#neck is a lot less swollen and my skin is clear again too

[hiddenbeks]

hi im still alive and finally getting better !!!

[ryanthel0ser]

Leo repairs Donbot

I wanted to post a snippet of what I've been working on for the AU, so take this short scene between Leo and Donbot not too long after they initially get to this dimension :]

Masterpost that has links to other stuff from this AU

“Hey Don, have you noticed the giant dent in your…I guess shell yet?”

“What?” he reached back and grazed his hand over the almost comedic sized indent on his back. “Oh, well that explains a few things,” some of his systems had been acting up, and part of his motor function had started to jitter since he had gotten there but it hadn’t occurred to him that he had sustained damage. No nervous system meant he couldn’t really feel anything on him, much less pain, so anything he did sustain he only knew cause Raph told him or he got a warning from his system. Unless it was bugged…again.

“Here.” Leo patted the floor next to him, “your turn for a tune up.”

Don rolled his eyes (no one could see that though) and sat down with his back turned to Leo who had grabbed a toolkit that Don had stolen from the tech store while they were recovering, just in case. He lifted the plates on his back and heard an ooh boy under Leo’s breath.

“You need any help back there?”

“No, I got it, it’s just gonna take me a while. Donnie taught me some stuff, but I wasn’t anywhere near his speed. We’ll probably be here for a couple hours.”

“Well, my calendar’s been cleared for the foreseeable future. Go to town.”

As Leo worked, he’d ask about different parts to make sure he wasn’t screwing up the wiring job, Don’s antennae twitching with each adjustment, and Don couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift towards the strangeness of it all. Never in a million years did he ever think Leo would be the one fixing his tech, correction: any of his brothers fixing his tech. None of them had shown any interest in his tech outside of using it and even with just him and Raph he’d done his own repairs. He probably could have done this one on his own too but knew Leo would insist so he didn’t bother resisting.

God Leo, it’d felt like centuries since he’d last seen his Leo, much less properly thought about him. The whole apocalypse thing plus being put into a robot body hadn’t really given Don the time to think about his brother…not that he really wanted to. It was gaping sore still, but if he just didn’t acknowledge it then it would go away on its own, right? Eventually…someday…hopefully. Things weren’t exactly peachy keen between him and Leo when he…nope. Nope, nope, not today. It was an accident, he couldn’t have done anything about it, logically it’s not his fault. It’s whoever set off the bomb’s fault. That’s it. Nothing else.

“tss”

Don turned back to see Leo flinch away, reaching for his arm before seeing Don had turned and putting his good hand down.

“Leo?”

“It’s nothing, just pinched my finger, come on I just started reconnecting some wires back.”

“Leo. You’re using the metal arm.” They both knew he wasn’t stupid, much less blind. He shifted around to face Leo who had turned his face away, but Don could see he was clenching his jaw. He also noticed the discoloration around Leo’s shoulder where the robotic arm started, just barely visible under the blue scarf around his neck.

“Where’s the release.”

“Don I’m fine-”

“Not what I asked.”

Leo glared before sighing, “on the underside, close to my armpit there’s a small button on the port that’ll release a lever. Flick that and it loosens so it can be slid out.”

Just as Leo said, Don pressed the button and flicked the lever, hearing a click followed by a hiss. As he gently slid the arm out, he saw the swollen, dark green skin around where the port was.

“Leo, when was the last time you took this off?! An arm this size should only be on for maybe a couple days at most.”

“…two weeks”

“TWO WEEKS?! LEO”

“I know! But we were busy with the resistance, a lot of forces had been lost and there was no time to just take it off and sit. The Kraang were closing in and I had to be on guard, they could’ve attacked at any moment…and they did.”

“But why didn’t you take it off when you woke up, we’ve been here for a while now.”

“…” Don took in Leo’s furrowed brow and set jaw as a sign this wasn’t something he should pry about for now.

“Alright, fine. Just know you’re lucky I grabbed extra supplies on my initial run.”

“But what about your dent?”

Don put his back plates down, “it’s fine, I can fix it later. Not my first time repairing myself in a reflection.” Leo chuffed and Donnie got up to grab the medical supplies. He turned back to see Leo had already begun working on the infection.

“Hey where’d you get those,” Don gestured to the tweezers and gauze Leo had suddenly acquired.

“Medi bag,” he gestured to the pouch on his side, “all good medics have one.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is you’re a hypocrite.” If Don could, he’d be grinning ear to ear. Doesn’t matter which Leo it is, it’ll always be fun to jab at them.

“Ha ha, very funny, I can almost hear the smirk.” Don sat down next to Leo’s infected shoulder and put the gauze up to the port, gently pushing out the dark yellow gunk in it, breaking up the chunks he felt before easing them out. Thank god he couldn’t feel it when it leaked on his hand, although seeing it wasn’t much better.

“So, am I gonna have to raid the clinic again?”

“No, this is just surface level. The arm irritates the area, but Donnie made sure that the port itself was ‘perfect’,” he did a “chef’s kiss” gesture as he said it. Other him must’ve had some flair for the dramatic, but he couldn’t blame the guy, the amount of skill put into Leo’s port alone showed off an immense knowledge of engineering. Don would be dramatic too if he had this level of skill.

“I’m guessing the arm itself wasn’t his decision then.” Leo’s brow furrowed more as he seemed sink into himself a bit. Shouldn’t have said that idiot.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“…it’s his tech though, his style is hard not to see.”

“Yeah, Donnie was big on the branding,” Leo chuckled a bit, “made sure EVERYTHING had the genius tech logo on it, down to the plumbing.”

[wornoutmouse]

Fun fact: demon slayer starts in 1912 and ends in 1927(or at least that's when the Tashio era ends). Using that math Tanjiro (as long as he kept his health good) would very well be alive today at the ripe age of like 78 if my math is correct since he started as 13 in the series. (My math probably wrong asf)

Power imbalance, power bottom reader, knife play,  blood but not blood play...

He hated you.

Your very being irked him more than anything he'd ever experienced in all his centuries of living. You were clumsy, boisterous, and played that arrogant music all throughout your home while walking around half naked. Well in Muzan's opinion you were half naked, he couldn't even begin to describe his disbelief at the trend of exposing skin. 

It didn't help that you had that insignificant filth running through your veins. At first he was unsure, after all this was a completely different country than Japan, not to mention your darker skin and coiled hair. But no, he could smell and recognise the Kamado blood running through your veins just as strongly as it had run through all your ancestors. 

Completely undiluted. 

At the very beginning when you first moved in, you  came to his home. Knocking aggressively on his front door already getting off to the wrong start. When he opened it, you slipped past him and walked into his living room barely even saying hello as you put poorly decorated sugar cookies on his obsidian coffee table. "This is a nice place you got here Mj." 

Muzan's eyes twitched, that joke had long since gotten old since he moved to America. 

Now that you were closer he could definitely smell, the century old stench of rivaling bloodlust simmered just below your onyx skin. At any moment he expected you to attack him in some way or form. "Anyways I'm here to say hello neighbor, my name is Y/n and I'm your new best friend!"

Your happy attitude also agitated him to no end. Even though the knowledge of demons had dwindled down to only a few select families, even basic humans were wary of him as their baser instincts made them aware of his dangerous origins. This fact had long since forced Muzan to only prey on the elderly to survive. You had stayed a bit longer babbling about some nonsense that Muzan never acknowledged as he watched you from a good distance.

"You know you really got to add more to your wardrobe than 1963 suits." You walked from the back of his home, an area that he didn't even notice you wandered to. Finally getting bored, you open his door bidding your farewells. 

Just before leaving you stop and with a cheeky grin say, "If you ever need anything just come on over. We Kamado's are known for our kindness." 

Since then he'd been on edge around you. The point of relocating was for him to keep a low profile but now it seems he'd have to come face to face with an old nemesis reborn. 

Muzan snapped out of his thoughts with a flinch as he pierced his hand with his nail. He watches the dark blood well up from the wound and drip down his wrist. In the end this world had long since lost its hostility dwindling the average human incapable of basic combat. Giving you were no doubt a great descendant, Muzan failed to see you as a true threat.  

But one can never be too sure

🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢

You heard a knock on your door, soft and hesitant. "I don't think I'm expecting company." You checked your watch and peered out of a nearby window. It was at least 8 at night, you were braless wearing sweats with a red T-Shirt and on your way to bed.  In the back of your mind you visualize your two grand-uncles Inosuke and Zenitsu coming over to make you spectate their fights. For two old dudes they still had enough strength in them to do hip breaking nonsense.

You open the door shocked to see your next door neighbor standing before you. For once he wasn't wearing a suit that cost more than your house. His attire was still expensively dressed but in a more casual sense, that being a black dress shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up displaying his pale skin. "Can I come in?" A dazzling smile you had never seen before practically blinds you as he walks past you into your home.

When Muzan walks in his eyes immediately dart to the clear as day Nichirin Blade sword displayed recklessly on your living room wall above your couch. "You like it?" A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, "Got it from my grandpa, he says it's really special but I feel like he's exaggerating. You know how old people are." Muzan shakes out of his stupor. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, however I do know that it's much more wise to listen to your elders than ignoring…..It could save your life."

Muzan replicates you and puts a hand on your shoulder gently squeezing. This was it, he'd go in for the kill and it would be over, the amount of blood he'd pump into you would be enough to watch you meet a satisfying end of combustion completely untraceable if the police were to get involved. How he wishes he'd be there when your poor grandfather walks along your remains splattered on every surface in your living room. Unable to do a thing as he's finally in his last stretch of life. 

The beauty.

Muzan's finger only twitches in the slightest before pain sparks from his own neck. "The thought of you coming into my own home unprovoked and at night no less, was the most obvious sign one could ask more." You had his hand gripped so tight your veins popped while your other hand held a small pocket knife that burned  brighter than any Nichirin sword he'd ever encountered. He didn't understand, he was quick enough to kill even the best of the ancient Hiroshima. So how did a little foreign girl like you get the upper hand?

It was embarrassing and almost laughable if any of his pillars were alive to tell the tale.

You press the blade harder before bringing your other hand to caress Muzan's cheek,  "Did you think I'd be just an ignorant descendant of an infamous hero?" You clicked your teeth disappointingly. "How naive, you've really become lazy after all these millennia huh?" You walk forward, pushing Muzan back with seductive strength. He allows you to push him into your couch,  I say allow because at any time he could have stopped you.  

Muzan is most definitely not holding me at gunpoint right now. 

The knife never wavers even as you climb into Muzan's lap, pressing it even closer against his jugular. "You do know getting beheaded will not kill me, and I doubt this petty little kitchen knife will get the job done in the first place." Your lips draw into a smirk and you press the knife closer as you trail it down his chest, "That may be true but it's gonna take one hell of a time for you to grow back." Your hand jerks down, popping his shirt buttons open.

Muzan watches with interest, your eyes light up as more skin becomes exposed. The tones of your dark skin contrast strikingly as you caress his pectoral with the tips of your fingers. "For a 1,000 year old grandpa you look decent." Still threatening his life with your blade, you kiss him. It's deep and carnal. Your lustful desires being made known as you grind in his lap. The flesh of your ass snuggly hotdogs the forming outline of his cock. "I've always wanted to be with a demon. You've had to of become a real freak after living this long!"

When you pull away Muzan's thin lips are pink and a bit swollen. He is out of breath despite needing none, "You have a lot of nerve for a mere human." With your free hand you loosen the belt of his slacks, only standing to pull them off, pleased when Muzan voluntarily raises his hips to aid you. 

Don't get him wrong, he was still planning on killing you and ending your wretched bloodline once and for all, he just needed his mind to clear itself. Your scent, your confidence, strung him along like a puppet. His hands grip onto your ass cheeks like a lifeline. Molding them between his fingers, even giving them a shake through your sweats. His nails elongate and puncture the thick fabric as if it was nothing more than a spider web. 

Your sweats are tugged off completely leaving your lower half nude. Muzan moves his hands to hold your ass again but your blade politely makes itself known. You are out of breath and clearly flustered. "Watch yourself, demon, I'm the one calling the shots, don't forget that." Muzan bites his tongue with sharp glare. He raises his hands in surrender, "Of course." 

Muzan can feel your wetness against his leg and it's driving him insane. "Hey…" red eyes refocus on yours, "You ain't got any diseases do you? And you can't get me pregnant right?" Muzan smirks hands enclosing around your ass despite your protest. "I can, however it will cost a lot more than doing it once." The odds didn't seem in your favor but you were in no position to stand down and grab a condom and Muzan knew it.

You curve the blade towards his chin, "If you are lying and give me some ancient unknown disease or I find out you have superman sperm, I will kill you." Muzan links his lips, "Wasn't that the plan from the beginning or have you had a moment of level headedness?" Your wrist is quick and precise, cutting a thin slash along his jawline., not enough to scar and it barely even bled, but the threat was clear.

You grab Muzan's dick and use your thumb to attack the underside with fast strokes. Said man doesn't react outwardly, the only sign being his eyelids lowering by a fraction. "Were you always this well endowed or did you adjust this part too?" Muzan was not amused by your insinuation. Deciding to once again display the true power imbalance this situation had, he loops his arms underneath your large thighs and lifts you just enough to thrust his cock against your hole. 

From there he let's go, making you plop down on his length, making you yelp and allowing him to lean back with a relaxed sigh. You were so warm and tight. Now even though I explained what had happened with great detail,  keep in mind that in reality it all happened within a fraction of a second. 

Your large and in charge persona was cracking.  You gripped Muzan's sides tightly as your pussy spasmed around his girth. "F-Fuck it's too….." you trail off not wanting to give Muzan the credit he was truly due. 

It takes a few moments for you to get your bearings all the while Muzan and his dangerous jaw swayed in the crevice of your neck. A viper playing with its prey. The blade is back against his neck once again making his cock twitch. If he were human this would be a dangerous feat.  Your grip never slacked nor lessened against his neck, slicing into a growing wound that dropped dark blood down his chest and to his abdomen. 

His dick stretched your pussy and made it weap on each downstroke. Muzan's hands grip onto the cheeks of your ass with gritted teeth.  Your insides gripped him ever so slightly.  Sucking him back in as if he belonged there.  He felt used and it felt good.  His black ringlets stuck to his face from sweat and his red eyes grew in intensity. 

He couldn't see much of your body, hell he could barely even touch. In the back of his mind humorous thoughts such as how he knew Tanjiro would lose his sanity if he knew his granddaughter was being bedded by the man he despised. But the more you bounced, the more you squeezed, the deeper you cut into his neck proved that you were truly the one in charge. 

"Oh God you're so deep!" Your deep almond eyes shut themselves with pleasure. Muzan could feel your legs shaking with exertion at the same rhythm your pussy twitched. His balls felt tight after having no action in over a dozen years. "F-Faster." He has no care for your blade, only wanting to cum and feel the sweet ecstasy he knew your creamed pussy would provide. "Come on human, go faster." Muzan locks lips with you, gaze hardened and intent on proving some sort of point.

Tossing the knife you wrap your arms around his neck pulling his head closer. Red eyes target brown ones as his hands take a stronger grip on your ass. He uses his strength to bounce you. The sound of his balls slapping against the curve of your ass is just as disgusting as it is sexy. Your nipples rub against his through your tank-top making you both moan. The feeling blood stains your shirt making you shiver from the cool wetness

The couch you rest on bangs against the wall behind you the faster you both go. Muzan's feet are planted firmly in the ground, his fangs further elongated. He looks feral and it is in this moment where you get a glimpse of the horror many people felt when he took their lives. "Focus little Kamado, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now would you?" 

Muzan's hips meet yours, spreading the tempo. Your juices coat his lap before finally you tense up completely into a cramp inducing stance as Muzan impaled you on his cock one last time. "Ahh.." Muzan empties himself within you with a relieved sigh. 

Maybe the Kamado bloodline could go on.

[youryanderedaddy]

Best Friends Forever

 Summary: Your best friend finally has you back after all these years, tied up on his bed and ready to learn your lesson.

Tw: nsfw, non-con, slight mention of blood, threats, choking, slight degradation, dirty talk, cursing, infantilization, possessive behavior, patronizing behavior, overuse of petnames, slight dom vibezz 

You knew your boyfriend was a lost cause, an addict so gone he would have done anything for a fix, but you never expected him to stoop so fucking low. 

 You had woken up in a suspiciously familiar place, laying on sheets oh so soft, puffy and white you simply couldn’t mistake the bed you were on. The walls were painted in black and blue, a combination so deeply engraved in your mind you couldn’t shake off the feeling you weren’t trully conscious, but dreaming of a happy yet distant memory of the past. It took you less than a second to realize you were in his room - the one where you had spent so many joyfull sleepless nights back in your youth. The relief was short - lived, though, because the moment you tried to move around, you became aware of the tight rope keeping your sore limbs tied to the wooden bed frame. After a while of twisting and thrashing around while screaming at the top of your lungs for help you finally heard the door open. You hoped you would at last be able to go home now, still desperate to believe this was merely a prank, a way for your junkie of a boyfriend to scare you into giving him money.

 “There is no use trying to escape the bonds, my little love.” His voice emited through the small room, low, smooth as butter and softer than ever. You tried to lift your head and catch a glipse of the person talking, just to make sure you weren’t imagining things or going insane. And there he was in all his glory, the boy, no, the man you knew well looking so different from how you remembered him, but still it felt impossible not to see the many similarities - from the unruly dark curls to the warm gray eyes that used to be your only guide during times of misery and pain. This was none other than your childhood best friend and you had absolutely no idea why you were tied to his bed. “Oliver, why on earth am I here?” You asked as soon as the initial shock had worn off, completely forgetting to address the weird petname the student had called you.

 He smirked slightly before crossing the distance keeping him away from you, and carefully sat down by your left side. He reached out to stroke your cheek in an affectionate way, his fingers lingering for a moment too long for it to be considered a mere platonic gesture. You tried to turn your head away from the warm touch since it made you feel uncomfortable and left you with so many new questions. “I missed you so much, precious.” Oliver took a deep breath and smiled at you, gently moving your jawline so you had no choice but to face him once again. “I was so happy when that disgusting piece of shit you call a boyfriend offered you to me.” The man bent to your shoulder-level and whispered in your ear, his tone so full of sick satisfaction you could swear there was honey dripping from his mouth. “I paid a lot of money to have you back, sweetheart.” He licked his lips in an obscene, suggestive way and you had to supress the sudden urge to vomit as you finally remembered exaclty why you had stopped contacting your best friend once you had started college. The boy used to be clingy, obsessive even, but you could have never guessed it was that bad.

 “Oliver, please untie me, you are scaring me.” You pleaded in a tiny voice, hoping to summon what was left of the goodness he had tucked away deep in his heart. In response the male only chuckled and shook his head as he placed a small kiss against your neck, causing you to shiver in discomfort and disgust while you were mentally debating whether you wanted to kill him or your ex boyfriend first. Soon your spiteful thoughts were replaced by panic when your captor brought his hand to your t-shirt and started unclasping the small buttons one by one. You couldn’t help but turn red from embarassment the moment you felt your nipples harden under his palm and you became painfully aware you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. Your former friend had your tender breasts exposed to the cold air in a matter of seconds, his terrible fingers already pinching and pulling at the erect tips. “You have such pretty tits, darling.” He said huskily while squeezing your boobs, licking and biting the stretched skin. You hissed in pain and squirmed in a desperate attempt to move away but the rope was holding you in place, tightening around your sore injured wrists even more. 

 “I have wanted you for so long, angel.” The student admitted quietly, his stormy eyes fixed on yours, his stare so intense it could burn a hole through you. “Tonight I will make you mine.” Oliver declared with a clear sense of confidence and claimed your lips in a quick rough manner, muffling your pitiful whimpers like a man starved and hungry for flesh. The forced kiss and his deranged words made your stomach turn but something in his longing gaze told you there was a lot more in store. The guess, much to your horror, was soon confirmed when the dark - haired male reached down between your parted legs and easily slipped your panties down to your ankles. With your last bit of protection gone you felt awfully vulnerable, literally naked in front of the beast too keen on the past to see how much he was hurting you right now, in the present. You wanted to scream the second his fat grabby fingers pried your folds open, but choking on your desperate sobs proved easier at that moment.

