hosta plants.  And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.  

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!”  He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it?  I guess it is pretty nice, huh?”  You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile.  You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.”  You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world.  After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet.  “What are you thinking for today?”  The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat.  You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?”  You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan.  The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips.   He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick.  You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet.  He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display.   Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri.  I just don’t want to wear you out .  You’re a Pro Hero.  You’re on the job a lot more than I am.  Plus, you’re getting kind of old.  Is that a little gray I see coming in?”  Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair.  There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted.  Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.”  Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw.  His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip.  His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment.  You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity.  He looks as if he’s going to devour you.  You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body.  A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up.  The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin.  The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen.  You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat.  The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym.  You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment.  When you could give extra attention with extra time. 

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you.  You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk.  Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit.  Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist.  It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk.  Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk.  It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills.  The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy.  You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well.  You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven.  His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice.  You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out.  It surges through you like pure energy.  

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook.  This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt.  Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet.  He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?”  He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach.  You were fast, but still not always fast enough.  You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in.  Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top.  You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over.  “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard.  You good?”  

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable.  He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late.  You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today.  Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back.  But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core.  He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours.  You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before…  “Fuuu-.”  It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open.  You’re seeing stars.  Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again.  You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun.  You snort, rolling your eyes.  Why does he still look so fucking good?  The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl.  His hair has curl to it?  You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes.  You like the curl.  “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?”  It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms.  “I’m thinking not.  Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.”  You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows.  Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.   

“Is that any way to treat your student,  Red Riot?”  You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll.  He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space.  You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.  

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth.  “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher.  I’m not that much older than you.  Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?”  He’s so fucking close.  This is getting dangerous.  Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance.  Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass.  Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.  

So you fall back on what you’re here to do.  Fight.  You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away.  His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared.  He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay.  I see.  I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?”  You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri.  Bring it on.”  He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control.  “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles.  Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more.  Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply.  And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon.  But you’re also both stubborn.  And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination.  No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration.  The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not.  You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head.  You can be too predictable sometimes.”  He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire.  You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless.  You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc.  A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle.  He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming.  But he doesn’t.  And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.  

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward.  He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand.  You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck.  Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body.  It doesn’t take long for him to tap out.  You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off.  Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride.  You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad.  In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good .  He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you.  His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere.  He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes.  If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you.  He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable.  You did good today.  Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far.  Keep it up.”  He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts.  He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment.  “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--”  The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his.  His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair.  You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more.  Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment.  A suspended second in time.  But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side.  But it’s warm and gentle.  Gentle.  Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle?  But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations.  His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit.  You’re so wet .”  He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit.  He takes his hand away and you mewl.  “Can I?”  He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts.  You nod, eyes half-lidded.  He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious.  Adoration.  It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt.  You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it.  Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm.  You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat.  He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to.  He’s done this before, he’s had to.  He’s too good.  Too fucking good.  Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth.  “Shit.  Shit.  Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--”  He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym.  It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but  Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue.  But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock.  You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum.  Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them.  Another time, maybe.  

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing .  He could snap you like a twig.  But he won’t.  You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…”  You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders.  You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled.  You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much.  His forehead drops to yours as he pants.  But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to.  It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins.  You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss.  “Oh fuck, ohfuck.”  You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing.  “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper.  Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity.  Let him leave marks.  Let him leave them everywhere.  He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling.  “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.”  His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good.  S’ tight.  Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym.  The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip.  He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes.  Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ”  He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct.  He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point.  “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream.  Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic.  The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath.  “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins.  His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt.  He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole.  Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours.  Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before.  You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri.  Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression.  Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed.  He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex.  But you’re smiling.  Lazy and tired, completely at ease.  “Wanna take a shower?”  When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest.  He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm.  Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra.  Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now.  When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again.  His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss.  But it's slow and sweet. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers.  He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water.  Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now.  The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep.  But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in.  When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel.  “You okay?”  He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired.  I should, uh, probably get going.”  Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line.  Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail.  But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug.  A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest.  His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice.  You bury your face further in as you nod against him.  Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed.  He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him.  Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.  

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you.  The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.  

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket.  It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake.  You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb.  A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist.  His eyes are open now and he watches you.  You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious.  “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time.  I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t…  I don’t really hook up .”  Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across.  He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful.  And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along.  You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling.  “I just.  I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you.  I’ve liked you for a long time.  And normally I would have wined and dined you first but...  Well.  Here we are.  Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face.  “Is something funny?”  That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri.  I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.”  A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection.  The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Oop lemme try again I think I got the numbers wrong- 72, 62, 57, 33-

Can I have all those in one fic with bucky please?

72) “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

62) “I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”

57) “I wonder what your girlfriend/boyfriend would do if they knew what you were doing right now.”

33) “Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”

I love this. Dom!Neighbor!Bucky is gonna wreck me.

Smut, no minors!!

“Motherfucker!” You screamed as your heel got caught in the elevator as you tried to step off.

Your night was going terrible. Your asshole boyfriend had stood you up for the third time in a month. You knew you should break it off with him but he kept dodging you and making it impossible for you to officially end things.

You continued cursing under your breath as you wrenched your shoe out of the crack between the lift and the door and started to hobble back to your apartment.

“Rough night, doll?”

And of course, there’s your beautiful neighbor, eating a plum and leaning against his open door frame as he gave you a wicked grin. You didn’t think you could deal with his flirting right now, you were too pissed.

“I’m not in the mood, Buck.” You groaned, digging in your purse for your keys.

“That douchebag you’re dating stand you up again?” He said with a shake of his head as he sauntered towards you, shutting his apartment door.

You just grumbled as you unlocked your door, leaving it open so he could follow you inside. You tossed your bag on the table and went to pour yourself a gin from your bar cart.

“Vodka?” You asked him, grabbing another glass.

“Always.” He answered, tossing the plum pit into the garbage before accepting the drink from your hand. “You know, I’d never miss a date night with you. Especially when you wear those little outfits.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you took another swig of gin, swirling the liquid in your glass. You hopped up on the counter and leaned back on your hands, watching him closely as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Always with the damn teasing, Barnes.” You scolded him.

“It doesn’t have to be teasing, doll.” He smirked, downing the rest of his drink and starting to prowl towards you. “When’s the last time you got fucked, sweetheart? I bet that asshole never even made you come.”

“Bucky!” You gasped as he slotted himself between your thighs, edging the hem of your skirt up as he leaned into you. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He murmured, wrapping his hand around your waist and drawing you towards him.

You had trouble coming up with an answer to that as brushed his lips over your throat, making you moan as you felt your pussy throb with need.

“Nothing to say, doll?” He grinned, nipping at your jaw lightly. “I bet you’re already so wet.”

You yelped when he picked you up and started to carry you towards the living room, his mouth still moving over your neck softly. He set you down in front of one of the brick columns and turned you around, drawing the zipper of your dress down slowly before letting it pool at your feet.

“I wonder what your boyfriend would do if he knew what you were doing right now.” He purred, running his knuckles over your spine as he took you in. “That dick doesn’t even know what he’s missing.”

You whimpered as he drew your panties down your legs slowly, pressing his lips to the backs of your thighs.

“Fuck, Bucky.” You whined as he shoved his hand between your legs, running his fingers through your swollen, slick coated folds.

“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.” He muttered into your hair, pressing his chest into your back as he slid two fingers into your velvet channel, making you keen. “You really are desperate for it, aren’t you doll?”

You couldn’t answer as he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching you open as you thrust yourself back towards him, doing your best to fuck yourself on his hand.

He brought his free hand up to slip your breast out of your bra, rolling your nipple through his fingers as you arched into his hand. His body caged you in as you started shaking, a warm coil tightening in your stomach as he slid a third finger inside you.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He ordered as he nibbled on your ear lobe. “Wanna feel that pussy clamp down on me before I fill it with my cock.”

You screamed as he twisted his fingers inside you, pressing them into your g-spot at the same time he slapped your tit. Your whole body rolled with pleasure underneath him as you released all over his hand, your pussy fluttering wildly as you did your best to keep yourself from collapsing.

“What a good girl you are.” He purred against your shoulder, giving you a moment to rest while he undid his fly and stepped out of his jeans.

“God, Bucky.” You muttered as he turned you around and shoved his cock into you, hissing into your neck as you stretched and fluttered around his length. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

“Yeah?” He grinned as he started rutting into you like an animal. “That boyfriend of yours couldn’t even fill this tight little pussy, could he?”

You couldn’t answer him, the only sounds coming from your mouth a series of wanton moans as he ground his hips against you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He growled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Taking me so good. I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”

He brought his hand between the two of you and started to strum at your clit and you screamed, your body arching into him as the coil snapped. He beamed at you as you spasmed around him, your release squirting out of you and soaking his thighs.

You gasped as he pulled out of you and threw you over the back of the couch, slapping your ass hard before he was spearing back into you and making you come again with a shriek.

“Jesus Christ, doll.” He muttered as he started thrusting into you viciously, his hips slapping against your ass while he wrapped one fist in your hair to yank you back onto his length harshly. “I’m gonna fuck you all over this apartment until you can’t walk.”

You just moaned like a whore as your legs started shaking and you came again, your body sagging against the couch with exhaustion as he kept fucking you.

“Shit, you already fucked out baby?” He growled, wrapping his free hand around your throat and snapping you up against his chest, grinning as he felt your drool running over his fingers. “Did I turn you stupid, sweetheart? Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

You whined as another orgasm ripped through you, drawing you up on your toes as your body tried to bend backwards, your core an aching mess as Bucky kept using your swollen cunt like he had all the time in the world.

“Goddamn, I’m gonna fill that pretty pussy with so much cum you’re gonna feel me for days.” He grumbled as he released his grip on your hair and brought his hand down to pinch your clit.

You sobbed as you came again, tears leaking down your cheeks as your body quivered around him. His cock throbbed inside you before he flooded you with his spend, groaning against your shoulder as he fucked his cum into you with stuttering thrusts.

He held you tightly when he was finished, sagging to the floor and leaning against the back of your couch as he softened inside you and panted into your hair. You breathed deeply as his grip on your neck relaxed, your head rolling lazily against his shoulder as you came down.

“He ever make you come like that, doll?” He asked, pressing a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he gently cupped your breast.

“Nu-uh.” You said, swallowing thickly. “I need my phone.”

“What?” He asked groggily as you stood up, wobbling unsteadily towards the kitchen to dig through your purse. “Why?”

“Gonna breakup with that motherfucker.” You said, turning back to him with a wicked grin once you found your prize. “But first I wanna show him what he’s missing. How you feel about putting on a show Barnes?”

——————————————————————————

A/N: Oh my god, I need to go stand in front of a fire hydrant now, this wrecked me

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Dean’s Day

Summary: The reader is missing Dean one day. Jensen decides she doesn’t have to miss him at all and allows the reader, and even Dean, the opportunity to have a fun day together...

Pairing: Jensen x reader, Dean x reader

Square: Quote C “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, nudity

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo and all my Dean girls out there...

________

“Hey,” said Jensen. He leaned over the back of the lounger in the home office, resting his chin on top of your head. “Whatcha reading?”

“Fanfic,” you said, scrolling up on your tablet a smidge.

“Is it that smutty one that you sent me yesterday that has that epic cliffhanger?” he asked. “I’m still waiting for that chick to update.”

“Patience is a virtue. And no, this is a short story,” you said, bookmarking it when you got to the bottom. Jensen plucked it out of your hands before you knew it though and quickly was frowning. 

“This is a finale rewrite,” he said, handing it back to you. “You still pissed over that ending huh.”

“Not as pissed as I was. But I just won’t ever like it. I just...don’t like to think that Dean never really got to live a normal safe life. It wasn’t fair to him.”

“No it wasn’t. I wish he got better,” he said. He smiled and sat down beside you, taking out his phone. He tapped for a moment before showing it to you, a mostly black image on the screen but a few words making your eyes widen. “Back in Black. I thought it was a fitting title for the reboot.”

“They’re remaking the show already?” you said. You scowled and he started to laugh. “It’s been less than a-“

“My reboot. Our reboot. Honey ain’t nobody else gonna do my boy justice,” he said. You took the phone out of his hands and stared at the image longer.

“Is that a devil’s trap in the fading?” you asked. He hummed and took the phone back. “Wait. I-”

“That’s enough spoilers for one day,” he said. He kissed your temple and you stood up, Jensen already heading out of the room. “So glad I didn’t tell you about Dean’s girlfriend.”

“Dean’s getting a girlfriend!” you said, bouncing up and down on your toes. “Like, a real relationship?”

“Maybe,” he said with a big ass smirk. “It’s all in pre-production right now. A select few are brainstorming ideas. But I’m not telling you more. I want you to be spoiler free and enjoy it like everybody else.”

“Spoiler free didn’t work out so well last time,” you said. He shrugged and rocked back on his heels. “Alright, alright. Spoiler free.”

“Awesome. Oh. I gotta duck out for like the rest of the day. I’ll catch you tonight,” he said. 

“Uh,” you said, Jensen already gone. He headed upstairs and you looked around, trying to figure out what prank he was pulling on you today. Nothing seemed off and by the time you were upstairs and getting to your bedroom door, Jensen was stepping out in a different flannel and t shirt. “I mean I don’t mind if you have plans for the day. I-“

“I don’t got any plans sweetheart,” he said.

“You just said-“

“Who just said?” You raised an eyebrow, taking a beat for it all to click. That specific flannel with that specific shirt. That specific slight drop in his voice. 

“Jensen.”

“Yeah he’s gonna be back later. He said you get me today to do with as you please,” he smirked. 

“Jens-”

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” He pressed a finger to your lips and pecked a quick kiss to your cheek. You stared at him and he clasped his hands behind his back, twirling his hips as he stood in place.

“Dean.”

“Yes?” he asked. 

“So you’re Dean today,” you said. He hummed and nodded, lifting up onto his tip toes and falling back down. “And I can do whatever I want to you.”

“Yup,” he said, popping his p.

“Alright, Dean. How you still alive after that finale? Something to do with Back in Black I heard?” You grinned and he narrowed his eyes, a sliver of Jensen coming through.

“Oh that’s on a need to know basis sweetheart. Just know I ain’t gone anywhere,” he said. “Alive and kicking. You gonna play it that way today cause our mutual friend gave me permission to do as I please too if you start acting up.”

“Dean, sweetie,” you said. “You’re an even bigger bottom than Jensen. Let’s not pretend you aren’t.”

You patted his ass as you walked past, humming and slipping out of the room. 

“Come on Dean. I have things I want to do with you today.”

“Oh Dean,” you called from where you lounged in your chair beside the pool. Dean waggled a few fingers from where he floated around on a mat in the water, eyes shut behind a pair of sunglasses. “Would you like to order some sandwiches for lunch? It’s supposed to rain soon.”

“Alright,” he said with a stretch.

“Head on up to the bathroom for me. I’ll be there in just a minute,” you said. He hummed and rolled off the float, swimming and dragging along the mat until he took it out and tossed it in the pool toy box tucked against the fence. He headed inside wrapped in his towels while you picked up a few things. You stopped in the kitchen and put in an order for an hour from then, heading on upstairs, the house darker with the clouds rolling in.

You found him in the bathroom, swim shorts and towel in the basket, halfway into the shower. A tsk left your lips and he froze, looking back over his shoulder. 

“No, no,” you said. You went to the tub and turned on the water, getting it to a nice temperature and plugging it. Your bathing suit came off and you gathered up his shampoo and conditioner from the shower along with your body wash. “Dean.”

You held out a hand and he took it, allowing you to pull him into the rising water with you, a smidge of Jensen coming through as he realized what you were about to do, an experience he himself had had more than once when he got too stressed out.

“What’s up sweetheart?” he said, leaning closer as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Close your eyes,” you said. He shut his and you turned him around, sliding him back against your chest. You wrapped one arm around his waist and he let out a sigh. “When’s the last time you took a bath Dean?”

“No idea. Probably a kid,” he said, resting his head back as you started to scoop water up and over his hair to get it wet. “You gonna wash my hair?”

“Yes I am. I like to wash Jensen’s hair sometimes. He’s not so good about relaxing and letting himself be taken care of every once in a while.” He was quiet, humming softly. “He’s better about it lately though.”

“He appreciates it,” he said. You leaned forward and hit off the water, grabbing his shampoo. You squirted some in your hands and put it on his head, working it into a lather. “Feels nice.”

“Good. A spa day never hurt anyone, especially retired hunters,” you said. 

“You know, in the meantime, until you get a confirmation I mean, I think you should consider me alive and well.”

“Oh really? So what are you up to these days then?” you said, giving his scalp a good scrub that made him hum deeply.

“Been hanging with my boy a lot. Driving around. Golfing. Swimming. Boating. Concerts. He really loves you. He loves me too.”

“He’s pretty great,” you said.

“What about you sweetheart? You love me?”

“Yes I do.” You kissed his cheek and smiled. “What about you? You interested in any-“

“Sh. Back to bath cuddling,” he said. 

“Alright Dean. Whatever you want today.”

“You have some pretty nice cuddles I gotta say,” he said late that night as you lay in bed together. His head was resting on your shoulder, arm over your waist. “Thanks for today. Never really got to have a girl to take care of me before.”

“I’m always here if you ever want that again. Until you can get a girlfriend in the future at least,” you said.

“I’ll take you up on that. I’m always here if you need me too sweetheart,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, kissing his temple. “Tell Jensen thanks for today.”

“I will. I’ll see you around soon. Later sweetheart,” he said, lifting his head and giving you a soft, slow kiss. 

“Later Dean,” you said. You closed your eyes and heard him shift on the bed. “Hi Jensen.”

“Hi honey. How was your day?” he asked.  

“Good,” you said, smushing your face into his chest. “I love you so much.”

“Take care of our boy?” he asked.

“Jay.”

“I know you did. I don’t know about you but I’m beat after that day of pampering,” he said.

“Honey. Thanks for that,” you said.

“I did it for him too,” he said. You hugged him and he returned it, snuggling into your side. “Night sweetheart.”

“Night Jens. And Dean.”

_______

[highqueenofelfhame]

I’m not posting a tag list for this part because it’s late and I’m exhausted and wanna get it out for you guys. If it does poorly I’ll go back and tag but right now I’m just very over tag lists. Follow the “#hqoe f&f” tag or “falsehoods & fistfights” or “Hqoe writes” tags to more closely follow my work. You can also follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites and turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of my writing! I’m not doing this to be mean, I’m doing it to save time and frustration when the tagging system fails (as it often does)

Hugest shoutout in the world to @punkassbookjockey26 for being the best beta in the entire world. She helped so much with this update!! Give her a pat on the back.

Part One // Masterlist

Rowaelin // 5681 words

~*~

For the last several hours, the clatter of her clicking keyboard and the flipping of pages had been on a continuous loop. At some point, Aelin had opened Spotify and forgotten to turn on any music, clearly content to keep to her rigorous work pace in near-silence. The door to her office was closed, and no one had stopped by to bother her since she’d arrived. Only a handful of phone calls had disrupted her this morning, which meant she had gotten plenty of work done.

Except that it wasn’t morning at all— it was two in the afternoon, and she couldn’t quite figure out how the hell that had happened. She was still squinting at the time on her computer screen when a firm knock sounded at the door, and she called out, “Yes?”

“Have you eaten today?” At the sound of Rowan’s voice, Aelin’s head whipped toward the door. She was unable to stop the smile that spread wide across her face or stop herself rising from her chair to meet him. Aelin perched against her desk, accepting the brown paper bag he held in his hands. No, she hadn’t eaten, not since her half a bagel and cup of coffee before she arrived at work. She’d left a banana in her car for a snack but hadn’t wanted to run back down for it.

“Barely. I didn’t even realize it was past lunch,” Aelin sighed, looking back up at his face. Rowan was grinning down at her as she tore a bite of croissant off and popped it into her mouth. The man looked criminally good, wearing jeans that hugged his legs in all the right places and a white button-up shirt. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and her eyes lingered on his tattoo that swirled down to his fingertips.

“Can I kiss you in here?” His question caught her off guard, a laugh bursting from her lips. “Because this whole…” Rowan gestured to her outfit. “It’s really doing it for me.”

“You like librarian Aelin?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to hers. The get-up he referred to was a pinstriped pencil skirt that hit just above her knees and patent black stiletto heels that had her only a few inches shorter than him. She had a red tank top tucked into the skirt and, at some point, had discarded her white cardigan over the back of her office chair. Her lips matched her shirt in a bright, matte, red lipstick that she’d neglected to touch up throughout the day. Still, when Rowan pulled away, his mouth was tinged with the outline of hers. “I like this a lot. Fuck.”

“For the record, you can kiss me anywhere you want to,” she told him. “Especially in my office, especially when the door is closed.”

“Noted.” Rowan tugged on her high ponytail before sinking into one of the leather armchairs in front of her. Aelin continued to munch on the variety of pastries he’d brought for her while his eyes seemed to be glued to her legs. Aelin wondered if he was thinking about laying her out on this desk and having his way with her here, but she also knew he wouldn’t let that be their first time. No matter how badly she wanted it to be.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Whitethorn?” She asked, nudging his thigh with the toe of her shoe. The way he raked his teeth over his bottom lip before looking up at her told her that, yes, he was thinking what she was thinking. The way he quirked his brow at her also told her that, no, it wasn’t going to happen.

They were kind of dating, in the sense that they had been on a handful of dates. They had shared many heated kisses against the door to her apartment when he dropped her off, but he was being such a godsdamn gentleman about all of it that they hadn’t had sex yet. Aelin would have fucked him in the bathroom of the bar that first night, and they both knew it. But something was holding him back. To be fair, she couldn’t place all of the blame on him. She was holding back as well. Whatever this was between them felt like something that could be extraordinary, and she didn’t want to be the one that fucked it all up because she couldn’t keep it in her pants.

“I have a fight on Saturday, and I was really hoping you would want to come. Obviously, I would give you tickets, plus however many extra you want to bring whoever.”

“Just Aedion, I think.” Her cousin would likely die to be personally invited to one of Rowan Whitethorn’s fights, the same way Aelin knew he’d been having a bit of a mental breakdown when he found Aelin with him at the bar.

“Not your friends’ cup of tea?” He teased with a grin.

“Not even really mine, but you get like, almost naked for these things, yeah?” Rowan’s head tilted back as he laughed, reaching out to catch her fingers between his own. He squeezed them, shaking his head at her. “I’m just saying, any female fans you have are not because they want to watch you fight. I Googled you.”

“Of course you did.”

“And if coming on Saturday,” she paused, fighting the twitch of her lips at the innuendo, “is what gets me to see you sweaty and naked, I will be there.”

“Apparently, you can find that on Google also.” Aelin started to jerk her hand from his, but he laughed again and tugged forcefully enough that she dropped into his lap, his arms settling around her hips.

They didn’t have sex on her desk by the time he left, but he did have a trail of lipstick down his neck and red smudges on his collar.

~*~

There had only been a few times where Aelin had seen Aedion this excited. He was practically jumping out of his skin, trying and failing to keep his wide grin at bay. The whole way there, he’d talked about Rowan’s stats and how likely it was for him to win this fight. Apparently, it was very likely, and according to Aedion, if anyone bet against Rowan in the gambling pools, they were going to lose a lot of money.

This version of Aedion was almost completely opposite the one that had shown up an hour late to the bar a few weeks ago, only to find Aelin perched in his personal hero’s lap.

By the time Aelin spotted a familiar head of golden blonde hair making his way through the crowd, Rowan had stayed true to his promise. He’d bought her not one but two drinks, and she had a very happy buzz flowing through her.

“Aedion!” She hadn’t bothered to get out of Rowan’s lap; she liked the way his hand felt on her thigh, the other twirling a piece of hair around his finger while he talked to the tall, broody one— Lorcan.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay; I made friends! And a fiancé!” Rowan laughed then, sticking his hand out for Aedion to shake.

“I’m the fiancé. Rowan Whitethorn. You must be the cousin she’s been waiting on.”

“I got held up at work. Aedion Ashryver, nice to meet you.” Despite the cool and collected exterior Aedion was giving off, Aelin knew without a doubt that he was dying inside. She spent several nights curled up on his couch while Aedion and his friends watched Rowan’s fights, though she’d never cared enough to pay attention. Usually, she disappeared to his guest room to read a book or snuck out after an acceptable amount of time to hang out with her own friends.

Aelin had heard about Rowan’s victories time and time again. When Aedion showed her different self-defense moves, he would say that Rowan Whitethorn took someone down with the same simple maneuver. To say that he admired Rowan would be an understatement. He damn near idolized him.

“Nice to meet you? That’s what you’re going with?” Aelin asked, mouth dropping open as everything Aedion had ever said about the man beneath her flooded her memory. Aelin looked at Rowan, shaking her head and pointing at her cousin. “All I ever hear about when you have a fight coming up is ‘Rowan Whitethorn this’ and ‘Rowan Whitethorn that.’ Yet now he’s here, and all he says is nice to meet you. Unbelievable.”

“Rowan doesn’t look like someone who particularly cares for fan service. Though if I’m wrong, correct me, and I will rectify that immediately. On my knees even, if he decides he’s interested in men at all.”

Aelin’s lips dipped into a drunk pout as she said, “I saw him first.”

“Technically, I saw you first,” Rowan interjected, a teasing tone in his voice. “And you rejected me.” A wrinkle appeared between her brows as she looked up at Rowan’s handsome face, disliking that she was already being ganged up on.

“I’m sorry— you rejected him?” Aedion sputtered in disbelief. Aelin flicked Rowan’s nose, and just like that, they settled into an easy banter that tugged on Aelin’s heart entirely too much.

Now, though, Aedion seemed to be nearly vibrating out of his skin with excitement. At will-call, they’d learned Rowan had set aside special floor seating just for them. When they walked into the arena, Aelin was pleased to see Rowan’s group of friends from the bar. She’d spent the most time with Fenrys than anyone else, and he welcomed her with a big hug, insisting she sit beside him instead of Lorcan. Aelin was more than happy to oblige, as Lorcan didn’t seem to have a taste for her. He didn’t even bother saying hello.

They settled into their seats, Aelin sitting between Fenrys and Aedion, both of whom had skipped the pleasantries and moved right into a conversation about the upcoming fight. Aelin leaned back into her chair and took in the surroundings. There were bits and pieces she remembered from her time barely watching matches with Aedion, but it was still different than what she expected. There was a large octagonal ring in the center of the room surrounded by black fencing that had to be about six feet tall. She wondered briefly if the fence was to keep people out or to keep the fighters in.

People were milling about, but Aelin realized that the arena itself was three levels high, and seats were piled around the room from floor to ceiling. There had to be thousands of them, and from the look of the crowds filing in, there wasn’t going to be an empty spot in the house. She hadn’t realized that MMA had such a following.

After about twenty minutes, the lights dimmed and the booming voice of the announcer filled the arena. People cheered wildly as the introductions for the fight were made and the sponsors were thanked. And finally, Aeling knew it was time. The announcer over-dramaticized the entrance for the first fighter and Aelin watched as a lean-muscled man walked up to the ring. He entered through a gate on the side, and people cheered as he made his rounds. Aelin sat on the edge of her seat for the announcer to start his next introduction, ready to see Rowan walking through the tunnel, when a different name was announced and a different man came strolling out. The confusion must have been all over her face when she looked at Aedion because he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Rowan is the main event,” he said. “Which means there are a few fights before his.”

“Seriously? You mean I have to wait?” Aedion nodded and her scowl deepened. “How long?”

“Looking at the schedule, Rowan’s fight is slated to start in about two hours.”

“Two hours?! I have to wait two hours!?”

“Come on, Ace. It won’t be that bad. Just try to enjoy it.” Aedion turned away and was immediately drawn into the fight that had begun in the ring just a few feet in front of her. Aelin pouted, remembering all the reasons why she never stuck around to watch these matches with Aedion previously.