 “Aww, don’t cry, angel.” Oliver growled playfully and slid his index into your tight entrance, quickly adding a second one before you had the time to adjust properly. “I have to prepare you, baby, otherwise my cock may just tear you apart.” He remarked in low sickening voice, the excuse too crude and vulgar to be an act of caring. You whined as your walls clenched down tight now that there were three fingers stretching your hole, and you berely managed to utter “too full” before your friend pulled you for a deep kiss again, his tongue devouring your mouth, leaving you breathless and queit while sucking in the sweet pained moans.��“You can take it, babygirl.” The man groaned against your swollen red lips and grabbed your hips in a strong hold - you were sure there would be purple bruises there tomorrow.

  Eventually, after half an hour of pushing his fingers in and out of your channel, lapping at your neck and leaving wet love marks all over your collarbone, the student was satisfied with his work. He had turned you into a whimpering mess and was ready to thoroughly enjoy the fruits of his labor, whether you liked it or not. “I am going to put it in now, precious.” Oliver pecked you on the cheek just to lick the salty trace of tears off your puffy skin. “I will force my whole length in your perfect little pussy.” Your captor bit your sensitive earlobe and you broke down in tears like a kid, the threat ringing in your ears like the gospel. “This might hurt a bit so I advise you to stay still and relax, baby.” The way the man continued casually, almost cheerfully, as if he wasn’t about to brutally rape you, made your skin crawl, but there was nothing you could do. You were all tied up, powerless to stop him. Suddenly, without any warning, his hard thick member entered you, piercing pain spreading through your whole body. The student panted in pleasure as soon as he thrust his manhood into your heat, the way it sucked him in leaving him high and blissful. You let a few miserable whimpers, the ache too much to bear, his moves too harsh, sudden and deep. 

  “Don’t give me such a-agh tormented expression, my love.” Oliver quickly shushed you by putting his hand over your mouth and pressing down to prevent any noise that might have escaped. His gaze was lustful, insane, but also loving in a twisted, perverse way. “Fuck, I love you so much.” He muttered, his voice gentle for a split second before going back to being taunting and mocking. “I used to be so angry each and every time you dated another guy, another asshole who was only after your body.” The man was rambling now, his face turning red at his own vicious thoughts, his growing anger reflecting in his cloudy pupils and his painful thrusts. “You always chose them over me like a stupid little bitch ...” He whispered dangerously and lifted your body towards his own so you could take his hits even deeper, so deep that you could feel the tip of his member kissing your cervix. “Well, now you don’t have a choice, angel. I have claimed you and I will keep you here forever.” You were crying out in agony, your pussy clamping down around the enormous length slapping again and again against your core. It burned so bad you wished you could dissapear somewhere far away just so you could have a moment of relief. “Oh, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’s almost over, you can take it for me, right?” The male cooed at you, switching back to that disgusting, infantilizing baby voice you had already grown to despise. When you failed to respond he gripped your throat, squeezing so tightly blood rushed to your cheeks and you inhaled sharply though your mouth only to feel the suffocation cut your breath short. “Answer me.” He barked through gritted teeth and you nodded frantically, desperate to gasp for air and cling onto dear life. 

 “Good girl.” Your former friend purred, pleased with your obedience, and let go of your neck, grabbing your hips instead. You coughed and drooled pathetically until you managed to resume your breathing, but the man, still buried deep inside you, seemed too caught up in chasing his own pleasure to notice how badly he had hurt you. Fortunately for you Oliver was really close, that much was obvious by his furious shoves at your abused cervix and his low growls each time he lowered his head to kiss you. Soon he came with a loud moan, painting your walls white, your ruined hole dripping with his seed and your blood. 

 Your captor seemed satisfied afterwards, peaceful in a way - there was a small smile adorining his cold lips as he wiped the tears off your face and squished your bruised body against his strong frame in a tight hug. You bit your tongue to stop the tears from overflowing once again, but to no avail. He let you sob in his arms until there wasn’t liquid left in your red, puffy eyes. 

 “You did very well, my love. I am really proud of you.” Oliver kissed your temple gently, resisting the temptation to graze you all over again with his lips, tongue and fingers. “I will help you clean up, then I will fix you some nice dinner.” He murmured in your ear, tickling the heirs on the back of your neck with his warm breath. “Doesn’t this sound good, baby?”

 You closed your eyes and nodded slowly.

[achillieus]

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, angst, too much tension, bucky and reader are stupid and in  denial, sexual tension all around the place

tagging: @tonystankschild​

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 2/3:

And then it’s the last week of February and you have an assignment together, you and Bucky, the boy with black hair and a mind that you’re certain is not as clever as he insists it is. You know this cannot possibly end well. You feel it when he sits beside you and his knee brushes past your leg. You feel it when you take a breath and smell his aftershave. Sandalwood and vanilla. It makes you want to lick your lips. Please, get a grip. You try to get away, even propose to write the whole thing alone so you wouldn’t have to spend any time around him. In your mind, you call it self defense. But Bucky’s boastful and you can see him pumping the muscles in his neck, trying to intimidate you.

“My dorm, tomorrow at 7,” he says “Don’t be late.”

-

(your late night instagram search history)

(00:38 AM) #literaturememes

(01:15 AM) @buckybrns

(01:30 AM) #newgirl

(01:50 AM) @buckybrns

(02:10 AM) @buckybrns

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when he’s not around.

-

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that everyone, boys and girls, adore him alike. He’s charming, he’s crafty, he’s brilliant. He’s everything they want him to be and even more. It nearly condones his megalomania.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s aware he has an audience. Always plans his moves, knows how to play his character perfectly. He wears dark designer jeans and plain Henley shirts, buttons open, fabric tight around his biceps. Sometimes even a black leather jacket and a tag necklace. Girls are intrigued by the bad-boy, straight A student contrast, while the boys are envious enough keep him close and invite him to all of their parties. Bucky gives them whatever they need.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s utterly lonely. He has never said so, but it’s the truest thing about him. He has Sam. But for how long? Bucky’s used to people going away. It has been imprinted on him. His best friend, Steve, left with his girlfriend in an exchange program last month and Natasha, the one girl he ever came close to loving, just started dating Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. What a downgrade.

And then there’s you, sitting at the end of his bed, playing with the ring in your finger, reading some neatly written lecture notes. Usually, Bucky would think about 129 cheeky comments he could make to a girl in his room. But not to you. Are you sure, Bucky? He has grown accustomed to disliking you. It’s the one constant he has left and he’s not planning on losing it.

He leans down and takes the place next to you, a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

He offers and you decline.

“We need to concentrate on the project.”  

“You’re the biggest killjoy.” Bucky says with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m studying, Bucky.” He can see your left hand holding that dark green pen in a tight grip and your eyes trying to focus everywhere but on his face. He can see your hair glistening in the warm afternoon light that comes from his window. He can see the soft red blush on your cheeks and the beauty mark on your neck. What a tricky thing it is to see. And to feel. And to want.

Is that what dislike tastes like, Bucky?

-

He talks a lot, that’s the first thing you notice. He says all sorts of things, most of them having nothing to do with your project. You’re certain it’s because he’s feeling as uncomfortable and agitated as you. But still, it’s annoying as hell.

“Listen,” you say and turn to his side “I’m not going to fail this class just because you have the attention span of a two year old.”

A laugh escapes his lips and you watch, completely in awe, the way little wrinkles form around his eyes and his nose scrunches. Right now, he looks tender and warm. No, he doesn’t.

“I think we’re both pretty smart,” Bucky says nonchalant and wets his lower lip with his tongue, before he adds, “We’ve got this, so relax doll.”

There are rules, things that are solid, de facto.

Example 1: Bucky never praises you. At least not out loud.

Example 1: Not valid anymore.

Example 2: Bucky uses the word “doll” approximately ten times a day. To other girls. The girls he likes. Not to you.

That’s actually wrong, he called you doll the first time you met. That doesn’t count. He didn’t know you then.

Example 2: Not valid anymore.

It feels foreign. Pleasant and beguiling, but foreign.

“You always call girls “doll”. What is this?” You ask and he looks up. “Is it like your thing, your flirt move?”

Bucky meets your gaze, his forehead creased, and holds it for some seconds before he laughs again. Is this amusing him?

“No, I’m serious.” You bite your lip. “You even did it to me when we first met.”

“I did?”

Of course he doesn’t remember, what did you expect?

“Yeah, when you helped me find the admission office.”

“And you remember that, an entire year later?” He raises his eyebrows, looking entertained and partly interested.

Your mind empties and for some time you feel out of place, embarrassed. But you’re quick to recollect yourself. You can’t let him get you.

“It was my first day as a college student, I remember all of it.”

Liar. You don’t even remember who you sat next to.

Bucky smirks a little too long for your liking and then he leans in, his body bending in a way that makes you forget to breath. He’s so close and you only see blue, a rare kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the brightest shade of the sky at noon. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t that handsome. Handsome and indomitable. What an awful combination.

“Interesting.” He whispers and lies back, touching the wall.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and clear your throat.

“I should go, it’s obvious we’re not making any progress.” You pick your books and stand up. “Sometimes I wonder how you get all those perfect grades, you clearly-” You merely finish your sentence before he grabs your arm and swiftly, he has you pressed against his wooden bookcase. You don’t have time to blink.

What’s happening? He was sitting down a second ago.

“That day,” he says while his thumb draws circles on your wrist. “You were wearing a denim dress and some Saturn shaped earrings. And you were holding a cherry juice box.”

It’s utterly terrifying how your emotions toss and turn the moment you realize what he’s talking about and the fragile muscles of your heart ache because Bucky cares. Bucky remembers.

“It wasn’t my first day of college, but I remember.”

You want to throw up. Or kiss him. You’re not sure. You know you hate Bucky. Do you? You’ve taught yourself to. And it was never supposed to change. It shouldn’t have to.  

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“You should go.”

And you do. And you’ll never tell him, but you’ll always regret not kissing him then. You’re sure now.

-

your inbox, the next morning

(10:25 AM) from buckybrns@gmail.com

              I’m sending you our assignment. You only need to add a few things and it’s done. If anything else comes up, it’s better we work on our own.

-

For Bucky, it all came crashing down the moment he first saw you. It was all over the moment his eyes met yours. A gourmand perfume lingered in the air around you that day and it stained his pores. And it’s been with him since then. Clinging onto his flesh.

It’s partly obsessive and partly romantic and Bucky tries to keep it locked inside. He thinks he can make it go away easily, the way he flicks a crumb off his expensive cashmere scarf. He thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it’ll be less true. That’s not how things work, Bucky.

Yeah, he’s starting to notice.

And he’s trying so hard to hate you. The problem is, he doesn’t think he can.

(his late night instagram search history)

(00:45 AM) #tomfordperfumes

(01:30 AM) @y/n

(01:50 AM) #funnycats

(02:15 AM) @y/n

(03:45 AM) @y/n

-

You make it your mission to avoid him and it’s going well until the fifth of March. You spot him at Sam Wilson’s party. You should have known he’d be here, they’re friends. There’s a thick cloud of cigarette smoke all around, but still, you can perfectly see him. He’s standing alone, his skin changing colors under the neon lights, a plastic cup in his hand, eyes crystal blue and swollen and fixated on you.

The room is small and everything feels known but unfamiliar at the same time; the atmosphere, his gaze, the lump on your throat.

They’re suffocating you, the looks you give each other.

-

“Buck, what do you want?” Sam asks, holding both vodka and gin and he observes the way Bucky merely turns his head to look at him.

What do you want Bucky?

Not to play a role anymore. For Steve to be back. Maybe, Natasha. No, he hasn’t thought about her in a month. Perhaps a Pulitzer Prize. Definitely a new pair of sunglasses. But there is one more answer he has behind his teeth.

Y/N, he almost says. Always.

“Vodka.”

-

He leaves before midnight and you can’t remember where the urge came from, yet you’re following him. You know he has noticed. But he just keeps walking until he reaches the door of his dorm and presses his back against it. He sees you and you see him and his eyes cut your heart open.

“Your place is on the other side of the building.”

“I know,” you mumble, “I just never got to say good job on the assignment and I wanted to.” You are unable to meet his eyes. You sound pitiful and you want to hit a wall; with your head.

Why the hell did you follow him here?

Because sometimes you do stupid things.

Bucky mockingly opens his mouth, as if shocked. It almost makes you groan.

“Did Miss high and mighty just comment something nice about me?”

“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?”

He shakes his head and you can feel your heart beat loud and irregular and it’s not because you’re mad. It’s because he’s coming closer, almost chest to chest now. And it’s because you can swear, he just glanced at your lips.

“Someone has to, you can’t act like you know everything all the time.”  

“I don’t do that, you don’t know a thing about me Bucky.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re Y/N, you like plaid skirts and Homer and dark green pens. You expect everyone to be perfect. You expect yourself to be perfect. And you always want to do the right thing.”

His pupils are dilated. Yours must be too. Bucky Barnes is dangerous and fatal. He makes your blood coil and your mouth dry. And there’s a tension, almost pain, almost agony, deep in your lungs and it burns. And you don’t know who leaned in first, probably you because Bucky isn’t that brave yet, but suddenly your hands are everywhere. Your fingers blending in his hair, his digging in the skin on the back of your neck. He’s bringing you closer and it’s a mess and all you can hear is the beating of your heart; a rapid vibration between your ears. It’s pure and raw and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He tastes like ambrosia and a year-old despair and you think you can go on forever. You eventually break apart because you both need to breath and for a second you worry because he looks like he’s ready to cry, but instead he smiles, softly touching your cheek.

“Did I do the right thing?” You whisper.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

[captain-mcdavid]

three times to fall - nolan patrick

word count: 2k

smut: yes | no

summary: three times the reader realized they might have more than just friendly feelings towards nolan.

warnings: steam, swearing, alcohol (this is like the first thing i’ve written here since gpp, so bear with me, it might not be that great)

the first time

It was getting harder and harder to keep track of your group of friends in the crowded stadium, you stumbled along, your head turning left and right frantically as you looked for a familiar face. 

You slowed your pace, mouth twisting in confusion when a finger hooks through your belt loop, yanking you back into a solid chest. “Watch where you’re going,” Lips graze your ear, a recognizable deep voice whispering while hands slide to rest over your hipbones, guiding you through the crowd. 

You turn your head back and up to look at Nolan, his blue eyes zoned in on moving the two of you through the crowd. His hands stay solid on your waist, and the longer they sit there the hotter the skin starts to feel. You pull forward a little more, trying to distance yourself, hoping that maybe Nolan will let go, but his fingers just tighten on your skin making you picture things you really shouldn’t be picturing with one of your good friends. 

Suddenly Nolan jerks you to the left, and if it weren’t for his solid grip on you, you’re sure you would have tumbled over, but thank god you’re able to stay on your feet in his presence. Just literally, though. Definitely not metaphorically. Your mind trips over almost every little thing he does. 

“There she is!” You hear Leah before you see her, she appears as people clear the small corner your friends are tucked into. “Couldn’t keep up?”

She teases you and you feel the rumble of Nolan’s laughter against your back, reminding you just how close the two of you are. 

Instinctively your hand lands on his wrist, and you swear you feel an actual spark.

“We’re gonna head to the exit on 170th, it’s closest to the cars.” Leah says, and you nod.

Your ears are still ringing from the music but you hear Nolan mumble, “Sure,”

And then the group keeps walking, Nolan still behind you, his hands still on your hips and you heart still beating way too fast.

What is happening?

...

the second time

Standing against the wall you watch as the other party goers do shots, acting rambunctious and carefree. A small laugh escapes you when you see Travis throw his beer can on the ground, stomping on it mercilessly for no reason.

Another wave of the loopiness that pushed you to seek space in the first place hits, so you wander down the hall, pushing into the first room with a bed.

It’s clean, but a fast clean. The type of tidying someone does when they’re in a rush. There’s hockey memorabilia everywhere, and when you see the photo on the bedside table you realize that you’re in Nolan’s room. You feel odd being in here but you slouch onto the bed anyway, feeling better as soon as you’re off your feet.

You lean to look at the pictures on the bedside table, smiling at the sly grin Nolan sports in almost everyone of the photos. Since the concert you had been thinking about him more than you should. It wasn’t normal to view a good friend like this, one that you’ve known since elementary school.

You’ve watched him grow up. And somehow you started seeing him less as the goofy kid that kicked everyone’s ass in gym class hockey, and more as a man. A hot man. With a good sense of humour and an extremely charming smile.

“Snooping?”

Your head snaps towards the door when you hear his voice, his lazy grin lets you know he’s not serious so you smirk in response, giving him a nod, your heart rate picking up.

There are a lot of things running through your head at the moment, and you’re very close to saying every single one of them, but you’d need one more shot to do that.

He runs his hand through his hair as he walks over to you, and your filter loosens enough for the words to slip out, “Can I play with your hair?”

Nolan laughs and you giggle along with him while he sits beside you on the bed. “You wanna play with my hair?”

You nod, biting your lip as you crawl menacingly towards him. His eyes widen and he inches further away, grabbing at your wrists when you try to reach for him.

“No,” He laughs, pushing you away.

You sit back on your knees and frown, “Please,”

He scans you with furrowed brows for a moment before sighing and nodding. You scoot behind him with an excited squeal, signalling his loud laugh, and a flutter of your heart.

You wouldn’t do it- any of this really- if you weren’t intoxicated, but knowing that you can blame all of your embarrassing actions on alcohol. Throwing caution to the wind you move so that your legs are on either side of him, you’re not expecting him to, but almost instinctively he leans back into you. With a grin you run your hands through his locks and he makes a fake moaning noise.

“I’m gonna braid it,” You whisper, separating the hair into three chunks. You’re surprised by how soft it feels in between your fingers. You’re focused on braid and you’re nearly halfway done when you feel a light touch on the bottoms of both of your feet. It’s an uncomfortable tickle that makes you fidgit, both your legs coming to wrap around Nolans torso.

Realizing the weirdness of it all you’re about to move your legs but Nolan holds them there. “What are you doing?” You ask, wiggling your feet in his lap.

Nolan stands suddenly and you gasp, grabbing his shoulders quick so the other half of you doesn’t fall behind. “Nolan put me down!”

He spins maniacally squeezing your calves relentlessly while you shake with laughter. You jerk one leg free finally nearly falling when it hits the ground. Nolan drops your other leg and you use all your strength to shove him. You’re expecting more than him just lazily falling onto the bed, but that’s all you get despite what you though was an impressive output of strength. “Asshole,” You murmur, moving closer to push at his chest, but he catches your wrist with a smirk, yanking you right into him.

You’re nearly chest to chest, and you’re extremely confused as to what’s going on but you let it happen anyway, moving easily as he guides you to straddle his lap. You have a staring contest for a minute, but the look in his eyes is so intense you need a break, so you reach your hands into his hair again, running your nails along his scalp. His eyes flutter shut, hands coming to rest in the back belt loops of your jeans.

“Nolan,” You whisper, and it sounds like a question, cause you’re seriously wondering what the hell is going on.

He opens his eyes and hums a response, one of his hands moving from your back to your face. His thumb catches your bottom lip and he sweeps it down, watching the way it moves.

Your heart is no longer beating steadily at this point, because you can’t believe that this is happening. But it is, and he’s definitely leaning in closer. When he kisses you the first time it’s gentle, so soft you’re not even sure it actually happened. Your lips mould together lightly, almost like he’s afraid of your reaction.

When he pulls back and your eyes flutter open, lips still parted he stares back, his gaze flickering between your own and your mouth. You swear you see the slate color in his eyes darken before he connects your lips again, harder and more urgent this time.

His lips are so soft and inviting, the way they work with your own makes you feel like your entire body is buzzing. His tongue licks into your mouth and you instinctively lean into him, your hands sliding down to the naps of his neck. Tugging lightly at the hair you slide your other hand below the fabric of his flannel and t shirt, trying to get as close as possible.

Nolan pushes at your bum, queuing a roll of your hips against him. The low moan that your movement entices has you pulling away with a gasp, fuck he’s hot.

You observe him with wide eyes, his swollen lips and heaving chest. He tilts your chin up forcefully, exposing your neck. He bites into the skin gently, and you want nothing more than to lean back in and kiss the life out of him, but sober you is fighting for the steering wheel, which is why you blurt out, “What are we doing?”

“Making out,” He mumbles, words muffled against the skin of your neck.

“Just making out?” You reply, your hand gripping harder at his hair. You’re like pushing him into you, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Do you want me to do more?” He whispers, pressing his lips right below your ear.

“More...?” It comes out breathy, you’re totally engrossed in what his mouth is doing.

“Yeah,” He starts, kissing down the column of you neck before dragging his tongue back up. “More.”

A loud moan escapes you at his actions, and he chuckles against your skin. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,”

Then he’s standing up, but you’re prepared this time, holding onto him easily. His teeth are dragging across your collarbone now, while he strides across the room, he kicks the door shut and then turns back to drop you onto the bed.

His lips travel down your neck and chest, and when his hands slide up the fabric, and just when he’s about to pull it off, the door busts open, almost as fast as it just closed.

“Nolan!” Travis yells, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s literally on top of you. “Beer pong, let’s go.” And then he leaves.

The room goes silent and all you and Nolan can do is stare at eachother, the earlier moment completely ruined.

“Uh...”

“I should um-,” Nolan starts, and you nod, frozen underneath him. He just nods and then stands from the bed, looking back and forth between you and the door before he nods awkwardly and then leaves.

What is happening?

...

the third time

“We are not watching that!” Rachel barks, yanking the DVD case from Nolan’s hand. 

“Slap shot is a classic, but fine.” He grunts, flopping down onto the couch beside you.

You shift away from him a little, still not sure how to act. More chatter ensues, and you give input every once in a while, rolling your eyes at your friends incapability to choose a movie. Finally, someone decides on the Avengers, and not everyone is happy of course, but the opening credits start to roll anyways. 

Ignoring the five people already on the couch, Rachel parks herself directly in the middle, squishing everyone up against each other, groans and swears are heard from all of you but Rachel just waves you off, making you roll your eyes. 

You feel Nolan shift beside you, turning so he’s more on his side giving you a little more space. “Here,” He mumbles, hand finding your leg and adjusting you so you were in the same position, your back pressed to his front. He’s practically spooning you, your right shoulder pressed to the back of the couch. You’re stiff against his body, and it’s like he can feel it, cause he rubs his hand back and forth against your thigh.

You haven’t talked about what happened at his party, and Nolan seems to be acting like nothing has happened, but you can’t brush it off that easy. Not after all these feelings you’ve been having.

To your surprise he doesn’t move his hand, it stays in it’s place a few inches above your knee. Leah chucks a blanket over the herself and the two of you, making Nolan’s very noticeable PDA less noticeable.

As the movie starts, your friends chatter and jost at eachother, but it dies down eventually, everyone quieting to watch the action.

You eventually relax too, leaning back into Nolan instinctively, your eyes drooping the longer the movie plays.

At some point the noise around you mutes completely, Nolan’s warmth and steady breathing lulling you to sleep.

You don’t wake until the movies over, your friends all nudging on the couch to get up.

You shift, trying to appear less groggy but then a hand slides from your leg to your waist, and Nolan pulls you back against him.

“Tired?” His low voice rumbles behind you, and maybe it’s that you’re still tired, or maybe it’s that you just want to feel him behind you, but you nod, leaning even further back.

He chuckles, his head falling to rest on yours. And then your friends turn to face you all cuddled up, and the both of you are straightening up immediately.

You stand, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Good movie,” You say, and everyone laughs.

“Oh please, you watched maybe five minutes of it,” Leah quips, and you make a face back.

“Ready Nolan?” Trevor asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Everybody else heads to the door as well, giving hugs on the way out.

Nolan reaches out to give you a one armed hug before he walks out the door, and it’s so quick you almost miss the way he kisses the corner of your mouth, winking before he walks out.

You’re left standing there in complete shock, which seems to be a very common emotion when you’re around Nolan lately.

And all you can think is what is happening?

[princecameronlovedacommoner]

Rafebarry Ficlet: The Shattered too Can Be Healed

( Fluff. Just Lots of Fluff & Rafe Snuggles)

Summary: Barry takes care of Rafe after he comes to him straight from having a fight with his old man.

A quarter till midnight and the bastard comes through the front door like the place is his very own, not one knock, no “What’s up, man” from the other side of the screen while he waited for Barry to let him inside. Not even a simple “Hey, mind if I stay around awhile?” before Rafe Cameron barges right into Barry’s trailer, lips bloody and swollen like he’d just got into it with somebody on the drive over.

Barry turned off the local news network on his little tv in the corner of the room. The weather forecast was done with anyway and he really didn’t give a shit about much else at the moment.

Aside from the clearly distressed Kook who had entered his domain and that was behaving in an even odder way than usual. For Rafe that was definitely saying a lot.

“Well, shit. Look at you, Country Club. Look like somebody done took off with that shiny new ride Daddy got you cruising’ in now. They pull your ass out of it first?” He motioned to Rafe’s split lip and expected him to snap at the jest. To snarl at least. Just a little.

But Rafe didn’t say a word. He dumped his things on Barry’s couch, facing away from him to hide the injury, of which he was obviously ashamed.

“Ain’t talkin’ tonight, huh?” Barry’s tone was less teasing and more…well…gentle was really the only word that could properly describe it.

“No.” Rafe muttered, and that was good. At least Barry was getting something out of him, even if it was mostly just sniffles and swallowed down sobs.

Barry sighed, leaning back in his recliner and crossing his arms behind his head, showing off a pair of bare and decently worked muscles. “Alright then, pretty thing.” He agreed to Rafe’s current terms of silence, mostly just to keep the tension boiling within the blonde headed rich boy from rising into a raging fit.

Barry knew Rafe well enough by now. He just needed to relax for a little while to calm down. “Go take a shower, why don’t ya?” He suggested. “Hot water’s back on.”

Rafe went, without another word, down the hall and locked the flimsy bathroom door behind him.

Alright. So this was going to be a rough night. He only ever trapped himself in there when he was feeling pretty worse for wear.

Whatever. Barry was still confident that he could talk him down enough to avoid an outburst. So he reluctantly got up from his cozy chair and went into the kitchen to make them both something to snack on.

The water in the shower quit after about a half hour and once Barry had thrown a couple of grilled cheeses together, Rafe was already sitting on the couch, wrapped up in his warm grey robe that he kept in Barry’s closet, his golden hair still wet from his shower and his arms crossed over his chest.

“Eat somethin’.” Barry insisted, handing him a plate and then setting down a chipped mug of sweet smelling tea upon the cluttered coffee table in front of Rafe. They didn’t need to talk about that and Rafe didn’t need any convincing to drink it. Whatever Barry used to make the stuff usually really helped him to calm down after a tough run in with the old man. The same was true now, his trembling muscles beginning to slow as he sipped at the hot drink.

“You gonna let me clean that lip up for ya?” Barry eventually dared to ask once he felt that Rafe had been gentled enough to not bite the hand that fed him.

Cameron didn’t reply right away but once he’d finished half of his sandwich and the mug was drained, he touched the tips of his own fingers gently to the angry cut that actually ran through both of his lips. “Not much you can do for it.” He muttered.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.” Barry got up again from his chair and came closer, Rafe’s lack of action to repel him being a clear invitation to approach.

“Who did this shit, huh?” He asked softly as he sat down next to Rafe. Rafe, who didn’t cower from him but pulled his robe tighter against his body, as if Barry might try to take advantage of his currently wrecked emotional state. Even if he knew that he never would.

“Don’t,” He hissed. “Just don’t fucking ask, alright? Just-Just get me some Vaseline and some ibuprofen, alright? Stop asking questions…”

“Sure thing, Country Club. I got you.” Of course Barry knew already that Daddy Cameron was probably the assailant who did the damage but he wasn’t going to say that to Rafe. It’d only get him worked up and angry.

After searching through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for awhile, Barry came back to patch his shaky little Kook up, going a step further than Rafe had told him to and first cleaning both slashes in the soft flesh with some cold antiseptic before the Vaseline went anywhere near them. Rafe downed a couple of Tylenol after and after a little while of resting on Barry’s couch, arms still crossed defensively over his chest, Rafe got up and went to the bedroom, leaving Barry to finish some dumb 80’s movie they’d started up together.

The bed was nice and soft against the tenseness of Rafe’s body and he slowly let himself sink into the mattress beneath the sheets. Sheets that smelt like them, only slightly less than the pillows Rafe swapped so he could breath in Barry’s scent without asking for the real deal.

The old rickety floors creaked when Barry came back to slide into bed as well, long calloused fingers shoving dark locks back over his head and out of his eyes. “You been theivin’ my pilla again, huh?” He couldn’t help but grin rather proudly when he saw that Rafe had his face buried in the pillow he’d claimed as his: the one that was stuffed into the Carolina Panthers case he’d found at the thrift shop. “Fork it over, baby boy. You can hang onto me instead.”

Rafe didn’t protest, switching the pillows back. He liked his own better anyway. It was firmer. Not as squishy as Barry’s that was going to give him a life long crick in the neck someday.

“Take the fucking thing if it matters so much…” He muttered under his breath at Barry, who willingly pretended that it was his idea alone to roll Rafe over and hold him close against his warm naked chest.

“Come here, pretty thang. That’s a good boy,” Barry dropped little bits of praise for Rafe to lap up like the love starved pup that he was. “Let me hold ya, baby. Been missin your cute ass around here all day, honey pie. You might as well come on in here and shack up with me full time, ya know? Don’t ever wanna let go of you in the mornins, baby. You just got those wicked little claws in my heart now, huh? My pretty thang. Know how fuckin’ perfect you look right now?”

Rafe relaxes deeply enough at Barry’s words that sometimes, including tonight apparently, he doesn’t really even notice that he’s crying against his lover’s skin.

Barry doesn’t mention it either. Just keeps praising him, rubbing on his back, and kissing at every bit of exposed skin he can find to smooch.

Rafe never feels calmer than when he’s here, wrapped in Barry’s arms, being taken care of and loved so thoroughly.

If heaven truly was a real place, he thought to himself before drifting off to sleep, this must be what it feels like to be there.

There’s never been another place on earth that Rafe could flee to, where the dark thoughts in his head wouldn’t follow. Just here. Just here with Barry in these moments where peace of mind wasn’t just a myth.

[swtki]

My Game - Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Teachers Pet

SUMMARY: After Y/Ns little test, she takes Dr. Reid up on his offer. She also takes him back to the apartment. 

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SMUT, FEM READER, PROFFESOR-STUDENT, TEACHER REID, ORAL (FEMALE RECIEVING), PENATRATIVE SEX, SEMI DOM-SUB

It had been three days since Dr. Reid emailed me. I hadn’t texted him yet, too afraid of not knowing what to say. When I pulled that little stunt at his desk, I expected nothing to come of it. Just seeing his cute and pink face was enough of a reward. But it was obvious to me in the days following, he wanted to cross his finish line.

My phone sat comfortably in my hands, the series of numbers lining the top of my screen. I had not an inkling of an idea of what I would say. Should I go casual? Professional? Sexy? I mean, did anyone ever know how to aproach their crush?

Y: It’s Y/N, sorry I took so long. I’ve been kinda busy.

S: No worries, I was beginning to think I had read the room incorrectly. What are your plans for Saturday night? Theres a great Italian restaurant next to where I’m staying in DC.

Y: That sounds wonderful, actually. I’ll meet you there at 7?

S: Perfect.

I reluctantly pulled my figure from the sofa, and soon eagerly jumping into the shower. When the water hit my face the entire day melted away, and left only the anticipation of that night. I felt so special, I mean I was living my most vivid fantasies and not every woman gets to do it with a genius professor.

With my makeup carefully applied, and my dress matching my shoes, I started down the stairs. As my heels made a clicking noise, I started to feel a familiar flutter in my stomach. I was nervous; First date nervous. Though I had met him many times, and most recently met his body with mine, the event of a first date was a pâté of emotions.

The door of the restaurant was cold against my hand. I didn’t expect a high end dining experience, and when I walked in the entry way I was glad it wasn’t. The entry way was filled with cozy items. The faded rose pattern on the wallpaper complimented the display of family photos.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a tall brunette man, it was a table for two.” I said to the hostess. She paused for a second, tapping on her tablet as she checks the current table descriptions.

“Ah yes, party of two for Reid?”

I confirmed and she led me through a hallway to our left, which led into a small dining area. The room walls were a burgundy color, illuminated by the candle sitting at the head of each table.

I thanked the woman as I walked toward Spencer. He looked a tad bit cleaner than usual, his hair was combed and tucked away behind his ears.

“Oh, here let me get that for you.” He rose from his seat and rushed over to the chair across from him.

“How gentleman like, Doctor.” He laughed and we both took our seats.

“Please, call me Spencer.” His form was more relaxed than it usually was in class, giving him a calmer and peaceful demeanor.

Dinner progressed, a glass of wine was nursed, and he insisted on paying our check. Though I had been on dates before, this felt like my first real adult date.

“How did you get here?” He inquired as we stepped onto the rough parking lot terrain.

“I took a cab, I’m thinking I may catch the train though.” I said. His mouth spread into a displeased expression.

“Nonsense, please let me drive you home. I would hate for those statistics we learned last week be applied in this manor.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. I hesitated to answer for a moment, instinctually I looked down and shifted my weight on my feet. The thought of him driving me home could end up in a number of ways; Mostly good. But, if I did take the train, it would end in a few ways; Mostly unmentionable.

“Alright, since you asked nicely.” His cheeks grew red as he avoided eye contact with me. I knew right then where our night would likely head.

“Would you like to come up? We can have a drink if you aren’t hell-bent on going to sleep before nine-thirty.” I joked with him.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel forced into anything because I know that theres a certain expectation when-“

“Spencer, if I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t have asked you up.”

Sure, having to say it in blatant terms is less than sexy, but thats what I adored about our dynamic at that point; I led the relationship.

I leaned into my fridge, purposefully bending over so my skirt lifted to show my ass.

“Well...fuck,” I said, “As it would turn out, someone stole my wine bottle and filled my fucking vodka bottle with water.” I stood up and shut the door, walking over to the counter inches away.

“One time I took the drink turn when it came to our friend-team-dinner-night, the bottle was forty dollars, which granted is the cheap wine more or less. To this day I still have no idea who stole the bottle, because I wanted to take it home.” Spencer reminisced. I laughed at his unusual way of trying to understand.

“Wasn’t really mine to begin with,” I started walking over to the sofa where he patiently sat. “I’m not of legal drinking age. But of course it tastes better when its forbidden, everything does.” I stepped in front of the man, his knees only an inch from my shin. "Can I touch you, Spencer?” I said in a soft voice, the lids of my eyes relaxed in a sweet shift.

“Y-yes.” He gasped, obviously so turned on by the way I stood over him, in power of him. I threaded his hair through my fingers and tugged back, pushing his head as far up as I could. His eyelids fell and he was no longer looking at me.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see everything.” He opened his eyes, his irises were colored with lust and desperation. I connected our lips in a long a sweet kiss. Rather than just having a mess of tongues, the kiss was filled to the brim with emotion, of pleasure that this was happening again. His lips were slightly swollen when I pulled away to unbutton his shirt. While I fiddled with the garment, he put his hands on my hips firmly.

“Can I- can you sit on my lap?” he asked, a red tint forming on his face. I smiled and obliged, sliding his shirt off of his lean torso. I started kissing him once more, this time I made sure to press my dripping panties against the large tent in his trousers.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom?” I ask,hands resting comfortably on his neck.

“Please”, I stood and laced our hands together, leading him to my bedroom. Once we both entered through the doorway, I pushed him onto the bed, he fell softly.

I reached my hands behind my back to unzip my dress, as I felt it fall past my legs and onto the floor, I saw his eyes scan every detail of my body.

“One might say you were planning this.” He eyed my matching lace set.

“Wanted to make sure Spencer Reid had the best.” I replied, climbing on top of him so that I would be straddling him. I felt his hands connect to my waist as we kissed, his hands were warm and excited me even more. He pulled away, quickly pressing his lips to my neck and collarbone. My breath hitched in my throat as he bit down lightly on the skin. “Lets get these off, shall we?” I motioned to his pants, which had to be killing him right now. While he does that, I reach into my drawer and retrieve a condom, laying against the plush material of my pillows after I set it down on the table.

He gets on top of me , pressing his lips with mine as he rubs the back of my bra, signaling he wants me to take it off. I ,of course, reach back and unhook it, tossing it onto the floor. He grabs my tit while dancing his tongue with mine, making me more wet than I thought was possible. Usually, these actions signified a need for control, but when Spencer did it, it was like a desperate sixteen year old boy. Its clear he needed me.

“Can I...” he nods down to my cunt, still covered by the thin material of my panties.

“Can you what, Spencer?” I lace my fingers in his hair and pull, earning a soft groan from the man hovering over me.

“Can I please eat you out?” He begged. I smiled and pushed his head down, spreading my legs when his face met my stomach. He started by taking his thumb and rubbing over my clothed pussy. I bucked my hips, desperate for more friction. “Is it okay for me to take these off?” His eyes met mine, searching for confirmation. I smiled and nodded, moving my hands to stroke his hair rather than tug at it.

As his fingers latched onto the last piece of fabric that covered me, instinctually I pushed my hips upwards. He looked at me, silently asking if taking the garment off was still okay. When I bit my lip, a rose hue covered his face. He was flustered by me, by the escalation of us. But nevertheless, he slowly pulled off the last piece of modesty I had.

To re-assure him, I lightly tugged at his hair. Thankfully, he took the hint and licked a long stripe on my clit. My voice was caught in my throat as he continued making flat-tongued movements. I felt his hands slowly wrap around my thighs, pushing my heat into his face more than it already was.

He devoured me without hesitation, but when he pulled away for air he replaced it with two fingers and then when my stomach tensed and my eyes rolled back into my head, he used three. I finished with his mouth sucking on my bundle of nerves and his fingers buried inside me.

“Do you want to keep going?” He raised his head up and his thumb stroked my thigh, which he was still grasped onto.

“Yes, God yes please, Spencer.” I whined, the high fading away. He stood up off the bed and removed his strained boxers. He was beautiful; His lanky form was now a lean masculine type. I smiled at him, to which he obviously thought he was being laughed at. He couldn’t make eye contact with me, resulting to the floor instead. “Spencer,” I crawled towards the edge of my bed and placed my hands on his shoulders, “You are so gorgeous, the reason I’m smiling is because you always hide it in those sweater vests.” he relaxed.

“Thanks” he mumbles, still avoiding my eyes.

“Now please, come back here and let me take care of you.” He climbed back onto the bed while I rested against the pillows. He was nervous, and obviously he wanted to do it right. I could see his hands shaking as he unwrapped the condom and put it on.

“You’re sure?” He asks, the tip of his cock resting on the top of my inner thigh. He was easily six inches, my hand could probably wrap around and be too small.

“Yes, please fuck me.” He slowly inserted himself into my dripping cunt, causing me to let out a lewd string of words. Once again, my hands flung to his hair and tugged harshly, causing his arms to almost buckle beneath his own weight. I could feel his pelvis against mine, his muscular bottom torso pressed up against my clit. “Move, baby, its okay.” I reassure him. His hips pull away from mine, then snap back with a nice pressure. He quickly started to pick up his pace, small grunts escaping through his clenched jaw. “Do you like the feeling of your pathetic little cock inside my cunt? I bet you feel like a special little bitch now.” I moaned into his ear. “Well, are you going to tell me how much you enjoy my cunt?”.

“God, yes! I love it so fucking-“ his moan paused the sentence and he focused on getting his movements right.

“So fucking what? Go on, finish the sentence baby.”

“So fucking good, I love being inside of you so much!” He was practically whimpering in pleasure.

“Be a good boy and make me cum all over that pretty little cock of yours?” I struggled to contain my moans, I could not fall apart this quickly.

“Yes I will!” His fingers reached down to rub my clit, impressively keeping a steady rhythm. I felt the knot in my stomach becoming hotter and hotter as the minutes passed by.

“Oh my god, such a good- oh my god!” my eyes rolled back into my head as the impact of my orgasm was full forced. When my head cleared, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head so he could look me in the eye. “Gonna cum soon? Are you going to cum all inside of me?” his thrusts got off beat, he was close.