“All I wanted was to see Rowan sweaty and half-naked. I literally don’t care about anyone else,” she grumbled, mostly to herself. Beside her, Fenrys chuckled and threw his arm around the back of her seat as she settled back. Aelin frowned down at her phone, opening Snapchat to get a quick photo of her expression, which she promptly sent to Rowan.

It took him a good ten minutes to reply back to her, and it seemed he knew why she was pouting because the text across his photo simply said be patient.

After that, she didn’t want to bother him, and whatever pre-match rituals he may have, so she settled for scrolling through various social media apps to bide her time. When she found herself restless, she gave in and opened her book app to continue reading a romance novel she’d started the day before. The male love interest may have been a boxer and may have been incredibly sexy, and she may have downloaded it after searching for fighting-related books.

She had just reached a particularly steamy part of the book when she felt Aedion nudge her arm. Godsdamn him, the leading male was just about to give the girl the orgasm of her life when he’d interrupted. Aelin scowled up at her cousin, but the expression morphed into one of incredulity and excitement when she heard Rowan’s name announced, and he walked out into the arena.

Aelin immediately perked up in her seat, sliding her phone between her thigh and the chair. Rowan strolled out like a king surveying his kingdom, and the cheers were deafening. He wore absolutely nothing but a pair of forest green athletic shorts that left little to the imagination and some sort of fist guards over his hands. A wicked grin formed on his lips as he jogged up to the ring and hoisted himself up over the side with practiced ease. There was a very dramatic introduction, one that had the entire crowd screaming and getting to their feet. Aelin couldn’t help but join them, giving a standing ovation to the man she’d spent so many stolen hours with lately. Beside her, Aedion was absolutely losing it. It only made her smile more.

Even as the arena quieted while the referee explained the rules, nobody returned to their seats. Everyone stayed on their feet, and Aelin could understand why. Once the fight started and the hits and kicks started to get thrown around, she found herself filled with a restless energy that she couldn’t push down. Every time his opponent’s fist swung toward him, her heart began to beat frantically in her chest.

But Rowan ducked and dipped out of reach almost every time. The way the muscles of his arms and legs rippled every time he took a swing at the other man, Cairn, her mouth went dry. She hadn’t walked into the arena tonight expecting to find anything about the fight beautiful, but it was. The way that Rowan’s body moved was like watching a dance unfold before her. Every swing of his arm or swift kick of his leg sending her heart racing just like it had when she’d watched ballets growing up. It felt like such a bizarre comparison to make, but Rowan Whitethorn’s body was nothing short of a work of art.

But there was also a ferocity in it. Where ballet was soft and demure, Rowan was a force of nature. His face was hewn from stone, each strike with his hands or legs precise and controlled, but with an element of chaos surrounding it. He unleashed himself on Cairn, throwing punches and kicks swiftly, so quick that Aelin could not keep up with where the next one was going to land. With brutal efficiency, Rowan managed to get past Cairn’s guard to deliver several painful-looking blows in quick succession that had the crowd collectively wincing. It seemed that Aedion’s idolization hadn’t been misplaced.

Rowan breathed heavily, sweat dripping down every inch of his torso. His abdominals flexed with every exhale, showing off every hard line and sharp curve. The tattoo that swirled down his left side glistened under the bright lights of the arena. He looked like a god, and Aelin discovered that she found it quite difficult to keep her mind from falling off into the gutter when he looked like that.

When he made the final blow, a hit to Cairn’s face that had him unconscious before he even hit the floor, Aelin was surprised by how wholly turned on she was. He dominated the fight and looked damn good while doing it. Rowan was announced as the winner, fierce triumph written all over his face as the crowd completely lost their minds. Pride swelled in her stomach, and she couldn’t help her wide smile as she cheered along with the thousands of people in the arena. Even though it was televised, it felt special when he made eye contact with her and grinned before exiting the ring and heading her way.

Of course, he was intercepted about a dozen different times by dozens of different people offering their congratulations. When he finally got to her, he dipped down and hugged her tightly to his chest, pulling her feet off the ground. She could feel the heat of his body through the thin layers of her clothing, scorching her skin. The smell of him, a musky scent of sweat and the pine body wash she had come to associate with him assaulted her nose and she breathed him in deep. She felt the want ratcheting up in the most delicious way and knew that she would no longer be content with a night of only being pressed against her apartment door. Their kisses, no matter how desperate they had been, wouldn’t be enough to sate the need she felt for him. She needed all of him, and she needed him as raw and unrestrained as he had been during that fight. He pressed a kiss to her cheek as her feet met the floor, and he stepped back.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty.”

“You were amazing.” Amazing didn’t quite cover it, but it was the only word she could think of that came anywhere close.

“Does that mean you’ll come out with me tonight? To celebrate?” She wanted to say yes immediately. But with him in front of her, covered in sweat and looking like the only thing she wanted her mouth to touch for the foreseeable future, Aelin shook her head as her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. The disappointment began to cloud his handsome face, but she shook her head faster as though it would dispel his negative thoughts.

“I was kind of hoping I could steal you away. Celebrate with you alone.” Her voice was low and sultry, and she almost laughed because she could see him calculating just what that meant. The two of them. A celebration. Entirely alone, with no one else around.

“I— yeah. Yes. We can— yes. I have to wrap up here and then we can go to my place?” At all of his stuttering, she couldn’t help the bright laughter that bubbled out of her as the usually confident man in front of her stumbled a bit. His attention was drawn away temporarily when Aedion clapped Rowan on the shoulder and began to spew his admiration and congratulations. Rowan took it with grace, thanking him for coming while trying to keep his eyes off Aelin’s face. The way she bit her lip clearly wasn’t helping because his eyes kept dropping down to her mouth.

When a member of his team told him he needed to hurry— he had a short press conference post-fight and still wanted to shower before— Rowan dropped a chaste kiss to her lips and headed back to the locker room.

Aelin waited not-so-patiently, standing on the outside of Rowan’s group of friends in the parking lot while they talked. Aedion fit right in, pointing out the highlights of the fight with renewed vigor. He still seemed to be riding the adrenaline high from watching Rowan fight , and Aelin was sure he would implement something of what they saw into her self defense training.

When Rowan finally came out, they all cheered and shoved him around their little circle in celebration. He was grinning from ear to ear as he reached for Aelin and pulled her into his side, dropping a kiss to her hair. It was impossible to stop the tug she felt in her stomach, something between excitement and nerves. Everything inside seemed to be tied up in delicious knots as she leaned into him, enveloped by the scent of his body wash, the smell of pine equal parts comforting and arousing. “Where are we going tonight?” Fenrys drawled, throwing his arm around Vaughan. The quiet, dark-haired man tried to shrug out of it, but it only ended with him in a headlock.

“I will actually be stealing him away,” Aelin said before Rowan could even get a word in. Rowan’s hold on her shoulder tightened as he squeezed, and she squeezed him back where she had her arm around his waist, secretly thrilled that he was as on board with this plan as she was. His friends groaned in protest but Aelin and Rowan laughed. Lorcan looked particularly displaced about the revelation and was the first to step backward out of the circle and bid farewell. It didn’t take long for the others to follow and for Aelin to lace her fingers through Rowan’s and tug him toward his car.

While their pace could be described as leisurely, Aelin felt anything but. Now alone, she felt that want from earlier return with a vengeance. Rowan squeezed her hand, and her mind immediately wandered to those strong hands touching elsewhere, all over. A quick glance up at him left her reeling when she caught his gaze on her, and swore she saw every dirty thought that crossed his mind. It excited her, knowing that despite his cool, calm exterior wrapped around all of that cockiness, Rowan Whitethorn was just as affected as she was by what was to come.

When they arrived at his car, a sleek, black sports car that was perfectly him, Rowan opened the passenger door for her, ushering her in. Aelin turned her head towards him, and under the parking lot lights, she could see where Rowan had taken a bit of a beating.

Ducking inside the car, Aelin turned to look at Rowan, her thumb coming to brush over a bruise that was forming on his cheek. It was already a blue-purple color, indicating that it would only look worse over the next few days. Luckily he hadn’t taken too many hits, so this seemed to be the worst of his injuries. There was one other place near his temple that had drawn a little bit of blood but it was already on the mend, cleaned by the medics backstage.

“I’m okay,” he reassured her, his hand coming over to rest on her thigh. Aelin pulled hers away, startled by the softness in his voice. Her eyes searched Rowan’s for the lie that he was more hurt than he let on, but she saw nothing. She supposed it should have comforted her that Rowan knew what his limits were, but still, it seemed crazy that this man before her was the same one that had attacked Cairn in the ring and ended the fight in the first round.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, her voice echoing the softness of his own.

“You just saw me get pummeled a few times and you’re worried about hurting me?” His voice dripped with disbelief, remnants of a laugh bubbling out. Aelin shrugged, cheeks stained a rosy blush.

“I don’t want to accidentally push on places that hurt.”

“I can assure you that anything you inflict upon me will be the sweetest kind of pain,” he promised, lacing his fingers with hers and bringing them to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles as he started the car and drove out of the dimly lit parking lot. Those knots in her stomach unspooled themselves into liquid heat as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “Don’t do that.”

His voice was rough with want, and it scraped over her, leaving small goosebumps on her skin. She shivered in anticipation, and ached to hear more in that deep, rumbling timbre. Reaching out a hand, she coyly ran her fingers slowly, softly up the taut skin of his arm. “Do what?”

“Bite your lip like that when I can’t kiss you.”

“If you drove faster, you would be able to kiss me,” Aelin teased, leaning over the center console to press a lingering kiss to his shoulder. Rowan’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the steering wheel, glancing over at her as the car rolled to a stop at a red light. Soaking up the opportunity they’d graciously been given by the gods, he deftly captured her chin and crushed his lips against hers, kissing her in a way that stoked the smoldering want inside her into an inferno. She felt the sinful slide of his tongue brushing against hers, of his teeth tugging over her bottom lip like he wanted to take a bite out of her. Aelin hoped that he would.

When he pulled away, Aelin’s eyes stayed closed, her lips stayed parted. A shaky breath tumbled from them, filling the tense silence in the car. It took everything in her to sit back in her seat and let him drive. If she were to do what she truly wanted to do, she would have him pull over and climb with him into the backseat, his apartment and privacy be damned.

Aelin wasn’t so sure that Rowan would stop her if she tried to coax him into it. How they had managed to go this long without tearing each other’s clothes off was a mystery to her. As she looked over at him, her eyes lingered on those strong hands gripping the steering wheel, hands that she wanted gripping her in the same way. She desperately wanted to have his fingerprints bruised into her thighs, to see the imprints of his teeth all over her chest. The idea of his back being covered with the marks of her nails only fed that growing fire within her.

The drive seemed to take an eternity, consisting of stolen kisses at stop signs and longing looks. It was hard to keep her hands to herself, and that seemed to be the case for Rowan, too. By the time they reached his apartment, his hand had drifted so high up her thigh that it was burning a hole straight through her jeans.

Rowan held her hand loosely while they walked inside the building and to the elevator. As soon as the metal doors slid shut, however, he was tugging her toward him and pressing her back against the wall. His hands slid from her hands to her waist, dropping down to her thighs to lift her up on the railing. Aelin couldn’t help the moan that she breathed into his mouth, her fingers twining into his hair while he tugged at her lip.

When the elevator dinged on his floor, Rowan was dragging hot kisses down her throat. It seemed to be too much for him because he had to take a moment before he pulled away. Rowan’s mouth stayed against her neck while he caught his breath causing goosebumps to rise all over her skin. The doors were beginning to close again when he finally pulled away and shoved his hand out to stop them.

Aelin laughed then, sliding down from the railing and tugging him down the hall toward his apartment. At the door Rowan fumbled with his keys, pressing kisses to the side of her neck as the lock tumbled and gained them entrance.

Any restraint he had left seemed to dissipate as soon as the door was shut and locked. Once again her feet left the floor as he carried her to his room and laid her down on his bed. Their kisses were hungry, starving as he lifted her shirt and tossed it onto the floor. His hands made quick work of the rest of her clothing, and before long they were just skin on skin, his mouth drifting lower and lower down her body.

All of it was pure ecstasy, almost too much for her to handle. It didn’t take long before she fractured beneath his mouth, her nails digging into his back, scratching desperately over his skin as he moved back up her torso to press his lips against hers.

When he pulled back to look at her, something had shifted. Gone were the frantic kisses, replaced by deeper ones that stole her breath from her lungs. An impossible feeling was tugging at her heart as their bodies moved together beneath the sheets. This time when she fell over the edge, Rowan went with her. Their bodies were so tangled it was hard for her to think clearly enough about where he started and she ended. Their gasping moans were a harmony she wouldn’t soon forget as he collapsed on top of her.

Aelin’s heel pushed down the strong muscles of his thigh, his calves, silently begging him not to move. His lips ignited sparks over her collarbones as he settled atop her while her fingers ran softly up and down his sides.

Eventually Rowan rolled off of her, and she would have frowned had he not tugged her into his side a heartbeat later. Aelin draped her leg over his waist and nuzzled her face against his chest, pressing a single kiss over his heart.

The last thing she remembered was the feeling of his hands in her hair and his low humming of a forgotten melody as she drifted off into a blissful sleep.

~*~

Soft kisses were being dropped over her bare back, leaving a trail up and down her spine. Aelin hummed in approval as a grin spread across her face. Her eyes were still closed, ignoring the rays of sunshine that were likely illuminating her face, when Rowan pressed a kiss to her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

“Good morning,” she said hoarsely, her lack of voice another reminder of everything that had transpired last night. She had woken Rowan a handful of hours after their first time, rolling on top of him and placing teasing kisses over his neck and chest until his calloused hands guided her into position. That time, Aelin had been control, her hands gripping the headboard through wave after wave of pleasure. There was an ache between her legs that made her want to beg Rowan to touch her despite how exhausted she was.

“Hi, baby.”

Aelin’s smile widened as she rolled onto his back and looped her arms loosely around his neck. Rowan kissed her properly then, long and slow until she was sure they were going to go for a third round in under twelve hours.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, fingers brushing her hair back from her face. Aelin wanted to snort in response, knowing last nights makeup was likely smeared around her eyes and she reeked of sex and sweat. But there was such reverence in his tone that she couldn’t bring herself to disagree, his green eyes bright in the morning sun as they traced over every feature of her face. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her hand moved from his neck to the side of his face, thumb brushing lightly over the bruise that marred his skin.

“You saw me fight. You watched me beat the hell out of someone and you didn’t turn and run. You didn’t balk. You still wanted me.”

Aelin was positive the confusion was written all over her face from the downturn of her lips to her furrowed brow, but still she said, “Has that been a problem before?”

“Yes.” Rowan pressed a series of kisses over her face starting at her temple and ending at her jaw.

“It’s not a problem for me,” she promised, voice barely a whisper against his cheek. Rowan was quiet for a moment, turning his face to look at her. “You’re a fighter. That’s what you are. I wouldn’t want you to be anything but what you are.”

A mix of emotions fluttered across his face, whatever he felt being a catalyst for kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, nose, and finally her lips. When he pulled back, he looked hesitant and unsure. It was the first time Aelin had ever seen him like that and it felt raw. Like he was exposing a part of himself he seldom did. She was ready to ask him what was going on when he kissed her so thoroughly she’d nearly forgotten the conversation at hand.

“What if I wanted to be something else?” Rowan gazed down at her, teeth grazing over his bottom lip. Again, she swore she saw uncertainty on his face and in his tone as the question rushed out in a single breath.

“Like what?”

“Like your boyfriend.”

She couldn’t help the joyful laughter that bubbled up and out like champagne. Rowan grinned too, so widely that his dimples were deep in his cheeks. Her thumbs ran over them as she kissed him, both of their smiles making it almost difficult. It was too cute, the way he’d seemed almost nervous and bashful in his delivery. It felt like high school all over again in the most innocent way.

“You can be that, too.”

[comfortwriting]

Paying For It - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Dom Fred Weasley x Sub Fem Reader

About: During the Yule Ball, Fred notices a student from Durmstrang watching his girlfriend throughout the evening, when Fred goes away to get a drink, the student approaches Y/N and asks her for a dance. Fred is furious and jealous, and Y/N will pay for it.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dom/Sub, daddy-kink, breeding-kink, male receiving oral, rough-sex, female receiving oral, fingering, swearing, outdoor, unprotected rough sex, bulging.

Prompts:

103: "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you, you pathetic slut."

106: "Be careful," he warned you, fucking you faster "you know how bad I want to knock you up."

107: "Be a good girl" he growled "or daddy will have to punish you."

109: "You look so gorgeous staring up at me with those big tear-filled eyes, your throat full of my cock."

You were having the time of your life, being on Fred's arm in a stunning dress with your hair and makeup done, enjoying the band and being able to let loose with your boyfriend.

You still couldn't believe you were dating, that he even asked you to the ball - you spent the first two years of Hogwarts hating each other, trying to hide your real feelings.

"You look bloody stunning," Fred smiled, dancing to the upbeat music.

You blushed and danced along, your feet starting to hurt from breaking into your heels.

"Thank you," you shouted above the music "you look rather handsome, Freddie."

Fred rolled his eyes and pulled a face, pouting and pretending to be flattered, you slapped his shoulder playfully and giggled. Fred laughed along but stopped, he stared behind you and his face fell and hardened like stone.

"What's wrong?" you asked, "you haven't spiked the drinks bowl with those trial pastilles have you?!"

Fred shook his head "No, I haven't."

You furrowed your brows and stopped dancing "So, what is it?"

Fred focused back on you "Nothing, it doesn't matter." He didn't want to ruin your night.

But it wasn't just nothing. Fred noticed that throughout the evening, one of the lads from Durmstrang had been eyeing you up - practically undressing you with his eyes - and Fred hated it.

When Durmstrang arrived at Hogwarts, the lads were amazed and the women were starstruck - Fred worried that their skills would gain your attention - but you weren't wowed, you were more interested in Fred plans for the future.

Your interest in Fred and devotion to him didn't stop the student from staring at you, and most likely talking about you to Victor - and Fred could only grip you by the waist so many times to try and get the message across.

Fred pulled you closer, slow dancing with you despite the high energy song and the crowd jumping.

He could feel the jealousy inside of him brewing, he needed to get back on the quidditch pitch soon or he might end up snapping. You could sense that Fred was in distress, but you didn't press further, you knew it wouldn't help the situation.

Fred sighed, his mouth dry as a bone, looking at the table next to him, all the cups and glasses were empty.

"Fancy a drink, love?" he asked "I'm dying for one."

You nodded your head, you too needed a drink after all the shouting over the music.

"Please! Thanks, Freddie." You smiled.

Fred left you on your own, grumbling under his breath, trying to keep calm and reassure himself that the Durmstrang student wasn't a threat, that you were truly his.

Taking a seat at one of the tables, you watched Angelina and George dancing - unable to stop your smiling, until Ron stormed past in his dress robes - you burst out laughing and slapped your hand over your mouth, not wanting him to hear you and be embarrassed.

"Miss Y/L/N," an unfamiliar voice called out.

You turned your face and stared up at the lad dressed from head to toe in red velvet and fur, you had noticed him when messing around with Fred in the Great Hall and in the stands at the first event, you were hoping he had Krums autograph for you to give to Ron.

"Hello," you replied, feeling slightly awkward "are you alright?"

Fred turned around, two cups in his hand filled with juice, he dropped one to the floor, spilling it over his shoes at the sight of the student chatting you up. He lifted his cup to his lips, downing the liquid and tossing it, marching over towards you.

How dare he! Bloody waiting for me to leave so he could swoop in on her!

"Uh, I have a boyfriend, sorry-" you rejected him, your cheeks heating up and flushing pink.

Fred pushed in front of you, glaring at him "After something?" he asked, his voice unkind.

The tall and muscular student shook his head, unphased by Fred's arrival and walked off without a word.

"What did he want?" Fred asked frantically, his feet getting itchy.

You sighed, "Nothing-"

Fred pulled you up from your seat and escorted you out of the castle, breaking you out into the cold, dark, and snowy evening.

"Fred, slow down, please!" you huffed, getting out of breath.

"What did he want!" Fred pulled you behind the shrubbery, knowing if you were to get caught, your evening would be ruined.

You sighed, "He asked me for a dance, Fred, nothing more."

"He's been staring at you all evening and the one time I leave he swoops in on you like that!"

"Fred, keep your voice down!" You hissed.

"You're gonna pay for this, love!" Fred hissed back, flipping you and holding you down against the snow, your back freezing.

"Fred! What are you-" You giggled and whining against the cold.

Fred bit his lip, trying not to admit he was jealous.

You opened your mouth and raised your eyebrows "Fredrick Gideon Weasley, are you jealous!"

You grinned and Fred put his hand over your mouth.

"Be a good girl" he growled "or daddy will have to punish you."

Your heart skipped a beat, you and Fred rarely had sex or engaged in any sexual activity as of recent - you were too busy placing bets with the tournament and planning products for the joke shop.

Truth be told, you were liking the direction this was going - Fred being jealous, taking control.

You smirked and licked your bottom lip, the snow dampening your dress and hair.

"Oh really?" your voice low "Prove it."

Fred's erection was poking through his trousers, he unbuttoned them and yanked down his zip, his trousers falling to his ankles, pulling down his boxers, his erection slapped against his lower stomach.

"Don't just lay there," Fred stared at you, pumping his length "open up."

Getting on your knees, pushing them into the snow, you opened your mouth and looked up at Fred standing over you, looked down on you.

Fred grabbed the back of your head and fed you his cock, using his hand to bob your head, your saliva coated his length, making it easier to slide down your throat, making you gag and your eyes tear up.

Fred hung his head back and moaned softly, part of him hoped that the Durmstrang student would somehow go for a walk and come across you pleasuring him - anything to make it clear that you belonged to Fred and no one else, the thought of someone else wanting you made Fred take control, face fucking you.

The sound of you gagging and Fred fucking your face made you wet, and also made this whole experience exciting - would you get caught? would you get away with it? You didn't know but the possibilities were exciting.

"You look so gorgeous staring up at me with those big tear-filled eyes, your throat full of my cock." Fred groaned, his face stroking your bulging cheek.

Ignoring Fred, you hummed and sucked lazily, wanting to annoy him.

"Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you, you pathetic slut."

It worked.

You started to laugh and stopped sucking, pulling away from his length, your saliva pooling out of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

"What's so funny?" Fred asked, an annoyed expression forming on his face.

You shrugged, feeling daring "I'm missing a dance, for this."

Fred's eyes widened and he pulled you up, grabbing you by the waist and bending you over.

You giggled, doing your best to lift up your dress as Fred pulled down your knickers, the cold air attacking your exposed clit. He kicked your legs apart, spitting on his fingers and spreading his saliva in between your folds before using his tongue, circling it around your entrance hole.

Your moans spilt from your mouth at the feeling of Fred's warm tongue swimming whilst his fingers stimulated your clit, pulling away, Fred's lubricated length lined up against your entrance.

"Don't be too loud, now," he warned you, pushing his length deep inside you.

"Fuck," you moaned softly, adjusting to the feeling of being stretched out and filled up.

Fred's hands held onto your waist as he started to buck his hips, thrusting inside of you, deeper and deeper, taking out his feelings on your cunt.

"I wonder," you panted "if it would just be a dance for him-"

Fred fucked you harder, gritting his teeth, his fingers digging into you.

"It's strange," you continued "everyone knows I'm yours but he doesn't seem to understand."

"Be careful," he warned you, fucking you faster "you know how bad I want to knock you up."

"Maybe you should," you sighed, trying your best not to grin.

Fred stopped for a moment, catching his breath before gripping you by the hair, pounding you with his length.

"Is that what you want? To be filled with my seed? For everyone to know that I've fucked you senseless."

You couldn't stop yourself from moaning out in pleasure, you had to cover your mouth to muffle the noise, even the slapping was loud enough - how you hadn't already been caught, you didn't know.

"I want it just as much as you do, daddy."

Fred could no longer control himself, the idea and thought of everyone knowing he fucked you made him closer to cumming inside of you - your stomach started to tense up, your legs shaking, you could feel yourself release - your cum coating him.

"That's it," Fred panted, "fucking cum!"

Fred's lips, like yours, were bright red from the biting and the cold air, your walls strangled him, and as he twitched, he came inside of you, holding you close to him, his face getting lost in your tangled hair.

"I told you, you would pay for it," he panted, planting a kiss on your neck.

"I'm glad I did," you replied "No one else I'd rather be with, Freddie."

taglist: @horrorxweasley @rreeaahh @inglourious-imagines @onlyfreds @xmalfoyweasleyx @scorpireads @themoonis-beautiful-tonight @enya-2004 @nimueh-lacus @youralternantpersonality @pottahishotasf @supermassiveblackhope 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.3

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, oral.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You grow desperate.

Note: So... yeah, another long ass part and yet this story is gonna keep going forever. 🤡

Anyways, I’m excited for this and hope you are too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wiped your hand with the cloth, the cum cooling in a sickly layer across your palm. The same daze washed over you as that morning after the party. Your ears pricked as you listened to Peter in the next room; a faucet turned on and off and you heard a drawer snap closed. He sighed as he strode back through to the bedroom, fixing his belt as he smirked at you.

“Princess,” he came closer and pointed to the corner where a tall hamper stood hidden beside a sleek black dresser. “You haven’t even given me a chance to give you the grand tour.”

You backed away from him and went to dump the cloth in the tall basket. Like everything else in the room, it was ornate and ridiculously fancy. You wondered if his toilet paper was even embossed with his initials. The man, as you were realising, never did anything half-assed.

“Come on,” he waved you to him and held his arm out. “It’s a big place and I want you to feel… at home.”

You stopped short and stared at him. “I don’t… Can I just go--”

“We’re not done,” he snapped his fingers and tapped his toe, “Be good, Princess, and I might just send you off before dark.”

You inhaled and held your breath as you crossed to him. He wrapped his arm around you, his hand on your lower back, and ushered you to the door. He pulled it open and you stepped out into the hallway. He patted your ass as he pointed you onward with his other hand.

“Guest rooms,” he pointed to three doors along the airy hall, “A reading room at the end.” He led you along, “Just around the corner, my office, I guess you’d call it.” He spoke casually as if having a dozen room was hardly extravagant. “At the front of the house, the sunroom. there’s a nice balcony overlooking the yard. You can spend the whole day out in the sun.”

He squeezed your ass as you hesitated and he pointed out several more bedrooms and rooms meant for little more than sitting and admiring the fine furnishing. As you reached the top of the stairs, he urged you down, and followed as he hummed in approval of each step you took.

“I like those jeans, princess,” he said as he caught up to you at the bottom, “But I’m not looking for a jeans girl.”

You faced him and your nostrils flared. You rubbed your palm against the denim. What happened in the bedroom flashed through your head and your breath caught in your throat. You cleared it away as anger flowed through your veins.

“Well, I wear jeans so that’s too bad,” you said rigidly. “Isn’t it?”

He chuckled and brought his fingertips to your cheek. He caressed your skin and gazed into your eyes.

“You’ll wear what I say or nothing at all,” he purred dangerously, “My guests wouldn’t mind either way.”

Your lips parted and you recoiled from his touch. You crossed your arms and glanced around the foyer. You heard muffled voices, a low rumble from another room. You bit back your resent and raised your head. “Fine.” You uttered.

“You’ll love the pool, princess,” he pointed you to the left, “Just through here.” 

He took you through the front room with its expensive sofas and armchairs, an artificial fireplace that took up half the wall, the front windows that looked out into the finely curated garden, and the bar curled against the back just before the archway into the next. 

A long kitchen of pristine whites and pale silvers. The rear wall was almost entirely transparent and a pair of sliding doors opened up into the backyard. Peter showed you out onto the mosaic plateau that coiled out around the vast pool, a hot tub swirling in the corner opposite a rocky grotto. It was like watching some indulgent special on the entertainment channel yet completely unlike anything you’d ever seen in your life.