“Yes, I’m gonna-“

“Ask permission to cum, Spencer.”

“Can I please cum inside of you? Please?” He whines.

“Of course you can, baby.” With that he makes a strained moaning noise and his hips slowly stop moving. We’re both panting, while he flushes the condom I walk into the bathroom next to him. I turn to the shower and twist the hot water knob.

“We might as well get clean together, yeah?” I said.

“Yeah.” he smiles and kisses me once more.

[mermaidenisaacs]

isaac is bad at feelings

it goes like this: you get sad, you text isaac, he comes over and makes it all better. 

feat. stiles, who knows the vibes

🎶 telepatía - kali uchis 🎶 

The morning afters were always the same. 

I usually woke up first. Sometimes I climbed out of my bed and carefully tiptoed into the bathroom, where I sloshed a bit of mouthwash, rubbed the gunk out of my eye, and slipped back underneath my sheets before Isaac woke up. The first face he’d see was mine. I did what I could to make it look kind of okay.

It’s not that I thought he would judge me if I looked bad. He wasn’t that kind of friend. He was just the kind of friend I fucked on occasion, when we both had nothing better to do and found ourselves lonely and a little unloved. 

We both had a bad habit of avoiding the heaps of repressed childhood trauma that lurked in the dark corners of our minds. Some days were harder than others. On those days, sometimes the only comfort we found was in each other. And what were friends for, if not that? 

Isaac stirred awake. He blinked twice, clearing the sleepy haze shrouding his eyes. His eyes focused on me and his face broke into a marshmallow sweet smile. He looked adorable, and I was as fond of him as ever. 

He was laying on his side. The morning sun peeked through the blinds, reflecting off the floating stardust in the air. The light landed on Isaac, his sandy brown curls and his sporadically freckled skin. He was golden. In the moment, he looked younger, warmer, unburdened, happy.

“Morning,” he said. The sound of his greeting came out deep and gravely. His morning voice was, as always, a bit much. 

“Morning,” I hummed.

“How long have you been awake?” 

“Not too long.” 

“That’s good. I guess it’s not as creepy to watch someone while they’re sleeping if you do it for not too long.” 

I laughed. “I wasn’t watching you. Just, casually observing. You look really peaceful when you’re sleeping, did you know? Like, peaceful and serene and beautiful.” 

Isaac raised his brow playfully. “Beautiful? Are you trying to be romantic? Is that what we’re doing now?” 

I snorted and rolled over to face away from him. “No way.” 

The weight shifted on the mattress as he scooted closer and his soft lips brushed against my shoulder. Isaac’s chest was warm and solid, protective behind me. 

“I’m just kidding,” he said softly. “Anyway, you’re the one who looks beautiful when you’re sleeping. Also when you’re awake. Anytime you’re existing, really.” His lips trailed up my shoulder and he brushed my hair away from my neck to kiss me there. A hand snaked around my torso and turned me over to face him. 

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You’re just complimenting me because you have morning wood and you want to fuck.” 

He tsked disapprovingly. “Way to ruin the moment. You’re always so quick to doubt my motives. It’s not my fault you don’t know how to take a compliment.” 

I shoved him back lightly, flipping us over so I was straddling him around his waist. “It’s not your compliments that I want.” 

Pushing Isaac’s boxers down his thighs, I positioned his already swollen cock at my wet entrance and slipped him inside me. Isaac emitted a shuddered breath as I took in all of him. I pushed up and brought my hips back down, creating a slow rhythm.

Isaac sucked in his breath. “Fuck, fuck, come here.” 

He tangled his fingers in my hair and brought down my forehead to rest against his. I braced my hands on either side of him and rolled my hips. Isaac pinched one of my nipples, twisted it between his fingers and kneaded my other breast. 

I sighed in pleasure, arching into him as a familiar sensation pooled underneath my stomach. I moved my hips faster. Isaac steadied my urgent movements with his arms locked around me. He held me still so he could pump into me from below. I sighed in pleasure. From this angle, I felt him deep inside me, felt every ridge, every vein on his cock against every inch of my walls. 

“Oh god, fuck, Isaac, please,” I moaned pathetically. My nails dug into his shoulders while he slammed into me. It was a lot. It was always a lot, in the best way. I still wasn’t used to the fact that my fuck buddy was a teenage wolf-human hybrid with lots of energy to expend in the morning, or really at any point during the day.

In the corner of my eye, I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. If we took too long, we’d be late for school. Reaching under me, I rubbed my clit and moved my hips with Isaac’s. 

“Isaac, please I’m so close, please don’t stop, right there…” 

Isaac rutted his hips and sank deep into me, and then we were both coming with strangled groans. I felt his smile against my skin, mirroring my own that he couldn’t see.  

~*~*~*~

Later that morning, I drove us to school, rolling my eyes when Isaac said that it’d be faster if he just carried me on his back and ran there. 

“You can’t carry me,” I said. “I’m not skinny.” 

“And what of it? Your body’s amazing,” he replied without missing a beat, “and I would, and could, carry you anywhere.”

I chuckled. “Whatever, wolf boy.”

“Your car really is a piece of shit.”

I lightly punched Isaac’s shoulder. “My car’s fine. You’re free to get out and walk your ungrateful ass to school.” 

Isaac rubbed his shoulder and chuckled. “So um,” he said hesitantly, “thanks again for letting me come over last night.”

I frowned. “You know you don’t have to thank me for that.” 

“Yeah, I do. I just don’t ever want you to think I’m using my nightmares and my issues as like, a pick up line to get into your pants or something. I would never take advantage of you.” 

Briefly, I glanced over. He was looking at me with a peculiar expression. He looked sincere, and because I was emotionally stunted, it made me uncomfortable. I chuckled to dispel the tension in the air. 

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You’re not taking advantage of anything. I do what I want, nothing more or less. You don’t have to treat me like I’m a virginal princess and you’re like, some big bad wolf stealing my flower.” I laughed at the idea that Isaac could ever be predatory in any way. “And it’s not like I don’t need you too. We’re there for each other because we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.” 

“Friends. Good, that’s good…” Isaac trailed off. 

“Um, is there something else you want to tell me?” I asked. It sounded like there was something unsaid lingering in the air.

After a few beats of silence, Isaac casually replied, “Nope, that’s it. Just wanted to make sure we were alright, that’s all.” 

That wasn’t all. I could detect the slight uneasiness in his voice. I knew in my gut something was off, but I was a coward, and I hated confronting people, so I didn’t. Instead, I decided to turn up the radio and pretend everything was fine, while a tiny little knowing voice in my head mocked me the rest of the car ride to school.

~*~*~*~

The ominous feeling from the morning stayed with me throughout the day. At noon, I waited for Isaac to show up in the cafeteria at our usual lunch table with the pack. After waiting fifteen minutes, I started to get a little concerned.

I turned to Erica. “Have you seen Isaac? He’s not answering my texts.” 

Erica smirked. “Worried about your boyfriend?”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“So I’m just supposed to believe you sneak a boy into your room every night to chit chat and do homework? Are we that innocent?”  

I shrugged. “I can be innocent.”

Erica laughed. “You haven’t been innocent since we were fifteen. But I think I saw Isaac earlier headed to the boys’ locker room.”

With that information, I left to go find Isaac, briskly walking through the hallways. I turned a corner and stopped dead in my tracks, suddenly wishing I’d never left the safe confines of the cafeteria. 

I was about twenty feet away from the locker room entrance where I saw Isaac standing in front of a girl, his hand on her waist, her lips near his ear giggling and whispering, his face buried into her neck. And then he kissed her. In the middle of the hallway in front of everyone, not caring who might see them. Not caring if I might see them. 

I stepped backwards until I was shielded behind the wall. I was hurt, but I didn’t even feel like I deserved to be. Isaac and I weren’t together. He was free to do whatever he wanted. We were just friends. I told him so this morning.

I mentally smacked my forehead. My own stupidity always came back to haunt me. This was what Isaac was trying to tell me in the car. 

I returned to the cafeteria and sat next to Erica and stared blankly at my lunch tray. I didn’t know how to feel. There had always been this unspoken rule between me and Isaac that we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other. He had told me he didn’t want to take advantage of me but that’s exactly what it felt like. 

He was messing around with another girl. For all I knew, there were many other girls. And he had kept it a secret. His withholding information by default made the scales uneven. Before, everything felt balanced and fair, but now, the dynamic felt different. I trusted him and he didn’t give me the same trust back. 

If Isaac was just a casual friend, it wouldn’t hurt this much. I naively thought he and I had something different. I thought he was different.

Erica gently shook my shoulder. “Babe?” I felt too embarrassed to even look at her. “What’s wrong? Did you find Isaac?” 

“Oh um, no I didn’t uh, I didn’t see him.” Erica soothingly raked her nails across my back and I relaxed into her touch. There was no way she bought my bullshit lie, and I loved her for not pressing me about it. “Hey um, remember last week when you said I should start dating again?”

“Um, yeah. You said you weren’t interested though, right?” 

“I did say that, but I am now,” I said. “But I’m not exactly interested in dating someone. I just need a distraction, you know?” 

“Hm,” Erica said. “That can be arranged too. But what changed your mind?” 

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing really. My old distraction isn’t working for me anymore. I need something new.” 

~*~*~*~

Erica suggested I meet up with one of one of her old casual hook-ups. When she first told me who it was, I was flummoxed. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense when Erica told me I should go out with Stiles Stilinski. 

Since Erica pre-approved him for me, I knew he was someone I could trust and someone who probably knew what they were doing. I wasn’t super close to him either, which would help with avoiding another Isaac situation where I was too enmeshed with the person. Overall, Stiles was a pretty ideal distraction.

It turned out that he was also pretty into the idea of us linking up. My phone kept vibrating with his texts the whole time I drove home from school. As I walked to my room, I opened my unread messages, except ones that were from Isaac.  

3:20 pm: Hey, this is Stiles. Well you probably knew that. Unless you don’t have my number saved 

3:22 pm: Which isn’t a big deal considering we’ve never really talked that much

3:25 pm: Anyway Erica just texted me and told me that we’re hanging out tonight? 

3:25 pm: We as in you and me, not me and Erica. That’s been over for a long time 

3:26 pm: We didn’t date or anything don’t worry 

3:26 pm: Anyway what I’m trying to say is that I’m totally down. I’m just a little confused

3:30 pm: Are we going out, like out out? Or are we just hanging out? Or is it like what Erica and I used to do?

3:34 pm: Sorry I’m making this weird. I’ll just pick you up tonight around 8 for dinner. Cya then :) 

I was reading his last message as I opened the door to my bedroom, chuckling at Stiles’s messages, when I jumped backwards and yelped at the sight of Isaac laying casually on my bed. 

“Jesus, you scared me,” I muttered. He simply grinned. 

“Sorry, but I think it’d be fair to say you’re easily spooked.” 

I stared back impassively, ignoring his playful quip. “What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms over my chest. 

Isaac shrugged. “Had nothing to do after school.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, so it’s just a convenience thing? You just show up whenever you want when you have nothing better to do?” 

Isaac frowned and sat up. “You never had a problem with me showing up here unannounced before. What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?” 

“Nope,” I lied. “I just don’t have time to deal with you right now.” 

I knew why he was here. To him, I was just an easy fuck. No different than the girl he was pressed up against at school and probably the countless other girls who gave him full access to whatever he wanted. “I need to shower and study.” 

“Okay? I’m not stopping you. I need to study too. We can study together.”

I turned on my heel and lifted my shirt over my shoulder, walking topless to my hamper to discard the garment. “I don’t have time to study with you. I’m going out later.” 

After unzipping my jeans and pulling them down my legs, I threw them on top of the pile of dirty laundry. Standing there in my bra and underwear, for the first time, I truly felt naked in front of Isaac. I’d grown so accustomed to him seeing me without clothes on that it stopped phasing me, but I couldn’t get the image of Isaac kissing another girl out of my head. 

I always used to feel so safe around him. For once, I felt vulnerable in front of Isaac.

“You’re going out?” Isaac rose to his feet. “With who?” 

“Stiles.”

Isaac blinked. After a few moments, he said, “Oh I’m sorry, are you not kidding?” 

“Why would I be kidding?” I challenged.

The corners of Isaac’s mouth turned down in a thoughtful, indifferent frown. “I just didn’t know you two were close like that.” Isaac scoffed again. “Wait, I’m sorry, I can’t get past this. Stiles? How the hell did that happen?” 

I chuckled, remembering that Isaac and Stiles hated each other. “He’s cute, and I like him. He texted me earlier, so we’re going out.” 

Isaac shook his head. “I feel like you’ve lost your mind, but I suppose I can’t stop you.” 

Just like you couldn’t stop yourself from shoving your tongue down random girls’ throats, I thought bitterly. 

“So, are you gonna fuck him?” 

I snorted. “Excuse me? How is that any of your business?”

“It is if we’re fucking.” 

My jaw fell open. “Holy shit, you’re unbelievable. You know what? We’re not anymore.” 

“Seriously?” When I didn’t respond, he laughed in disbelief. “You’re joking. You can’t be ending this over Stilinski.” 

“I’m not. I just don’t want to do this anymore.” 

Isaac blinked. “You know I can tell when you’re lying right?” 

“Whatever. I don’t care if you’re listening to my heart rate or reading my perspiration levels or my scent or whatever. None of that means anything. What matters is what I’m telling you, and I’m telling you this is over. You should leave.”

For a brief moment, Isaac looked taken aback, hurt evident in his slightly wide eyes. “Come on, you don’t seriously mean that.” 

He stepped forward and I stepped back. He looked surprised again. He walked us backwards until my back met the wall. He lifted his hand and with his pinky, gently brushed a stray lock of hair from the side of my face. I turned away and placed a hand on his chest. 

“Isaac, I don’t…” Faintly, I tried to protest. I really did. But Isaac Lahey was not someone who made it easy to resist. He lifted my chin and softly pressed his lips to mine. I kissed him back, a sudden impulse fueled by longing and self-loathing overriding my will power. I pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, groaning when his hand slid down my back and squeezed my ass. 

Somewhere in the room, I heard my phone send out a loud text notification ding!. Oh right, reality. 

I shoved Isaac’s chest and pushed him away. He stumbled slightly, his face full of confusion and sadness. I felt a twinge of remorse. At the end of the day, I didn’t want to hurt him. There was a soft spot in my heart and Isaac had made it his home a long time ago. But I couldn’t do this anymore. It was too painful.

“Just go please,” I said quietly. This time, he listened. 

~*~*~*~

At 8 o’clock, I saw Stiles parked outside my house. I knocked on the window of his jeep, and in doing so, inadvertently scared him. Stiles jumped and hit his head on the roof of his car. I heard a muffled “what the fu-oh hey!” I gave him a guilty smile and a small wave. He rubbed his cranial injury and fumbled with his door handle, finally managing to step outside. 

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry about that. I was on my phone and I wasn’t paying attention and… you look really pretty.” He cleared his throat. “Is that okay to say? Because we’re sort of friends and now we’re going… out…? But not like, going out, not like that. Unless um, are we? Because Erica kind of implied that this was just to... you know... I mean, it’s totally possible that I misconstrued her words and we are actually going out? Or… fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.” 

Poor kid. 

He’d texted me about 10 minutes ago to tell me he was in front of my house. He was early and I was nowhere near ready. After I had finished combing mascara through my lashes, I looked at myself in the mirror, mostly indifferent at my reflection, but a little disgusted. I wasn’t thrilled by the idea of using Stiles to distract myself from Isaac, but it’s not like Stiles was naive. He was Erica’s fuck buddy once upon a time. He knew the vibes. 

Erica was supposed to tell Stiles this was purely a hookup, casual and unofficial, but considering he wanted to pick me up and take me to dinner, some signals might’ve gotten crossed. 

I laid my hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Hey, Stiles, relax. It’s only me. I just needed to get out and have some fun, no pressure. We’ll figure things out as we go, okay? And thank you! You look nice too.” 

I reached up to adjust the collar of his flannel button down. He smiled at the gesture, and I noticed for the first time that he had a really nice jawline. There was also a cluster of moles on his face and his neck, sixteen in total. Cute.

“Thanks,” he said shyly. “So, shall we?” He jogged to the other side of his car and held open the door, beaming back with a toothy grin. 

I giggled, and the tension in my shoulders unfurled. There was nothing to fret over. This was Stiles, the least intimidating person ever.

Everything was going to be fine. 

~*~*~*~

My “date” with Stiles was going surprisingly well. He let me play my music in his car, lovingly calling my playlist a “pretentiously indie softcore mess.” I pretended to be offended and played three more Bon Iver songs just to spite him. 

At dinner, we slid into a booth at a colorful diner. He ordered a hamburger, a chocolate milkshake, and curly fries, then made fun of me for ordering a veggie burger, water, and sweet potato fries. I playfully punched him in the arm when he tried to steal some of them. 

“What kind of self-respecting woman would I be if I just let you steal my food right after you made fun of it?” I quipped. 

“First of all, I was making fun of you, not the food,” I gasped in mock offense. “And second of all, I just wanted to understand how you could give up meat and dairy for something that looks like dog food and cardboard. Now I’m making fun of your food.” 

I snorted. The thing about Stiles was that even when he was roasting you, he had the unique ability to put you at ease, just by virtue of treating everyone the same way. He could be sarcastic and blunt and unnervingly confrontational, but he was that way towards everyone. Maybe if I hung out with him enough, those qualities would rub off on me. 

“How dare you?” I said. “Just for that, I’m stealing some of your fries.” I reached across the table and snagged the biggest curl of greasy potato from his plate. 

Stiles stared at me blankly. “If you wanted real fries, you could’ve just ordered them.” 

“Hmm, it’s more fun this way,” I said cheerily. 

“Wow, I have half a mind to out of this diner right now, but you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.” He leaned back against the booth and grinned. I smiled shyly at the unexpected compliment and stared down at my lap. “So, what’s your deal?” he asked. 

I looked up. “My deal?”

“Yeah. Erica hits me up out of nowhere and tells me to take you out, which I don’t mind at all. We’ve just never been particularly close.” 

I nibbled on a fry. “What do you want to know?”

“Just tell me why we’re really here.” 

I paused. “You’ll judge me if I do.” 

Stiles tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest. “Unless the reason you’re with me right now is that you need an alibi for a murder scheme, I probably won’t judge you, but even then…” I gave him a small smile and shrugged. “Here,” he extended his pinkie, “I promise I won’t judge, okay?” 

I laughed and twisted my pinkie with his. “Okay.” 

I told him about the casual arrangement I had with Isaac, getting jealous after seeing him kiss another girl, asking Erica to set me up with a distraction, getting into a fight with Isaac, and finally ending our whole arrangement. 

“Wow,” he said. 

“Yep.” 

“First of all, Isaac Lahey? Doesn’t deserve you. You could do way better. Second, should I be offended or flattered that I’m just being passed around to different girls as a distraction? And third…” Stiles reached forward and laid his hand over mine, “I’m sorry this is all happening to you. I know what it’s like to see the person I’m into be all over someone else.” 

I was nodding along until he said the last part. “Wait, what? I’m not into Isaac,” I said incredulously.  

“Yeah, you kinda are. Why else would you be upset that he kissed someone else?” 

“Um, because he hid it from me?” 

“Nah, I’m not buying it.” 

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and tried to retract my hand from his. 

Stiles grinned and gripped my hand tighter. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay to have feelings for him. Just don’t fall in love with me too, kid.” He winked. 

I tried to give him an unimpressed stare, but I couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled out of my throat. “I’ll try.” 

“I know, I’m pretty hard to resist.” Stiles looked me dead in the eye, grabbed his milkshake, opened his mouth to take a sip and missed the straw completely, aimlessly moving his head and searching for it with his tongue. I laughed at him so loud that people gave me judgmental stares.

~*~*~*~

After we left the diner, we climbed back into his jeep. I graciously allowed Stiles to turn on the radio. In the spirit of our mutual dislike for Isaac, we loudly sang along to “I Don’t Fuck With You.” I realized I hadn’t felt sad about Isaac the entire time I’d been out with Stiles. Erica was right; he was the perfect distraction. 

We were still parked outside the diner. I looked over at Stiles. Suddenly, I had the overwhelming urge to lean over the console and kiss Stiles on the cheek, so I did. I started moving away, but before I could, he surged forward and connected our lips. We were kissing for about four seconds before he pulled away. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I did that.”  

“It’s cool,” I said, licking my bottom lip. Stiles tasted like the strawberry from his milkshake. “Wanna do it again?”

His mouth parted slightly. He looked surprised. “Really?” Without answering, I closed the distance between us and kissed him again, on his lips this time. 

I grabbed the back of his neck and mushed our mouths closer. His lips tasted sweet. His sugar-coated tongue slipped into my mouth. He placed his hand timidly on my bare thigh where my dress had ridden up. 

Stiles was a good kisser. I liked the feeling of his hands on my body and his lips on my lips, but even in the midst of all this, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Isaac, kissing him just this morning because we had woken up in the same bed together.

I tried to get my mind off him and focus on what Stiles was doing. Stiles kissing the corner of my mouth, Stiles grazing his lips against my jaw, then my neck, every once in a while tasting my skin with his tongue. He was sucking on my collarbone when my phone started buzzing in the cup holder. 

I tried to ignore it, but against the plastic container, it was rattling obnoxiously. I pulled away, despite Stiles’s little whine of protest. “I’m sorry, let me just turn it off-oh.” 

“What?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s Isaac. What do I do?” I asked, a little panicked.

“I want to give you unbiased advice,” Stiles said, “but I currently have a boner, so my interests are a little biased at the moment.” 

I ignored the call, but the moment was already ruined.

~*~*~*~

Since I couldn’t get back into the mood, Stiles offered to just drive me home. The car ride was silent and awkward and sexually frustrating all at once, and it was all Isaac’s fault. 

“I’m sorry,” I said as Stiles pulled into my driveway. 

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault your ex boy toy takes every chance to screw me over.” 

I chuckled. “Guess we’re both getting screwed by him.” I nervously picked at chipped polish on my nail. “Hey Stiles?” 

“Hm?”

“Do you maybe wanna come inside?” I asked before I lost my nerve, hoping Stiles would understand what I was really asking him.

Stiles licked his lips. “Really?” Seemed like he understood pretty clearly.

I shrugged. “Offer’s on the table.” 

Stiles pursed his mouth and squinted at me. “Do you wanna do this just to get back at Isaac, or are you actually into me like that?” 

“Is it bad if I say both?”

“Maybe, but I’m no better, because I do want to come inside. Your house. Not-” I clapped my hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter. “Shut up,” he muttered, which only made me laugh harder.

I reached for the door handle, but Stiles stopped me. I was confused until he jogged around the front and opened my door for me again. “If this is how polite you are on all your dates, you must get laid all the time.” 

“You know how I do,” Stiles said, making me snort. He wove his fingers through mine, and we walked towards my front door. When we arrived, I nearly tripped and fell, because the last thing I expected to see was Isaac sitting on my doorsteps.

“Jesus fucking christ Lahey, are you kidding me?” Stiles said, grabbing my arm to steady me. “You’re creepy as hell, you know that?” 

Isaac remained expressionless. He stood up and dusted off his khakis. “Really, I’m creepy? You stalked Lydia for years and she didn’t even know your name.” 

“What did you just-” Stiles sputtered. 

“Alright,” I interrupted before they started throwing fisticuffs. “Isaac, what are you doing here?” 

He frowned. “I was waiting for you. I didn’t think you’d bring him back with you.” 

“He is my date, which I told you before, and we had a great time, so I invited him in,” I said in a clipped tone. 

“To get back at me.” I froze. “That’s what you told him in the car, right? Why are you getting back at me? What did I do?” 

I looked down. “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I don’t know.” The silence stretched on. Beside me, Stiles was impatiently tapping his heel. He exhaled loudly. 

“Really?” he said. “You’re both gonna do this now, right before I was supposed to get laid?” 

Stiles was fed up, which became abundantly clear when he cursed our “unnatural capacity to be stubborn little shits.” He grabbed our arms and led us inside. He marched us up my stairs to my bedroom and told us to sit down. He stood in front of us with the authority and sternness of a school vice principal. 

“We are going to resolve this right now,” Stiles stated. 

“Resolve what?” Isaac mumbled. “I didn’t even do anything.” 

I snorted. “Yeah right.” 

Isaac turned to me. “What’s your problem?” he asked. The fact that he had the audacity to ask like he still didn’t know was infuriating. I was over it.

“Your face,” I muttered. I was aware I sounded like a child. I didn’t care. 

“Oh, that’s mature. My face is your problem?”

“Yep.” 

“Well your face sucks too.” 

“That’s not what you said this morning,” I retorted. 

“That’s because you weren’t acting like this this morning.” 

“Well your face was better this morning.”

Isaac looked absolutely vexed. It was almost funny. “What does that even mean?”

“Holy shit,” Stiles said. “She’s mad because you kissed another girl. And many others possibly, but she saw you with someone at school today. That’s why she’s mad.” 

“Stiles, what the fuck?!” I sputtered as he exposed me.

I felt my face get hot. I turned to Isaac, who was looking at me with his mouth parted in surprise and awe. This was so fucking embarrassing. 

“Look,” I said, “you don’t have to explain yourself, okay? We never set any rules for what this was, and I just assumed we wouldn’t be seeing other people. So it’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

I scooted backwards on my bed until I reached the stack of pillows near the headboard. I locked my arms around my knees and hid my face. In the silence, I heard faint mumblings and harsh whispers. Lifting my head, I watched Stiles and Isaac engaging in an inaudible argument of accusatory finger pointing and other frustrated hand gestures. I ducked my head again. I couldn’t face the mess I’d made. 

The weight on the mattress shifted. I felt a presence to my left. A hand rested gently on my arm. I looked up. It was Isaac, looking at me with a guilty expression on his face. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I wasn’t messing around with anyone else in the beginning. That started a few weeks ago.”

“If you wanted to mess around with other people, you should’ve just told me. I thought we were close enough that you could tell me anything,” I said, unable to keep the sadness out of my voice. 

“I didn’t want to mess around with other people. I only did it because I started having feelings for you.” 

I froze. “You what?” 

Isaac sighed. “I like you. A lot. I couldn’t tell you because I know you only think of me as your friend. I did try at one point to stop what we were doing, but I wanted you too much. But it was killing me not to tell you, so I got sad, like really sad. I couldn’t tell you I was basically in love with you, and I didn’t want to deal with how depressed it was making me, so I started messing around with other people. I fucked up.”

“You’re in love with me,” I repeated in awe. Of all the things I expected him to say, that information was nowhere on the list. “I can’t believe it.” 

Isaac winced. “Look, you don’t need to address it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or feel obligated to comfort me or anything. I’ll deal with it on my own. I don’t want things to change between us just because of this.” 

"But things have changed,” I said, thinking out loud. “Because I love you too.” 

Isaac blinked. “You do?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I laughed in disbelief. “I think that’s why I was so mad. I didn’t even realize I had feelings for you until today. Stiles figured it out first. Oh shit, Stiles.” 

Stiles raised his hand like a teacher just called on him for attendance. “That’s me,” he said. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry you got caught up in the middle of all this,” I said.

Stiles shrugged. “No worries. Erica said there was a possibility I would get laid, and it was with you, so I was down for whatever. Actually I’m still down if you two are about to fuck.” 

I sputtered. My entire face felt like it was on flames. I laughed nervously. “You’re still down to what?” 

“To fuck.” 

“Fuck who?”

“Fuck you. And Isaac.” 

My eyes darted back and forth between the two boys currently on my bed. What did he just say? “What did you just say?” I squeaked.

Stiles blinked. “What? Haven’t you ever had a threesome before?” 

“Haven’t I-? No, of course not! That’s freaky, even for me.” 

“Really? Oh. I just thought, considering you have a reputation for being kinda promiscuous, no offense.” 

I glared at Stiles. Full offense.

“No seriously, it’s not a bad thing at all. We all have an inner slut and there’s nothing wrong with expressing that. I’ve had lots of threesomes before. I’m sure Isaac has too.” 

I snorted. “No way. Isaac’s too vanilla, right Isaac?” 

I turned to Isaac. He grinned guiltily. “Uh, actually.” 

“See,” Stiles said, smirking.

My jaw dropped open. “How did I not know this about you?” 

Isaac shrugged. “Never really came up. It’s honestly not a big deal.” 

“Wow, I feel like such a prude right now. Who’d you even do it with?” I asked.

“Scott and Derek,” Isaac answered.

My jaw fell open again. “And you, Stiles?” 

“Scott and Erica.” 

“Wow, Scott really takes care of his pack huh?”

Stiles laughed. "He takes his true alpha status to heart. But anyway, you don’t have to do it. I’m just saying, it’s fun, and I personally am horny and down for whatever.” 

“I…” Thinking about being with Stiles and Isaac at the same time made something flutter in my lower stomach. I glanced at Isaac, questioning him silently. He smiled and shrugged casually in an I’m-down-if-you’re-down kind of way. 

I inhaled. 

“Okay. I, yeah. I’m in."

Isaac grinned. “Well this is a surprising turn of events. Just to clarify,” Isaac gestured at the empty space between us, “we’re together right? Now that we’re both in love and all?” 

“That is correct, yes,” I said matter-of-factly. 

Isaac leaned forward and kissed my shoulder. 

Stiles clapped his hands. “Alright, alright, congratulations to the happy couple. Just a reminder: I made this happen. You guys owe me.” 

“Was your 3-way suggestion not your way of collecting?” I asked sarcastically. 

Stiles shrugged. “Only if it goes really well.” 

“Jesus,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So uh, how do we do this?” I wiped my palms on my bed sheet. Starting off sweaty. Less than ideal.

Stiles stood up and walked around my bed towards us. He unbuttoned his flannel with each step and discarded it on the floor. Okay, straight to the point. 

“Don’t be so shy,” said Isaac sarcastically, but watched Stiles with anticipation. 

Stiles grinned before cradling the back of my neck and leaning down to kiss me. “Oh right, acting shy to get girls is more your style,” Stiles replied, with no real malice in his tone. It almost sounded like they were flirting with each other. 

Isaac rolled his eyes. He turned to me, caught me watching him. His expression changed, becoming softer. He leaned forward, his lips gently trailing down my neck. Stiles laid me flat on my bed. They both laid on either side of me. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Isaac asked.

“Yes,” I answered breathlessly. “I want you. Both of you.” 

part 2 is coming.

[catboyshinsou]

nightmares

pairing: shinsou x gn!reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of a nightmare, blood, death, panic attacks ?, kitty nickname, pro hero shinsou (sfw)

summary: you just moved in with shinsou but somehow nightmares have been plaguing you. one night you have the worst one yet

a/n: ty for 200 followers!! <33

Shinsou didn't sleep much. There was too much on his brain for him to waste precious time on sleep, there was too much to do, too much to think about. He knew it wasn't the healthiest thing to do but it's not like he deprived himself of sleep, his body just didn't let him and there wasn't much he could do about it. As an active Pro Hero there were just some sacrifices to be made for the job and if sleep loss was one of them then so be it.

You, on the other hand, managed to maintain a quite healthy sleeping schedule next to him. At least you tried to get continuous six hours of sleep every night, even if that still wasn't nearly enough for an average human being. But what could you do, there was a lot to do and not enough time to do it.

For some reason, Shinsou worried about you not sleeping enough. You chuckled when he brought it up to you at breakfast when you moved in with him.

“I don't think you're one to speak, Hitoshi.”

“Are you saying me not sleeping is something to not be worried about?”

You rolled your eyes and drank your tea. “I get enough sleep, don't worry about it okay?”

The dark circles under your eyes rivaled his, earning a frown from your boyfriend. He didn't like seeing you tired. He never has. Even though you were always tired, according to you, he could tell when your sleep quality was declining.

“Have you been having nightmares again?”

His purple eyes met yours as he swirled the coffee in his mug. Rain hit against the window and you heard the trees rustling in the wind.

Waking up in cold sweat, panting and almost crying before rushing to the bathroom to shock your system with cold water. It was a picture and feeling you knew too well. Nightmares and terrors did indeed haunt you like a little girl haunted a house. You've tried everything to ease them; medication, meditation, yoga, asmr, everything and still you had one at least once a week.

With the move into Shinsou’s apartment (because he was almost always working and wanted to see you more and his place was closer to your workplace anyway), it didn't really get better either even though his arms afterwards were always comforting. It felt more like symptomatic help not like you were finding a cause to make it stop though.

You took a deep breath. Was there a point in lying when he'd find out soon enough that you laid in bed almost scared to fall asleep when he was on night patrol because he wouldn't be there to calm you down if you did have one? Well, was it lying since you in theory didn’t currently have any nightmares?

“You know that no answer is an answer as well, kitty...” His low and soft voice crept up your neck as he put his arms around you. In the moments you were contemplating how much lying made sense, he'd finished his coffee and made his way to you for a lazy hug from behind.

He smelt nice, his slightly damp hair against your cheek as he rested his head on your shoulder. The purple tuffs tickled you as he got comfortable in the crook of your neck. You put his arms over his, on your tummy and took another breath.

“So you haven't been sleeping at all then?”

The only time you've been feeling comfortable and safe was when Hitoshi came home at 4 in the morning, slipped out his hero gear and got into bed with you. You, always pretending to be sleeping so he didn't worry, just waited for his whispered “goodnight kitty, i love you” as he put his arms around you for three or four more hours of sleep with you. Only then could you close your eyes and let yourself sink into your feared REM phase.

“You worry too much for me, 'Toshi…” With an exhausted sigh you leaned back, your head on his shoulder behind you. You traced circles on his forearm, feeling his goosebumps as you did.

“I'd be a crap hero if I cared for the general public but not for my love at home, wouldn't I?” He placed a kiss on your temple. “So?”

“I've been sleeping fine.”

“Y/n.” He stretched the last part of your name, his voice vibrating up your neck.

“You're free for the weekend right?”

Shinsou sighed at your attempt of changing subjects, not having enough energy to insist on you telling the truth. He hummed in response.

He had a two day break from hero work or at least from patrolling and going in. There was a ton of paperwork sitting on his desk for him, as well as 50 unread emails he had to get to. But he didn't complain. At least you were there to keep him company while you did your thing.

The two of you finished up breakfast and started into your day of free time which was actually just work in disguise.

Before you knew it, the day had passed and both of you laid in bed together, attempting to sleep. Well, you did. It was already well past midnight, everything around you quiet except for Shinsou who hummed a tune next to you and tapped on his keyboard.

He had his laptop on his lap, answering some more emails and scheduling their sending for 7am while making sure you knew he was there. You could feel his warmth under the blanket but the auditory reassurance helped.

You were on your tummy, facing away from you while hugging your pillow since your actual boyfriend wasn't up for cuddles right now. With closed eyes, you rolled over to face him.

“Hitoshi, go to sleep”, you said in a drowsy voice, half asleep yourself. “You can send the emails when you wake up…”

Shinsou just gave you a quick chuckle before kissing your head. “I'll be done in a minute, kitty. I just need a few more and then I’m all yours, I promise.”

His humming continued and he put his hand on your back, stroking it up and down until you were completely asleep. Your breaths got deeper and you moved around less, making your boyfriend smile.

It felt as if he had just gotten a toddler to sleep after watching a superhero movie, even if you had not been staying awake because you were restless but because you refused to go to bed if he wasn't in it. He had promised you that he would come to bed as soon as he could but both of you were stubborn. It was just a staring contest until Shinsou got up and carried his laptop to the bedroom with you pulling him at his hand.

Now, you laid next to him in peaceful manner, breathing, recharging.

"Toshi?”

You ran down the staircase, struggling with the heavy doors that separated each floor.

“Hitoshi?”

It never seemed to end, doors after doors after doors after doors. It was just doors going on. Heavy metal doors, painted white with cheap paint. It still smelled like paint in some of the staircases.

Your hands started slipping off the handles, sweat covering them like a thick layer of honey. You could hear a faint voice behind this even heavier door, needing your whole strength to open it up.

The clear sweat on your hands started staining the handle red. You pulled them back and stared at the blood covering your palms before looking back up and seeing Shinsou bloodied up in front of you.

He was panting, his face swollen and bruised and his hands tied behind his back. On his knees, he fell towards you with his capture weapon now a bright red instead of the usual dirty white.

“OH MY GOD, HITOSHI?”

You pushed him back to find the source of the flood, opening his hero suit and trying to untie his hands before he spat out blood all over you.

“You'll be fine okay? Everything is gonna be okay, you just need to stay awake and I'll find where you're bleeding from and it's gonna be fine, you can't leave me okay?”

A waterfall of words left you as you laid him on his back and examined his body. He just laughed and stared at the ceiling, his usually bright purple eyes now dull and almost grey.

You located his wound at his tummy right above the belly button, splurging out blood with his heavy breath. There was a faint whistle whenever he exhaled, you examined his chest and could feel a clearly broken rib.

Oh god, you weren't any type of medical care practitioner, what were you supposed to do?? Think, think, think…

“Kitty…” Shinsou put his cold hand on your tear stained cheeks.

“Shhh, don't talk okay??? I just need a second to figure things out, you'll be fine just- just stay awake okay??”

A hoarse chuckle left him. “Sorry for staining your white shirt… I know you always complain about how it never properly washes…”

He faded away, the cold of his hands on your cheeks leaving you last before you were met by a blinding light.

“Hi-hitoshi??? HITOSHI???”

You looked around. There was a field of red roses around you, the bloodstains gone from the scene of a few seconds ago. It smelt metallic.

There was a sticky feeling beneath your shoes. Something told you to not look down. Not avert your eyes from the endless field of roses in front of you. But you were stubborn and never learned out of your mistakes.

You were met with a puddle of blood, Shinsou’s dead body at your feet along with your close friends and family. They surrounded you, eyes open and skin drained of any blood. The roses dripped with their blood, dancing in the wind.

You tried screaming but the only thing that left you was silence, a dreadful high pitched beep in the distance. The tears fell like you did to your knees to touch your loved ones for the last time.

A deep breath forced you awake, eyes fluttering open as you checked your surroundings. You gripped your bedsheets, hoping to find Shinsou next to you but the space was empty and cold.

The tears started falling as you got on your feet and tumbled towards the bathroom.

It was only a dream right? Not a flashback or a future forecast, right? Your quirk didn't have anything to do with looking into the future or past, so it couldn't be, it couldn't be…

“Hi-hi-hitoshi??” With a weak voice, you called out as you doused the nape of your neck with cold water, your head in the sink in a position that was more than just uncomfortable.

Your mind was too foggy to remember who it was that advised you to “shock” your system with cold water but whoever it was saved your life more than once. The tears kept falling as you lost feeling in your neck from the overbearing cold water.

“Please just stop, I can't take it anymore…” You sobbed into the sink as you turned off the water.

Heavy footsteps came your way. You sank onto the floor and hugged your knees, feeling the salty tears dripping onto them.

Shinsou lowered down next to you. With more than concern on his face he cupped your face and forced you to look at him. You could only sniffle as he spoke, his words only grazing you. You barely heard him, only saw his mouth move and his head nod.

“I.. can’t... hear… you…” You sniffled between every word, struggling to get air properly. Your body didn't allow you to take a proper breath, only shallow breaths leaving your chest.

It wasn't like your ears suddenly stopped working. You could hear the dripping of the water in the sink and cat pawing at the bathroom window to be let in. But somehow your brain had a hard time processing what Shinsou was saying, somehow translating it to gibberish.

Shinsou watched you, looking at his face and trying your best to stop crying. His thumb caressed your cheek as he tried figuring out what to do. It's been a while since you had a snap out this bad. Last time he used his quirk to make you realise that the dream wasn't real while also calmly easing your body into relaxation. Though he tried keeping his quirk usage on you to a minimum to avoid any type of complications.

Instead he took your hand in his and pressed it as tight as he could without actually hurting you. Sudden pain was one of the easiest ways to snap your body out of panic, physically and mentally. It reminded the body to snap out of it while telling the person that they were indeed real.

“It's over kitty okay?” He kept his tone low and as calm as possible. Even if you couldn't hear him, his tranquility would help you relax as well or at least not stir you up more. “I'm here and you're here. It was only a dream, you're okay now.”