“There’s a sauna in the basement as well,” he tickled your spine, “And anything you need, I can get.”

You looked at him. He winked and ran his tongue between his lips. You felt out of place in your jersey tee and jeans, the sneakers you wore for errands worn out and scuffed. And you were disjointed; as much as you didn’t belong, you didn’t want to be there.

“Come on, let’s go check on the boys,” he grabbed your hand and you slowly acquiesced.

Back through the sliding doors, your soft soles squeaked on the marble and you went to the right. You head an odd clack as you passed through the dining room with seating for at least a dozen, and through to the second room at the front of the house. The noise was louder as you entered as Steve leaned over the felt and squinted.

Bucky turned as he held a cue and his cheek twitched as he sighted you beside Peter. You fidgeted and the man beside you held you tighter as his hand rested on your hip.

“You two look busy,” he scoffed.

Steve sank his shot and stood. “You told us to stick around,” he raised his brows, “You’re not exactly a great host, Parker.”

“No? You’re playing on my table, sitting around on my couch, eating my food,” Peter’s fingers tapped your hip. “Which isn’t cheap given your pal has a bottomless pit in him.”

Bucky chuckled and turned his cue. His eyes lingered on you before they met Peter’s.

“Well, we’ve been running around cleaning up your messes.” Bucky intoned.

“You been paying your debt.” Peter rebuffed. “And you know that you need me as much as I need you.”

Steve cleared his throat and nodded at you. His jaw clenched and Peter glanced in your direction. He turned to you and brought his hands up to cradled your face. 

“Do me a favour, princess,” he placed a peck on your lips, “Go find something to do.”

You stared at him dumbly. Do what? You peered at the far doorway and thought of just walking out the front door. He chuckled and his hands slid down to your shoulders. 

“You won’t make it past the gate.” He warned, “Now go on.”

He tugged on your tee and released you. He turned to the other men as Steve lined up a second shot. You huffed and strode past the table into the foyer. You neared the bottom of the stairs, trying to remember where everything was. The men’s voices carried through as you stepped up on the first stair.

“You help us with Tony, we’re even,” Bucky said. “But you keep stringing us along and you’re going down with him.”

“You won’t get to him without me,” Peter growled, “We both know that.”

You shivered and climbed up the stairs. You shouldn’t listen, you were in deep enough. You had no idea what the men were up to or why they were after Tony, but you really didn’t want to find out the details. You only had to bide your time until Peter let you go. 

He was going to let you go, right?

✨

Peter found you in what he called the reading room. It was more a small library. It smelled of paper and leather bindings. You were restless at first, skimming the spine of the books, and finally picked out a classic you once read in high school. You opened it but didn’t read, instead staring at the font and trying to think of how exactly you’d ended up there.

As Peter came in, you closed the book and sat up. He seemed amused and stayed in the doorway, hands in his pocket as he admired you. 

“Keep reading,” he said, “Don’t mind me at all, princess.”

“It’s…” You started but smothered your voice. Arguing had gotten you nowhere and if you could keep him placid, he might just let you sit in peace a little longer. “Okay.”

You opened the book again. This time, you focused and read each line slowly. You remembered why you hadn’t liked the book in your teenage years. It was dry and the protagonist was so wrapped up in his own voice, he seemed ridiculously tone deaf and detached from any genuine thought.

You sensed Peter moving in your peripheral. He went to the window and then paced along a shelf of books. As he neared, you pretended not to notice. You shifted as you felt his warmth and turned the page. You did your best not to notice as he knelt on the floor but lowered the book to your lap as he pushed your legs apart.

“What the hell--”

“Shhh,” he rubbed your thighs, “Keep reading, princess.”

You gaped at him as he pushed his fingers under the book and nudged it up. “What are you--”

“Just relax,” he slithered as he lifted the book and your hands followed to keep hold of it. “Keep reading.”

You squirmed and found it hard to keep your arms up. He picked at your fly and you tried to close your legs but they met his sides. He tutted as he unbuttoned your jeans and pushed the zipper down. He pushed up the hem of your tee and kissed your stomach as his fingers curled under the waist of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Peter,” you gasped and lowered the book so that it collided with his head. “Stop!”

He reached up blindly and moved the book back into place before your eyes. His fingers slid around to the side of your jeans and he grazed his teeth against your skin. He bit down and you yelped.

He tugged on your jeans and jerked you roughly. “Come on, princess,” he pulled your pants again, as if to lift you from the seat. “Don’t you want yours?”

You trembled and planted your feet. You raised your pelvis uncomfortably as he kept yanking on your jeans. He slid them down your thighs with your panties and you dropped down heavily. You snaked your hand down to cover yourself and he swept it aside. He leaned back on his heels and gazed up at you.

He rubbed your thighs and pinched. “Princess…” his voice sank deep into your chest. “We both know you want it.”

“Peter, please, I want to go--”

“I like that one,” he looked at the spine of the book, “Read to me.”

“I…” You hissed as he pulled your jeans further down your legs. You repositioned the books and sniffed as he rolled the denim to your ankles and tore off your sneakers in a single swipe. He moved you in the chair and you whimpered. “Peter--”

“Read!” He demanded as he framed your pelvis with his hands. “I wanna hear your voice.”

Your thighs tensed as he bent over your lap and his hot breath tickled your skin. You gulped and blinked at the page. You forced your voice out as the words passed from your lips without understanding. You didn’t follow the story as Peter pressed his mouth to your vee and felt along your folds with his fingertips.

You gasped as he slipped his tongue down over your clit and hummed. Your breath caught and he squeezed your thigh. You reread the same sentence and spoke through gritted teeth. His fingers teased your entrance as he flicked his tongue around your bud. Your words were punctuated by your sharp breaths.

He suckled on your clit and slowly pushed his finger into you. You nearly tore the page as you turned it. Your nails sank into the cover and your feet arched as you pushed against him hungrily. His mouth sent a ripple through you and you hiccuped in surprise as he added another finger.

You lost track of your place and dropped the book against your chest. You threw your head back and moaned. You closed your eyes and gripped the book tightly as Peter urged you to the edge of the seat. He kept his head buried between your legs and curled his fingers. You could hear your arousal as your walls clung to him.

“Oh, god,” you moaned and rocked your hips against him.

He kept on, encouraged by your surrender and you let the book slip down between your side and the chair. You gripped the upholstered arm as your head lolled back and forth in ecstasy. Your nerves stormed and bounced off each other until finally the coil snapped and searing heat exploded in your veins. 

You whined through your climax and panted at the ceiling as Peter urged you on. Your eyes slowly opened as his fingers slowed and he pulled away from your cunt reluctantly. Your heart beat wildly and you lifted your head as he kneaded your thighs.

You swore as a figure stood in the open doorway. Peter hadn’t shut the door and you’d been too distracted by him to notice. You grabbed the book and covered your lap with it as Peter looked over his shoulder. Bucky grinned as he leaned against the frame.

“Just came to tell you we’re off.” He said, “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pushed Peter away and bent to pull your jeans over you. You crossed your legs as he turned to face the other man.

“Well, then go,” Peter snipped.

Bucky chuckled and pushed himself straight. “See ya, Pete.” His eyes flitted over to you. “Sweetheart.”

“Go!” Peter hissed and Bucky waved him off as he turned back down the hall.

You watched him go, embarrassed but tingly in the afterglow of your orgasm. Peter smoothed back the strands of hair that had fallen down his forehead. He grinned as he looked down at you and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and dropped it beside him.

“We didn’t even finish chapter one,” he drew the jeans away from you and turned the book over. “I’m hooked already.”

✨

You were in shock as you stood in the elevator of your building. Time fractured as the hours passed. You didn’t think Peter would ever let you go but when he did, you barely understood what was happening. He helped you back into your jeans, though your panties had disappeared. Then, as you walked gingerly, he led you back down through the foyer and to his car.

You didn’t remember his search but he dropped your phone into your lap and pushed your purse against your thigh. You stared at the windshield and braced yourself as he drove through the gates. The ride was short, or lost to your frazzled mind. He kissed you goodbye, you remembered that; deeply, longingly. Then, a final warning. 

“Wear a skirt tomorrow,” he cooed, “Six o’clock, princess.”

You nodded to appease him. And then it all blurred again and the metal door slid open and you stepped out onto your floor. You fished out your keys, your phone still clutched in your other hand. It was late, Halle would be home soon, if not already.

The apartment was dark and you felt invisible as you blended in with the shadows and went to your room. You undressed, the denim rough against your flesh. You groaned as your core pulsed and your sensitive clit thrummed. 

You crawled into bed, naked. Even the blankets made you squirm. You were on edge yet exhausted. You stared at the ceiling and let the toll of the day set in. You were dragged down into the dark, your eyelids sagged, and your limbs were heavy. You heard yourself snoring as you succumbed to the night.

When you woke, it was light again. The day before felt like a dream. You peeked out into the hall. The apartment was quiet. You grabbed a towel and covered yourself to sneak into the bathroom. The whine of the faucet awoke you fully and the hot water stripped away the remnants of yesterday.

You inhaled the hot steam as you dried yourself and once more swept the towel around your body. You went out to the kitchen and loaded the coffee machine. Somehow you had to get your head together and do some work. It was Monday. That meant you couldn’t get distracted by the chaos that had erupted in your personal life.

You winced as you heard Halle’s door. She yawned as she entered the kitchen.

“Hey,” she said. “Man, I was so late last night, you were asleep when I got home.”

“Oh yeah? That bad?” The scent of coffee filled your head and chest.

“Yeah, fucking asshole had me auditing my own reports all night,” she grumbled. “Well, how was your day?”

You stared at her. You turned and got a mug from the cupboard. “Lazy.” You lied.

“So… what happened with Peter?” She asked coyly.

You sniffed as you spun back and watched the drip of the machine. You shrugged. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated? You went on one date?” She snorted, “You really do make the most of things.”

You glanced at her darkly and grabbed the carafe. You poured yourself a coffee. “Tell me again, was it worth it fucking your boss?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, are you seeing him again?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Ugh, but he’s so cute and so rich!”

“Rich? And how do you know that?”

“Oh, I saw that watch he was wearing.” She said, “It wasn’t cheap.”

“I see, so I should like him because he’s got good taste or because he’s loaded?”

“Jeez, what’s wrong with you?” She scowled. “I’m just tryna have fun.”

You sighed in exasperation. “There’s nothing wrong, Hal, I just don’t need you poking around in my personal life. You’ve done enough already.”

“I was trying to help you. I mean maybe a ‘hey, thanks Halle for getting me a date.’”

“I don’t have time for this. Or you. I have work--”

“Work, work, work,” she sneered, “That’s always your excuse.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell her everything about Peter; how pushy he was; how shady he was; how you were terrified of him and whatever it was he did. About the men he surrounded himself with and the gun under his jacket. But you didn’t.

“No, it’s called responsibility, Hal,” you snapped and snatched up your mug.

You left her in the kitchen and as you got closer to your bedroom, your heart sank lower and lower. What was happening to your life? Everything had been in order and suddenly, it was all fucked up.

You shut your door harshly and set your coffee on your desk. Your phone sat on the corner and lit up. It was a text from Peter reminding you of his last words; ‘pick you up at 6’. You sat and stared at the message. Six. You had until six to figure this all out.

✨

The subway ride to the station was the longest of your life. Each stop made your heart leap and as you got closer to your destination, you felt sick. It was your last resort. You didn’t think it would get to this but you couldn’t think of any other way out.

You almost felt guilty as you climbed the steps to the station doors. The memory of Peter’s touch sent chills through you. He was gentle and intoxicating but it didn’t change who he was. You pushed through the doors and looked around. A flurry of activity rushed around you; officers escorted criminals and stopped to chat with each other as others waited in the crowded chairs for their turn at the counter.

You sat, uneasy and anxious. You watched others approach the desk and speak to one of the officers. Most left looking disappointed and you felt less certain as your turn grew closer. When you got up and greeted the round faced officer, he smiled and asked your purpose.

“Um, well, I…” You looked at him badge; Officer Leeds. “I don’t really know what exactly I need to do but… I have someone who won’t leave me alone.”

“Oh? Like a stalker? An ex?” He asked.

“No, not exactly but I, uh, keep telling him to go away and he… won’t.” You frowned. “I just don’t want him around.”

“Okay, well, we can file a report and go from there.” He searched around and pulled out a set of papers. “Come with me.” He led you away from the counter and to a smaller desk. He sat and waved you down across from him. “We’ll start with your details.”

He went over each space; name, address, phone number… By the time you were done all that, you were nervous and twitchy.

“And you know this person who is bothering you?” He asked.

“Yes, kind of,” you uttered. “His name is Peter.” You gulped. “Parker.”

He nodded and wrote down the name. “And what actions has he taken that have made it necessary for you to file a report against him?”

“We… I went on one date with him. And after, I told him I didn’t want to see him again. I stopped messaging, I blocked him, and I thought he got the point but then he shows up at my apartment and…” You took a breath, “ He had a gun. He took it out, he pointed it at me, and then he made me go with him and…” Your eyes were glossy as you thought of what happened next; of what Peter had done. “He wouldn’t let me go until…” You shuddered. You couldn’t say it. “He just kept me there for hours.”

“But he did end up letting you go?”

“Yeah but… not right away. I didn’t even wanna go with him. And… he had a gun.” You repeated. “Don’t you understand?”

“So, you went on a date with a guy and you're having second thoughts?” He asked.

“No, he won’t leave me alone,” you insisted.

“Alright, well, I got all this down. We’ll process the report and if he comes around again you let us know and we can add an addendum.”

“A report? What am I gonna do with a piece of paper?”

“These things are complicated, ma’am. You see, we need to document a pattern of predatory and harassing behaviour before we can apply for any sort of order against him.” He held out his hands. “All you can do is keep a log of everything he does here on out.”

“So what, I walk out of here and… he shows up again and…” You rubbed your chin. “There’s nothing else?”

He shook his head. He looked away and you felt like breaking something. 

“Is there someone else I can talk to? Someone higher up?” You hated how the question made you sound but you checked your phone and it was already close to four.

“Ma’am, we really don’t have the time to be--”

“So is that a no?” You interrupted.

He stopped and took a breath. He stood and smoothed out his shirt across his stomach. He was short and chubby and at a glance, you would say he looked friendly. He was anything but as his face fell and he stomped away with a grumble.

He returned shortly after and crossed his arms. “Come on. Captain says he’ll give you two minutes.”

You stood and followed him around the pen. He took you to an office separate from the rest and pointed you inside. You entered with a knock on the frame and a man with thinning dark curls looked up from the file on his desk. He stood as he welcomed you in with a gesture and waited until you sat to do the same.

The plate on his desk read Cpt. Hogan and the badge on his chest marked his rank.

“So,” he leaned back in his chair and took the stapled papers. “You have an admirer.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes. They weren’t taking you seriously. You clutched the wooden arms of the chair. “I have told this man to stay away from me and all he has done is threaten me with a gun and dragged me out of my home.”

“Physically?” He asked. “Like he physically forced you out?” He looked over the report.

“He had a gun, what was I supposed to do?”

“And you didn’t call us sooner…”

You shook your head. You stood and pulled your purse higher up on your shoulder. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Wait,” he said as you made to turn away. “Look, there isn’t much I can do beyond this report. It’s just the way it is. A lot of paperwork, not much action. But,” he stood and opened a drawer. “These are my details.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled on the back of the card. “That’s my personal number. You take that and you give me a call if you need me. I’ll look over this case myself.”

You took the card and stared at it. ‘Captain Harold Joseph Hogan’. You turned it in your hand and looked at him. “Thank you.” You said quietly.

“Hey, look, I know the city. It’s scary. There’s a lot of men you can’t trust. Shady characters.” He neared and followed you to the door. “Now, you take care of yourself and remember, you can call me.”

“Thank you, again.” You tucked the card in your pocket.

“Here, I’ll show you out,” he waited for you to walk through the door and tailed you. 

You passed Ned at the front counter dealing with a new citizen. Happy stepped around you and opened the front door for you. You stepped out with a smile and as you were about to thank the captain again, you tripped and caught yourself on the long door handle. Down by the curb was a familiar car and leaning against it, a familiar figure.

You looked at Captain Hogan. “That’s him.” You murmured.

“Happy,” Peter stood and took long strides towards the steps, “How are you, Captain?”

“Parker,” Hogan shook Peter’s hand and you bit your lip to keep it from trembling. “You know how it is. Not easy cleaning up the city.”

“No,” you sputtered, “This can’t--” You tried to sidestep Peter and Hogan latched onto your arm.

“Honey,” he lowered his voice, “I got you a ride home. Safer than the train.”

“Please,” you begged, “Please. How--”

“Now go on,” he let you go as Peter grabbed your other hand, “You got my number.”

Peter tugged on you until you stumbled down the steps. You looked back as Hogan stood by the precinct doors and watched with a smile. You were dragged to the car and the door opened, nearly hitting you. You flinched and look at the leather interior.

“Peter…” You breathed.

“Get in, princess,” he said firmly as he let go of your hand and jabbed your arm painfully. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“Because this is my city and I own everyone and everything in it.” He growled. “Now you get in the car so we can talk.”

Your eyes burned and your throat constricted. You sat and he slammed the door. He got in on the other side as you stared at the dashboard. He startled you as he snatched your phone and you tried to take it back. He slapped your hand away and tucked your cell into his jacket.

He reached over gruffly and buckled your seat belt. You reeled as he started the car and pulled out into traffic. You were shaking badly and could barely breath as your heartbeat thumped in your ears. You didn’t know where he was taking you; you’d never gone this way before.

He stopped in an alley. You could smell piss and old cigarettes. The seat belt snapped back as he hit the button and grabbed your arm. He turned you to him and you felt cold metal under your chin. The barrel of the gun prodded above your throat.

“I told you, princess, I don’t play games.” He snarled. “And I don’t give second chances. I rarely give warnings.”

“I’m...sorry,” you were frantic and your breath came so shallow you could barely speak. “Please.”

“I’ve been good to you. I only want to be good to you.” He bit out. “But you keep pushing and pushing and pushing.”

“It was a mistake.” You quivered. “I didn’t-- I’m afraid.”

“Mistake?” He repeated. “A mistake?”

He pressed the gun harder under your chin. You grasped his wrist as you stared into his dark eyes; dilated and dangerous. He shook his head and his jaw squared.

“Princess…” He muttered and squeezed.

You closed your eyes, ready for the end, but all that came was a click. He drew the gun away from your throat and sat back. He snickered and you fell against your seat. Your lashes fluttered and you watched him as he checked the chamber of his pistol. He tutted and felt around in his jacket. He loaded it and tucked it away.

“Looks like I make mistakes too,” he drawled, “But I don’t make them twice.” 

He smacked the steering wheel and his knuckles turned white as he curled his fingers. He started the car as you hugged yourself and withheld a sob.

“Do you get me now, princess?”

You nodded. Your eyes blurred with tears and you quickly swiped them away as he reversed out of the alleyway. “I get it.” You sniffed. “I get it.”

[muffindaddystyles]

After all, Moon is just a rock without Sun.

Trigger warning: Mentions of failed attempt suicide, blood and hospital, Angst.

It’s a chirpy day. Though, there are grey murky clouds in Y/N's apartment and she doesn’t know from where all of it came from, but this is the end.

She badly wants this to be an end.

She stares the brown envelope sitting at her nightstand and all of it comes crashing upon her tiny head and drowning her into depths and sorrows and guilt and agony of her past and present, reminiscing the cracks of happiness she got here and there.

Her breath shudders. The excitement of valentines day glittery outside and she smiles, happy for everyone out there getting to be loved and cherished and pampered.

She gets all of that too – with Harry she gets to pool into all of the giddiness but —- there always buts with Harry because she isn’t his person, she never was.

He’s always gonna be her true bezzy as he describes in true Harry fashion.

She’s grateful for that.

But, she thinks it’s enough for her. She has reached where everyone human wants to – getting to feel loved after many hardships and now when she has enjoyed it and got to know what it feels like to have it all -- she thinks it’s time for her to go.

To get rid of the loneliness that resides inside her, she was never able to overcome and she pinches the blade in between her fingertips and bunches Harry’s hoodie towards her nose smelling it and it warms her heart, it warms every part of her and she really really thinks that the apology in that letter will be enough for him to move on.

She whimpers. Staring blankly as the blade inches into the thin skin of her wrist slowly and painfully and to make it less painfully she tears her delicate skin apart in one swipe and bites down a cry, putting the blood coated life taking thing on the couch and stands up a bit wobbly letting the thick dark droplets fall on the carpet.

She walks towards her bed and flumps into white sheets. Eyelids fluttering and lips parted shallow and they snap open upon the beep of her notifications and when she looks at it – a sad sob tugs out of her lungs.

She lays on her side not focusing the way blood seeps into white sheets and spreads like roots, making a horrific past of her tragedy. Instead, she keeps on watching the video Harry sent to her with hooded tired eyes and a beautiful peaceful smile.

Snuggles into sheets that smells like sunnies and peonies and the cinnamon musk he wears.

His skin soft and curls bouncy and everywhere, his gorgeous face on display and his dimples coveting adorably as he tries to hover the camera at the tray of red velvet cupcakes just as she likes, “Look ducky made cupcakes f'you – two batch in total —--,” She really wants to know for whom the other batch is for but she just shakes her head and giggles wetly, letting her tear tickle her nose when he pouts and shows her the frosting, “Ruined the tops – tried to make frogs on it —-- remember you asked me to? I still’ve some naked ones we could try some froggies on it later —---- .....” His words spins soothingly in her brain and her blurry gaze fills with panicked tears; because she just realised that this isn’t what she wants.

What did she do?

Oh my goodness what did I do?

It’s late and I can’t go back and I’m really gonna miss Sparkly and he'll be so sad to see me like this, but it’s too late Y/N – her heart thumped and it jumps when something pounded loudly and it’s her head maybe.

Harry waits at the door. His grin big and gleeful. He jumps on his toes a bit and he couldn’t believe he's about to do it today, but no matter what happens he’s gonna confess to her and he frowns a tad when no response comes from inside – not even the hum of her sweetness and the prattle of her steps --- there's eerie silence and Harry doesn’t like that.

He waits and ponders over. Then sighs and was about to retreat back but he knows that he’s too lazy to walk all the way back and come back again, so he shimmies her door's key from under her lavender pot.

When he stumbles inside he grins seeing his sleepy head –-- snoring in broad daylight, his ears perking at his own voice echoing through the speaker of her phone and it makes his heart flutter and he has this evil plan to bounce on her mattress and annoy the shit out of her.

But.

When he comes to stand over her and his eyes falls over the bloody sheets and her wrist cut open, her body limp and lifeless – her cheeks soaked with tears and her mouth gasping for oxygen his grin falls drastically into a frown as he went blank for a moment.

Nothing.

Just pitch darkness.

His heartbeat drops.

His breath getting sucked out of his lungs and he feels like fainting.

The white noise that stings his ears and the heart that stopped working a second ago revives back and he wished it didn’t – the tray falls from his trembling hand onto the floor and he’s turning her over and his tears are falling from his throat down to her skin and he’s tripping on his knees and cradling her face trying to jostle her unconscious body.

“Baby ---.. wake up please ....” He weeps and tries to shake her with all the frailness he was left with and he's despising how her usual glowy skin is getting paler by every moment.

She isn’t his Y/N. She'd never do it without giving a second thought for him because she cares about him and he screams hoarsely trying to lift her up and into his chest to hug her – but everything has got so heavy for him.

He's feeling so small.

So helpless and vulnerable.

“Baby!!! I said wake up, pet --- s'not fair ---... y’ve to —- y've t'.... brought – brought you yer favourites .. now don’t be mean and open yer eyes, I know you’re teasin’ me.” He has officially lost it. He thinks he’s going crazy and hallucinating things – trying to avoid the reality.

He cries patting her cheek and his breath hitches in his throat when he plants his ear to her chest and there’s feeble thump of her heart.

He’s lunging quick and picking her up in his arms and squeezing her protectively to himself, slipping outside through her door in rush and panic – her head bobs and her wrist dangles from his forearm as he doesn’t wait for elevator and flies down the stairs with shouts for people to fuck themselves away and breaking every speed limit to reach hospital.

His grip on her hoodie loosens with each step they take towards the ER and he pleads them to let him in but the doctors pushes him out of the flapping doors and he’s tumbling back and onto the tiled floor, almost straining his ankle in attempt.

They told him she’s okay. But, needs a good rest since she lost alot of blood and visitors aren’t allowed –-- before five hours so he waits – he waits alone and with dire pain just to get a single glimpse of her and asking the doctors again and again if she’s okay.

Next he knows the sun is leaving him and he’s left in company of darkness before his friends are surrounding him – comforting and consoling him.

He doesn’t need it. Because, he isn’t feeling anything. He’s numb to his stomach and when they look down at him in sympathy – everything comes churning in his throat and he’s pushing everyone away and tumbling towards the washroom sliding against the floor knees first and throwing inside the bidet with loud groany noises.

He feels like all of his organs will come out and spurt infront of him at this point.

He tries to grab onto something and almost falls back, walks on his wobbly legs towards the sink and splashes water harshly on his face that it hurts.

His eyes struck at himself in the mirror and he can’t recognize himself ... his eyes hollow and his skin crumbled and his flimsy shirt sticking to his chest from dried blood and he doesn’t give a fuck unless his baby is alright and he’s griping the edges of the sink hunching forward as more cries squelches out of him.

He doesn’t wipe the tears away and when walks outside Sarah is rushing to help him but he’s gesturing her to stop and falling on the bench. Throwing his head against the wall and his chest heaves as he mutters gaining everyone's attention, “She almost died ...”

“She’s okay now, H.” Luna tells him but he kisses his teeth and grunts angrily.

“No. No, you don't get it!! She. Is. Not.” He pushes the heels of his palms against his sockets and rubs them in frustration, “I was the only one she got ‘n –-- I wanted to make her feel loved not — fuck, I failed her. I failed the only person that matters to me, ‘course I lacked somethin’ s'why she didn’t tell me what was goin' on with her.” Fresh tears brims at his lashes and Sarah squeezes his shoulder.

“When I saw her all blue ‘n bloody, was so scared to even touch her ---... thought I died at that mo' ‘s worse than dyin' Sarah ... watchin' ye’loved one slip from yer life ‘n – ‘n that you’ll never have ‘em again —--...” He stutters and runs his palms down his face.

“I’m in so much pain watchin' her suffer on that ventilator ...” His bottom lip wobbles and he rocks back and forth on the bench, hair falling in his eyes but he doesn’t do anything to push them back.

Luna doesn’t have a heart to give him that letter. Not knowing how he’ll take it considering he’s already broken to pieces and dust, lingering on bit of a hope.

But, when the nurse comes and tells them their time is over and only one person could stay with Y/N, Luna's handing the letter to Harry leaving him confused and frowning.

Though, he’s glad when they let him inside the room and a shiver runs down his spine upon seeing thick tubes pricking and poking the delicate skin of his ducky.

Her unconscious body looks peaceful and halo like and it’s scary.

He doesn’t make a noise. Tries to be as quite as possible and bites down at his lip to avoid from tearing up but he ends up so, caressing her flushed cheek and kisses her temple feeling her light breath hit his neck.

“’M so sorry, ducklin'. I’m baby. Fo' being late in everythin’ ....---” He sniffles. Wiping at his nose and sits beside her as close as he could – feathering his finger pads at her knuckles and flinches back when the finger she has a heart rate monitor on twitches and he’s afraid that he hurt her.

He keeps on watching her not blinking an eye and when he couldn’t sleep he takes a look at the letter sitting in his lap.

He shakes his head and ignores it. Then his trembly fingers are opening it and raising it infront of his eyes and he recognizes the writing right away and it makes him whimper pathetically.

He recites the words. Not able to feel the moisture ticking down his throat, the pet name she used to call him rattling in his brain and he remember the night they met – he can never forget that night.

Dear Sparkly, I know you’ll be very grumpy and angry with me when you’ll get this letter -- but, it’s okay. Yeah? I’ll be looking at you from above don’t worry —-- so you better not be silly with yourself.

And he could imagine her sweet eyes getting all big and concerned.

I just wanted to let you know that I love you. I’ve loved you .... since that night when you were sitting at those steel stairs opposite to the rooftop of the vacant building I was sitting at and you eyed me peculiarly when I stood at the edge waving at you – just because you had your earphones plugged but you weren't wearing them --- it was cute because you were too engulfed, staring at the moon.

He’s baffled that she remembers the smallest detail. Harry wasn’t feeling very well and came to that empty rooftop to relax, only to get interrupted by a cute girl.

She trailed behind him like a ducklin' after that -- as if she got the cute orange beak to chatter his anxiousness away.

I want you to be careless and free and never feel like you’re struck inside your own body and I want you to love -– to make sure you feel loved.

I hope that you’ll have someone with whom you could gaze at moon for hours, listening to Beatles together sharing one headphone (I hated them by the way) and when they sit beside you, it feels like they’re the moon -– like they glimmer your insides, when you touch them it’s all heavenly and pretty and it makes you feel loved and jittery.

His heart clenches into fist and clots at that and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Heartbroken.

Sad.

Terribly sick.

He isn’t liking it reading it. He’s hating it infact. He was about to stop. Tear it in pieces and dump it in trash. But, then again he couldn’t.

Because Harry. I’m not your moon. I’m the sun. That’d irritate you and you’d never be able to look at it with full heart eyes –-- I’m too hot for you, pun right there. My touch will burn you instead of filling you with jitteriness. You’d wait for me to go and yearn for the moon to come back --- Always on your toes because everything becomes too much of a heat for you and I don’t want that –- I love you but that doesn’t mean I’ll take you down with me.

I’m not that selfish, Harry.

I love you and I was too embarrassed to tell you this in person.

I hope you forgive me.

Yours Sun.

He’s cornered up and sobbing into his elbow, as the paper written with her whole soul hangs from the tips of his fingers and he takes a look at her with cloudy eyes and digs his nails into his knees.

He hiccups jumping forward and towering her when she stirs with a whine and Harry’s cupping her cheeks, “Oh my ...,” He’s pressing the button to call the nurses and doctors and gives her an eskimo kiss before pulling away and examining her closely.

Her eyes are pink floods of tears and humiliation. Even though they’re unaware of her presence and exhausted.

Her lips chapped as she rolls her tongue to mumble some words, “’m sorry ...” She whimpers as her arm shoots with pain and Harry’s shaking his head, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Shhh. Shh. Baby ducky, ‘s okay. Tell me you’re okay, please tell me you’re not leavin’ me again.” She slip shuts her eyes and nods. She’s weak and frail. Even if the doctors checked her and made her drink some fluids she’s still not able to move without Harry’s assistance.

She has her eyes closed. Head sunk into pillow and they flutter when Harry speaks, in the most softest voice and draws circles on her knee while doing so.

“I love you.” He croaks out. Gulping down the bulk choking him alive and she stares him, her heart pausing for a bit and his eyes widen seeing the monitor going weird and it makes her cheeks heat up.

Embarrassed she looks away and Harry takes her chin between his fingers and gazes her with profound intensity and fondness.

“You’re my sun. You’re. I bask in yer warmth and y’make me feel warm everywhere, it oozes from me every pore in adoration and love. Even when you don’t appear I feel your presence and the clouds could never be pink without ye' ‘n my skies would never be cherubic if it’s not you my darling —... I gaze moon only for Sun to peek from the hues and I always wait fo’ ye’ —-- always gonna be there on that rooftop counting the seconds you shine up my world.” His fingers shaky as he slips it between her palms lingering to get relief from her touch and she sniffs, blinking the tears away accepting him and kissing the inside of his palm.

“After all, Moon is just a rock without Sun.” He whispers and that was enough for her to close the distance between them and place her cold lips against his and he embraces her tenderly -- pecking her upper lip twice then kissing her whole mouth to whisk out all his love into it and her fingers brushes over his jaw muttering against his taffy lips.

“I love you. Even when I was dying all I could think about was ye'sparkly -- but it was too late and I was aware of how much pain you were in but it felt like I was struck inside a cage —---...” She rambles. Coughing when it hurts her throat and Harry shushes her kissing her hair gently and mutters against them – smoothing his palm down her back to calm her down.

“You’re ‘ere. In me arms is what matters.” He keeps her face tucked under his chin and keeps on pecking her skin.

“’M g'na take care of you, baby.”

[ererokii]

— desires

zhongli x childe

wc: 2.2k synopsis: zhongli tells childe the stories of guides that lead you to your desire, but realizes what he wants the most.

“Why are butterflies our guide? Well, they want to be Seelies when they grow up!” Hu Tao has a smile on her lips, hands hidden behind her back as she leans forward, staring at the young group of kids who have come up to her.

Zhongli remembers that moment like it happened a few seconds ago. Of course, children's tales were nothing but a mere example of entertainment, but sometimes he can’t help but truly understand her words. 

He recalls the time when he first encountered a blue wisp near Luhua Pool. It was shaped differently than the ones he met before in his years as God. This one seemed more round, ear-like horns prodding from the top of its head. 

There was no doubt that the remnant of wisdom was excited to see him— the bursts of squeaks and flips gave it away. 

Stories were told to the people of Teyvat of the Seelies. If you were to come across one, follow it, they said. Good fortune would come your way or, it would take you to something you desired 

Beside him sat the Fatui harbinger, his red scarf swaying behind him due to the crisp autumn wind. Goosebumps ran up the younger man’s arm, his bare hand reaching under his sleeve, providing warmth to his skin. 

“Maybe one day I can bring my entire family to see the waves of the beach,” Childe says into the wind, gazing off at the sky, eyelids fluttering shut. The refreshing air brushes against him, the smell of the sea fills the atmosphere--one of his favorite scents he’s grown to love during his time in Liyue.

His toes wriggle in the sand, the waves crashing against his heel. The harbinger lets out a loud exhale, shoulders slumping forward as he tilts his head backward and then opens his eyes. “I’m sure they would love the warmth the harbor has to provide. Being in the cold winters of Snezhnaya has nothing on the sunny days this has to offer. But--” and he goes silent.

The uncharacteristic quietness from the ginger man catches Zhongli’s attention, amber eyes drowning with concern. 

“But what?” His baritone voice cuts the silence like a knife, his bare fingers digging into the sand, the grains going under his nails that have him shivering on the spot but something he’ll have to worry about another time. “What is wrong, Childe?

Like a kid, Childe brings his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his body in an attempt to keep himself safe, but for what? His eyes lowered, the liveliness no longer shining with excitement. 

“I miss the cold of my home,” he mutters quietly that even Zhongli had to take a second to realize what he said. “I miss the company of my siblings. When Teucer came unexpectedly, it just made me miss it even more.” His voice isn’t energetic as usual, nor was there a movement to his words. 

Zhongli felt his heartache at the sudden mood change of the younger. He wracks his brain for any words to say, but none comes to mind. Suddenly his mouth goes dry, tongue swelling up as he’s unable to speak, and all he can do is hum with a nod.

Blue eyes stare at him from the peripheral view before gazing forward at the vast sea. Childe buries his head in his arms, shoulders lifting before heaving down in a deep exhale. The older man tears his gaze away, clearing his throat. 

He scans the sun that sets afar, the colors of the sky reflecting onto the water. There’s a wrinkle that forms by the corner of his eyes in content, his lips curling up slightly into a smile. 

“Have you heard of the tales of Seelies, Childe?” he asks suddenly, completely disregarding the vent the Fatui harbinger let out. “Even if it’s an act of entertaining the children, I too believe you would enjoy it.”

“Seelies? I can’t say I have before but, I do love your storytelling, Zhongli.” Childe says with a small smile, turning his head and resting his cheek against the top of his knees. 

There’s a light pink dusting his cheeks, and Zhongli can’t help but notice it right away. He adored seeing that color reside on his face; it made his heart swell with joy, something he hasn’t felt in forever. 

“Well, thousands of years ago, these Seelies were a race of wise and guiding beings that held all sorts of beautiful forms. Some even say that they had palaces that shined from top to bottom and shimmered when the light resided on them, a place where no god had authority over it.”

The smile that grows on the ginger’s face is enough for Zhongli to know that he’s immersed in the tale, and the excitement that shows in his eyes reminds him of a young child’s curiosity. 

“It’s even said that some gods followed these wisps for good fortune and prosperity for their nations. Even... Rex Lapis was one of them.” Zhongli’s smile never seems to falter. “Although it’s quite silly to hear divine beings doing child’s play.”

“Even you did?” Childe whispered, lifting his head. “Kind of hard to believe the almighty Rex Lapis would believe in something like that. Were you desperate or something?” he teases, nudging his shoulder against the consultants. “Didn’t take you for that type.”

“You can call it desperation.” Zhongli lifts his hand and pats the top of Childe’s head lovingly. “I call it a solution.” Childe’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden intimate gesture, tensing for a second before relaxing into his touch, staring up at him through his lashes. 

It grows silent between them as Zhongli's fingers run through the orange hair, flattening the strand that sticks up, only for it to go back into place, and he chuckles.

‘Stubborn just like him,’ Zhongli thinks, finding the expression on Childe’s face to be endearing. 

Zhongli enjoys these little moments that might mean nothing to the world, but to him, this is everything. Ever since he met the follower of the Tsaritsa, he found him captivating upon hearing his first words spoken to him. He enjoyed spending the time he had with him for work only, but of course, that was never really the case.

It amused Zhongli greatly to see Childe struggle with the wooden chopsticks at the restaurants they ate during lunch hours. Even after a few lessons of teaching him how to correctly use them, to no avail, it was useless. 

So at their next meeting, he gifted him a pair of Dragon and Phoenix chopsticks to practice and maybe a token of his affection.

After several hangouts with him, Zhongli remembers the blue infant of a Seelie he came across before meeting with the diplomat. No days go by where he doesn’t think of it. Maybe it was fate he met the-wisp, and something was coming his way. But in this case, it might have been a certain harbinger.

“But of course, it didn’t last long.” He pulls his hand away, pretending to ignore the sigh of annoyance coming from the other at the loss of touch. “I realized that, as God at the time, of course, I wasn’t gifted with such things as a human would. And so, I gave up.”

“Huh..” Childe trails off, scratching his chin in thought. “Well, what about now?”

“What about now?”

“You’re speaking of the past as Rex Lapis. And well, you’re Zhongli now. Surely it should be different, no?”

It is.

“What do you desire now?”

It’s pretty simple. Zhongli grows silent, scanning over Childe’s face. Amber hues take in every curve, every imperfection that’s perfect in his eyes. The light pink that dust his cheeks, showing off the tiny freckles that sprinkle the swells of his face— to the bangs that move slightly from the gust of wind near the shore.

The blue of his eyes reminds him of the ocean, full of beauty and life within. If he were allowed to stare for millennia, he would waste away his immortal life doing so.

“What are you doing out here?” Zhongli muses to himself, taking small steps towards the blue wisp, listening to the squeaks. The noises cause a hint of a smile to grow on his lips, stopping right in front of the creature. Big circles that were the eyes looked directly at him, the ears flickering in attention.

“Cute, if I must say.” Zhongli hesitantly sticks his hand out, palm up for the creature to come closer. Bubbling and babbling can be heard as the wisp lowers itself onto his hand. 

He has to admit, the texture of the Seelie brings back terrible memories of his time during the Archon War, but this time it’s different. The water-like feeling was smooth against his hand— it was genuinely fascinating. 

The funeral consultant stares intently at the being; eyes squinted as he examines it. “Is it now my time?” He asks quietly, cocking his head to the side, and the Seelie follows suit with its whole body. “After years, will it happen?”

Childe feels a heat rush up to his cheeks and lets out a cough, scratching the back of his neck with a wet hand from the water, dampening the skin. 

‘He’s so close to me.. why is he staring all of a sudden?’ He thinks, averting his gaze away, but Zhongli doesn’t seem to care— he continues to admire the ethereal beauty beside him.

The Archon still resents a part of himself for deceiving Childe in such a manner during the fiasco of almost destroying Liyue. That night, the ginger visited him before he departed back to Snezhnaya. Words of anger and betrayal and, most of all, hurt were sent in his direction— but Zhongli deserved every ounce of it.

There was no way around it; Childe wanted nothing to do with the associate nor wanted to be in his presence. 

“Childe.”

The harbinger stops in his tracks by the frame of the door, head hanging forward. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence is enough for Zhongli to continue.

“Do you resent me now, Childe?”

Childe messes with the grey sleeve of his outfit before turning around to face the man. There’s a blank look in his eyes, almost dull and no life within them, but he can spot the slightest of tears that start to form. 

“I can never resent you, Mr.Zhongli,” he starts, shifting his gaze up towards the ceiling. “I wish you had told me instead of leaving me in the dark. That’s all.”

“Childe..”

With a shake of his head and a half-assed wave, Childe walks out the door of the consultant's home, closing it behind him. 

And then he returned once more to Liyue for business matters. It was shocking, to say the least when he showed up in front of his door again, but this time with a bag of wine and another filled with food. Zhongli learned that Childe healed quite fast, but of course, the mark lingered for a bit longer than he would have liked.

Petty remarks were thrown his way, but Zhongli could care less. His heart ached when Childe had left with the harsh news, but now he was here back with him, and that’s all that mattered to him.

“Zhongli?”

“Hm?” Zhongli blinks twice, taken back from his reverie, and finally makes eye contact with the harbinger. “My apologies. It appears I got lost in thought.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Childe lets out a little laugh. “But did you hear what I said?”

“You asked me what I desired?” he asks, and the latter nods.

Zhongli’s heart begins to pump at an alarming rate to the point where it feels as if it’ll burst from his chest. His tongue peeks out faintly and licks his lower lip, contemplating how or what he should do. Then he throws everything into the open.

Hesitantly, Zhongli reaches over to Childe and caresses his jawline with clothed fingers. The action takes him aback, but he doesn’t resist the affection. Zhongli’s thumb brushes over Childe’s lips, parting them ever so faintly. His fingers run-up to the spot underneath his ear, forcing him to gaze up.

“You want to know?” he asks once more but more quiet, leaning forward to the point where their noses brush against each other, and all Childe can do is nod.

His following words are drowned by the younger’s lips on his, his body falling back on the damp sand. Hands roam his body, fingers gripping down on the front of his shirt. Their kiss is nowhere near their combat style-- not rough and dominating, but sweet and gentle. Zhongli savors every moment, loving the small moans that escape from Childe’s lips.

Childe lets out a small laugh, pulling away, and rests his forehead against Zhongli’s. His lips curl upward, cradling the back of the harbinger’s neck and bring him closer. No words are spoken between them, only the love radiating off of them to speak. 

Both of their emotions had been bottled up for so long, and now given a chance to be let loose, everything had come out, but neither of them would have it a different way.

“What I desire most… is you, Ajax.”

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[heavenbarnes]

I’m a rude bitch, what are you made of?

Naomi Lapaglia (Wolf of Wall Street) x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, canon-typical arguing, unhealthy husband-wife relationship, cheating, top!naomi and bottom!reader, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, inappropriate relationship with employers, unsolicited flirting, flashing, implied exhibitionism

Word Count: 3,225

so what if you were the belfort’s house keeper? and what if you had this nasty crush on naomi? and what if she knew?

“Find what you’re looking for up her skirt, Jordan?” The sharp cut of that Brooklyn accent was quick to hit you.

It was quick to hit her husband too, judging by the deep sigh he let out from behind you. You straightened up, grabbing the remaining dishes from the table with one hand, the other tugging the hem of your dress down.

“Don’t fix yourself like it’s your fault, darling,” There was an almost melody to her voice. “Seems someone never learnt his fucking lesson.”

With that, it all kicked off. You walked towards the kitchen with your stack of dishes and cheeks burning hot, as your employers quite literally screamed at one another. Another morning in paradise.

Working for the Belfort’s, for the most part was a dream, you cleaned an exquisite house and looked after one very low maintenance baby. For that, they paid you generously and even took you on their family vacations. 

All you had to put up with was the incessant screaming and Mr. Belfort trying to sneak a look and a feel, all worth it for the luxury you got to be a part of.

You zoned back into the fight as you walked back over to wipe down the table, still without uttering a word during all the commotion. This was like a morning ritual, as normal as a coffee and codeine, they weren’t awake till they’d screamed bloody-murderer at one another.

“For the last time, my love! I wasn’t looking up her fucking skirt!” Jordan gestured towards you frantically, stepping around behind you.

He was about to make another point, and as he opened his mouth to do so, his hands also came to grip your upper arms. You saw something change within Mrs. Belfort’s eyes and you even braced for impact.

“You get your hands off of her or I swear to God, Jordan!” She slammed her coffee cup down, the dark liquid rising up the side of the cup like an impending tsunami.

Mr. Belfort was quick to drop his hands, stepping back from you and watching his wife round the table until she was in front of you both. You felt caught in the middle, figuratively and literally thanks to the way they’d sandwiched you between them.

“You better watch yourself, motherfucker,” Her accent seemed to thicken as her voiced dropped an octave. “Before I bend this one over the table and make you watch the things I can do to her.”

You felt your body run red hot, the image of her living up to her threat moving clear through your mind. Without being able to stop yourself, your knees buckled slightly, most certainly not going unnoticed by Naomi. Her gaze drifted to you, where you were staring straight ahead and doing your best to seem unaffected by her words.

She saw right through you.

In kindness on her part, she didn’t mention it. Rather she dismissed you to carry on with your other morning duties, but didn’t ignore the way you shuffled off with your legs nearly clamped together. You hurried from room to room, collecting the hampers of dirty laundry so you could hide in the wash-house and out of trouble.

Shutting the door and leaning your back against the tiles, you were thankful it was able to cool you down a bit. It was in that moment you realized just how fucked you were, like a Duchess should, she had you royally fucked.

From the moment you started working for them, you knew you were going to have the hardest time keeping your thoughts about Naomi contained. Just the way that she walked with that air of importance was enough to have your thighs tensing.

It was obvious she knew what she was doing to you, that smirk that would prick up at the corner of her mouth every time she saw your eyes widen or your head drop. She took great delight at watching you squirm for her.

You’d nearly lost at all one night at dinner when you felt the patent leather toe of a stiletto dragging up the inside of your leg. The grip around your fork got so tight, you had little marks along your fingers for hours.

Naomi, on the other hand, dropped her fork right up the table and shook her head in faux-annoyance.

“I’m such a klutz, would you mind being a good girl and grabbing that for me?”

You swallowed harshly but nodded your head nonetheless, pushing back your chair and climbing under the table to retrieve the fork. Finding it quickly, you lifted your head to come back up but were stopped in your tracks by a single sight.

Naomi slowly parted her thighs, revealing to you that she had forgone underwear for her evening meal, and was most certainly baring her most intimate parts to you.

You thought you’d choke on your tongue, scrambling back towards your seat as you came up for air. She had a knowing smirk painted across her face as you extended it towards her with a shaking hand.

“You alright?” Jordan asked, giving you a worried glance. “You’ve barely said a word and now you look like you’ve had a fright?”

Mrs. Belfort hummed in agreement with her husband, bringing her napkin up to dab at her mouth.

“Yeah, what’s the matter?” She cooed, eyes holding yours still. “Pussy got your tongue?”

Rifling through the washing baskets, you sorted them out for laundering, anything to take your mind away from what you knew you shouldn’t be doing. Not only was she your boss, she was married, and married to an incredibly powerful man at that. 

You knew in your heart that if you’d let him, he’d be just as unfaithful to her with you, as she would with roles reversed. But you just knew it’d create more trouble than good, even if that good was a long-legged blonde with a mouth on her that drove you doggone wild.

Just as the act of loading a washing machine was doing it’s trick, your fingers hooked around one garment that you really didn’t need to stumble across. You drew your hand back to find a red lacy pair of panties draped over the tip of your finger. It nearly had you light headed at the start.

Drawing them closer towards you, gingerly you looked over your shoulder just to confirm that you were alone in the laundry. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest in fear of being caught, but this was just something you couldn’t stop.

Bringing the seat of her knickers to your face, you took in a deep breath and were immediately overwhelmed with the scent of her cunt. She smelt just as heavenly as you’d imagined she would, those nights after her husband drove you home and you’d raced inside to finger yourself to the thought of his wife.

It was all so bad, so wrong and so impure, nothing of what you were doing was close to being right. But when it came to Naomi, you were about ready to risk it all just for the sake of having one little chance with her. All it took was that one change, after that all bets were off. That change came in the form of her calling your name.

To say it startled you was an understatement, you were lucky you didn’t scream. Dropping the panties immediately back into the basket, you followed the sound right up the stairs and into Mr. and Mrs. Belfort’s bedroom, where Naomi sat waiting for you.

She was still in her robe, the one she wore to breakfast and the one you knew hid from your view the very skimpy lingerie she was wearing beneath it. Just knowing it was so close but still out of your reach had your mouth beginning to salavate.

Extended one finger towards you, she began to beckon you over. “Can you come here please?”

Never wanting to disappoint, you moved your feet towards her and subsequently towards her bed. Nothing sweet and right could come from being alone in her bedroom, with her wearing the bare minimum in front of you. You knew you had self control, but that much? That was asking for a miracle.

As you got closer, she stood up slowly, fingers moving to the tie on her robe. Suddenly it seemed as if time had slowed down for a moment, you could see her undoing the ribbon on her hip but there was nothing you could, or wanted, to do to stop her.

The silk of her robe slid off her shoulders and pooled on the carpet before you, leaving her in nothing more than a very thin set of bra and panties. You could see the way her nipples poked against the fabric, where the underwear had began to draw up on her hips. 

You wouldn’t be leaving this room with pride.

Reaching out, her fingers wrapped around your elbow and pulled you in until you were flush against her. The heat radiating off of her was intoxicating, you were enveloped in the very essence of her, it was soaking into your clothes and staying on the air.

“You need to tell me, baby,” Her voice wrapped you up, binding you to her. “Are you going to let me have my fun with you?”

Quick to please, your doe eyes rose to her gaze and silently apologized for something you’d never done.

“B-before with Mr. Belfort, I’m sorry but I assure you there is nothing there.”

Naomi cut off your stuttering attempts at explaining yourself with a curt laugh, free hand coming and stroking at the edge of your face. Soft skin and long fingers leaving shivers in their wake.

“Honey, forget about making my husband pay for before,” The soothing lilt to her voice was once again doing its best to weaken you at the knees. “This is just my own little treat.”

Your mouth dried up, tongue suddenly too big for the space and your lips dropped open in a pathetic whimper. As much as the embarrassment was hot on your heels, you could tell from her expression that this was doing nothing but pleasing Mrs. Belfort.

“Let me hear you say it.” She cooed, lips coming up to the shell of your ear.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, you can fuck me, Mrs. Belfort.”

She released a theatrical gasp before closing her the edge of her teeth around your earlobe, pulling down gently. Her lips trailed down the length of your neck, the softest kisses being left behind in her wake.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you, girl,” She sighed into your skin. “We better put it to good use.”

Bringing her hands to the bottom of your dress, she was taking full control as she drew it up and over your head. Her fingers immediately went for your undergarments, stripping you down to you were completely exposed in front of her.

Stepping behind you, her hands ran across your body and left no inch of you untouched by her. You had an idea of what she was intending, it wasn’t an accident that this felt entirely like she was claiming you.

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t blame my husband for the way he looks at you.” 

Her nose nudged against the back of your neck, hands running up to roll your breasts around her palms. Fingers tweaking at your nipples, you relaxed back against her and allowed the feeling of pleasure to take over.

“If only he knew that he wasn’t the one you were ready to risk it all for, hmm?”

You choked back a moan that was so desperately clawing its way out of your throat, especially with the way her hands were running down your stomach and getting dangerously close to where you needed her. She hovered above your mound, so close but not quite yet.

“Tell me, who is it that you want to fuck you?”

Along with another moan, you swallowed down your pride, hand shooting back and gripping the soft skin of her thigh.

“You, Naomi, I want you to fuck me and not Jordan.”

A delicious giggle flew around your ears, searing itself into your brain for safe keeping. It didn’t matter what noise she was making, it was set to drive you fucking wild. This moment was no exception to the rule, it wrote the damn rule.

Her hand came down against your mound, fingers slipping between your thighs as she cupped your heat. The feeling of her palm pressed against your aching clit drew an unabashed moan from deep within your chest, only spurring her on to rub it in the smallest circles.

She drew back from you just as quick as she touched you. Too overwhelmed to move, you listened to the sounds of her stripping the rest of her clothes, coming to sit before you on the bed. Naomi shuffled back, hands out behind her to keep her propped up.

“Before I give you what you want, I think you need to earn it.” With her words, she slowly spread her thighs until her cunt was once again on display to you.

Instinctively you dropped to your knees, moving towards the edge of the bed until she was only moments from you. Her hand came out to gently rub across the top of your head, coming around the back and pulling you even further into the meeting of her thighs.

Naomi pressed your face right to her dripping heat, your tongue coming out to catch her clit as she did. She tasted like bliss, like she was laced with gold flakes, this would be a taste you never tired from.

A long groan left her lips, head tipping back as you moved your mouth deftly against her pussy. She held you there, reminding you of the control she had over you as her hips started to roll against your face.

You brought your hands to wrap around her thighs, getting as close as you could. The messy sounds and sight of you must’ve been incredible, the way you hungrily lapped at her cunt and buried your face even further into her.

A symphony of moans serenaded the room, her toes curling against the bed as your lips wrapped around your clit. Had she known her little house-keeper was going to be this fucking good with her mouth, she would’ve had you on these silk sheets months ago.

Naomi’s elbow buckled under the pressure of your mouth, combined with the quiet moans that were reverberating against her. She gripped tighter onto you, pulling you in close as she was essentially riding your face.

Letting her do whatever she wanted, you moved your tongue quicker and fell in love with the way she cried your name in pleasure. It’d never sound the same coming from her, not now you know the way it sounds when you’ve got her pussy on your mouth.

Gripping hard onto you, you felt the rush of wetness as Naomi unraveled on your tongue, one leg coming to wrap around your shoulder as she did so. You remained in that same place, destined to do as you were told whilst you took her through her high.

When the sensitivity became too much, she drew you back before pulling you up towards her. Laying against her, you felt her lips connect with yours as she kissed her taste from your mouth. Moaning against your lips, you snaked your hands around her waist in an attempt to cover any inch of her skin you could.

Feeling one of her hands moving against you, it became very clear to you that she was on a direct path to where you were quite literally dripping for her. Naomi ran her fingers along your slit, dipping in to rub against your clit before coming to rest at your entrance.

With her tongue finding purchase in your mouth, she slipped two fingers inside of you and quickly curled them up. You couldn’t help but squeal into her mouth, gripping onto her sides as her fingers began to move with you.

Clenching around her, it’d never felt nearly this good when all you could do was think of her. You never knew it was going to feel like heaven on earth once she finally got her hands on you. The incoherent cries and moans of her name were flooding the room, sure to drift under the doors and fill the house in short time.

“I’m sure this is better than touching your little pussy and thinking of me, huh?”

Your eyes shot open in fright, looking to her with the complete knowing of being caught, painted across your face. She just grinned at you, that kind of cruel grin that said “you’re in for it now.”

“You think I couldn’t hear you, moaning my name when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom?”

All the times you’d quickly tried to get yourself off to make your work day more bearable, suddenly flashed past your mind. You would’ve recoiled in shame if Naomi’s fingers hand’t suddenly sped up, instead making your mouth drop open with a cry.

“Go on, show me how pretty you sound when you say my name.”