He pressed your hand to his heart. “You feel that? That's my heartbeat, I'm here with you. It was just a dream…”

You focused on your boyfriend and his warm hand around yours. Your breaths got deeper and deeper, Shinsou breathing with you until the tears stopped.

“Hey, see that wasn't so hard was it?” Shinsou smiled, a small sigh of relief leaving him.

Almost immediately, you flung your arms around him and just took him in. He was real. Not dead or a hallucination. He was here and had his arms around you while rubbing your back.

Shinsou had only left the bed for 5 minutes to finish up his emails and put away his laptop. You had been asleep for a while, he was sure that you wouldn't notice his absence so he just got up and finished up his work. Next thing he knew, there was water running in the bathroom and some stuff falling from the shelves.

“You were dying… dead…” You mumbled into his shoulder, eyes still wet. “I couldn't help you and-”

Tears soaked his shirt as you recalled the nightmare. Your tummy turned inside out when you thought back at the grotesque imagery.

“It's okay now. I'm not dead, right?”

“N-no…”

“Can we go back to bed or do you wanna stay awake a little longer?”

It was around 2am now. Even if neither of you had to call in for work in the morning, Hitoshi still wanted to get you to sleep as fast as possible so you could recover from that horrible nightmare.

“Are you gonna be in bed too?”

“I'm all yours…”

You nodded and got on your feet before wiping away the tears. Shinsou followed and patted your back as you washed your face. He liked keeping his hand around you just to put your mind at ease. Around your waist, in your shoulder, in yours… Anywhere just so you knew he was there.

Both of you laid together, you on his chest with his hands on your back. You heard his heartbeat and felt his chest rise and fall. Your arms were wrapped around him and gripped onto him tight.

“Sleep now okay? I'm not going anywhere…”

The drowsiness kicked back in and you closed your eyes, struggling to keep them that way whenever graphic scenes came up again.

“I'm scared…”

“That's okay… Nightmares are scary but they can't do you any harm… And even if they can, I'm here to protect you okay?” Almost like a whisper, he breathed the words into your ear and kissed your forehead. “I'll be here for you all night long until you wake up again…”

You took a quick breath and closed your eyes again. “Can you hum?”

“Of course…”

Maybe it was quirk related, maybe it was just you but Shinsou’s humming always had a relaxing effect on you. He had quite the singing voice actually, though he rarely ever used it outside of home. But any type of music that left him worked like a natural relaxer on you. Combined with his back rubs and temple kisses, your eyes stayed shut and you drifted back into sleep. This time without staircases, roses or blood.

[albertasunrise]

It's Yours - Chapter 8

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Fluff, Unprotected Sex 18+

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

~

The Murphy’s stay with you, helping you plan your simple wedding. Connie and you had managed to find a dress that you didn’t feel like a whale in and Javi and Steve had managed to get the church booked on short notice, much to Chucho’s delight. Neither of you is particularly religious but Chucho is and it meant a lot to him that you’d agreed to have a church wedding.

‘So you promise you’re not going to leave me at the alter.’ You tease as the four of you sit around the fire pit, you cuddled into Javi’s side with a blanket around your shoulders.

‘Ha, you’re funny.’ He grumbles, rolling his eyes at Steve when the man chokes on his beer ‘There’s one major difference between you and Lorraine.’ He states and you all look at him with a bemused expression ‘You’re actually pregnant.’

‘What?’ Connie exclaims as Steve spits his beer in surprise.

‘I’ve never told anyone this but the reason I left her at the altar was that I’d learned she wasn’t actually pregnant. She’d told me she was and I’d proposed thinking it was the right thing to do.’ He clarifies as he takes a swig of his beer ‘We had an argument the night before and she blurted out that she wasn’t. Ate me alive. I realised on the day that I couldn’t go through with it. Couldn’t marry someone who'd lied to me.’

‘Shit, Javi I had no idea.’ You say as you rub his arm affectionately.

‘Yeah well, neither does anyone else.’ He states ‘I never told anyone the truth. Let her look like the victim. She lied but she didn’t deserve to be ruined because of it.’

‘Ever the hero Peña.’ Chuckles Steve as he salutes his partner with the neck of his beer bottle.

‘Yeah well. Easier for me to be the bad guy.’ He shrugs as he places a kiss on the top of your head ‘Plus I didn’t deal with the situation right. I shouldn’t have just left her at the altar, should have broken it off face to face.’ He concedes, the four of you falling into a slightly awkward silence.

‘Well as lovely as this has been, I need to get to bed.’ You state, rubbing your bump ‘Plus these seem to be playing soccer or something.’

‘Oh my! Let me feel!.’ Squeals Connie as she leaps to your side, placing her hands on your belly ‘Oh wow.’ She looks at you with comically wide eyes ‘Wow they’re really going for it.’

‘Take after their father.’ You chuckle ‘He fucking fidgets too!’

‘Hey.’ He groans as he taps you on the arm ‘I do not.’

‘Well, you do.’ You giggle ‘But it's cute.’ You finish as you give him a wink.

‘Right well. See you two in the morning.’ Says Steve as he pulls Connie up and into his side, waving at you both before leading her up to the main house.

‘Time to get you to bed.’ Javi says as he scoops you into his arms.

‘Damn right.’ You chuckle ‘I’m in desperate need of sleep.’

‘Oh, you’re not going to sleep yet.’ He growls as he carries you inside, laying you down on the plush couch.

‘Javi, what are you doing?’ You giggle as you watch him strip himself out of his clothes.

‘I’m going to you cum with my fingers Hermosa.’ He starts, his eyes turning black with lust ‘Then I’m going to make love to you.’

You shiver at this, watching as he stalks towards you like a hunter stalking its prey. He makes quick work of your leggings and panties, leaving you in just your oversized t-shirt that's outlining your prominent bump. He kneels, on the couch, between your spread legs, smashing his lips against yours as his fingers tease your entrance and groans at how aroused you are, making it easy to slip two thick fingers into your, hot, wet, heat.

‘Fuck Javier.’ You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes flutter closed.

He curls his fingers perfectly, fingers brushing against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He’s relentless. You know exactly what he’s trying to achieve and you know he’s going to achieve it. His arm threads behind your back and pulls you closer, grounding him as he continues his maddening pace.

‘Javi-.’ You whine and he knows what you're trying to tell him,

He presses his thumb to your clit and that's all it takes, your release gushing over him, and you practically scream from how hard he’s made you cum.

‘Well done baby.’ He coos as he pulls you into a soft kiss,

‘Where do you want me.’ You pant against his lips, your own pupils were blown with want.

‘Stand up.’ He whispers against the shell of your ear and you oblige him, grinning as he stands and pulls you flush against his chest ‘Turn around and bend over.’

You shiver at his commanding tone, biting your lip as you do as he asks and grab hold of the arm of the couch for support.

‘So beautiful.’ He praises as he lines himself up with your entrance, moaning as he slides in with ease ‘Fuck.’ He groans, seating himself fully inside of you.

He starts a slow, languid pace that has you moaning loudly, your hips meeting his thrusts. You remain in this position for a while, the lounge filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your combined moans of pleasure. He praises you as he fucks you, his hand cradling your bump as he edges you both towards your peaks, smiling as he feels one of the babies kick.

‘I don’t think they like it when I fuck you.’ He chuckles and he pulls you flush against him, the new angle making him hit that earth-shattering spot again and again.

‘Fuck baby.’ You whine as you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

His hand snakes around your front and cups your sex, his middle finger then rubbing circles around your clit. You reach behind you, grabbing a fist full of his hair as he brings you closer and closer to that release that you so desperately crave. With a few sharp thrusts you cum together, turning your head to kiss him sloppily as you swallow each other’s moans.

‘Better?’ You ask breathlessly, looking up at him with a blissed-out expression.

‘Much.’ He replies as he grins at you, spinning you around so he can pull you into a languid kiss ‘Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.

‘Let's.’ You agree, feeling your exhaustion take hold.

~

‘Chucho this is delicious.’ Groans Steve as he shovels down his omelette enthusiastically, eyes closed in euphoria.

‘Well, there’s plenty more.’ The older man chuckles as he watches the blonde eat ‘Everything ready for the wedding?’ He asks, turning his attention to you and Javi.

‘More or less.’ You reply ‘Dresses are sorted, suits are sorted. Flowers are being delivered on the day.’

‘Si’s offered to cater the event for us too!’ Adds Javier excitedly and he’s closing the bar so we can hold the reception there, opening the garden up for us too.’

‘That man is too nice for his own good.’ Chuckles Chucho ‘But it is kind of him to do that.’

‘It is.’ You reply, a small smile crossing your lips as you look at Javier ‘He’s been incredibly kind. Considering everything.’

Silence washes over you all again as you finish your breakfast, Steve going up for seconds and thirds. The Murphy's then offer to do the dishes which after a strong protest on your's and Javier’s part, you concede and they get to work like a well-oiled machine before rejoining you at the table with fresh cups of coffee in hand.

‘There is something that I want to give you.’ Says Chucho suddenly as he places a small box at the centre of the table ‘Go ahead open it.’ He says as he points at it with his chin.

Javier does and his brows furrow in confusion. Inside lay a single key, nothing attached to give a clue as to what it may be for. It looks a little like his key but it also looks like the key for the guest house.

‘Pops. What is this?’

‘The key to this house.’

‘I have a key.’ Says Javi, still confused by what this meant.

‘I know pendejo.’ He grumbles, rolling his eyes at his son’s naivety ‘It's the meaning behind the key. I’m giving you this house.’

‘What? Chucho No.’ You protest.

‘The guest house was meant for me eventually anyway.’ He states, shrugging his shoulders ‘You’re going to need the extra rooms with the babies on the way and from the sounds of it you’re not going to be stopping at these two.’

You notice Javier’s cheeks flush and you giggle, remembering his drunken declaration at your engagement party that he was going to have ‘so many babies with you’ as he put it.

‘I want you two to have the house.’ He continues, giving you a warm smile ‘There’s plenty of room here and you can expand if needs be. With me living in the guest house you’ll have someone nearby to babysit. This is my gift to you. Please accept it.’

‘Pops.’ Javi chokes ‘I don't know what to say.’

‘How about thank you.’ The man jokes, smirking at his son.

‘Gracias.’ Javier says with a nod before pulling his father into a tight embrace ‘Muchas gracias pops.’

‘Yes. Thank you, Chucho.’ You concur ‘This is the best present anyone could ever give us.’

Javier clears his throat as he looks at you and then your swollen belly.

‘Okay… Second best.’ You correct yourself, rolling your eyes at him.

~

Your wedding was over in a flash and suddenly you were Mrs Peña. You’d spent your wedding night testing your new name on your tongue before Javier made love to you over and over, well into the early hours of the morning. As you lay there watching your new husband sleep you smile and think about all the things you’ve been through together. You’ve suffered so much but in the end, it was all worth it. Javier Peña was your husband.

‘You know it’s rude to stare.’ He grumbles, eyes remaining shut but a smile tugging at his lips.

‘Well, I can’t help it.’ You reply ‘My husband is just so fucking sexy.’ You finish, smiling sweetly at him.

‘Oh is he indeed?’ He probes, brown eyes peeking through the cracks in his eyelids ‘Why you up so early?’

‘Babies are kicking up a storm.’ You reply, eyes drifting down to your bump and you chuckle as you see the skin move with their ministrations ‘I guess I should get used to no sleep.’

Javi shifts himself so his head is laying just beneath your bump, placing soft kisses on the underside of it before smiling sweetly at you.

‘Now you two are keeping mummy awake.’ He mumbles against your skin ‘Why don't you both settle down so she can get a little more rest now. How does that sound hmm?’

Your eyes grow wide as you feel them still and you look at Javi and grin, smoothing your hand over your swell as you watch him crawl up the bed towards you.

‘Okay, how did you do that?’

‘Clearly, I’m already the favourite parent.’ He says, flashing you a cheeky grin.

‘Clearly.’ You reply, rolling your eyes at him before allowing them to drift shut, your exhaustion taking hold.

You wake a few hours later the smell of pancakes and your stomach rumbles. Getting up and out of bed you pull on one of your oversized shirts and make your way to the kitchen where Javi is serving up fluffy pancakes with an array of different toppings covering the table’

‘What’s all this?’

‘Breakfast for my pregnant wife.’ He states, smiling as you kiss him sweetly.

‘Oh.’ You reply as you grin at him ‘And what did I do to deserve this?’

‘Just being perfect.’ He replies, shrugging his shoulders ‘And saying I do. That was the main thing really.’

‘Well, it was hit and miss there for a moment.’ You say, winking at him ‘But in the end, I couldn’t say no.’

‘Well, I’m glad.’ He replies, pulling you into a passionate kiss ‘I was thinking we could go to that shop today that I told you about. Start picking out some things for the babies’ nursery.’

‘Oh yes!’ You exclaim excitedly ‘I think that sounds like a splendid idea.’

‘Connie and Steve are here until the weekend and he’s offered to help me paint the nursery before they leave. I thought we could do the room half and half. Like one-half pink and one half blue sort of thing. Doesn’t have to be those colours but you catch my drift.’

‘I like that idea.’ You reply as you stab a mouthful of pancake onto your fork ‘I trust you to pick out the perfect colours.’

‘Good.’ He beams back at you before serving up some food on his plate.

~

The baby shop was beautiful. You’d wanted to buy the whole shop but Javier had managed to talk you round. You purchased two, matching, white cots. A changing table and a vast array of stuffed toys that Javi was now in the process of stuffing into the bed of his truck whilst you watch him work with admiration. Connie had asked you not to go over boards as she wanted to arrange a baby shower for you, she'd even stole your address book to get the names and numbers of your closest friends. Friends you may have forgotten to tell about the babies... and the wedding.

‘Well, thank goodness they deliver the furniture.’ He states, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand ‘Don’t think I could have got much more back there.’ He finishes as he secures the tarp over the top of the toys.

‘What can I say?’ You reply, shrugging your shoulders ‘These two wanted them.’

‘Oh they did, did they?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow at you ‘Or was it your inner child that wanted them?’ He pushes as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, kissing the tip of your nose affectionately.

‘It was the babies.’ You confirm ‘Definitely the babies.’

‘Liar.’ He says with a grin.

‘Javier?’

This new voice takes you both by surprise and you turn to see a blonde woman stood across from you, her expression a little hard to read.

‘Lorraine.’ He replies, nodding his head at her.

‘I heard you got married.’ She starts, eyes flitting to you ‘You must be the woman that finally managed to tie this man down.’

‘I guess so.’ You reply, turning so you can shake her hand.

‘Oh, I hadn’t realised that you were pregnant.’ She says as her eyes grow wide at the sight of your growing bump ‘When is it due?’

‘They.’ Corrects Javi ‘And in around 3 months.’

‘Well, congratulations.’ She says sweetly ‘Children are the best blessing of all.’ She finishes before starting to walk away 'I suppose I'll see you at Danny's wedding next week?' She says, turning her head to look at Javi.

'Yeah.' Javier replies plainly, watching as she then disappears from view.

‘So that was Lorraine.’ You state and Javier nods.

‘That was Lorraine.’

‘She’s not how I imagined her.’ You confess as you turn back to face him.

‘No?’ He asks as his head shoots back in surprise.

‘No.’ You reply, shaking your head ‘Not sure why but I never pictured her blonde.’

Javier chuckles at this before unlocking the truck and opening your door, holding your hand and helping you climb inside.

‘Come on Hermosa.’ He says and he climbs into the driver's seat ‘Let’s get you and your army of fuzzy friends home.’ He finishes as he smiles sweetly at you.

‘I told you it was the babies!’ You whine ‘If anyone's starting a teddy militia it's them!'’

‘Can never be too prepared I suppose.’ He says with a wink ‘Even if they can’t utilise their forces for another 3 months.’ He finishes and you poke your tongue out at him, grinning when he throws his head back and laughs.

~

Chapter 9

[youryanderedaddy]

Hello, dear 💛 firstly, I am congratulating you for your blog, you’re doing an amazing stuff and I’d very delighted to support ya’ 💕 so here’s mine; what about a hitman/assassin yandere who is very infamous in underworld for his reputation finally finding his darling, what would be his first encounter and the after? A little bit smutty maybe? It’s up to you, 🌹

Aww, thank you so much for the support and for the idea. I hope that you will like how it turned out. It isn’t as filthy as I wish it was, but oh well, there is always a next time lol

 Title: Stone cold 

 Tw: female reader, obssessive behavior, non-con, dub-con, veery slight knife play, slight dirty talk 

   You should have known that something was up the very moment someone knocked on your door on a Friday night – it was unusual. Especially when you take into an account the weird accidents that had been happening the last three months. People in the neighborhood went missing one by one, some of your personal items like clothes, lipsticks and even toothbrushes were stolen and you always felt a pair of eyes burning a hole through your back. But still, you didn’t want to freak yourself out and tried to stay positive, reasonable. If someone wanted to take you out, they would have already done it, right?

 While mentally encouraging yourself, you slowly got closer to the black door. By now the knocking had stopped, but you could hear the soft breathing of your visitor outside of the apartment. In a way you really wanted to stop for a second and rationalize why this unknown person was breathing so damn loud, but decided against it – what good would it do anyways? With that in mind you finally reached out to unlock the door and slowly opened it to reveal a man, covered from head to toes in black. The darkness of the corridor had swallowed  all of his recognizable features and you could only make out his eyes, while his mouth and nose were hidden away by a ski mask. And if this wasn’t alarming enough, the bulge in his right pocket looked suspiciously close to the shape of a gun.

“Caught you.” The intruder hummed, looking more than pleased with himself, and his eyes sparkled with a wild emotion you didn’t know the name of. Your body was paralyzed at the sight of the weapon and you were starting to regret moving into such a dangerous area where no trace of a police involvement could be found. Not that you would have the time to call them anyways since the next moment the man had managed to push you  to the floor with a loud „boom”, pinning your body down with his own. You finally gained the courage to scream your heart out, but your terrified cries were quickly muffled by the gloved hand, covering your mouth.

 “You scream one more time and I will drill a fucking hole into your pretty little head.” The man whispered into your ear in a dark, eerie voice. “Right here.” He gently touched your forehead in a clear warning. You broke out into a cold sweat, but remained motionless, immobile. “Do you understand me?” The hitman asked huskily and pressed his elbow into your shrinking stomach. You nodded quickly, your heart now racing so fact you could almost feel the abrupt beats against your skin. You had made a grave mistake opening the door, but it was too late now.

 “Good.” The stranger smirked like a wolf, ready to tear apart the innocent lifeless lamb in front of him. He finally raised his hand away from your mouth. As if to prove your darkest fears and theories, the man suddenly took a sharp shiny knife out of his left pocket and slowly ran it trough your exposed collarbone. He only let the very end touch your skin but its coldness, combined with the adrenaline rushing into your veins, were enough to send you over the edge with fear. “Don’t panic. I have already decided to keep you for myself, so as long as you behave, I have no reason to hurt you. ” The man finally uttered after watching you squirm helplessly for a while, the stupid teasing smile never leaving his lips. He took off his mask and dropped the knife on the ground, just a few inches away from your carotid artery, and fiddled with the first button of your thin shirt. This mere action of his made shivers run down your spine and you couldn’t help, but shut your eyes tight, just for a moment, just to put yourself together.

 “Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, cringing at the way your voice broke into a sob right at the end. You never thought that you would be violated on the cold, hard floor by an unhinged psychopath, but fate always finds a way to screw with us, they say.

 “Do you know who I am, princess?” The man asked with a smug, arrogant expression on his face. You shook your head in response. In an alternative universe you might have thought that the intruder was quite handsome – broad shoulders, dark green eyes, a well defined jaw line and a strong muscular body. But in the current situation the only word you could use to describe the dangerous fellow was insane. He had shamelessly attacked you in your own home, your supposed safe heaven, and showed no remorse whatsoever. “You might not know me, but I know you.” The man continued. “I used to work with your father. ” His gaze was now fixed on you. “I doubt that daddy dearest has ever shared with you what he does for a living, but tell you, it isn’t pretty.” The trespasser lowered his head to bite at the soft skin of your neck, making the hairs on your neck bristle due to the unexpected contact with his teeth and because of that you couldn’t even register the hurtful words he was spitting about your father. You didn’t want to believe him anyways. “But he made a mistake.” The man added, still licking your sensitive skin. “The bastard messed with the wrong people. Stole money from my boss too. Lots and lots of it.”