So you did, pretty whimpers of her first name drifted past your lips some more. She smiled into your neck but you could still tell there was something more she wanted.

“Hmm, try again, and make sure he can hear it.”

It had to be the affect she had on you, because suddenly you were crying out a long moan of Mrs. Belfort, and if her husband couldn’t hear it, he would’ve had to be on the other side of the world.

That hit the spot and sure enough her thumb was coming to rub against your clit in time with the thrust of her fingers. Falling apart in her hands, you felt your whole body tensing against her, stars beginning to rush past your eyes in bliss.

She knew every button to push and exactly what it did, she could tell by the fierce grip you had on her thigh that your high was right around the corner and it was approaching faster than you could manage.

Trailing her lips against your jaw, Naomi sucked the smallest marks into the soft skin there, happy to leaving her brand on you. When she reached your ear, the breathy whisper was the final piece to push you over the edge.

“Come for me, pretty girl.”

And eager to please, you did as you were told. Clamping down hard on her fingers, you felt yourself flood her hand as you cried out for her. Your back arched off the mattress, toes curling and muscles tensing against your will.

As you were coming back down, you knew you’d never come like that before. Looking at Mrs. Belfort’s face, you could tell by that grin that she was eager to see it as often as she could.

She brought her fingers up from between your legs, laying them against her tongue and sucking the wetness off with a filthy moan.

“I don’t think he heard that,” She sighed, shuffling down your body. “Think I’ll just have to give you another.”

[eyebagsbutglam]

Bubble Bath

Hi! This piece was inspired by a gif and a little chat with the love of my life @patchworkpuzzle Thank you for being my muse!

You had a long day at work, so your sweet husband Kiri makes sure you’re well taken care of.

WC: 3033

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, c*nnilingus, light ch*king, bites, foot licking, kinda switch Kiri, sorry if I forgot something

Walking through the front door of your house you let out a sigh of relief. You’ve had, a day. Busy and seeming to last a whole week. You leaned against your front door and slid down to the floor, peeling off your shoes and placing them next to your purse on the floor to the side of the entryway table.

“Babe I’m home.” You manage to yell, but it came out sounding more like a croak. A head of thick shoulder length red hair peeks around the doorway to the kitchen and bright crimson eyes meet yours.

“Tough day Princess?” Kirishima says, walking over to you and wiping his hands on the half apron he wore around his waist. You took in the sight of him and your heart leaped. Your handsome house husband. How was he able to make an apron look sexy?

Kirishima knelt in front of you so he was eye level, sitting back on his heels. You rested your head back against the door taking a second to admire how his sleeveless shirt showcased his muscular arms. You sighed, “Tough doesn’t even begin to explain it.”

He reached forward to brush a fallen hair behind your ear and you closed your eyes, pressing into the warmth of his calloused hand. “Sounds like you need a little TLC then. Why don’t you run yourself a bath, I’ll make you some tea.”

You wanted to cry. Kirishima was always so considerate of you, showing you how much he appreciated everything you do for the two of you, how hard you work. “Thanks Eiji.” You lean forward placing a hand on his face and kissing his cheek. He grabs your hand helping you stand and walks back into the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove.

“Honey and coconut milk?” You hear him ask as you head down the hall to your bedroom. He knew you so well.

“Please and thank you.” You reply and reach up to unhook your bra, sliding the straps off your shoulders and pulling it out of the bottom of your shirt with a sigh of relief.

The bubbles on the water smelled of lavender and rosemary. You bought the bubble bath from a little boutique in town that sold oils, soaps, and lotions made from the purest of ingredients. Dipping in a toe to check the temperature you decided it was perfect and lowered the rest of your body into the tub, a long sigh leaving your lips.

The warm water soothed and loosened the perpetual knots in your back. You really needed to pay better attention to the way you held your body while you worked. Bending your knees you slid a little further into the water, the bubbles barely covering your breasts. You close your eyes and let the stress of the day melt away.

The door opening causes you to open your eyes and in walks your hunk of a husband holding a steaming cup of tea, his apron unfortunately discarded. “Here you go Princess,” He hands you the mug, “Just how you like it.”

You take a sip and let the warmth soothe you on the inside as the bathwater soothes you from the outside. Another sigh leaves you. “How is it that I got so lucky?” You meet his eyes and offer him a small smile, which he returns. He leans down and places a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I ask myself that everyday.” Your heart melts along with the tightness of your muscles.

Kirishima stands and turns to leave you to your peace, but halts at the door when you let out a sound that can only be described as a moan after taking another sip of your tea. The sound sends a vibration through him, making it impossible to walk out the door and leave you be.

You notice his hesitance and ask, “What is it, Eiji?” Sitting up slightly so your chest is fully out of the water. Suds drip down your breasts and your nipples peek at the change in temperature.

His pupils dilate at the sight and a need to touch you overtakes him. “How about a foot rub Princess? You look like you could use one after your long day.”

“Mhhm, that would be wonderful. Thanks Eiji.” You don’t notice the change in demeanour when he stalks to the tub, sitting on the lip and reaching into the water to grab one of your feet. Setting your mug on the floor you lean your head back on the lip of the tub and close your eyes as he begins rubbing circles into the ball of your foot.

The bathroom starts to fill with the sounds of your little moans and groans while he thoroughly massages one foot and moves to the next, and you are blissfully unaware of the effect those sounds have on him. You have no idea that the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes along the arch of your foot reminds him of how your eyes flutter shut when you're deep in the throws of passion, about to reach your release.

You miss the way he gulps when he notices a bead of sweat fall from your temple, tracing a line down your jaw to your neck, landing in the dip of your collarbone. It isn’t until you feel him lower your foot into the water and then run a hand from the inside of your knee to the top of your thigh that you open your eyes to be met with his lust blown gaze.

“Eiji,” You manage to whisper as your heart rate picks up. His hand stops right before it reaches your core and begins rubbing firm circles on your skin, his other hand landing on your hip.

This time you don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your lips, how his tongue traces over his own lip before he brings it between his teeth. The hand on your hip slowly slides up the side of your body as he leans his face so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your face.

“Shh, just let me take care of you Princess.” The nickname comes out as a purr and a heat that has nothing to do with the temperature of the water settles in your core.

Kirishima dips his face to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and starts placing light kisses along your skin, moving up to your jaw. You feel his fingers brush along your pussy, stopping to rub excruciatingly soft circles on your clit.

A small whine escapes your lips and you arch into him, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. You feel him smile against the skin on your neck just before he nips at a spot that has you digging your nails into his skin.

“Someone’s being a bit impatient today,” He murmurs against your skin, dragging his lips across your shoulder and back again. Your hands slacken and move to tangle into his hair. His hand at your waist moves to find your breast, fingers drawing lazy circles around your nipple. Oh he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every second of it.

“Please-” You whimper, his soft teasing starting to drive you crazy, “Please Eiji.”

Both his hands stop and he lifts his head from your neck to look into your eyes, earning a whine of protest from you.

“Please what? Do you want me to stop?” There was an innocent look of concern on his face but a mischievous gleam flashed in his eyes.

You shook your head and leaned in so your lips could meet his, only for him to stop you with a light hold on your neck, “You need to use your words Princess.”

“I-” You swallow, your mouth beginning to water, “I don’t want you to stop Eiji.”

The corners of his mouth twitch up and he pulls you to him and bites your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. “And what would you like me to do?” His grip on your neck tightens slightly and you hum in pleasure, your eyes rolling back before closing.

“I want you to-to keep touching me.” Your words are so quiet if he wasn’t as close as he was he probably wouldn't hear them.

His hand releases your throat and you hear him click his tongue. Your eyes open as he taps a finger on your lips, shaking his head. “Have you forgotten your manners, Little One?” He rubs along your cheek with the back of his fingers, “What do we say when we ask for something?”

Your eyes glaze over and all your stress from the day is completely forgotten. Only the thought of Kirishima’s body on yours fills your head and you purr, “I want you to keep touching me, Please.”

Kirishima lets out a growl and pulls the drain stop out before scooping you into his arms and walking your dripping body into the bedroom. He throws you onto the bed and climbs on top of you, settling himself between your legs, his clothes and your bed now soaked with bath water. You sit up, lips meeting his in a moan, pulling him into you with a hand at the back of his neck.

His hips grind against yours and you can feel his hard length through his pants. You move to buck your hips against his but he stops you with a hand on your hip, holding you in place.

Pulling away from the kiss he rests his forehead against yours, “Slow down Princess. I told you I’ll take care of you, and I’m a man of my word.” He places a hand to your chest in a silent command to lay back. You obey, settling into the pillows behind you.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, kissing each one as if to say keep these here. His eyes meet yours and you nod, silently telling him you understand.

His hands lightly trace down your arms and he brushes his lips against yours, placing light kisses on the corner of your mouth and along your jaw. When he reaches your ear he whispers, “I’m going to take my time tasting every inch of you.”

His words have heat pooling between your legs and you try to clench your thighs together, but his hard muscular body between them makes it impossible.

A chuckle tickles the skin behind your ear as his lips begin their descent down your neck while his big strong hands find your breasts. His thumbs lightly graze your nipples, back and forth, then circle around them.

Your mind goes blank, pleasure slowly building until all you can think about is his hands on your body, his lips on your skin.

Kirishima kisses and nibbles down the column of your throat, his sharp teeth leaving little marks on your smooth skin. When he reaches the hollow of your throat he stops, “How are you feeling Princess,” he asks, his fingers continuing their caress.

“I feel good Eiji,” You murmur, “Please- don’t stop.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending attuned to him. He reaches up to place a kiss to your lips before moving to your sternum.

His kisses are sloppy, and with every brush of his tongue on your skin the coil in your core tightens, moisture collecting between your legs.

You feel his teeth nibble the bottom of your breast and then his mouth is on your nipple, sucking, tongue flicking and circling.

You arch into him and it’s taking every ounce of self restraint not to tangle your hands into his luscious locks and press him harder onto you. Instead you ball your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palm.

A whimper leaves you when he moves to your other nipple and you lock your legs around his waist. You feel his muscles shift under his shirt and realize you need to feel his skin on yours.

“Eiji,” he releases your nipple with a pop and your body twitches.

“Yes Little One?” His fingers resume their positions caressing your peeked nubs. Each graze sends a jolt through your body and you have to take a moment to remember what you were going to ask.

“I- want to feel your skin on mine. Please,” You start to drag his shirt up with the heel of your foot, “I need- need to feel you.”

He smiles, “Anything for my Princess,” and lifts up so he’s sitting back on his heels. Your legs fall to the bed and you watch him pull his shirt, damp and stuck to his skin from the water dripping off you, over his head, watching as his abs and obliques contract with the movement.

You bite your lip as you take him in. Broad shoulders and chest tapering into a cut abdomen. He takes the moment to tie his hair back into a bun, smirking at your shameless ogling.

“Getting your fill?” He croons, moving down the bed and pulling your legs so they’re laying flat. When he moves you can see the outline of his impressive length straining against his pants, discovering just how his tending to you is affecting him.

But right now it isn't about him, it’s about you. And he’s going to spend this time pleasuring you just how you deserve. You’re his Princess, and he’s going to make sure you’re spoiled rotten.

He brings your foot to his mouth and licks from your heel to the ball of your foot, sucking your big toe into his mouth and running his tongue around it. Then he’s moving up your leg, leaving open mouth kisses to your inner calf.

You open your legs to accommodate his size, toes curling at the feel of his skin against yours. Your body is hot, and if there wasn't already a wet spot on the bed from leaving the bath without being dried off, there would definitely be one from your arousal now dripping down your legs.

When he reaches your thighs he starts tracing patterns on your skin with his tongue, tasting every inch, leaving no spot unexplored. His hands roam your body, massaging and gripping your ass, hips, and waist.

You moan, writhing underneath him. His mouth is sinful. Every caress of his lips, every graze of his teeth, every brush of his tongue pulling you down into an inferno of desire.

Then his lips place a soft kiss between your hips and you realize your eyes were closed because they open, meeting his, which are already laser focused on you. His mouth curves in a devilish grin as he moves your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Do I have your attention now Princess?”

Your eyes are glazed over with lust, mind hazy, and all you can do is nod, a small noise leaving your throat that is a mix between a moan and a whine.

“Good. Now keep those pretty eyes on me.” He keeps his eyes on yours while placing sloppy kisses to your inner thigh, nibbling in between.

This is when your restraint breaks and your hand finds his hair, the other resting to your side. He growls, allowing the new position, and responds with a kiss on your clit.

You moan, hips moving to grind yourself onto his face, but he has you pinned down before you can move. His tongue dips to taste your arousal and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a groan, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. “You have the sweetest pussy Princess.” He whispers onto you, eyes finding yours again while he continues to run his tongue along your folds.

Your hand balls into a fist in his hair as his tongue finds your clit and begins a pattern of flicks and circles, tightening that coil of pleasure in your core.

“F-fuck,” You whine, your head falling back into the pillows, tightening your grip on his hair to hold him in place while you grind yourself on his face. He obliges, holding his tongue firm, his cock throbbing in his pants while you use him.

Pressure builds and your moans grow louder until your climax hits you like a bus. Your shaking, legs weak, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. Kirishima greedily laps up every drop of your cum. The strokes of his tongue on your overly sensitive pussy have you twitching, hand dropping to your side as your legs close around his head.

He finishes devouring you with a soft kiss, sliding your legs to the side and crawling up the bed to lay next to you. His fingers trace swirls on your stomach.

“How are you feeling,” Kirishima's voice snapped you from your pleasure coma and you turned toward him, humming, wrapping your arm around his waist and nuzzling into his chest.

“Very relaxed.” You spoke into his chest with a smile. A rumbling chuckle was his reply and his fingers found your hair, massaging your scalp.

You felt him place a kiss to your forehead and you moved closer to press the rest of your body against his. You were not surprised to be met with a very large, very hard present pressing against your abdomen.

You pulled away, looking down to catch a glimpse of his erection still straining in his pants and, as if in response to your gaze, it twitched.

You ran a finger along the underneath of his cock, from base to tip, as you looked into Kirishima’s crimson eyes, pupils already lust blown once more. “And now,” You grabbed him through his pants and stroked once, “Let me take care of you.”

He bucked into your hand, cupping your face to lock you into a long sensual kiss. The kiss broke and he rested his forehead against yours, smiling.

“How is it that I got so lucky?” He asks, rubbing his thumb along your cheek.

You smile, leaving a kitten lick on his lips before whispering, “I ask myself that every day.”

[sloppykyuu]

Piss Princess - H.T.

Pairing: Hanamaki Takahiro x f!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: SMUT

Summary: peeing on makki and being a gross little girl

Warnings: piss, degrading, use of daddy, hard-ish Dom! makki, lemme know if theres anything else I missed 

Extra warning: if you don’t like piss and anything to do with it don’t read this. It contains peeing on people, drinking pee etc. So just don’t read it if you’re not into that

I dunno why but I been dreaming of pissing on makki so yeah enjoy my piss filled brain rot. It’s honestly pretty garbage I’m not gonna lie I just had to get it off my mind.

“Daddy,” the soft sound of your voice pulls him away from the screen in front of him, his gaze moving to watch you quickly move over to him and plop yourself into his lap. Legs on either side of him and arms wrapped around his neck, nuzzling your face into his neck. 

“What’s up, pretty girl?” you don’t respond to him, only give him a small whimper in response and nuzzle your nose deeper into his neck. He lets you rest there, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he assumes that you’re falling asleep. 

And it seems that you are, your breath is even and you aren’t squirming in his hold. However, it seems he assumed wrong because he feels a wet warmth spread across his crotch. For a second, he thinks he might have came in his pants, or even peed himself because you’re warmth allowed him to relax enough but it dawns on him by the way your fingers clench into his shirt, pulling the material tight between your fingers that your not asleep. The smell of urine floods his nose and he’s made aware that you, in fact, pissed in his lap. 

“What the fuck?” he groans, “did you just fucking piss on me?” He pushes your body away from his, pushing you onto the floor. His gaze immediately flies to the crotch of his grey sweatpants, they had been completely drenched turning a dark gray. 

“M’sorry daddy, I had to go.” his piercing glare stares into your guilty eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he stares at you. 

“So you pissed on me?” you nod shyly at him, bringing a hand down to rub your drenched, panty covered pussy. “You’re so fucking gross, you know that?” you nod at him again, eyeing him carefully as he slips off the couch. “So fucking disgusting. You don’t have any fucking manners.” 

He slips off his soiled sweatpants, cock releasing from the material and slapping against his stomach. He reaches for you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you forward. “Clean it off.” He hooks his thumb into your mouth, prying your jaw open and shoving his cock into your mouth. 

He guides your movements, bobbing your head up and down his length by your hair, slamming the tip of his cock into the back of your throat. “Disgusting fucking girl, cleaning the pee off my cock. You like the way it taste, princess?” 

He pulls you off his cock, slapping the head of his cock to your tongue and jerking on his cock before slamming you back onto him, releasing a thick load into the back of your throat. Roughly grabbing your jaw and telling you to swallow it. When you stick out your tongue to show him that you swallowed all of his cock, he brings his cock back up to your lips squinting his eyes as he releases his own yellow fluid into your mouth. “Dumb little piss whore, swallow it.” 

You do as told, dropping your tongue out of your mouth once again to assure you swallowed every drop. He nods in gratitude, patting the top of your head before pushing it out of his way and walking to his bedroom. You get up from your spot on the floor quickly walking into the bedroom. “Get on the bed.”

You scrambled onto the bed, laying on your back as he crawls on top of you his long fingers moving to the soaked material of your panties. He shakes his head at the feeling before pushing your panty to the side and rubbing his fingers on your clit. “Do it again.”

“huh?” he was so upset before why would he make you do it again? “if you want to piss on me so badly, do it again.” you swallow the lump in your throat feeling your cunt clench on the fingers that teased your sloppy hole.  You feel the wetness slide down your ass and pool under you on the bed, staining the white sheets. He sinks two fingers into your cunt, moving himself down to be face to face with your leaking pussy. As you continue to gush out the liquid he attaches his lips to your little clit, sucking harshly and thrusting his fingers into you. Curling them into your gummy walls, massaging at your most sensitive spot. 

“Oh! oh, daddy!” your back arches off the bed, hands flying into his hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy. 

“Does my little piss whore like that?” he presses his fingers directly into your g-spot. 

“Ye-yes! it feels s-so good, oh my god!” your toes curl and you release into his mouth, creamy and thick leaking out of your hole right onto his awaiting tongue while his thumb flicks at your puffy, red clit. 

“Dirty fucking bitch.” he slides up your body, hands and face leaving your ruined pussy and pressing his cum and piss coated lips to yours. Making you moan loudly into the kiss as he dips his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. 

“Need you, Hiro.” your legs wrap around his hips, pushing his hard length onto your puffy lips, eliciting a deep groan from him as he parts your folds and slides his slender cock through them. Eyes stuck on the way the tip of his cock spreads your wetness around. He pulls back, pink, flushed tip poking at your entrance. 

“Just ate your dirty cunt and you still need more?” you nod frantically, pressing him into you again, whimpering at the way his cock starts to spread you open. He rolls his eyes and presses his lips to yours before sheathing himself in you in one movement. You whine loudly into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulder blades. 

“Fuck me, daddy, please!” he chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and beginning a rough pace. 

“Needy little girl, can never get enough of me can you, angel?” You answer him in a loud whine, the feeling of his long cock filling you up and hitting every overly sensitive spot with accuracy has your vision going white and eyes rolling into the back of your head. It was too overwhelming, the way he fingered you and tortured your spot has you too sensitive, legs flailing as he pounds into you. 

“Oh! da-” your words get cut off by the gushing of your cunt. Creating thick rings of white around his cock and dripping into the mess under you. Walls clenching and unclenching, sporadically around his cock has him drilling his hips deep inside you before releasing his thick seed deep into your womb. 

He groans into your neck, gently nipping the soft skin there as he ruts his hips deeper into you. You expect him to stop, to pull out and run to the bathroom to clean the both of you up, instead he grabs the back of your knees pushing your legs into your body and rearing his hips back again. 

“No! daddy, stop it hurts!” he doesn’t listen, pretending he can't hear your pathetic whines. Only slamming his cock deeper into your cunt, pressing right onto your cervix. “It’s too deep! please, daddy” 

“shut up,” He groans in annoyance, hands reaching down to rip the panties off your bottom, interrupting your squeals by stuffing the damp material into your mouth.”You’re so fucking whiny.” 

You look up at him with big eyes, tears brimming the corners of them and all he can do is laugh at the muffled whines that attempt to come out of your mouth. You feel the way your belly tightens, knowing at any second you’ll explode around him. Your heels dig into the bottom of his back, forcing his cock deep into you. You cum. Hard. Spraying all over his bottom half and soaking the bed under you. 

“Oh my fucking-!” he throws his head back, stilling his hips and releasing another sticky load of cum into your cunt. Giving small thrusts as he empties his balls into you. 

He pulls out when he comes down from his high, pulling the panties from your mouth and throwing them somewhere in the room. “You’re such a gross little baby.” he smiles down at your fucked out face, grinning as you nod with a soft smile. “My gross little baby.” he chuckles pressing a kiss to your lips. 

[all-about-seggs]

The Game of Three-

Rating : 18+, Explicit

Word count : ~ 3K

Pairing : Geto Suguru x female reader x Mahito

Warnings : Mirror sex, dub con, gaslighting ( kind of, like I wanted to add it but not sure if I did it right), Fingering, Cunnilingus, degradation (slight), voyeurism, choking, threesome near the end.

A/n: When describing Suguru's place I totally went into weeb mode and used traditional Japanese terms but I tried to define them to the best of my abilities so y'all won't get confused and I put the link of their pictures in their name as well, so you can check them out if you want.

The red clouds above you parted to reveal the cerulean blue sky, painting the engawa in front of you in its hues. Giving a quick look over to the now clean surface beneath your feet, you made your way to the supply closet to put the mop back.

It's been a few uneventful months since you got employed as one of the only two maids in the entire manor. It was fairly big, atleast for just one person, and minimally decorated so it wasn't that hard to keep the entire place clean even with the two of you. The other maid was a nice old lady who showed you the way around the place and how to do what when you were just starting out.

The manor was quite, most of the time, even with your boss's guests staying over for a couple of days, the place lacked any sort of liveliness much less talking. Just a few more hours until your evening shift is over, you mused to yourself roaming around the garden to feed the pond's fish their dinner as the sun began its descent. Mindlessly, you kept looking around the area until one of the rooms caught your eye. On your right you saw the silhouette of your employer through the thin Shoji door that coverd his room.

Having finished bathing, you saw his toned mascular arms slipping out of his thin bath yukata that contrasted to the one he usually donned, his elegant movements accentuated by the growing darkness the evening provided. His daily outfit was nothing if not modest, covering his body from head to toe, leaving everything to the imagination but right now the delicious shape of his body was on full display, making it harder for you to move.

It wasn't until his form moved closer to the door, that you realised how badly your current actions could effect the job you were given. Just the thought of yourself getting fired after being considered a peeping tom made your breath quicken and not in a good way. The panic surging through your veins momentarily turned your mind blank, making you stumble until the heel of your foot slipped on one of the algae coated rocks. Clenching your butt cheeks you braced yourself for the impact but the efforts proved pointless as the considerably shallow pond's bottom made full contact with your body.

Pain aside, the cold water of the pond was what added most to your immobility until you heard footsteps heading towards you. Looking up from your seated position, the tall figure of your boss, maybe ex boss, loomed over you. He extended one elegant hand towards you.

" Are you okay.....?", His soft tone carried nothing but gentleness but being a mess, both physically and mentally, it took you sometime to process what he had said. Hesitation was clear in your actions as you meekly let him pull you up. His grip on your arm was firm and with how easily he pulled you out of the pond showed his Zephyr-like nature had a brute strength underneath. Threads of wet, black hair covering the sides of his well sculpted face, reached all the way to his mid- back. His usual heavy garb was replaced with a single, cotten yukata which were damp in every places his hair touched.

"Y/n...... Was it?, Can you stand", putting both his hands on your shoulders he peered at your face, you still for a moment, too fascinated by his slitted eyes to look away. This was the first time you two had a real conversation so you forced yourself to speak,

" Oh...umm, I'm sorry! I didn't payed attention to the slippery rocks and fell,.....but I'm okay! So..... Yeah... thank you", it was difficult to keep your voice steady, not wanting to reveal your obviously perverted BUT unintentional peeping. Yup. That's what you kep telling yourself although his secretive smile told you that your poor lie didn't make the cut.

" I see, so tell me y/n dear.....", His hands on your shoulders gripped them a little tighter as he leaned down until his face was right in front of yours, " where exactly were you paying attention to?", The question was simple, nor did it had any threatening undertones but your throat still felt clogged. It was too embarrassing, telling your boss that you were shamelessly ogling at his silhouette changing clothes. One second, two seconds, a lot of seconds passed with you playing dumb until you heard a soft sigh.

" Alright...... If you don't want to tell me, I'll let it go........for now", emphasizing the now, he took your cold hands in his warmer ones, leading you inside his room. You were still drenched, hesitating to climb on the perfectly dry floor of his room,

"It's okay..... I'll go ask for a change of clothes so you sit here, better than the outside right?," Smiling, he disappeared down the hall. The whether wasn't cold, so you didn't have to worry about getting sick but you still reeked of fish and algae, making a change of cloths a better option. You could chid yourself for it but looking at the things in his room can't be considered peeping so you turned around from your sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

His room was relatively normal, just like rest of the manor, the furnishing was minimal, a low chabudai with a few soft looking zabuton around it, a wooden cupboard, the slightly elevated tokonoma on the right side of the room had a full body sized mirror, along with a couple of other tiny decoratives. Nothing stood out with everything in place, your boss sure had simple tastes, you thought to yourself when the door slided again, when the owner of the room itself entered.

He was empty handed , earning a questioning look from you, " it's gonna take a few more minutes to find women's clothing, I hope you don't mind, for the time being....", He walked over to cupboard, producing a towel out of it.

" Use this to dry yourself", handing you the towel he kneeled beside you, he was being so nice, you hadn't expected him to be so kind but you gratefully accepted it. When you began drying your hair, you felt his eyes on yourself, pointed and unnerving. You gulped, feeling like he could see right through your head, just waiting for you to fess up on your own. You were lost in your thoughts when his voice suddenly filled the room.

"You know.....y/n, when you desire something.....", His fingers made their way to your collar, playfully stroking your neck," you should let yourself have it", his last words were nothing but a whisper against your ear as he placed himself right behind your seated form. His upper half of the robe already wet, stuck to his body, defining each and every cut of his muscles. He was somewhere between lean and mascular, his beautiful face giving him just the right amount of sensuality. You weren't naive enough to be oblivious to his suggestive tone.

It was weird to you, perplexing even as to why a clearly well to do, good looking guy would not only make a move on his maid but a maid who smelled like she just popped out of a can of tuna fish. His deep, even breaths stroked your ear as he waited for you to answer.

" I really wasn't thinking about....... 'This'", you pulled his hands wrapped around your shoulders away, to prove your point. You thought he'd be upset but his face only lit up by your rejection.

" Is this embarrassment I see y/n? Because it's not cute", he rose on his knees, looking down at you he gently added, " the mundane world would feel much better if you indulged yourself a bit more you know, even if those indulgences are only of....."

" Sexual nature", his sharp eyes slited as his lips curled into a wicked grin. Impossible to read, his actions did nothing but lure you in a honey coverd poisonous trap. It was obvious with the way his hands started massaging your arms, right where it hurt from your previous fall, blowing softly in your ear. They was all just tricks to make you fall just so he could shame you from above but you'd be damned if it didn't got you all hot and bothered. He grazed his hand across your blouse sticking to your bust, your nipples hardened with the slightest touch. The reactions your body gave were no lies and therefore couldn't be hidden. He pressed your bodies closer until you sat snugly against his torso. You closed your eyes, still unable to decide whether or not you want to let him have his way and deal with all the risks that would soon follow after.