 “T-that can’t be true.” You moaned in discomfort against your better judgment and tried to kick at his joints out of impulse. But of course, he quickly grabbed your leg before any damage was done and pinned it back to the floor.

 “Oh, but it is, princess. And that’s where I come into the picture.” The man purred contentedly, his attention on you once again. “I am quite infamous in the underworld, ya see. ” He stopped to make air quotes with his fingers. “ My name is Edgar, I am an assassin. I would kill anyone and everyone for the right price. ” For a second the murderer stared at intensely. You could swear that his eyes turned red in a spar of moments and in them you saw a mixture of bloodlust and a desire for flesh. “So when  they asked me to hunt you down in order to mess with your dad, I obviously agreed. It started off as a way to make an easy buck, but the more I followed you around and collected private information, the more I postponed killing you.” The man sighed, seemingly frustrated with himself. “At first I thought that I wanted to plan out your disposal well ahead of time and that’s why I was wasting so much time, but soon enough I realized I was interested in you.” He smiled softly this time as if he was recalling a pleasant memory, involving you. “You were so sweet, so… normal. I wanted you.”  The assassin admitted at last and took a deep breath. His little confession had made you vivid, frantic with worry, and suddenly you were a living, breathing creature again. You scratched at the back of his neck and summoned all of your strength left to get your hand out of his grasp. You tried to punch him right in the face, but your attempts were fruitless as he easily overpowered you. Before you could strike again the ruthless killer picked up his knife from next to you and put the blade under your chin. His eyes sparkled with childlike excitement.

 “There is no point in fighting me. Everyone already thinks you’re dead, I made sure of it.” The man moved the edge down, stopping at your cleavage. He licked his lips suggestively and the alarms in your mind went crazy all over again. “Your life belongs to me – your body and your heart too. I will take you right here and there is nothing you can do to stop me.” Edgar laughed cruelly as he cut the fabric of your blouse, revealing your chest, hidden by your plain bra. With one swift move the string holding it together was ripped apart and your upper body was fully exposed to the hungry eyes of the stranger. He cupped your breasts with his palms and massaged them gently, twisting your erect nipples lightly with his fingers. You wanted to numb the unfortunately pleasurable feeling but it wasn’t going away as the intruder kept on teasing the swollen tips.

 “S-stop!” You protested, shaking your shoulders violently. Everything was starting to feel too real and you couldn’t let the savage man take away from you something so intimate and personal. In the end he paid no mind to your continuous struggles and selfishly did as he wished.  Soon enough his hand traveled down your thighs, to your crotch. Edgar slid his wrist beside the elastic waistband of your panties and wasted no time, starting to rub the sweet spot between your legs. You held back a moan, as the embarrassment washed over you.

 “Don’t hold your voice back, princess.” The assassin growled in your ear, pressing harder on your sensitive bud. You couldn’t help, but cry out due to the intense pleasure you were receiving. “Yeah, just like that, let me hear you.” The man kept fingering you, while you arched your back, and eventually you felt yourself getting damp down there. The killer chuckled, satisfied with your cute reaction and the way you were squirming around his forefinger.

 “You act like you hate all of this, but your pussy is so wet, baby.” He suddenly drew his fingers in and out of your entrance, making a lewd pop of splashing juices just to get his point across. “You might turn out to be a little slut after all, huh.” Edgar whispered in your ear and licked the trace of salty tears down your scarlet cheeks. Your face felt red and hot, your eyes were still shut tight. The way his touch made you feel was so invasive, yet ecstatic none the less

 After the man had stretched you properly, he was ready to claim his prize. The assassin had spent so much time stalking you, following you, desiring you and now he finally had you in his arms, exposed and split open for him alone. Moving down to leave wet kisses and love bites along your shoulders and collarbone, the intruder lowered himself onto your tight, sloppy hole and you felt his hard erect member rubbing onto your tight entrance. A new powerful wave of hot, choking tears fell down your cheeks as you shook your head violently.

 “Please, I am begging you, don’t do it!” You whimpered, defeated and light-headed from the fear, arousal and adrenaline, pumping in your veins. Edgar ignored your pathetic pleas and instead decided to shut you up by gently pressing his lips against yours, moaning into his little seal of love. He pushed his big throbbing cock into your heat ruthlessly, unable to wait any longer, simply using your wetness as a lube. The murderer started thrusting into you in a steady, harsh rhythm, without giving you the time to adjust to his inhuman length. In just a few minutes your mind had stopped worked and you were reduced to a mumbling mess of tiny moans and mewls.

 “S-shit, you feel so good, princess. So fucking tight.” The man exclaimed, breathing heavily and quickly moving his hips back and forth along the way. One particular move of his send you very close to the edge and your walls clenched down on his dick, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Did I hit your sweet spot?” The man smirked, running a hand trough his sweaty dark hair. The other one went straight to your nipples, twisting and rolling them once again. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out in unwanted, but intense pleasure. “Wanna cum, baby?” Edgar teased, as he touched every part of you  – your breasts, your belly and your soft thighs. “Wanna squirt all over my cock?” The criminal kept taunting you, driving you crazy little by little. “Do it. Cum for me, princess.” Soon enough your sensitive, over stimulated body convulsed as the powerful hot orgasm washed over you. You felt dizzy, tired and lost. Unfortunately, the crazed man wasn’t finished yet – he kept thrusting and thrusting, until he finally released into your very core.

 Once his breathing calmed down, the intruder pecked your cheek tenderly, pulling you in his lap. It went better than he had imagined it would.

 “You did so well, princess. So good for me.” Edgar stroked your hair lightly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But you couldn’t make half of his words as exhaustion and shame overtook your tired mind, the voice in your head screaming louder than the man’s love affirmations. But maybe it was better that way – anything else would be too painful after everything that had happened. “You are mine now.” The killer spoke after a while, before hugging you even tighter. Soon enough you would realize there wasn’t an easy way out of his warm, deathly embrace.

[reneejuliet]

Only Human

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: T (cursing, mention/description of blood, kissing without consent, a slap to the face)

Word Count: 1,188

Genre: Angst, Idol AU (I seem incapable of writing anything else, I know)

Author’s Note: Another drabble! This one is angsty, sorry in advance. I can’t help but love to make people hurt. And as much as I love Yoongi (which is a LOT), it was just too easy with this. Anyway! I hope you like it, and as always, please let me know what you think!

You grunted under his weight, heaved haphazardly onto your shoulder as you dragged him through the halls toward the dorm. It wasn't that he was heavy - on the contrary, he weighed less than you did, for goodness' sake. It was that he was wasted, completely beyond offering any sort of aid in getting his own damn body through his own damn front door. And despite how many times you have had to do this, it never gets any easier. Especially when arms keep throwing themselves around various parts of your body like a drunken squid.

"Damn it, Yoongi, enough," you hissed through your teeth as you finally managed to free a hand long enough to twist open the doorknob, allowing your foot to kick the door open. It ricocheted loudly against the wall before swinging back to collide with your shoulder, but you didn't care. If anything, maybe it would wake up one of his six roommates and they could drag their hyung's inebriated ass to his bed. Though, given his current level of cooperation, you doubted anyone would get him further than the couch.

His response was slurred as you heaved your body forward, dragging him with you. He rolled from where he had been propped on your shoulder, and if it weren't for your quick reflexes, he would have crashed onto the ground. Luckily for him, this was not your first go at this, and you were well-versed in all the warning signs. You felt him slipping, his weight shifting away from you, and you dove. Your hands scooped up under his arms, hooking around his shoulders, and you threw your body weight behind you to counteract his momentum. The result - Yoongi did not crash onto the floor. He did, however, suddenly shoot forward, crashing the back of his head straight into your jaw.

"OW - Yoongi, what the actual fuck!"

You immediately dropped any grip you had left on him, crouching down between your knees as your hands flew up to your mouth. The hot taste of iron swirled on your tongue from where your teeth had smashed into your lip, flooding your mouth. You ran for the kitchen sink, throwing your face down into the sterling silver and pulling your lips up over your teeth to let the blood fall free from your tongue. The smell surrounded you, and you fought back a gag as you spit out crimson.

"Fuck," Yoongi's voice sounded behind you, tinny from where your ears were framed by metal. He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly very awake, and watched as you curled into their sink. The muscles of your back tensed each time you gagged, spitting out more blood, and he found himself reaching out without thinking.

His fingers brushed over the lines of your back, tracing your shape as he stepped closer, trying to soothe you as you coughed. For a moment, you let it be. His touch was hesitant, tender, and you could almost pretend it was under a different context. That he knew what he was doing, that his intentions were purposeful. That he hadn't just drunkenly smashed his head into your face, leaving you the bloody mess you were now.

It wasn't until his palm pressed flat against your back that you snapped, turning and shoving hard against his chest. No, you scolded yourself. This isn't real. It never will be.

Yoongi stumbled back into the island counter, eyes wide in surprise at the sudden burst of violence from you. You didn't spare him a glance before turning back to the sink, turning the water on and rinsing out your mouth. He could hear you hissing in pain with each mouthful of water you took in, and guilt pooled in his stomach.

"Shit, Y/N, I - I didn't mean -"

"Doesn't matter what you meant," you muttered, words thick through your swollen lip. Each time your tongue pressed into it, your face twisted in pain. But at least the blood had finally stopped.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, voice low and raspy. You gripped the counter against the unwitting shiver it sent down your spine. Once it passed, you flung open a cupboard and pulled out a glass, filling it with water before shutting the tap off. Thrusting it out, you turned, free hand covering your mouth as your eyes finally met his.

His stomach only flooded worse with guilt at your offering. Despite your injury, you were still taking care of him. He wrapped his fingers around the glass, gently grazing your own while doing so, and raised it to his lips with a slight bow in your direction. His vision swam as his head tilted back, cold water sliding down his hot, parched throat. It took a second for everything to straighten back out once the glass was empty, and he squinted hard to be sure that when he set it down, it was actually on the counter. Then he looked back at you, eyes drawn to where your hand still covered your mouth.

"Couch, now," you ordered, raising a finger to point into the living room behind him. Thankfully, those two words didn't require the use of your bottom lip, so they weren't as disfigured when they came out. Gulping, Yoongi obliged, turning slowly and walking for the couch. You followed him, albeit at a safe distance, to make sure he made it there alright. He only bumped into the table once before his legs hit the cushions and he dropped.

His body automatically laid out across the couch cushions, knees curling up into his chest and hands tucking between his legs. The room blurred again at the change of altitude, and he was vaguely aware of you throwing a blanket over him. You walked away, your form dark in the swimming lights of his vision as he tried to watch you. When you came back, you set another glass of water on the table before him along with two pills.

"For tomorrow morning, when you wake up," you instructed, your words soft as you favored your injured lip.

You were walking away again when Yoongi called out. "Do you think this is why she left?"

Your heart stopped just a second before your feet, trapping you between rooms as his words echoed brokenly in the quiet. This wasn't supposed to happen, you reminded yourself. Of all the trainees and idols you had helped through the years, all the drunken confessions you had heard out of sheer compulsion from the nature of your job - none were like this. Like him. Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi -"

"I know it's my fault," he babbled, vision no longer obscured only by a drunken haze. He blinked, and the hot tears cut down his pale face. "I wasn't home enough -"

"You were working, Yoongi," You offered, careful to make your words come out clear. The pull on your lip was painful, but it felt important he hear you.

"Not always," he exhaled, eyes fluttering against the exhaustion setting in now. "Sometimes, I... I just couldn't, go home... to her..."

Gooseflesh rose all along your skin, and you nearly bit your lip before remembering the pain, sucking in the side of your cheek instead. Just walk away, you urged yourself. He won't notice, he's too far gone now. Besides, you really did not want to hear more about his failed relationship, or how heartbroken he was over it. It had been hard enough to see him happy with her - seeing him broken over her was so, so much worse.

When he didn't speak again for a few breaths, you believed you were in the clear. Your feet carried you two more steps to the door, heart pounding hard in your chest. You'd just reached for the key you would have to deposit back in its emergency spot as you left when his voice stopped you again - because it was right behind you.

"Do you know why, Y/N? Why I couldn't bring myself to go home to her some nights?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, cold and cutting against your lip. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel his body heat, and that meant he was too close, he was much too close, but you couldn't move. Your body was pulled taut in that moment, and you feared that if you made any move, you would snap.

His fingers brushed over the curve of your neck, where it met your collar, and you inhaled sharply. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch for a moment, your nerves buzzing heavily where his fingers trailed. Then his breath was on your nape, stirring your hair, and your throat was dry.

"Because she wasn't you."

Your eyes shot open in surprise just as he tugged you around, crashing his lips to yours. You inhaled sharply again, pain searing through your mouth where he pressed against your wound, but he didn't hear. Or he didn't care. It was hard to tell, with the way his hands snaked around your waist and up under your shirt. His lips were soft but firm as he pressed into you, kissing you with a heavy desperation that left you gasping.

Maybe it was the pain in your lip, or maybe it was the taste of alcohol on his tongue. Maybe it was the way your body seized up to prevent yourself from making the biggest fool of yourself. Whatever it was, it was enough to spur you into action. Your hands came up to center on his chest, and as his tongue ran along your lower lip, sending a violent shiver through your entire body, you shoved. Hard. He stumbled away from you, gasping as your warmth was torn from him, his hands grasping at air. His eyes flashed in surprise, and you reeled back to slap him.

"How dare you," you seethed, on the verge of a sob. "How fucking dare you-"

"Y/N-"

"No, you... you are an asshole, Min Yoongi!" Despite the anger on your face, the hurt was clear in your voice. The tears bright in your eyes. "You don't get to, to just - kiss me like that! After all these years!"

Whatever drunken stupor had still been clinging to him sobered up in that instant. His heart leapt into his throat and he choked on the words he wanted to say, his tongue too thick in his mouth. All these years...? You... you couldn't mean...

He opened his mouth around the shape of your name and you moved away, toward the door. "No, no. I'm not - I am not doing this. Not now, not with you. Fuck you, Yoongi -"

His fingers wrapped around your slender wrist, stopping you for just a moment more. The sheer pain on your face at the contact paused him, and you yanked yourself free the very next moment. "No," you whispered, voice full of tears. "I don't love you, I don't."

You slipped out of the dorms just as the first light flickered on in the hallway, sleepy footsteps stumbling their way toward him. And your words echoed in his head, hollowing everything else out until he was left with just one realization, one truth.

You very much did love him. And he was so screwed.

©reneejuliet 2021. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 02

— female reader x hoseok

— smut, porn star!au

— sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification, role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, anal sex, sex toys, face fucking, double penetration, erotic massages, humiliation, degradation, porn star type dirty talk, squirting, creampie, lots of cum (and oil!)

— 19.7k 

… 

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. 

Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳  or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action! collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | part 2 is finally here ! ! ty to jordan who has encouraged me literally every step of the way and to ella for supplying a never ending amount of hoseok gifs and pics when i most needed it :’) i’m sorry again for cutting the chapter into two parts but seeing as this entire chunk only amounted to 1/3 of my outline for part two it’s safe to say i would have never finished this fic otherwise ;;

(!) if you are particularly sensitive to humiliation/ degradation then maybe u should skip the smut scene bc jdjffjkfkddkd cries in tears of heaux 

SCENE 03 - PULP FRICTION. TAKE 02. ROLL A.

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It’s hard to guess how a project will be perceived by the general public. Sometimes a xxx feature film everyone believed would do well sells less than expected, and with online pirating becoming such a rampant and common occurrence, it’s harder to measure the impact of your work. Views and numbers are no longer a reliable indicator of one’s popularity. You’re lucky that you’re signed under such a big talent agency because at least you’re guaranteed regular paychecks, regardless of how well you perform. But to survive in this industry you’re conscious that you need more than that.

According to Seokjin and his expert advice, fans are the ones who will keep an adult entertainer’s career afloat for longer than the average six months. It doesn’t matter how good-looking or well endowed an actor is; if fans aren’t interested and invested, there’s a slim chance that they’ll pay money from their own pockets to view your work. And in order to build such a strong and dedicated fan base, you need one of several things: regular content and an active social media account.

It’s a careful line to tread; not enough online interaction can make people lose interest, but so can overexposure.

You’re patiently waiting for what Seokjin baptizes “The Big Breakthrough” - the decisive project that will propel you into superstardom. None of your videos have ever garnered that type of traction, however, and you’ve been stuck repeating the same old recycled scenarios of plumbers/pizza delivery boys coming over to get the fuck of their life.

When your latest video is uploaded online, you do your best to steer clear from social media. As much as you want to see what people think of your performance, it’s too nerve-wracking to deal with on an empty stomach. You know that if you begin scrolling through the comments, you’ll spend all day glued to your phone, constantly refreshing the page to check for feedback.

And while you aren’t the type of person who lets negative opinions affect your morale, you are nonetheless worried that your time in the industry is about to run out. Lately, the thought lingers ominously in the corners of your mind.

In times like these, exercise is one of the best distractions, second to maybe sex.

Pia, the yoga instructor, walks you through several routines, bending your body this way and that, until your head feels pleasantly blank, devoid for once of any stress and self-doubt. The hour long hot yoga class puts your overthinking mind to rest. In that moment even the notion of time ceases to matter.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

The instructor turns off his meditation playlist while the room empties out, soft chattering replacing the chirping of birds and the sound of cascading water. Slowly, mind still fuzzy around the edges, you gather your belongings and head straight to the vending machine to get a much needed dose of caffeine.

As you dig around the contents of your purse for spare change, someone comes up from behind and taps your shoulder.

“Eep!” You catch your bag before it can slip from your grasp. “What—”

“Shit, sorry!”

When you spin around, hands clutched protectively over your chest to keep your heart rate steady, you don’t expect to come face to face with Hoseok, of all people.

He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to give you a scare. I, um, recognized you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

Now that the initial shock has faded, you’re free to admire the sight in front of you without any distractions.

As handsome as Hoseok looks under the bright studio lights with his hair styled and make-up applied, there’s something undeniably appealing about the way he appears now - with his hair mussed up and sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips. While you normally prefer someone who puts more effort into their appearance, there’s something attractive and unpretentious about his casual demeanor that intrigues you.

Heat surges to the apple of your cheeks when you realize that you’re being too blatant with your ogling. Your eyes settle on his face - a safe zone, one that won’t cause any misunderstandings. It’s a nice sight to look at. Hoseok’s face is pretty, the absence of powder and contour not taking away from his handsomeness in the least. His skin glows in a way that can only be achieved post-workout or after an intense orgasm.

This train of thought brings you down a slippery slope. All too soon, your mind supplies images of his long cock filling you up over and over and over again, his lips whispering praise and filth in the same breath. Your gaze flits to his mouth as you recall how red and swollen they’d been after kissing you senseless, how sticky and wet they’d felt against your own, the taste of your own succulence bleeding into your mouth as your breaths intermingled.

“You’re - yes.” You clear your throat, embarrassed by the way you’d quickly let your thoughts spiral out of control. “It’s fine, you just - caught me off guard. How’ve you been?”

Since you last dicked me down, goes unsaid.

“Just finished teaching a class a few minutes ago. I’ve got a 30 minute break before the next one starts.” He checks his watch. “Well, eleven minutes now.”

“You teach here?” You raise your brows, taken aback by his revelation.  

Not that it isn’t uncommon for adult entertainers to work two jobs - or more. You’ve run into a variety of cases since joining the industry. Some do porn on the side, as a hobby or as a way to make a quick buck. They quit the moment porn becomes tedious or when they’ve made enough money to pay back their loans. For you, however, it’s not like that. What started off as amateur cam work has now become your whole life. You can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means going against your family members’ wishes. They could go suck on a rancid cock, for all you cared.

“Yep, sure do. I teach the morning Pilates class on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Funny how I’ve never run into you before, huh?”

He takes a few coins out of his left pocket and inserts them into the vending machine. “Here, get whatever you want.”

“You don’t—”

“My treat.”