The front of wet your shirt was completely open by now, reveling the garment underneath. Suguru's hands trailed up and down your thighs as he hiked your long skirt higher until it pooled around your hips sticking to the sides. He hooked his left hand under your left knee, doing the same with your right side, he pulled your legs apart, with the mirror in front, you and the man behind you had a full view of your damp panties.

" See that? This is what you want. To be exposed by me. Just the thought of spreading yourself open in front me have you this wet y/n...... Are you sure you weren't waiting for this moment all along?", His voice had a mix of mockery and eroticism in it, his words only adding to the fire burning in the middle of your core. With his right hand, he grabbed the thin strap of your panties at the side of your hips and tore them off until the shredded garment was left dangling on one of your hip. The air in the room, made contact with you now naked pussy but what made you shiver was the mirror in front of you. Suguru held both of your legs as far apart as possible, his face, now lacking all the warmth it had just a few minutes ago. When you tried to squeeze your eyes shut he pinched your inner thighs hard, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

" Keep looking y/n, I'm proving it to you, just how much you're body is begging for me. And I won't stop until you've said so yourself, so keep. Your eyes. Open.," The darkness of his tone was accentuated with the look in his eyes. The fingers of his right hand made their way to your cunt, with two of them he spread your dripping lips apart, reveling the tiny swollen bud that was screaming for attention. You felt it too, the need for release spreading in your body but voicing it meant your defeat so you held your breath, letting the self assured guy behind you continue his ministrations.

" Why can't you be honest just like your needy cunt?", He cooed against your throat as he rubbed your nether lips with his digits, coating them in your slick. He didn't touch your clit, if you were going to be a brat then he's bringing his A game too. Making you beg was his only motive now, his eyes met yours, the mirror in front of you showing every nook and cranny of your privates and by now you're sure Suguru has memorised all of it. The ache between your legs was getting worse as he kept on sliding his fingers up and down your folds but never touching the rest of your sex. You knew what would make him do it but after the prolonged defiance you're not sure how to put it into words.

" Whats wrong y/n, are you ready bow to your filthy desires?, Getting off on my fingers is going to be a lot better than yours right?", Damn his rude ass remarks but they were true, the last few months have been very long and dry for you, day in and day out all work, maybe that's why you're giving in so easily, what he promised was as tantalizing as his actions, that's why you were so horny, easily aroused even.

"Right..... You're .... right, so do it.....master", you broke out, the last of your self control shredding itself as you let your voice flow out just as much as your cunt, your juices.

" Finally gave in huh?, It would've been so much easier if you'd just admitted to being my slut from the start, but oh well, this is also good", his thick fingers slipped in you with ease as he wrapped his left hand around your throat, making you look straight at the mirror. You were a mess, a totally different kind of mess you previously were, in addition to your already damp hair, your eyes were glazed with lust, the corners of your lips moist with your drool that threatened to spill out, your clothes were disheveled and tattered, you were disheveled in general and barely recognisable.

" Now look at yourself closely, how your face twists when I make you cum, how you look when you're begging to me like a real slave," his fingers picked up a brutal pace, going in and out of you relentlessly, his thumb roughly massaging your throbbing clit, sending shivers up your spine. You could clearly see your drool covered face turning hotter by the second, pussy dripping from your buliding orgasm on the tatami mats below it, your moans coming out in broken whimpers as Suguru's hand tighten around your throat, eyes rolling back for a second, you cum around his fingers hard.

" Do you see that ? How disgusting she looks right now?", Turning his gaze to the left he called out to his accomplice in crimes, " Mahito", the other man, with an amicable smile on his peculiar face stared at, not where you lied on the floor, but at your pitiful form that appeared in the mirror.

" I just dropped by to give you the clothes you asked for the young lady earlier," his talked merrily, not minding the scandalous sight in front of him one bit," but it appears that you aren't going to be needing them for a while", throwing the cloths aside he sat on your left side. Suguru kept his eyes on the mirror, loosening his hand around your neck he let you breath, mind still hazy.

" You're free to join in, if you have the time. But I'll have to warn you though, she's a persistent one, it took me a while to break her as well", Suguru smirked, pulling his fingers out of your abused hole making an exaggerated show of bringing his cum smeared fingers to your face, as if prove his victory.

" I don't mind a challenge every once in a while Geto kun, I'm not bad at 'this' myself, but to make sure, why don't you keep sitting, after all it's been a while since touched a living human", Still a bit delirious, it took you a few more seconds than usual to process the change in your situation or what he meant by living just now or touching even. The man named Mahito kneeled in between your still parted thighs, you thought it was strange that your brains last and probably rotting cells decided to focus on his eyes. They were heterochromatic, it gave his already scared face a haunting quality.

The fact that you were sandwiched between two men soon left your mind as Mahito started sucking on your still sensitive clit, your legs instinctively clamping if it's weren't for Suguru holding them apart. The man behind you weren't entirely evil though as he rubbed soothing circles on the soft inner flesh of your aching thighs, his touch only heightning the touch of the man between them.

Mahito licked your juices as if they were made to be feasted upon, slurping on them lewdly, the V of his fore and middle finger seperated your pussy for more access, he grazed his teeth lightly across your clit, fighting the urge to bit it down. You didn't have any energy at this point to put up a show of defiance so you kept moaning, the sight of the man lying flat on his stomach along with his face hidden in between your legs was urging you to cum, but the abrupt thrusting of Suguru's fingers in your mouth cut them off.

" If you're mouth is available enough to scream for just anyone who makes you cum then you truly do have the makings of a whore.", His words were nothing more than a possessive hiss against you throat, long fingers grazing your tonsils as he pushes them deeper. You gag a little, the fingers in you mouth kept you from reacting to the man who worked your pussy until it throbbed against his face.

Mahito turned his heterochromatic eyes towards your face, it seemed like someone was keeping you from your release, he sucked on your clit again adding two fingers in your streched out cunt. He moved both his tongue and digits in similar motions, causing a surge pleasure wash down your senses, with just a few quick pumps of his fingers, your juices gushed on his face as your moans get stifled by the fingers in your mouth.

" That wasn't so bad right?", Mahito pushed himself up as he asked his partner in crime, something about his tone was awfully cocky, making Suguru's face scrunched up in a haughty smirk as he added,

" Indeed, you sure know your way around the human's body Mahito kun, but maybe a little less egar to please attitude would do better. Can't let our toy think we're just here for catering to her needs now can we?", His voice loaded with provocative innuendos sounded nothing but gentle but the other man knew better.

" Hooo?, Is that a challenge for round two, then?", He met Suguru's goading with a playful and assured tone. Both of them stared each other, neither of the males backing down they both turned their eyes at your spent body, and you know even without having to look, that it was going to be a long night.

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (8)

Word Count: 12,827 // angst (mention of physical abuse/harm, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of murder), smut (brief mention of cockwarming and masturbation), no fluff 

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: I’m so sorry this took FOREVER for me to write. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please come scream in my inbox so I can scream with you! - 🐰

The red and yellow iron man figurine is snatched away from his clammy little hands, the harsh ridges of the plastic cutting across his palm to leave gashes that burned. Jungkook’s eyes are already glossy with unshed tears as he stares at the beloved toy in her grasp.

“Fucking useless piece of shit!” His mother screams, voice cracking as she throws the plastic figure at the man sprawled on the couch, a small pouch of belly fat pooling over his unzipped jeans. His dark disheveled hair and tattered clothing makes him look older than he actually is, earning a disgusted sneer from the woman. The head of the figurine hits the side of his arm but he simply glares at the child, and then at his wife, before turning away in silence. Iron Man lays on the dirty carpet, feet pulled apart, head dislodged from the neck.

“You think you’re the only fucking man in the world that works!? If I didn’t push out your bastard child, I would’ve left you years ago!”

Jungkook’s face scrunches into a frown, hiccupping as he gasps for air between sobs and hiccups. He knew he shouldn’t cry for the sake of angering his parents further but he couldn’t help it. Catching his mother’s attention, he steps back only for her to yank his small arm through the oversized superhero shirt and drag him across the living room. The child falls onto his knees, unable to help himself as the grip on his arms numbed his little hand in which he held his lunch bag.

“I’m sorry! Mama, I’m sorry! Mama!”

The soggy brown sandwich bag tumbles away from his grasp as his mother drags him into his makeshift room behind the sliding door of a storage unit. The shoebox-sized space is thankfully warm as it’s situated next to the hissing water heater. Jungkook’s mother pushes him onto the futon next to his school bag, empty cartons of milk, and mismatched socks.

“Don’t you dare make a fucking sound,” she spits, glaring down at the shaking boy who’d curled into the yellowed blankets in the corner. “You don’t want to upset mama, do you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, toes digging into the sheets below him. His ears are ringing, but he knew better than to disagree when her eyes become as red as the knitted dragon on his socks. Red means danger, red means silence.

The door slides shut with a bang and little Jungkook shakes and shakes, bent knees knocking into each other as cold sweat forms on his temples. He wipes his moist eyes with the back of his hand and curls into the corner, hunger pains wringing his stomach tight. He struggles to hold in his bladder and cries harder when he tremors once more and his pants turn dark with urine.  

The room gets darker, the house falls steadily falls silent, yet there is still no food offered to him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed as the only window in the room is nailed shut with wooden boards; only the small amount of sunlight shining between the rotten wood tells him when to sleep and when to dress for school. Looking at the dark gaps, he’s disappointed to find that it’s well past dinner time.

He can hear his parents screaming at each other between bouts of silence, their voices lowering gradually as exhaustion takes over them. He’s glad that at least he’s left alone. When the screaming ends, there is moaning, sounds of flesh against flesh, and silence once more.

They must have forgotten he hasn’t eaten, he thinks to himself as his frown deepens.  

Jungkook knows they are most likely asleep but he doesn’t want to risk disturbing the peace – the silence – that he can finally enjoy. If it weren’t for his hunger, he would be perfectly content staying still. He closes his eyes to the world and wishes on the lonely lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that one of his parents will awaken and at least take pity on him to throw the sandwich bag in the room. The roaches might have gotten to it first but he wasn’t in a position to complain.

Wiping away the dried snot on his face with the back of his hand, Jungkook looks up at the spotted roof and imagines a big studio like the one Iron Man has. When he becomes big and strong, he would have a drawer full of chocolates and another one full of clean and cool clothes like his classmates. He would be so successful and so cool that his teachers will fall to their knees and he will never have to do homework again. Even Iron Man will come knocking at his door to spend time with him – that’s how cool he will be.

Despite the growling in his stomach, Jungkook giggles softly. He discards his soiled bottoms away from the futon, being extra careful not to let the wetness touch his backpack, and lets his big shirt fall over his knees. He then rolls over to cushion his head with the back of his backpack. At least in his dreams, he lived well.

Some days are painful but some days should be better, he thinks.  

“It’s a miracle you survived,” Taehyung says one day as he hands Jungkook a bigger share of his rice ball. Jungkook rolls the sleeves of his black Busan middle school uniform up to his elbows, knowing the smell will be hard to get rid of if the loose seaweed falls apart in his hands like last time. The cheap tuna Taehyung stuffed it with smelled like gasoline and they made it a habit to hold their breaths as they chew. The mayonnaise at least helps the mouthfuls of fish slide right down their throats. No matter how strange his lunch boxes smelled, Jungkook never complained.

“I hate them,” Jungkook whimpers as he chew, leaning the heel of his sticky palms against the wet boulder beneath as his older friend rubs the tender sores on his neck with a free hand. Several bruises trail down his spine and Taehyung knows there are more underneath the uniform. “I just want to get out of here.”

Their naked feet, exposed under their rolled pants, dangle from the sharp layer of rock and moss protruding from the side of the boulder. The sound of ocean waves drown their voices and they find themselves shouting over its volume. Jungkook jumps slightly when cold water splashes over his toes.

“We’ll go anywhere you want.” Taehyung stretches his neck from side to side to undo the knots, his steel eyes landing on the grains of dry rice rolling down the rock.

Jungkook looks at his dearest friend, truly look at him, and grabs another rice ball from the canteen. He coughs slightly when the tuna goes down the wrong pipe, taking a swing of the water bottle from his opened backpack laying at his feet. It was hard for him to sit still when Taehyung says such things so frivolously. In fact, Jungkook found himself annoyed – annoyed that these fantasies are way beyond his imagination and annoyed that Taehyung might not mean what he says and Jungkook is just waiting around for leftovers  like the rice ball in his hands.

Jungkook kicks the side of the rock as he licks his fingers clean, scraping his heel along the ridges back and forth. His bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “You’re going away to med school later too…we might not see each other even when you get to college. It’s like…ten years.”

Jungkook can just imagine it. Taehyung, the miracle from a small town in Busan who surpassed everyone with his razor-sharp intelligence and sly fox charms. He’ll walk up to a podium for a white coat ceremony to attend the nation’s best medical school. There will be cheers and flowers everywhere; he bet even the president will show up for the ceremony because Taehyung will represent the rags-to-riches fantasy everyone wants. He’ll go on to be a surgeon full of pride and joy. He’ll marry a naïve but rich girl from Gangnam who will pity his hardships and they’ll have five children together and live in a penthouse. They’ll live on the top floor where they can look down at the people passing by like they’re nothing but ants.

And as for him, he might still be sleeping in that same storage closet next to the hissing water heater.

“I’ll take you with me.” Taehyung pushes the half-full canteen towards the younger boy, giving away his share, and wipes his hands on his pants. There are three giant rice balls left and even some pickled radish at the bottom. The food offering doesn’t make the younger boy smile like he usually do, his brain is so full of worries it might explode.

Jungkook shakes his head at nothing. The future seems so, so far away, almost out of reach. He can barely image his life without Kim Taehyung, the only genius the sad little town has produced this generation who ironically became his best friend and caretaker. There’s been rumors that he’d skipped four grades and grew up speaking Cantonese just from watching films. Jungkook hasn’t confirmed these theories himself but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. He had a future as bright as the stars while Jungkook knew, deep in his heart, that his kind is bound to be in the sewers. He’s forever looking up at the stars that Taehyung can collect without lifting a finger.  

“I won’t burden you, Tae. I’m just trouble.”

“You’re not,” he runs his fingers through Jungkook’s dark cocoa hair with his damp fingertips. The younger boy trembles slightly at the feeling, kicking his feet to hide how much he’s enjoying it. “That’s what they want you to believe…but you’re not. We’ll get out of here together, I promise.”

“N-No, you have to go Tae,” Jungkook puts the rice ball back in the steel canteen set between them and turns, serious all of the sudden. His voice is cracking and his leg shakes up and down as he tries hard to control the rage and grief boiling inside him.

He knows what will happen. When Taehyung leaves, luggage in hand, to whatever top-tier college in the country with a full scholarship, he’ll end his life. He’ll take the kitchen knife and plunge it deep into his heart and bleed out in front of his sad excuse of a mother. His father can join in on the crying, or the celebration, over his corpse once he wakes up from a drunken slumber. Actually, they might not even notice he’s bleeding. With the piles of newspaper and dishes laying around, Jungkook would be nothing but bones underneath all that garbage by the time they discover his body.

Taehyung, gripping the hair above the nape of the boy’s neck, keeps him in place like a bothersome cub. “I won’t leave you, Kook. I swear on my life I won’t. When the time is right, we’ll get out of here together.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately, weighing the sincerity on his ears. Feeling tears sting his eyes, he leans his forehead on the older male’s broad shoulders to hide his face and circles his arms around his biceps. Taehyung nuzzles his chin into the younger boy’s hair and smells the salt of the sea in his scalp.

“I’m useless,” Jungkook says at last. He’d decided that Taehyung was genuinely concerned about him after all and not showing off. Those words were not like the empty promises he’s heard many times growing up. “I’m not smart like you. I can deliver milk and newspaper and that’s about it.”

Jungkook rubs his cheek up and down Taehyung’s shoulder blade, scratching the little wound on his cheek until it burned. He can still feel the buckle of his father’s belt ripping a patch of skin off the top of his cheekbones. He had considered leaving that day without a dime to his name but knew better to stay.

Taehyung reaches behind him and tugs his backpack forward, choosing to instead comfort the boy through a gift he’s been wanting to give for some time. He shrugs Jungkook away, earning a pout as the boy wanted to hear more honeyed words of comfort. His irritation, however, is short lived when he sees a flash of onyx and silver in Taehyung’s hands. He watches as the film camera gleams under the tangerine sun, the cracks on the side oozing a type of charm only antiques have.

“This is grandpa’s camera,” Taehyung says as he sets the camera down on his friend’s lap. “I want you to take pictures of the things you love before we get out of here.”

It’s not a gift, but a promise.

“You’re giving this to me?”

He nods. “Don’t worry, he ran off ages ago. I wanted you to have it…I think you’ll like it once you get the hang of it. There’s already a roll inside, it’s half used. I know you wanted that camera from Mickey’s but…this is good enough for now.”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn bright red as he holds the camera in his hands, brushing his thumbs across the protruding lens and the square of white plastic in the corner. He didn’t realize that Taehyung paid enough attention to catch him staring at things he can’t afford. It was equally humiliating as it is flattering that someone notices his wants and needs. Although the camera in his hands is not as fancy as the one in the display cases, Jungkook is more than grateful for he would not be able to afford the basic point-and-shoot camera on a delivery boy salary.

He can’t help but think maybe this will be Taehyung’s final gift to him before he goes away. Maybe the older boy is just taking pity on him because attachment is an illusion that slowly dissipates as absence takes its rightful place.

That rags-to-riches fantasy happens to those who are smart and sincere like Taehyung and not to boys like him – boys who stupidly spend hard-earned money on Iron Man comic books despite needing money to escape.

“I can’t afford to buy film,” Jungkook complains because he knows he’ll burst into tears if he thanked Taehyung. He peers into the viewer with one eye closed. He takes a shot of the waves dancing under their feet. The cerulean blue, their tanned feet, the black rocks – he can already feel excitement bubbling within him when he’ll make the time to develop the roll at the school photography lab.

“I have a box of unused ones in the basement. I’ll dig it out for you later.”

“Mm…okay.”

He points the camera towards the setting sun, taking a snap just when two birds fly past him. The film inside clicks into place with a satisfying snap, making him giggle. He turns at the waist and points the lens towards Taehyung, who stares into the camera with a disinterested amusement that tugs Jungkook’s heart a little more than he feels comfortable with. To please the boy, Taehyung holds a peace sign over his cheek, shielding half of his face as his eye peers past the ‘v’ shaped fingers. Jungkook takes the shot.

“Happy?”

He giggles louder this time. “Very much so.”

Taehyung takes the camera away, enveloping his large hand over the boy’s fingers. He holds the viewer up to eye level, seeing Jungkook nibble on his lower lip. He knows what the boy is thinking. There’s no way he can look pretty with the wound on his cheek, with the purple bruise blossoming around his right eye, the chapped lips split open from his nervous gnawing. Sensing his discomfort, Taehyung reaches over with his free hand and tugs at Jungkook’s hair tucked behind his ears. His deep mahogany-black locks bounces forward like a curtain, shielding the injuries without effort.

“Perfect.”

The camera snaps once more.

*

You curse under your breath after splashing your face with cold water in the office bathroom. Work has been absolute hell in contrast to the newfound heaven at home with Jungkook. You swear there’s a force in the universe set out to get you; as one part of your life heals, another part has its wounds reopen. When Jin called in sick for a few days two weeks ago, you did not realize how different he was going to be when he returned. Something about the way he looks at you these days leaves you paralyzed, often times leading you to work entirely in your personal office instead of the open cubicle like you usually do.

You assume that perhaps there is something going on in his personal life that can explain his passive aggression towards you and your coworkers. Taking pity on him through your own self-talk, you complete his share of the paperwork without complaints for an entire week without earning a single ‘thank you’ or even a smile from him. He often walked back and forth in the hallway, dialing his phone with an aggression that leaves you wondering if the screen even works with how hard he’s pressing. Knowing he was the type of person to need distance during hard times, you didn’t push it.

That is, until he’s suddenly calling in the middle of the night and dragging you out of break rooms. The office is already short on staff due to Sora’s absence, you didn’t need to be reprimanded for laziness especially after you carried his entire workload and apologized on his behalf for mistakes in the software he was supposed to fix.

Honestly, you’re not sure why Jin is cold one moment, hot the next, and then absolutely boiling on some days. But you’ve had enough of it and you’ve reached breaking point today when you heard rumors for the first time that your department, usually praised for its performance, has too many unprofessional workers (it did not take energy for you to figure out people are talking about your little cat-and-mouse chase with Jin). Thus, it was a relief when your former assistant shows up at the office and gives you a break from the cycle of avoiding your childhood friend while saving whatever reputation you have left here.

Pleasant and giving as always, Sora brings sandwiches for the people in your department with no pressure to have the favor returned. It’s the first time you’ve seen your assistant since she took her maternal leave; you almost forgot about her despite receiving occasional updates about her condition and even yearning for her when Jin disappears from his cubicle or stares at you from across the room. To you, she’s one of the best persons you’ve worked with so far in your career. Although Jin is great at handling IT issues that arise too many times for you to wonder if the whole job should be thrown away, it was Sora who brightens the atmosphere with her rambunctious laughter and messy desk in which she was miraculously able to get work done at an unmatched rate. Sporting a small bump beneath her floral wrap dress, she greets you with a kiss on both cheeks.

As you take her in your arms, you peer at Jin leaning against the office fridge with arms folded. His public questioning about Jungkook stays fresh in your mind and everyone else’s as they quietly glance between you and him between conversation.

Almost every time he chases after you, the first words out of his mouth was your boyfriend’s name. It got to the point where you wish you’d wake up from this nightmare that will pass when whatever in his life fixes itself. You’re sure his irrational behavior, arriving from nowhere with the suddenness of a car crash, is coming from something else in his life. You are sure, one hundred percent, that this is the kind of asshole behavior that somehow manifested in your male peers back in college, not that you were ever on the receiving end of it. Until now.

Currently, Jin seems to be deep in thought, sporting dark bags under his eyes. His eyes meet yours momentarily before you pull back and gasp at Sora’s belly with the vigor of a seasoned actress.

“Why do I have a feeling you didn’t just come to bring sandwiches?” You tease while your coworkers chuckle, turning their heads towards you for a moment before turning back to their plates. There are only a few sandwiches left on the counter as you couldn’t leave a conference call until much later unlike others. Actually, it was the same conference call from the person who was disrupted when Jin pulled you out of the room for an “emergency” days ago. You were too angry to even listen to him then, and even angrier now that you’re here smiling after apologizing with a bow just moments before.

With the merry atmosphere dancing in the otherwise cold break room, even your boss sitting at the end of the table has a difficult time asking people to head back to their cubicles and corner offices.

“No, I came here because I missed you,” she squeezes your arms, dragging you softly towards the table scattered with sandwiches of all types. How unfortunate the lobster roll – your favorite – is all gone.

“Please,” you scoff and she laughs with that hearty, sweet sound you missed so much.

“Actually,” she begins, “I’ve been thinking of staying at home to be a mother.”

Your jaw hangs. “You won’t be coming back after this?”

Her face falls slightly at your question and you immediately shut all your thoughts deep inside. You don’t understand the first thing about being a mother. It’s only reasonable you hear her out first. From the corner of your eyes, you see Jin walk towards the coffee pot and pour himself a cup in his chipped mug that brings a spark of annoyance in your chest.

“I do,” she sighs, “but…I found out I’m having twins. Just last week actually. This entire pregnancy was a bit of an accident and I needed time to rethink my priorities. My husband is more than thrilled we’re having twins, you know how he is-“

You nod in sympathy.

“-but it’s difficult for me. I already have a toddler and now with two more…I thought about handing in my resignation soon. I just wanted to see you all one more time before I do.”

You place your hand on her back once you see the tears in her eyes, leading her outside of the break room and into the small walkway where sunlight from the open windows gives you a better view of her solemn yet saccharine face.

“You do what’s right for you. But I understand it’ll be difficult for you to get another job if you need one later with kids around. Have you talked it over with Alex?”

At the sound of her husband’s name from your lips, her cheeks redden slightly.

“He’s glad that I’m strongly considering staying at home. He always wanted to have a big family and we’re more than financially stable with his salary alone. It’s just…I’m going to miss work.” She looks up at you, eyes watering even more. “It feels like I have a family here. Especially you, I feel like I have the little sister I always wanted.”

“Oh Sora,” you sigh, bringing her in your embrace once more and letting her cheek rest on your perfumed shoulder. She inhales the scent of soft geranium and jasmine, letting it calm her anxiousness only further amplified by pregnancy hormones. If the rest of your coworkers found out how emotional she’s getting, they all will follow suit and cry along with her. “We’re still family whether you work here or not. I’m always a phone call away and you know the team will be here to help you if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she sniffles, “I’m grateful…really, for everything.”

“It’s no problem at all,” you smile. “I can’t wait for the babies to arrive. From the bottom of my heart, congratulations on the twins, Sora. It’s such a rare and precious thing.”

She beams at you, eyes glistening, her smile stretching wider as she takes your hands in hers and gives them an eager squeeze.

“I don’t even know how to explain it. Just seeing the ultrasound for the first time was, god I wish you were there!”

“Me too,” you agree, turning your head to the side to see Jin peering at you from between the gap of the door and the column in the corner of the hallway.  “Alex must be so thrilled.”

She rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. He’s baby-proofing the entire house right about now even though I’m not even due for another six months.”

You giggle with her, thinking back to the time you walked into your home to see Jungkook on all fours, rubbing sandpaper to the edges of your coffee table. It’s too dangerous, he said when you stand in front of him with a fist on your hip, you’ll hurt yourself. His strong arms bulge and flex as he works the wood with the ferocity of a mad man. You wonder if Alex is in the same position on the floor, religiously rubbing sandpaper back and forth against the corner of the wooden table.

“That’s so funny,” you muse. “Jungkook baby-proofed the house once and made a mess of the living room…and I’m the farthest thing from a clumsy child.”

Sora raises an eyebrow, elbowing you softly on the side. “Is he dropping hints? You have sex regularly, don’t you?”

“Shhh! Sora!”

She cackles as you turn back and forth between the open door and at her amused face.

“We’re not even married, or even engaged!”

“Well,” she shrugs. “Do you really need to be married to have a child these days? Men can have baby fevers way early in the relationship,” she muses, thinking back to her college days. She seems completely different from the emotional expecting mother just a few minutes ago now that men are the topic of the conversation. Classic Sora move. “I conceived my daughter just a day before Alex proposed.”

You blush, tucking your hair behind your ears. For a moment, you think of your picture-perfect boyfriend on his knees rubbing your lower belly and cooing with his ears pressed up against you. “I guess not but…Jungkook and I aren’t ready for that yet. At least, for the time being.” You shake your head dramatically from side to side, bringing your hands up to your face. “All this baby talk is giving me ideas I don’t like.”

“Alright alright,” Sora waves her hand back and forth like she’s swatting away a fly. “I won’t be one of those annoying office moms that constantly pressure people into pooping out kids.”

You laugh, leaning your back against the wall.

A coworker from two cubicles down peeks his head out the door and urges for Sora to come back into the room. From the ruckus, you can hear your coworkers fighting over the last few sandwiches in a game of rock paper scissors. It seems people are also curious about the picture of her ultrasounds – which you didn’t realize were there before – scattered across the lunch table.

Everyone except for Jin, that is.

You turn towards the door as she waves you off and staggers into the room, just in time to maneuver around Jin who walks towards you while closing the door behind him.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he pleads, peering down at you with a heavy, foreboding stare that wipes the remaining laughter out of your chest.

“Can we talk later?” You move to the side to walk past him, only to be blocked as he steps along with you. You really don’t want to deal with him today when you’re having a good time. You actually don’t want to deal with him at all, at your wit’s end.

“You don’t pick up my calls and you almost always leave before me, if not right away. When I ask, you avoid me.”

Every word out of his mouth is true and you feel sick being confronted with it all despite how valid your anger is with the way he seems to want nothing to do with you when he returned, then wanting to bombard you all five working days last week. However, you’re not sure if the sourness in your gut is regret or anger; regretful that you stayed away from Jin like your boyfriend asked or angry that he is slowly getting on your nerves with his recent behavior. Anytime Jin approaches, it’s never about work or even about your friendship and always about your relationship with Jungkook that he somehow sees as unhealthy and worrying.

“Sora is retiring, Jin. I want to be there for her.” You step around him, only for him to grab you by the elbow and drag you further away from the door. You push him away, glancing at the end of the hallway to see if anyone saw.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jin questions.

“No,” you whisper-snarl, looking back and forth from the door to your childhood friend. “What the hell happened to you? Why do you keep picking fights with me when you know I’m going to react the same way?”

He raises an eyebrow. “With you ignoring me?”

You can feel the anger in your veins making your nerves curl. For the past week, he had been insufferable. You’d never seen someone turn from a friend to a stranger so quickly after you have to bear the weight of his eyes following your every move, leaving you unable to do any substantial office work without errors. Even then, you assume he must have personal business to take care of and needed the well-deserved sympathy. After all, Jin has always been a hard worker and you’ve never once doubted his work ethic, especially in this company where he thrived from your recommendation.

However, his newfound aggression has you thinking back to your boyfriend’s warning about how little you know about men despite living with one. His glare sharpens every time you leave early to head back home or when you take a quick call from Jungkook during your lunch breaks. His eyes seem to follow you across the room as you move back and forth from the copier to your office. You think Jin would be over this little temper tantrum of his until, just yesterday, he’d thrown his cup of coffee in the break room sink while you were on the phone. The sound of porcelain meeting steel and the anger in his eyes was something you couldn’t forget about and in your heart you knew the fury extended past you onto your boyfriend waiting for you at home.

“I know you obviously have an issue with Jungkook.”

“So now you’re ready to discuss?”

“Discuss what?” You scoff. “You claim to be my friend who watches out for me yet you can’t even be happy that I’m finally with someone who cares for me. Jin,” you sigh in exasperation, “look, I know you let your paranoia or whatever get in the way but I promise you Jungkook isn’t a liar or a cheat like Namjoon. You’re overreacting.”

He crosses his arms. “Are you so sure about that?”

“About what?”

“Him not lying to you.”

You didn’t like how serious he looked at that very moment. You’d constantly teased about how his classic poker face he kept from his agent days is the reason why he’s been single since the day he was born. It’s a type of unique hardened face that intimidates anyone smaller than him. Now that this sternness is directed at you, you’re not enjoying a single moment of it.

“There’s no reason for him to lie to me.” You’re confident in that statement and he can sense it by the way your spine straightens and your eyes brighten.

It tugs his heart that you feel so strongly about another man when he knows the truth. It hurts him to know that you’ll be ruined by the files he received from Hoseok and Yoongi sitting in his flash drive. Above all, what hurts him the most is that he risked both of his former coworkers’ safety to verify his intuition, an intuition you easily brushed off to prioritize a months-old relationship against his life-long friendship to you.

On the other hand, you can’t fathom just how much Jungkook can possibly keep from you despite being the most sensitive and loving boy you’ve ever met. A little over two weeks ago, on your balcony, Jungkook had revealed everything you needed to know about him and the reason why he feels the way he feels. He’d trusted you enough to tell you something that affected him the most, that justified his habits you were once annoyed by, and that gave you the reason to become more than just his girlfriend. Sitting on his lap, kissing his scars, and listening to his words, you knew nothing can stop you from loving this boy you met under unwelcomed circumstances.

Really, it was ridiculous that you never noticed the signs before. Jungkook had always cowered to your anger, always the one to put your needs first before his, almost never raising his voice at you except for the few times you were oblivious to your surroundings and endangered your wellbeing.

And here, your friend, belittles you the longer he doubts the validity of your relationship with Jungkook.

Jin’s lips part but you manage to speak before him, stepping closer to him as you crane your neck to meet his unwavering gaze.

“I need to set this straight.” You put a hand on his arm. “I appreciate you as a friend, as someone who has been with me for a long time and looked out for me. I know you’ve always been good to me and I don’t hate you, even if I’m more than angry at you right now. I know you care a lot about the people close to you.”

You see him visibly soften at your words. The tender, loving expression on his handsome face makes you weak for a moment.

“But I need to draw a line here. I’m a woman who can make her own choices about what she wants. I don’t need you to be this…bodyguard stressing yourself to protect me from harm. I know what I’m doing and who I’m with. For god’s sake Jin, I’ve been living with Jungkook for months. If he’d somehow lied to me, I’d know by now. So please,” you beg, your eyes going back to the laughter coming from the closed break room door to your best friend’s piercing eyes. “Leave my relationship alone. Let me land on my feet after what Namjoon did to me. I’m,” you sigh, “so happy now. I’m at peace. So please…Jin,” you squeeze his arm. “Please. Can we just go back to being us?”

For the longest time he stays silent, his eyes moving across your face as if he’s looking for something important.

He finds his voice when you step away from him. “…I understand. I’m sorry…for making you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.” He takes your hands in his. “I’m really sorry.”

You offer him a small, sympathetic smile and bask in the warmth of his palms. “I’m sorry too, for avoiding you when I could’ve said all of this earlier.”

“I just-” he starts and pauses.

Jin looks out the window, focusing on nothing in particular. He can see the top of trees and similar silver rectangle buildings reflecting sunlight. He watches a few cars drive past the swirl path leading to the parking lot situated around the main entrance of the building. He looks back down at you.

“I actually wrote everything I wanted to say and…I was too chicken shit to read it out loud. I,” he clears his throat, looking down at his shoes. “I’m just going through a hard time. I know I’m taking all of it out on you. I’m really sorry, I really-”

“Wait, Jin,” you cup his face in your warm hands, immediately shedding all traces of anger and annoyance you carried for the last few days. Of course, your friend of many years would never hurt or anger you on purpose. He’s overthinking and lashing out when logic hits a wall of emotions, just like you had with Jungkook before. You’ve never seen Jin on the verge of tears until now and it’s tugging your heart painfully. “I forgive you, everything’s okay now, right? You’re still one of my dearest friends, I’m not going to be mad at you forever.”

Jin shakes his head. “No, there’s just…”

He freezes mid-sentence again, leaving you curious as to what his next few words might be. Jin’s eyes move frantically from his shoes to the trees outside. Sweat prickles his scalp as he considers the weight of what he’s about to do next, what he’s about to reveal to you. He’d considered and reconsidered his plans only to wing it all last minute. What good does thinking ever do for him? When Jungkook holds your heart captive, is planning worth the trouble? Or is it easier to play Jeon’s game with his unpredictability? Right now, Jin is convinced it’s the latter.

You watch as he digs into his pocket to reveal a small black flash drive the size of a rifle bullet. “Everything I want to say,” he swallows, “is all here.”

You feel glued to the ground by the weight of the object in his hands and by how intense his gaze is as it sets on you. If Jungkook can see you know, you know he would be furious. Jin takes your hand, revealing your soft pink palm, and places the flash drive in the center before curling your fingers around it. Even though the object itself is as light as a feather, the burden of his words lay heavy against your chest, restricting your ability to breathe.

He whispers your name softly like a prayer, rubbing his thumb across your enclosed fist. “Please read it all for me when you’re alone. I promise I’ll leave you and Jungkook alone unless you need me.”

“W-What’s in it?”

A love confession? Maybe Jungkook was right all along about Jin, about men.

Jin shakes his head. “Just read it. Alone. I went through a lot of trouble to make this for you. If you forgive me and want me to be the Kim Seokjin you grew up with, read it.”

Your fist tightens slightly as you take another step away from him. When you walked to the office this morning and found him staring into his mug of pitch-black coffee, you weren’t expecting anything more than the usual passive aggressiveness or being chased during lunch breaks between your boyfriend’s calls. You didn’t expect to stand here in front of him, wondering if the contents of this flash drive will confirm the doubts Jungkook had about him all along.

Noona, can’t you see he wants you for himself?

You dig your hands into your pocket and tuck the flash drive away, garnering the strength to finally look back into your friend’s eyes. Jin’s eyes are fixed on your pocket before they scour your face once more as if he were searching for something.

“What is it?”

How ironic that you’re the one asking the questions now.

Jin’s lips part just slightly before he digs his fists into the pockets of his black slacks and look out the window. It’s strange that he can’t find the words he wanted to say when he can finally be alone with you for once without raising the suspicion of others or, worse, Jungkook’s. The wind blows gently into the hallway, carrying with it the scent of wet leaves. He stares into the distance as you stare at him until a round of laughter interrupts your thoughts. You look at the break room door and then back at your friend who seemed to have turned to stone.

“I’ll make sure to read it,” you reassure him, unable to bear the silence any longer.

He turns back to you but his smile is sad. You gaze at him longer, unable to decipher anything that just happened in this lonely hallway. One thing for sure, you know the contents of Jin’s flash drive needed to be opened alone and whatever is inside affects you more than it’ll affect Jungkook. Something about the content is going to change you, alter your reality, and take the blissful filter you’ve been wearing for the last two weeks at home. The thought makes you feel queasy as if you have something dirty to hide, as if you’re committing adultery behind Jungkook’s back after he’d spilled his heart out to you.

It was Jin who turns on his heels and heads back into the room.

You dig the flash drive out of your pocket and hold it up to the sunlight. It’s such a small and simple plastic tool costing just as much as a tin of mints.

Yet, it scares you so much you nearly miss your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Jungkook’s name flashes across your screen and for the first time, you hesitate to press the answer button.

Perhaps you thought too highly of yourself all along. How different are you really from Yori or Namjoon when you can keep a man’s secret in your pocket while you live with another?

*

So far, Jungkook has learned that fear is a strong motivator. It influences you, shapes you, makes you create paths where there isn’t one. It crawls up the walls and knocks on your window as a reminder that there’s always something lurking in the distance. It’s why Jungkook believes in never settling when things get comfortable.

When he asked Taehyung to make placebo pills, he had done so in fear that you would leave him. Yet, this does nothing to settle his nerves. In fact, it makes him uneasy that he’ll get caught somehow as if the birth control pills he flushed down the toilet never melted. In his unease, he can imagine those eggshell white tablets sticking to the sides of the drain despite the chances being slim to none. One call from a neighbor about a clogged pipe and it’s over for him.

This is the nightmare that lingered in his mind before he’d sat you down in his lap and pressed your hand against the dent on his cheek. Three weeks ago, you listened to him attentively as he wraps you slowly around his fingers. He can smell himself on your neck, taste himself on your tongue, feel your touch so agonizingly sweet on his taut stomach. It pained him a little that you, the privileged girl from the world above, might trade love for pity. But you were so accepting and so understanding of his past, his dependency on Taehyung and you, that there was no way someone can come along and convince him you weren’t made for him. Making love to you, worshipping your skin and scent, has never been so otherworldly for him.

Sitting in front of the television and replaying the footage of you from the wedding that could have taken you away from him, Jungkook inhales and exhales slowly. He’d taken the time to clip Namjoon’s footage away so that all that’s left is you in the wedding boutique twirling multiple dresses to your chest, your soft wavy hair pooling over your shoulders as you do so. In a silk robe, you lift a ballroom dress up against the mirror, eyes moving up and down the charmeuse and tulle quickly to take in all its miniscule details.

He loves that about you. The way your eyes glisten and widen when something strikes your heart. It’s the same look you gave him, sitting in his lap on that damp balcony, running your thumb over the scar on his cheek.

It was especially painful for Jungkook to reopen his past wounds but in one way he felt the invisible weight lift off his shoulders. He couldn’t tell you everything – especially not about the strings Taehyung pulled for him to live a normal life – but he was satisfied that you didn’t mind one bit. He swears he could hear you purring and sighing softly underneath his chin, reacting with a slight gasp when he tells you how often he was hurt back then and how thankful he was that Taehyung took him under his wing. Although a small spark of jealousy ignited in his chest when you mentioned inviting his attractive friend for dinner once he’s back in down, Jungkook was more than grateful that you didn’t seem to mind how attached he is to the older man.

He wonders if you’d react that same way if he’d told you he’d lost his virginity to Taehyung a year into high school and that his first kiss happened on that same beach rock. He wonders if you’d react in the same sympathetic manner if you truly knew what happened before he was able to graduate high school before the world plunged into tar.

*

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Jungkook’s hands tremble as he yanks the storage drawer open and dig out his shirts, undergarments, and jeans into the duffel bag. He has to make sure he doesn’t forget his winter clothes because he would be livid if he finally gets out of this house only to freeze to death on the streets. From between the cracks of the rotten wood plastered against his window, he can see Taehyung standing with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Taehyung looks around the house, at the rusted gates connected to the concrete walls that surround the perimeter, and the mailbox slumped over the garbage can. He looks at the messily covered windows and puffs out a smoke. There’s a similar slumped duffel bag next to his feet inflated with clothes and packets of food.

“I’m leaving.”

Jungkook’s mother attempts to grab him by the neck, unable to do so easily as he stands tall after he outgrew his middle school uniform. Her grip slips as fast as it comes.

“You ungrateful little shit!” She spits, reaching up successfully this time to grasp the ends of his hair as she shoves hard enough for him to stumble into the wall.

Relentless, Jungkook continues throwing his clothes, then his lunch box filled with coins and a wad of cash, into the bag.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?!” She sobs, throwing herself on the floor next to his shoes and dirty socks. She scratches the slits on her arms and proceeds to drag her nails across the floor. A wretched cry falls from her lips and  Jungkook feels his throat clenching, his eyes watering. Rather than sadness, it was boiling hot resentment that keeps him silent.

He doesn’t turn to look at her. He knows she’s going to manipulate him, somehow, with her disgusting guilt-tripping shrieks and nail him against the wall to prevent him from moving.

She pounds the sticky floor mats with the heel of her palms, her voice hoarse. “I made you, Jungkook! I took care of you, I fed you, I bought your fucking clothes. And you’re leaving me with this fucking asshole,” she slams her hands down again, her head snapping towards the sound of the back door slamming open followed by heavy footsteps. His hands begin to sweat, causing the toolkit he grabs from the top of the shelf to slip and clatter on the floor.

In the distance, Jungkook can hear his father crushing a can of beer against the kitchen counter and throw it in the sink for him to clean like he usually does. No longer is he going to be yanked around like a puppet for these two sad excuses of a human being. How his mother was able to carry him inside her full term and give birth while smoking and drinking like a sailor is unknown to him. He’s grateful, at least, that he came out sane. He thinks with a sudden surge of anger that perhaps his mother’s need to have a punching bag was more critical than the inconvenience that the pregnancy caused her.

To her, his father coming back with the stench of prostitutes and alcohol always became his fault. It was his fault that his mother’s body isn’t as it used to be. It was his fault their marriage is dead. Above all, it was his fault for existing to remind them that they produced another good-for-nothing trash to add to the pile of garbage that is this town’s desolate population.

“I’m not coming back,” Jungkook grunts as he throws a camera and several rolls of film in the bag. “I never want to see you or dad ever again.”

His mother shakes her head over and over again, arms stretched towards the door as it suddenly slams open to reveal the lean yet pot-bellied figure of a graying man. His father looks down at the duffel bag on the floor, and then at his wife curled next to Jungkook shoes. His face seems lifeless – like a corpse – with bulging black beady eyes that reflect no light and a mouth set in a thin strip. It’s the first time in years that the man came to see Jungkook in the makeshift bedroom, usually taking the couch in the living room as his permanent place of residence. It’s where he drinks, where he watches the same television program about car remodeling, and where he demands weekly handjobs in his drunken stupor.

“You’re leaving?” He interrogates, voice low and tired as if he’d woken up from a slumber.

Jungkook nods, zipping his bag and glancing around the room to see if he missed anything. He didn’t own much but it pains him to leave his heavy stack of comic books behind. There was no way he could carry that with him across the country.

“Why?”

Jungkook looks at his father under the single light bulb illuminating the otherwise dark and swampy room. For the first time, he notices how similar they look. He has the man’s eyes, his soft yet chiseled jaw, and even the mole under the lips. If the man were several decades younger, they would be a splitting image of each other. The thought makes bile rise up Jungkook’s throat.

Why is he leaving? Was that even a question he needed to answer? One night with the Jeons and anyone will run far away. Jungkook has lived here for nearly a decade and a half and at no point during his residency was he able to remember a time when his body wasn’t covered with bruises or scars. It’s a miracle that he’s never broken a bone nor hospitalized after being whipped across his bare buttocks for years like a prisoner. The humiliation was far worse than the pain.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jungkook retorts for the first time, gaze hardening. “I fucking hate living in this hellhole.”

His mother watches as her husband swings forward and slams his fist down on the side of Jungkook’s temples, knocking the boy against the open drawers. Jungkook splutters a ball of saliva and blood and digs his arms and legs into onto the ground the crawl away. Unfortunately, the room had only so much room for him to move. The stronger male pulls him by the ankles, dragging him back and flipping him on his back for him to see the belt buckle coming undone.

Jungkook crosses his arms across his face and shields his eyes away from the light and those deep black eyes. From the gaps between his forearms, he sees his mother crawling towards him and yanking his pants down, digging her nails so deeply into the patch of skin where his hips meet the waistband that the scratch marks instantly bleed.

“This boy needs to be taught a lesson!” He hears his father say with a voice as sudden and full of viciousness as thunder, the first lash coming down across his arm. He cries out, spine stiffening as a he gasps into the side of the bag. His breath is ripped out of his lungs. The second lash comes down shortly afterwards across his thighs where former bruises had only recently begun to heal.

“He does, doesn’t he?!” His mother encourages, no longer seeming as distressed as she was before looking down at his scrunched and tear-streaked face.

“When I am done with you, boy, you are going to wish you were dead. You ungrateful piece of-”

A stream of thick liquid splatters over Jungkook’s trembling body, a few droplets attempting to seep into his eyelids squeezed shut. His pounding head gifts him with a vision so hazy he might as well stare through a dense blanket of fog. When his arms come down at his sides to hold his temples together, he can feel his veins pulsing beneath.

It takes a full minute for him to even understand what he was looking at. There’s a muscular arm holding his father across the chest to hold the man’s spine straight and another swung over his shoulders as a silver scalpel, following a trail across the neck, stays lodged deep into the trachea. Jungkook sees another splash of red fall over his bare knees as the stream of blood falls to his feet. The smell of iron is thick in the air when his father, eyes bulging out further than he thought possible, slumps to the side.

Pulling himself away from the weight of the corpse at his feet, Jungkook watches the figure rip the knife standing tall from the man’s throat and plunge into the side of his frozen mother’s neck. He watches her pale, skinny limbs thrash as if she’s burned before she slumps down next to the futon.

With a feeling he can only describe as akin to relief, Jungkook looks up at his savior.

“I told you you’ll need me here.”

With soaked hands, Taehyung gathers the boy in his arms and leans him against the wall. He watches as Jungkook’s face scrunches in pain once more and stray tears make its way down his baby soft cheeks. He takes his trembling bottom lip under his front teeth and shakes as he whimpers like a wounded puppy.

He is truly a puppy, Taehyung thinks.  

The older boy takes his place against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, watching Jungkook with the same enthusiasm as one watches a child take its first steps. Jungkook, wiping the splatters of blood from his face, exhales and sniffles loudly before crawling towards his mother. He wraps his fingers around the silver scalpel from her throat and pull until her skull knocks back down to the floor with a thud. Bloods seeps from her wound down to his fingers and, with a sudden strength, Jungkook lodges the sharp end of the tool into her heart. She must have been partially alive as a throaty gasp makes its way out of her mouth.

Her blood is darker than he remembered from the many period-stained panties of hers he scrubbed with his hands over the kitchen sink. It looked like tar, thick and warm yet lightweight as it drenches his clothes. Remembering his state of undress, he curls his fingers around the waistband of his pants and pull it up towards his hips and over the scratches at his side.

Jungkook grasps the knife once more to push further and relishes in the feeling of it hitting bone. He realizes, with wonder, that his parents don’t even look like corpses in front of him but like puppets.

Maybe that’s how they saw him when they were alive – like a puppet they could throw around without a care knowing it’ll live and die under this roof.

Jungkook takes the knife and stumbles over to his father’s body with enthusiasm, puncturing the man’s stomach and dragging the knife up towards the breastbone. More tar-black blood seep into the flooring, flooding the horizontal bamboo until it ran underneath the drawers and the small shelf holding his textbooks in a neat stack. He grips the knife and plunges, again and again, into the side of the man’s head, gasping only slightly when the bone gives away with a small crack like a camera shutter.

Jungkook situates himself on his knees, heels digging into his buttocks, and looks down at his soaked hands resembling red gloves. He examines his nails, the cuticles darkening as the blood oxidizes in the swampy room. He blinks a few times, watching the red glow under the dim lightbulb above him.

He’s imagined this moment many times before in his fantasies, some much more exciting and drawn-out than what occurred like a fight scene from a Bruce Lee movie. But none of those fantasies included Taehyung coming to rescue him like he had many times before. None of these fantasies included such quick and boring deaths. He was hoping he could say everything he wanted to say to them, about how much he loathed them with all his heart, how much he wished he could watch them boil alive like an insect in a summer pond.

They probably knew but didn’t care.

Now that it’s over, now that there will no longer be screaming and tiring cycles of starvation and receiving the belt, Jungkook is rather grateful for Taehyung’s interruption. And he’s grateful that his best friend of years has never really hid his experience from him. Taehyung just merely waited for his slow brain to catch up.

There’s only one thing he could say as the room falls silent and still.

“Is this what happened to your grandpa too?”

It was with a sudden intuition that Jungkook asked such a question.  

“This…and a little more.”

Jungkook slumps down to the floor, looking past his shoulder at Taehyung, silently motioning him to come hold him.

Reading the silence without hesitation, the older boy crawls forward and envelops him in his embrace, keeping him tucked beneath his chin as two hands grip the underside of his arms. He shields the boy’s gaze away from the bodies, knowing that the first time is always the most poignant despite him taking it so well.

“They’ll know it was us.”

Taehyung brushes Jungkook’s bangs back and tucks the ends behind his ear.

“They’ll find us even if we left.” Jungkook continues. Without looking, Taehyung can hear the pout in his voice.

“Are you worried?”

Jungkook nods, fingers palming the thick ropes of muscle beneath his grip.

“Don’t be,” Taehyung chuckles, his long fingers brushing over the small sensitive patch of skin just behind the boy’s earlobes. “I’ll take care of you.”

*

Jungkook decides to take a long, cold shower after ending the call with you. It concerns him that you sounded exhausted over the phone but he expected it anyway as you’ve been working far too much this week. Your voice, so soft and gentle, makes him semi-hard enough that he finds himself palming the length of his cock under the running water to relieve his frustrations. It had taken him a substantial amount of self-control to refrain from asking for more time in the bedroom these days. As sweet as you are allowing him to nestle inside you and nuzzle you when you were too tired and sleepy to move, your exhaustion ultimately lead him to tucking you in his arms and make sure you at least get some sleep. God, how he wishes for you to run your hands over his chest and arms now.

Jungkook twists the shower knob into the wall and ruffle his dripping hair. He slides the glass door to the left, heaving a soft sigh as he examines the surface of the tub, the toilet, and the sink. The smell of sanitizing lemon cleanser still lingers in the air but he knows the scent will be long gone by the time you’re back from work. Next to the polished sink, he prepared a small basket of bath supplies – jasmine-scented bath salts, dried flowers, and a heart-shaped sponge – for you to pamper yourself when you drag your feet through the front door looking like death. Work has been rough on you and he was more than happy to handle all the responsibilities at home that you sometimes habitually do.

He grabs the towel folded over the slightly rusted rack erected next to the shower curtain (he reminds himself to replace that) and wraps the fluffy material around his waist. Stepping out of the shower, he grabs his cellphone just in time for it vibrates aggressively in his grip.

Head tilted to one side to make sure the moisture at the ends of his hair doesn’t drip on the surface, he answers the call with a smile.

“Tae!”

“Is she pregnant yet?”

Jungkook exhales softly, a smile dancing on his lips. The older Taehyung gets, the less he beats around the bush. “Not yet but she’ll be fertile next week, I think I’ll have better luck soon. How’ve you been? Jimin told me you were in Cuba…and Hong Kong too.”

He hears a sigh over the speakers and chews on his bottom lip. Oh, Jimin is going to get an earful for sure for blabbering his business around.

“I had to deal with a few people…listen,” his voice lowers suddenly, “has anyone approached you or your girlfriend recently?”

Jungkook walks into the bedroom, turning off the bathroom lights with his elbow on the way out. He sits at the edge of the bed, combing his hair back until the droplets trail down his spine and shoulder blades.

“Not that I know of,” he shakes his head, “why do you ask?”

When Taehyung doesn’t reply immediately, a pang of anxiety wraps his heart in a vice grip.

“I-is there someone after me?” He grips his phone.

A few thousand miles away, the older man shakes his head, re-evaluating what he needs to hide or reveal. He wants Jungkook to be prepared for emergencies but after discovering that this Kim Seokjin person is in the same city and, out of a strange coincidence that may not be a coincidence, worked in the same building as you, he’s come to a logical conclusion that makes the situation unpredictable. A basic background check tells him that Seokjin no longer works for the government nor does he have permission to access private health and criminal records of strangers. It explains why the man needed to contact Hoseok and Yoongi. The motive behind such an unethical behavior could also be because of you, Taehyung guesses when he scrolled through Seokjin’s social media profiles to see more than a few pictures of him and you at cocktail parties and birthday gatherings. It did not take much deduction to understand that Taehyung is staring at the jealous male figure that his closest friend complained of lingering around his precious noona. Perhaps the man is using unethical means to dig for the literal skeletons in Jungkook’s closet?

However, if Jungkook sees the man as a threat and if Seokjin has evidence in his possessions, why has neither of the men taken drastic action? Jungkook is far too immature (Taehyung admits) to not consider using his services to take care of a male threat. He seems unusually at peace with you now, leading Taehyung into a wall. If Jungkook isn’t truly threatened and if Seokjin hasn’t acted yet, the former agent is probably smart enough to realize you’re not worth the trouble of dealing with a criminal. The contents of Jungkook’s case must have scared him off. Yes, that’s it.

Taehyung mentally slaps himself on the forehead for not thinking through before calling and worrying the boy.

“Tae? Are you still there?”

That bug he planted in the software used to track juvenile criminal cases lent him more paranoia than relief. There were numerous times Jungkook and his files were accessed by agents that were actively filtering or attempting to study old cases to his annoyance. Maybe the pictures scared Seokjin off for good. Two weeks is too long of a wait to expose a man when there’s an abundance of evidence.

“You don’t have to worry. I was asking because someone messed up a shipment and my customer isn’t very happy. Sent some threats that sounded a little too serious than the usual.”

Jungkook exhales a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding. “…I mean…it sounded serious enough to worry you. Should I keep watch? Should I tell Jimin?”

“No, no need for that. I called to check, just in case. You know nothing is guaranteed in our line of work.”

The thought makes Jungkook upset. Nothing is guaranteed, but he hopes your devotion and Taehyung’s safety is. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without the both of you.

“Okay…” Jungkook looks down at his toes clenching into the floor. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything wrong, right?”

To that, Taehyung replies quickly. “Of course. We’re brothers after all.”

He smiles to that, brushing his locks back and standing. He makes his way towards the closet, fishing out a pair of black sweatpants and a matching cashmere shirt.

Hearing the ruffle of clothes through the phone, Taehyung makes the decision not to tell you about Kim Seokjin after all. With the expectation of pregnancy and Jungkook’s proneness to jealousy, he didn’t need more work on his plate. Despite the brotherhood, they each had their own lives after all and constant surveillance of the past would do more harm than good, reopen wounds that have longed healed.

“I’m catching a flight, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Jungkook beams. He suddenly looks forward to the day he’ll introduce Taehyung to you if there’s business that needs to be done in the city. “Bye, Tae-”

The doorbell rings, prompting Jungkook to turn towards the opening where he can see past the living room to partial front door. By the time the bell rings a second time, Taehyung has already dropped the call. Jungkook makes his way out of the bedroom slowly, keeping his feet light.

Taehyung has already reassured him that there was nothing to worry about. Being approached by someone seems unlikely if this customer of his had expressed similar threats in the past. Yet, somewhere in his gut, he couldn’t fight the feeling that there’s something he isn’t noticing. And the answer to that feeling might be on the other side of the door.

When he reaches the panel, he presses the button next to the monitor to reveal the image of a neatly dressed middle-aged woman carrying a small, wrapped box in her hands. He can tell just from her clothes that she belongs to this part of the town – her posture itself reflects wealth and respect.

It took a few more blinks until he realizes who he’s looking at.

Mother-in-law!

The door opens with a loud clang, causing the woman’s head to snap upwards at the tall man smiling down at her. She notes his damp hair and handsome features – doe eyes, a button nose, pink shapely lips and aristocratic cheekbones. You sure know how to pick your men.

“Are you…Jungkook?” The woman inquires.

He nods eagerly, stepping to the side. “Yes, you’re noona’s mother, right? Please come in.”

He notices the hesitation followed by a pair of Celine heels clicking against the polished floors. He mentally rewards himself for dedicating the morning to polish the bathroom, the kitchen, and the parquet. The house smells a bit like lemon but the balcony carried the scent of orange blossoms that masked the unpleasant sharp notes of artificial fruit.

The woman’s eyes move across the living room, eyebrows slightly raised as if she was bracing herself to witness a pig sty instead of a home.

“What time does she get off work?”

Jungkook closes the door and hovers an arm across her back to lead her towards the sofa. She’s about the same height as you, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. He silently hopes the furniture doesn’t smell like sweat as he’s been melting there with the television on for the first half of the afternoon.

“A-about nine, she’s been working overtime for this week.” His knees hit the side of the couch but any hint of pain is overridden with the need to impress. “Please take a seat, I’ll bring you some water.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, although the light doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jungkook backs slowly towards the kitchen and then jogs to the fridge, yanking the door open and fetching a cool bottle of water. His hands shake when he fishes a glass from the dish rack, making sure he chose the glass without the uneven bottom. He should have refunded the entire set months ago when it came with such a frustrating defect.

He quickly pours into the cup and wipes any stray droplets on the side of the glass with the back of his hand. She thanks him under her breath when he sets the cup in front of her with a wooden coaster propped underneath. She takes the glass in her hands and take a small sip, smacking her lips together as if she’s tasting wine.

Jungkook struggles to look for the right words to say.  

“I brought marinated crabs,” she thrusts the neatly packed box towards him, “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Jungkook’s smile couldn’t have been any larger as he takes the wrapped box from her with both hands. “Thank you so much…I’m sorry I don’t have anything prepared. I wasn’t aware you were coming.”

At that, your mother clears her throat. “I came to talk to you about my daughter. Without her knowing, you see. I’m sure you know we…haven’t been on speaking terms for a while.”

Jungkook nods, placing the box on the table and gathering his hands in his lap. Despite keeping close watch on your every move, he’s kept in the dark about your family situation. He only remembers you shaking with laughter and tears when hearing about your mother maintaining close ties with the Kim family after what happened. Even though the woman hurts for her daughter, financial ties are hard to break.

“…Yes, I’m aware.”

The older woman sighs softly, dragging her gaze across Jungkook’s expression and posture. The boy certainly is polite but it was obvious he was not from the kind of world you’re from. She can tell by the way he fidgets and seem too eager to please; it was endearing but also pathetic to watch. He’s extremely sweet and charming – she admits – and overwhelmingly so. Unlike Namjoon, he seems to be much more expressive and sensitive.

She can understand why you took such a liking to him, why you could overlook the not-so-pleasant behavior that reveals his poor upbringing.

“I wanted to come to tell you…I found someone for her.”

He smiles, not understanding the woman for a few moments until her solemn eyes met his. He can feel his belly clenching as his stomach drops. He must have misheard, that’s it. “I-I’m sorry?”

Your mother takes another sip from her glass, looking around the house once more, as if she were stalling time, before planting her eyes on Jungkook’s appalled expression. She seems guilty, at least, that she’s said such a thing to the boy although she’s never once held a high opinion of him.

“I’ve been looking for a suitable partner for her.” She continues. “I am aware she is rightfully upset with me and she won’t listen to me, much less talk. I know she was seeing several men before she became…serious with you.”

Jungkook can feel his stomach churning.

“You must know by now what kind of family she comes from. There are some…things that are expected of her to respect our traditions. I know it’s entirely unfair of me to-”

Jungkook stands, turning away from her as he brings a hand up to his mouth. His temples pulse with nausea as her voice grows louder.

“-come here and ask for you to understand! What you did to Namjoon did irreversible damage to my daughter’s reputation and as a mother,” she shakes her head from side to side, “I can no longer sit still and watch her make a terrible mistake”

“I…” Jungkook starts, his heart hammering in his chest. “What I did to him…I would never do to noona. I’d never hurt her o-or even think about doing such a thing.”

The woman sighs, her eyes devoid of warmth. “I know, darling. I do trust that the incident happened because you were protecting her feelings. I can appreciate your sentient. However,…she’s my only child. As a mother…as her only parent…I have to make sure she’s on the right path.”

Jungkook turns, his eyes glazed as he bores into the box sitting on the couch. This wasn’t a present given for pleasantries, it was brought to cushion her true intentions.

“Jungkook…” The woman stands to stretch her arms out and hold Jungkook’s hands under her warm palms. He’s paralyzed, whether or not it’s from her insulting logic or from her general disapproval of him, she doesn’t care to know.

“I’m not your enemy. I know you love my daughter, I’ve heard of how much you’ve taken care of her. Please understand that-”

His ears are ringing. Jungkook can feel himself shrinking under her gaze. He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry because he knows, deep down, how incompatible he is with you considering the two very different lives you both have led. Did you phone your mother for the first time in months behind his back after he told you about his past? Did you pretend to be okay even if it scared you?

It’s like your mother reached into his core and pulled every shred of insecurity he carried within him. Every night for the last few months, he felt like he was given permission to consume the forbidden fruit that is you, knowing there are consequences to his consumption. Your devotion, your promises, your endless compassion towards him – is it all going to turn into a mirage?

He knows since the very beginning that in many ways he’s incomparable to Namjoon and even some of your rebound lovers he had the displeasure of following around. A glance at a man’s wristwatch and he could tell whether they belonged to your world or not. Jungkook can only hope that the struggles he’d faced would give him the leverage others don’t have. He is willing to risk it all for you and make sure you won’t ever have to experience a single morsel of pain he’d endured.

“Can you give me a chance?” Jungkook pleads, voice small.

Suddenly, anger flashes across your mother’s face but as quick as it came, it disappeared. He could tell she was struggling to keep herself in check after several months of you ignoring her calls, her incessant demands to maintain the family image, and the burn of needing to sneak around your schedule to reach your new apartment herself. It’s the pent-up frustration of having the family pride stepped on again and again by you that has led her to this moment.

If he were your guardian, he’d also be worried too. He can forgive your mother just as he had forgiven you many times.

“A chance?” She fumes.

Jungkook nods. “I promise I won’t disappoint you…I-I have a business and I’m more than willing to be the sole provider-”

The woman’s hand tighten around his relaxed fists.

“Jungkook,” she grits. “You are not hearing me. I don’t want her marrying into a family out of our circle. We have an established tradition of-”

Jungkook scoffs, ripping his hands away. “No, ma’am. You are not hearing me.”

Her eyebrows come together as her foundation-covered wrinkles deepen with a frown. She watches Jungkook walk across the living room to the hanging picture of you and your father. You were a mere child then, staring naively up at your late father with wonder as your little fists reach up to take the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

Digging his hands inside his pocket and running his tongue over the inside of his cheek, he turns to the woman.

“I’m asking for a chance because I’ve already decided to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Secrets ~ 7

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; fingering.

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Notes:

Will King Steve ever show up?! Haha, we’re getting there, I promise.

I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don’t shy away in the comments, reblogs, etc.

After your midnight run-in with Barnes, you hid under your covers but didn’t sleep much. The morning rose behind the curtains as you groaned and mulled over another day of royal hell. You dragged yourself out of bed on your own that day. You dressed after grumbling over the selection of pastels and print then waited for your keeper.

You could probably march right out of the palace and not be noticed, you thought. Last night, he hadn’t even heard you enter the pool room. You cringed at the recollection and pushed your legs together as you felt a tickle between them. You stood sharply and teetered on your feet. 

You marched to the door and pulled it open, intent on sneaking out in your bare feet without the annoying and unsteady click of heels. If your mother could outrun Astrania for two decades, you could probably put up a good chase.

You were stopped by the figure awaiting you on the other side. Barnes was just as surprised as you as his hand was still outstretched as if to turn the handle. He blinked and his lips curved in amusement as he looked you over. You scowled, caught before you could run, and crossed your arms.

“You’ve forgotten your shoes,” he looked down.

You huffed and turned back. You stomped to the closet and wrenched it open. You blindly pulled out a pair of white heels. He followed you and kept you from closing the closet. He bent and reached past you to reveal a pair of nude pumps.

“The white… doesn’t go,” he switched the ivory for the beige. “Are you so impatient to start the day?”

You were silent as you sat on the edge of the bed and held back a whine as you shoved your already tortured feet into the shoes. You stood and flitted past him for the door.

“Eager for it be over with,” you swept through the door.

His chuckle stoked your chagrin as he caught up to you. He walked beside you as you retraced the usual path to the dining hall where he would sit and chide you for holding your fork wrong.

“Oh yeah? And how did you sleep?” He smoothed the lapels of his jacket, “Or maybe you were kept awake… by some wandering thoughts?”

You stopped short and turned on your heel to face him. He calmly met you as he came to a smooth halt and he smirked at you. His dark hair was combed neatly but still appeared soft and his thick beard was, as ever, trimmed and clean. He watched you with an unsettling confidence. His eyes ventured further down and you smacked his shoulder.

“And what happens if I tell your king what you did last night? What you tried to do?” You challenged.

He shrugged and fixed the top of your dress as the frill that ran along the neckline folded oddly.

“You think he would be bothered?” His hand slipped down your chest and you shoved him away. He caught your hand and held it firmly. “First, you do not strike a noble.” He remanded, “Like it or not, I have my own title, your highness. Second, I have done nothing more than the duty I’ve been handed. The king wants me to present him with a fit wife and your vow includes a lot more than dining room etiquette.”

“I assure you, I have more than enough experience to guide me in those matters,” you struggled with him as you twisted in his grasp. “Let go of me, Barnes.”

“My lord,” he corrected as his grip tightened, “That is how you must address me.” He released you at last. “Not Barnes, definitely not James.” He sniffed. We have only a few more days and I have little confidence that you will retain much of our work, so if anything, you might appease the king in other avenues.”

“And you would what? Show me how to f--”

“Language!” He cut you off as he grabbed your arm and spun you suddenly. He tapped your ass harshly. “You push too far, your highness.”

“You,” you tried to elbow him but he kept your arm in place as he tugged you down the staircase. “You push too far… my lord.” You descended if only to keep from falling on your face. 

“Because I must,” he sneered and for a moment, you were proud of how you had irritated him. “Because you insist on making it so… difficult.” The pause revealed his urge to swear himself. You wanted to laugh but his hold on you had you more inclined to slap him.

“Get off,” you wiggled free as you got to the bottom of the stairs, “Lord Barnes,” you spat with spite, “You want me to be proper, you want me to act as a queen would, then you should treat me like one and listen to me.”

His blue eyes gleamed as he watched you. You shook your head and waved him off as you strode ahead of him. He followed with even steps. You refused to look back at him or slow your pace. Just a few more days, but for what end? For what would be a man just as bad, if not worse.

“You’re not queen yet,” he admonished from behind, “But… not so far as you were.”

👑

Another ridiculous dance lesson, this time without Priscilla tapping your calves with her stick, and you were ready to kick your heels off. Barnes, however, had other ideas. He ushered you from the grand hall and back up the stairs. You knew where he was taking you before you even turned the first corner. The hall of mirrors was your personal nightmare. Your flaws reflected back at you from every angle.

You stopped before the door and, with his arm still hooked in yours, you drew him back.

“Not another fitting,” you pleaded as you untangled yourself from him, “I can’t--”

“You better get used to it, your highness. All of this isn’t for nothing. This will be your life. Fittings, dancing, events… your wedding is a footnote to the list of expectations.” He pushed open the left door. “For every season, you will need a new wardrobe, and as time goes, you might need second fittings.”

“Jesus,” you sighed.

“Your highness,” he reproached curtly. “You must learn to withhold your gripes. Whenever you feel you must bemoan your unhappiness, you might instead smile and count to ten. It works well for my nephew and he is much younger than you.”

“I…” you grimaced, “How dare you--” You searched for words but all you could think was “asshole”, so instead you clamped your lips shut and stormed through the doors.

“There,” he entered behind you, “Much better but you must remember to smile.”

He poked your cheek as he came up beside you and you shook him away. You squinted as you looked to the middle of the airy hall. The mirrors reflected the lights in your peripherals as you took in the scene. A bench had been dragged out and a folding screen was only six feet away, erected beside another rack of clothing. The garments, however, were scant and made your lip curl.

“What is this?” You snarled.

“Well, we have your wardrobe sorted, your attire for your engagement, and of course, the wedding dress,” he passed you and turned as he walked along the bench, “We only need to worry about the wedding night.”

“Oh, no,” you laughed dryly, “No, no, no. I don’t think--”

“Do you think? Ever?” He scoffed. “Now, I will give you a choice. Humour your stubbornness for this one instant. You can choose whichever piece you want and try it on or I can choose and put it on you myself.” He unbuttoned his jacket and pushed it back as he put a hand on his belt, “So?”

You stared at him. Your eyes strayed to the rack of laces, satins, and silks. Your gaze was drawn back as his fingers twitched and you nodded. Slowly, you crossed the hall and swept by the end of the bench. He turned and sat, you glanced over your shoulder from the corner of your eye as you approached the hangers.

You flicked through the selection and found none of it preferable. Whatever you picked would offer little coverage and you expected, little defense to the king’s whims. You tapped your toe and grabbed a hanger without looking. You felt the heat of Barnes’ gaze as you moved behind the screen.

You paused and closed your eyes. You took a breath. Your nerves swirled amid the anger boiling in your chest. You sighed and lifted your lashes. You held up the lingerie and turned it in disgust. Something blue…

The pale blue lace was stretched between slender boning along the structured bodice. You set the set down on the small stool and stepped out of your heels. You rubbed the soles of your feet as you delayed. You wanted to moan as your thumb grazed the tender arch.

“Do you require assistance, your highness?” Barnes taunted from the other side.

“I could just check the sizing and--”

“Would rather the second option?” He called back. “I do like the pink one.” You let out a disgusted ‘ugh’ and strained to unzip your dress. “Two minutes,” he warned.

You slipped out of the pink, frilly dress and shivered as you stripped off your underwear. The panties, made of delicate lace, barely covered your ass as you stepped into them. Your cheeks peeked out the bottom as the top tickled low on your pelvis. The bodice met the upper hem of the bottoms and the cups barely covered your tits, finely embroidered flowers just big enough to conceal your nipples beneath the lace.

“I can’t--” you stood and looked down at yourself, “I can’t-- Barnes, it fits but I can’t…” You were suddenly very self-conscious. You didn’t want him to see you, or anyone else for that matter. “Can I just--”

“Well,” he startled you as he came up and peeked around the screen. You tried to cover yourself but it was of little use, “It does fit.”

“Hey,” you turned away from him and grabbed your dress.

“Mmm,” he purred, “Very nice.”

His hand closed around your arm and he drew you back. He wrestled the dress from your hand and tossed it over your shoulder. He dragged you away from the screen and turned you ahead of him. He placed his hands on your shoulders as he walked you to one of the many mirrored walls.

“Look,” he ordered, “Look at yourself.”

You blinked and raised your eyes. You made yourself focus and bit down as you faced your reflection. Your flesh was on fire as you took in the revealing lace and your exposed skin. You gulped and your gaze met Barnes’ in the mirror. His tongue glided over his bottom lip as his hands slid down your sides.

“You’ve convinced me. The blue is… nice,” he slithered as he gripped your hips. He pressed against you and rocked his hips. His arousal was obvious through his trousers. 

“What-- Hey,” you grabbed his wrists, “That’s enough.”

“His majesty doesn’t like a woman who acts shy,” his hot breath grazed your scalp.

“I don’t care what he likes. You either,” you wrenched his hands away and spun to face him. “I tried it on. We’re done.”

You shoved him but as your hands met his shoulders, he caught your wrists. His eyes were dark and dangerous as they clung to you and he marched you backwards. You stumbled, afraid you would trip, and were steadied only as your back met the cold glass of the mirror. He pushed your hands against the wall on either side of your head and leaned in. His nose met yours as he loomed over you.

“Now, don’t go making a mess,” he raised your hands up above you and held them together. 

His right hand fell to stroke your cheek as he stared you down. He played with the strap of the bodice and slid his fingers beneath as he tugged it past your shoulder. You trembled as your hands throbbed from his tight grip and you squirmed against the mirror.

“Barnes,” you warned as boldly as you could but your voice wavered tellingly. “Get off!”

“You don’t want to ruin this,” his fingers danced over your breast and along your stomach. “Not yet.”

“Let go,” you begged as he fumbled with the lace along your pelvis. 

He turned his hand and pressed two fingers down your vee. He pushed along the crotch of your panties as he forced his foot between yours. He hummed as he crushed the lace against your cunt and both felt the slickness seeping through it.

“Your highness,” he rubbed your clit and you hissed in surprise. “What did I say about making a mess?”

You could only squeak as he swirled his fingers. You turned your head away from him and closed your eyes. Your thighs closed around his hand but did not deter him. He kept his hand snug against you as he curled his fingers and teased you through the lace.

He released your hand and grabbed your chin. He turned your head as his large hand framed your face. His hot breath washed over you.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded and you whimpered. He repeated himself, his tone so deep, so dark, that you obeyed without thinking. You bit your lip as his fingers kept on. “Don’t hold back. You can’t. Not with him.” He rested his forehead against yours. “You have to let the king hear you.”

“B--” your words fizzled to a moan.

“Like that.” He goaded, “Or the king will do worse. If you do not show your pleasure, he won’t care for it.” Barnes fingers sped up and you writhed between him and the wall. “He’ll use you like he has so many, or you can make him want you, like he has never before.” Your mewls grew louder as he played with your bud. “Just like that,” he growled, “Listen to you.”

You spasmed as your climax rose at once. You braced the glass as your body tensed around his hand and you quaked through the ripples of ecstasy. You gasped and gulped for air as your nerves bounced off each other and your blood pulsed hotly in your veins. 

Barnes stilled his fingers and his other hand slid down to your throat. He tutted as he stood straight and kept you against the mirrored wall. He dragged his fingertips up the lacy panties and hooked them beneath the top. 

“We’ll have to choose another,” he tore the panties down your thighs and dropped his hand from your neck. 

He rolled the lace to your feet and tugged until you stepped out of them. You leaned against the glass senselessly as he stood and folded the panties. He felt the wet fabric before tucking them into his chest pocket and buttoning his jacket. He cleared his throat and winked at you.

“Try the pink one,” he said before he strode back to the bench, “The king likes pink.”

You pushed away from the glass and covered your vee with your hands, dazed but humiliated. Only two more days. Could you make it through?

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Ivory Dress

For: @thatesqcrush Valentine’s Bingo and a request from the lovely @beccabarba who requested this:

< I have an idea for Vday Bingo - 'Yayo' with Nick Amaro, if you'd like to write it? Use the lines "Put me onto your black motorcycle / Fifties baby doll dress for my 'I do' / It only takes two hours to Nevada / I wear your sparkle..." Reader is dating Nick in his new LA life. He proposes and they decide to elope to Las Vegas to get married, on his new motorbike! They stay over after the wedding...if you want to write the wedding night too, or not?! 💕💘>

Hope you enjoy it my love x And this also follows on from the relationship that started in Holiday Bingo.

Bingo square: Yayo- Lana Del Ray.

Pairing: Nick Amaro x reader

Warnings: weddings, slight spank and smut. Protection wasn't spoke about, these two have been in a relationship for a while and now married so we will assume Protection is taken care off.

WC: 1643

Enjoy x

You moved out to LA after doing 2 years long distance. You had told Liv you were thinking about making the move to be closer to Nick and a couple of weeks later a position came up at Los Angeles SVU, you applied and got the job. Nick wanted you to move in with him, so he found a house that was half way between your work and his. You had been out there for 9 months loving life with Nick and with the kids when Nick proposed on a day trip to Laguna Beach and although you guys hadn’t picked a date, you both wanted something low key.

You had been walking down the street with your new partner Renee on Friday after questioning a victim for a case when you walked past a wedding dress shop seeing a dress in the window. You both looked at each other and smiled, you walked in tried it on, paid for it and brought it home. Nick wasn’t home when you got home so you showered putting the dress on again to make sure you had the same feelings you had when you were in the shop. You looked at yourself in the mirror at your Ivory fifties baby doll dress for my 'I do' smiling to yourself thinking about the day you would finally become Mrs Nick Amaro.  

You had just settled down on the couch in shorts and tank top after you putting your dress in the spare room when you heard the reeve of Nick’s motorcycle coming around the corner and then stopping in your drive. You heard Nick come in closing the back door behind him taking his backpack off dropping it on the floor and sitting his black helmet on the table,

“Hey mi Amor. Missed you baby” Nick lent over the back of the couch peaking your lips.

“Hey babe. Missed you” You watched on biting your bottom lip as Nick took off his leather jacket and pants leaving him in his boxers and white undershirt.

Nick made his way around to sit next to you throwing an arm around you kissing your temple.

“How was your day?” you rested your hand on his thigh.

“It was good” he smiled at you “Glad’s it’s the weekend though so I can be with you” he cooed making you giggle “How was your day Hermosa?”

“Good, getting closer to cracking the case and” you cleared your throat “I found a dress”

Nick looked down at you with a big grin “The dress?” Nick raised an eye brow at you.

“Yes Nicolas the dress” you rolled your eyes.

“Guess we better pick a date”

“Or” you smiled over at him “Put me onto your black motorcycle, it only takes two hours to Nevada”

“You want to get married in Vegas? You would be happy with that?”

“As long as I wear your sparkle” you looked down at your engagement ring “and I’ am marrying you I don’t care where we get married”

“Will your dress fit in a back pack? You won’t need any other clothes while we are there” Nick cupped your cheek with a cheeky smirk leaning over to kiss you deeply “Just pack that black set that I like”

“Going to let me put on a show for you Daddy” you purred

“You can bet your life on it baby”

The next 24 hours was a blur. After you mentioned to Nick about going to Vegas to get married you both face-timed your families to make sure they were ok with it, promising them to take photos and letting your mum’s organise a big party to celebrate. While you packed the back packs with a few things, your wedding bands included, which Nick had brought when he got your engagement ring Nick rang ahead to book the honeymoon suite at the Bellagio and then jumped on line booking the little white chapel for the following afternoon.

Nick had tears in his eyes when you walked down the aisle to him in you ivory tea length 50’s style capped sleeved baby doll dress and navy shoes, red lips and hair pulled back in a low pony tail curled style and tears came to your eyes when you saw Nick in a black suit with a grey button down tucked in, his neck on show. You had a quick dinner in a restaurant down stairs of the hotel, you both not being able to keep your hands off each other,

“Your Mrs Amaro now, how does it feel?” Nick had his arm around your shoulders, his lips at your ear gripping your thigh through your dress.

“Amazing” you purred “But how about we take this upstairs so you can fuck me like Mrs Amaro”

Nick was sitting in the arm chair in your room his legs spread apart, shirt out, buttons undone hanging open showing off his under shirt, his shoes and socks gone, his eyes dark and grin wolfish. You stepped between his legs leaning down to rest your hands on his thighs, your face close to his,

“Excited to see what I have on under this baby” you purred scrapping your nails down his clothed thighs and Nick groaned.

You stood up toeing your heels off kicking them out of the way. You gave Nick a wink and turned around reaching behind you to your zipper pulling it down too its end. You let it slide off your shoulders letting it drop pooling around your feet. Nick groaned reaching down to rub himself over his zipper when he seen you in his favourite lace boob tube thong sets, but you had brought it in red without him knowing. You looked over your shoulder and you felt your aerosol soak through the thong smearing your thighs when you saw him with hooded eyes his belt and pants undone, his hand wrapped around his long hard length.

You stepped back out of your dress bending down to pick it up and you felt Nick’s hand landing on your ass cheek. Making your gasp biting your bottom lip and moaning before you stood up throwing your dress on the other arm chair.

“You didn’t tell me you got it in another colour Amor”

“It was surprise baby”

You walked between his legs again getting down on your knees, grabbing the waist of his pants and boxers tugging them down. Nick lifted his hips up so you could pull them off and you threw them to the side. Nick made quick work of ripping off his shirt and under shirt throwing them to rest with his pants. You reached behind you unclipping your bra letting it fall off your body and Nick licked his lips at your bare breast.

You looked up at him through your eye lashes with a small grin, wrapping one hand around his length to hold it still, leaning forward more pushing his cock between your breasts to rest in your cleavage. Nick grabbed onto the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. You moving your hand away from him, both your hands going to the sides on your tits pushing them together rising up on your knees and sinking back down, fucking Nick with them.

“Fu- Y/N” Nick groaned his head dropping back, mouth wide open thrusting up into your chest. You pushed your breast together more moving up and down on his cock and Nick made a noise somewhere between a chock and a moan “Baby I ‘am going to come-babe stop please” You pulled back falling on your hunches “Y/N, fuck that felt good” Nick tried to catch his breath “But I want to come in you”

Nick stood up reaching for you pulling you up into him, hooking his pointer fingers on the waits of your thong pushing it down and off. His lips on yours wasting no time deepening the kiss, one arm around your middle, the other going straight to your wet pussy, his fingers running through your wet as he backed you to the bed. You turned Nick around pushing him down on the bed on his back moving to straddle his middle,

“Mrs Amaro is feisty. I should have married you before now” Nick’s voice was deep and husky.

You grabbed Nick’s wrists in your hands, wrapping your fingers around them, pinning them above his head leaning down kissing down from Nick’s ear and along his neck. Nick moaned when you nipped on his sweet spot lifting your hips up to line yourself to him sinking down.

“But you love it don’t you babe” you rolled your hips over Nick and his eyes slammed shut, bucking up into you as you bounced on his length.

You could tell he was close, he was still so worked up from before. The room was filled with the smell of sex, slapping skin, loud moans and groans.

“Baby- I’am close” Nick grunted out thrusting up into you, his skin covered in sweat.

You let go of Nick’s wrists pushing yourself up resting your hands on either side of his belly button, Nick reached for one of your hips with one hand and found your clit with the other rolling it with his long pointer finger,

“Oh Nick” you moaned loud slamming yourself down on Nick, your head falling back as your coil snapped your release rushing through you at lighting speed.

Your orgasms was so intense that the way your inner walls gripped Nick was enough to push him over the edge into his own pure pleasure spilling deep inside you. Your hips rolls slowed as you came down from your high and you lent down kissing Nick deeply, his hands threading into your hair to pull you closer.

“I love you Y/N Amaro”

“I love you too Nick Amaro” 

Tags: @witches-unruly-heart​ @teamsladsandgents​  @permanentlydizzy​  @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo​ @amorestevens​​