You want to argue but Hoseok’s too beguiling for his own good. It doesn’t take much for you to be won over; Hoseok’s smile widens and you’re a goner.

It’s that easy.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve seen each other naked before or if the earlier yoga session has successfully weakened your defenses, but you’re not as wary as you usually would be around people you don’t know well. Distrust runs in your veins yet something about Hoseok has you lowering your guard.  

Based on your observations, there’s nothing calculated behind his gestures and mannerisms. The blinding grin, the jokes, the way people easily get pulled into his magnetic field - it’s not a facade or an act or a fluke. It’s just the way he is.

Hoseok leans against the vending machine and watches you press in the numbers for your order. From the corner of your eye, you see him studying your profile with a degree of intensity that makes you self-conscious. You swallow down the urge to fidget.

And it’s - silly. He’s seen you bare and at your most exposed, has kissed and touched the entirety of your body from head to toe, but this quiet moment feels strangely intimate, more so than when he’d slid his cock inside of you for the first time. Perhaps it’s due to the absence of cameras and prying eyes or the knowledge that right now you’re both real people, stripped of your porn star persona exterior.

Your eyes meet.

There’s nothing predatory or hungry about his gaze. The passion and the love he’d expressed so naturally during your filmed scenes are no longer detectable. Right now he’s Jung Hoseok, not a character with a role to play. This is all him - the dark circles, the relaxed smile, the slight slouch in his shoulders.

“About—” He clears his throat. “About the other day. The guy that was with you...”

You know without needing clarification who and what he’s talking about. You run your tongue across your row of teeth, wiping away the cheap coffee’s aftertaste, and nod for him to continue.

“He give you a hard time?” Hoseok’s eyes don’t stray from yours. He looks concerned. Serious. “Afterwards I - I regretted leaving so soon. I didn’t want to - I wasn’t sure. But, regardless, I should have made sure you were okay before leaving you alone with him.”

“Oh.”

Realization sinks in. Your eyes widen and you splutter, flustered. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. Jimin - he’s my boyfriend.”

It’s hard to appreciate the concern when all you feel is shocked that someone could misinterpret your relationship for a perverted staff member preying on an unsuspecting porn actress. Although it’s unfortunately common practice in the industry, it’s so far removed from what you share with Jimin that you’re at a loss for words.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Hoseok immediately rubs his face in embarrassment. “I thought - sorry. I’m a dumbass. Ignore me.”

“It’s -”  You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

An awkward silence ensues.

You occupy the void by sipping on the bitter vending machine coffee, your eyes glued to your toenails peeking out the top of your sandals. Any other time, you’d fret over the chipping nail polish and rush to schedule an appointment at the nail salon, but your thoughts are so jumbled up that you can barely string a coherent sentence together.

Jimin - he isn’t anything like what Hoseok’s implying. Implied. You know this. But the fact that someone could mistake him as such doesn’t sit right with you. You want to defend him but at the same time you don’t know what to say.

“I just,” he sighs, breaking the silence. “I’ve seen it happen before. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. I guess I’m too paranoid for my own good. I hope I didn’t offend you too much. Or him.”

“No - I’m - I understand.” You give him a small smile to let him know you don’t harbor any ill feelings over the mistake. Hoseok seems so genuinely sorry about the entire situation that it’s impossible to hold it against him.

It’s possible, you think. To misinterpret your relationship with Jimin. The situation back then had been so tense - you remember that better than anyone. Given the context, Hoseok had every right to be mistrustful, especially when no one had bothered to set the record straight.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“There’s no harm done.” You hesitate before continuing, “I’m that way too, you know. I tend to think the worst of people when I probably shouldn’t. I thought - I was worried about you at first, too. When we met. Not because - it wasn’t anything against you personally. I’m just distrustful. But I’m glad - that it was you and not someone else.”

His posture relaxes. “Thank you. I’m glad that it was you, too. And that I was able to prove you wrong about me. With the shit you hear and see happening on set… I don’t blame you for being on your guard.”

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll - oh. I think someone’s calling you.”

Hoseok follows your line of sight to where a small group of his students are huddled behind the glass panel separating the Pilates classroom from the hallway leading down to the changing rooms. They’re all female and look around your age, maybe younger. The one who had been waving her arms wilts under the attention of her teacher, blush high on her cheeks, while her group of friends dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Ah. That’s my cue.” Hoseok sighs in apology, the corner of his lips tugged downwards into a pout. “Sorry. Would’ve loved to get coffee and catch up but alas. Duty calls.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll hold you up to that. And it’ll be proper coffee next time! Promise.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree easily. “I’ll buy.”

He looks somewhat offended. “What - no, that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s only fair.” You gesture at the half-empty plastic coffee cup still warm against your palm.

Hoseok opens his mouth to object but a short-haired woman pokes his head out the open door. “Yo, teach! Wasn’t class supposed to start five minutes ago?”

“I’m coming!” Hoseok shouts back, waving his student back inside. “Arrogant brat.”

“Go, go!” You urge, holding yourself from physically pushing him towards the classroom. His group of students look like they’re willing to jump you if you keep hogging his attention.

“We’ll Rock Paper Scissors it!” He says while jogging backwards. “Gotta run but see you around, yeah?”

Your lips pull into an amused smile as you watch him retreat back to his classroom. Through the glass panel, you can see the horde of girls flock around him, each vying for his attention in different ways. You’re especially impressed by how one almost succeeds in drowning Hoseok in her generous cleavage.

The sight of Hoseok dealing with thirsty college girls is so ridiculous you can’t help but giggle. You’re tempted to attend one of his classes just to watch them all trip over each other in an attempt to seduce him. Maybe you could even learn a thing or two.

With that thought in mind, you leave the gym center in high spirits, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle on whatever hurdles the day decides to throw your way. You hum along to a top 40 hit they constantly play on the radio and decide to stop by your favorite restaurant to get take-out before heading home.

As you get into your car, you turn on your phone you’d disregarded all morning and are immediately notified of five missed calls and several unread text messages. More than half are - unsurprisingly - from your agent. You’re tempted to ignore him for an hour or two longer but you know how he gets once his patience runs thin.

“Don’t tell me you were out with Jimmy again,” Seokjin groans once you decide to call him back.

“I was with Hoseok, actually.”

“Hoseok?” Seokjin instantly perks up on the other side of the line. “As in, Jung Hoseok? J-Hope? Your baby daddy? That Hoseok?”

You contemplate ending the call.

Begrudgingly you concur, “Yes. That one.”

“Oooooh. Do tell,” he eggs, the smugness in his tone so thick that you can visualize it.

“It wasn’t - whatever scandalous thought you’re thinking. He works at the gym I go to. What are the chances, right?”

“What are the chances indeed.” Despite the lack of juicy gossip, he sounds pleased. “The news I rang you for earlier involves him.”

“How so?”

“Your video with Hoseok has been the number 1 trending video on Bang Gang’s home page since this morning!” He squeals, enthusiasm making the volume of his voice raise by a notch. “People are eating that romantic insemination stuff for breakfast and lunch. The views on this are insane! We haven’t gotten such a big reaction since the Agust D teacher-student role play and that was ages ago.”

“Wh- Are you serious?!”

Unable to contain the elation that surges through your chest, your face breaks out into a giant grin.

You’re admittedly the first to say that the number of views doesn’t equate to one’s talent or prowess in bed, but you also can’t completely disregard what this particular achievement implies...

While belonging to a reputable agency has its perks, it also entails continuous competition with big names. Your coworkers are also your competitors. Every month the most successful porn stars are rewarded and praised, whilst the ones who rake in the least amount of views are cast aside and are fated to fade into anonymity.

As much as you hate to acknowledge it, you’ve never had the support or interest it takes to contend for 1st place on any popularity polls or rankings of the sort. On Wednesdays, it so happens that the number one trending video spot is usually occupied by a popular femdom porn star who’s been in the game long enough to have secured a loyal fanbase.

Seokjin understands and empathizes with your excitement more than anybody.

“Yes, I’m serious! I think this is It, you know? Your Big Breakthrough, the moment we’ve been waiting for. You’ve been doing well so far but I think we’ll be able to go mainstream with this,” he chatters on, excitement building with every word. “Director Ryu said he’d personally call you up later to congratulate you, so don’t turn off your phone and ignore your calls, okay? I think he wants to ask you to film in his next movie but he didn’t discuss the details with me. Whatever it is - please say yes. I know the guy is a little pompous old fart but he really has an eye for this sort of thing. Casting you and Hoseok in the same film was the work of God. The chemistry between the two of you is unreal, no wonder people are jacking off to this at 10 am while they eat their cereal.”

You think it’s too early to rejoice in the success of your video considering the majority of the viewers are sleeping or busy at work - but when THE SPERMINATOR retains its number one ranking for the remainder of the week, you know your achievement deserves to be properly celebrated.

True to Seokjin’s word, Director Ryu does end up calling you. He wants to work with you and Hoseok again for a new film - and possibly more.

“A multi-film contract? You want to sign one with me?”

“How could I not? You’re both naturals and work well together. More importantly, the camera loves you. And people are on board with the pairing already! I think it’s a good idea to capitalize on their interest, don’t you think?”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you — not that you need any convincing at this point.

You refuse to be a flash-in-the-pan star. Although you admittedly had your reservations at first, the unexpected success of the last film is all Ryu needs to persuade you.

And - you like Hoseok. It goes without saying that there are far worse people to be partnered up with. Besides, it’s easier to work with co-stars you’ve starred in movies with previously for multiple reasons. Your acting is much more likely to come off as natural if you’re already acquainted with the dick that’s about to split you open - at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

When you mention the possibility of working again with Hoseok, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“So it’s not a one time thing?” He’s not looking at you directly, his attention fixed instead on the freshly brewed coffee he nurses in his hands.  

“I mean—” You smile tentatively. “Director Ryu hasn’t said for how long he’ll keep hiring us for his projects. Maybe - maybe he’ll keep the format and hire different actors in the future? He - he didn’t really say. I don’t think he has much of an idea himself. He’s very...peculiar.”

You force out a laugh, but your attempt to lighten up the atmosphere falls flat.

“I see.” Jimin brings the coffee cup to his mouth to hide his grimace.

You don’t need to see his dejected expression to know that he isn’t pleased with this development.

“Do you - is there something wrong with Hoseok?” You hesitate, unsure of how he’ll reply.

Jimin’s never insisted you step down from a project before or expressed his dissatisfaction with any of your ‘artistic choices’, although you always imagined that someday, somewhere down the line, he might. Compared to your past dalliances, Jimin is understanding and empathetic. You don’t expect him to be perfect, however, especially when you yourself are far from that. Everyone must have their own personal limits, right? It’s unfair to ask Jimin to be accepting all the time.

It’s just that...the timing is bad.

You want to take his feelings into consideration, but you’re also aware that this might be your last opportunity to get your name out there once and for all. Your previous works have never tanked, so to speak, but they’d mostly gone by unnoticed. While you’ve managed to make ends meet in the past, such anonymity cannot go on for much longer if you want to remain in this line of work.

Your lipstick wears off as you bite your lower lip. Silence hangs heavy in the air.

Jimin sets down his cup of coffee and averts his gaze.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

You breathe out in relief, only now realizing you’d been holding in your breath as you awaited his answer.  

“It’s a bit difficult,” he admits after a pause. “Watching both of you together... Not because it’s bad! You did really good last time. You always do, but - saying ‘I love you’, that kind of stuff, it’s - I don’t know. It’s not your fault, though! I just need some time to adjust. Next time shouldn’t be as strange - since I know what to expect...”

You blink slowly as your brain registers the confession. His words echo in your ears and a strong feeling of déjà-vu washes over you. He’d said something along those lines before, hadn’t he?

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal before continuing, “As for Hoseok... He seems like a good person, I guess. I don’t think he’s the problem. Whether it’s him or another guy...” He sighs. “I think I just need to work this out on my own. It’s not like I can ask you to turn down a job offer because of me, right?”

Guilt makes your stomach turn. He’s right. As much as you want to respect his feelings, you can’t bring yourself to turn down the job for his sake. Does that make you selfish? Does he think less of you for it?

“Alright...” When you reach out to take his hand in yours, his skin is surprisingly cold to the touch. “You’ll tell me if it ever bothers you, okay? Filming this - or anything else. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with what I do...”

You’re not sure what you’ll do if that moment ever comes to pass. Work is your number one priority in life. Many of your relationships haven’t worked out because of that very reason but your past lovers’ dissatisfaction hadn’t been enough to change your mindset. After all, work is what helps put money on the table, not love. You shake your head, as if the action will help you get rid of your stressful thoughts.  

Jimin nods as he interlaces his fingers with yours. On normal days, holding hands together puts your mind at rest. You love the way his hand fits in yours, the different skin tones blending into one.

Right now, his pale hand feels unnaturally cold against your own. It feels like winter itself is embracing you and you repress a shiver.

Maybe as his girlfriend it’s not the right choice to make, but — you can’t falter now. It physically pains you to admit it but Seokjin’s worrying isn’t unfounded. Your career is stagnant, your projects predictable and boring. You’re not bad at your job, but you don’t stand out amidst the sea of pretty girls hoping to make a name for themselves.

There’s no guarantee that Director Ryu’s new project will be as successful as the first. You’re no stranger to false hopes; there’s a chance that Seokjin’s wishful thinking might never amount to anything. Even so, you want to give it a shot. Not trying feels too much like giving up and giving up is not an option you’re willing to consider, not when you’ve already put so much on the line.

You’re not a quitter. Seokjin had warned you from day one that it wouldn’t be easy and you’d taken his lessons and warnings to heart. You’d become an adult entertainer fully aware of the trials and tribulations you’d have to face and had been prepared to make the necessary sacrifices in order to achieve your goals.

But are the risks truly worth it? Looking at Jimin’s dejected expression, you’re not so sure anymore.

.

.

.

They’ve really gone all out this time, you muse as you cast a cursory glance at your surroundings. A small, electric waterfall fountain sits in the far right corner and crimson colored scented candles are dispersed all around the elaborate massage parlor set-up, dousing the room in a cosy, amber glow. It’s a surprising sight because porn sets are famous for never focusing on the details. Viewers are here for the sex, not the generic backdrop of a rented room or hotel suite.

Director Ryu vehemently protests.

“That’s precisely what sets apart my works from your average pornography film. I want the viewer to be completely immersed in the movie they’re watching. Porn is too constricting and underwhelming a word. What I’m creating is a feast for the eyes, one that leaves a lasting impression after consumption.”

“Ah... Yes.” You try (and fail) to sound impressed.  

“People want to believe the sex is real, even if it’s just for an hour.” He sighs deeply, sounding pained, like explicating such a simple fact isn’t worthy of his time. “They need the escape and it’s our job to make it happen. A few extra candles might not make a colossal difference at first glance. But that’s where you’re wrong! It’s never been about the candles. It’s about the ambiance! The visual experience!”

It’s a pity the new budget doesn’t extend to your wardrobe, you remark internally as your gaze drops to observe the stylists’ pick of the day.

For the upcoming scene, you’ve been instructed to squeeze into a tight, baby pink shirt that stretches obscenely over your bust like something straight out of a frat boy’s wet dream. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for hitting the gym religiously because your clothes—or lack thereof—put everything on display. The cotton material of your shirt is so thin, you’re surprised the stitches haven’t popped out, while the denim bottoms you sport are so tiny that you could hardly qualify them as shorts. Although—you suppose that there isn’t any use debating over semantics. It’s not as if they’ll stay on long enough for it to matter.

The scenario that you’ll be acting out today is pretty straight-forward. You stop by the parlor to cash in a voucher gifted by a generous and thoughtful friend. Hoseok, who plays the role of an erotic masseuse, gives you a deep tissue body massage worthy of a five star review on Yelp.

Director Ryu is extremely proud of the pitch. His spectacles glint as he pushes them up the bridge of his long nose.

“We’re gonna call it My Bare Lady. Haha, get it?” He gloats. “It’ll be different from our last shoot - the both of you aren’t supposed to be acquainted with each other at all. In fact, there won’t be any romance. We’re aiming for something new because as artists, it’s our duty to reinvent ourselves every day. Complacency is the enemy of creativity.”

At the mention of Hoseok, your gaze flits over in his direction.

His brown hair, two shades lighter than the last time you’d run into him, is swept to the side, giving him a professional and tidy appearance. He’s swapped his workout attire for beige scrub pants and a matching shirt. The color compliments the glow of his tan and the cut of the uniform is flattering to his figure. Diretor Ryu’s speech continues despite your wavering focus.

“—visual stimulation. That’s why one shouldn’t underestimate the proper use of props. A believable setting sets the tone for the rest of the scene. If you don’t believe the role you’ve been given, then why should the audience?”

“Mhm,” you nod here and there but you’ve long stopped paying attention to his one-sided speech.

Your eyes linger on Hoseok’s arms and the dimples that appear every time he laughs. You’re not the only one who stares. A small group of admirers flock to him like bees swarming around a rare and exotic flower.

You’d noticed it before but today confirms it; Hoseok’s presence is riveting. It’s not the first time today your gaze has strayed his way. More than once, you find your eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame only to quickly avert your gaze whenever your eyes meet. Each time, the right side of his mouth quirks into a half-smile, the beginning of a question forming on his lips.

It’s embarrassing to be caught red-handed gawking but, in your defense, you aren’t the only one who ogles him—and many of them are far less discreet than you try to be, some gazes curious, others downright lecherous.

It bothers you. What exactly do you and everyone else find so fascinating about his character? He’s good-looking, sure—but you’re no stranger to handsome and pretty co-stars with nicely shaped dicks. You can’t put a finger on what sets him apart from the rest.

The gaffer comes over and momentarily interrupts the flow of Director Ryu’s monologue with a personal inquiry. Thank God. You use the opportunity to slip away, grateful that someone has put an end to your misery. As thankful as you are to the director for the career opportunity, you could do without his long-winded speeches that never seem to end.  

“Hey, Hoseok.”

His smile widens, the corners dimpling the moment he spots you. “Hey! It’s been a while. Who would’ve thought we’d get to work again so soon, huh?”

“I didn’t think our last movie would do so well, honestly.”

Without its success, who knows what kind of movie you’d be participating in right now? Another re-hashed version of ‘BABYSITTER GETS CREAMED’ type scenario, most probably.

“I guess that’s a testament to your acting skills, right?”

You smile back, sheepish but nevertheless pleased. It always feels nice to be complimented, especially on days like today when you’re feeling less confident than usual.

“You changed up your hair.”

“Yeah! I thought I needed a change.” He threads his fingers through his locks self-consciously. “It looks fine, right?”

“It does!” you agree with an enthusiastic nod.

Jimin, who had insisted to be present on set today, hovers on the edge of your periphery. In the back of your mind you know he means well—that his presence is meant to be a source of support and security. On a typical day, you’re relieved that someone you trust is close by in case the situation escalates. While you’ve never had any horrific experiences, there have been the occasional uncomfortable encounters behind the scenes. Thankfully, Seokjin or Jimin have always stepped in before whichever entitled asshat could get too handsy.

But for the first time, his presence doesn’t comfort you the way it usually does.

Your smile becomes stiff.

The last thing you want is for Jimin to misunderstand the situation... Despite his claims of not having any problems with you shooting again with Hoseok, you can’t forget the stony expression on your boyfriend’s face as he had stared your co-star down, his grip around your waist strong and possessive.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok inquires, noticing your change in attitude. Worry creases his brow. He takes a step forward as if to check up on you.

“I’m okay!” You wave your hands around in the air, if only to maintain the distance separating your figures.

Despite your energetic reassurances, Hoseok looks unconvinced. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in concern.

You wrack your head for an acceptable excuse. “Maybe I have pre-performance jitters? It’s nothing serious, though!”

It’s not too far from the truth, either. You feel more nervous than usual... Maybe because you’re aware that today’s shoot will most likely make or break your career. If the results prove to be disappointing, you don’t want to imagine what that means for your future.

You shake your head, refusing to accept any talks of early retirement.

But what other choice will you have, your inner voice argues. If no one is interested in viewing your works, no production company will want to book you for their movies. Even if you’re able to shoot half a dozen films after this failed attempt, the interest and support from viewers and higher-ups will soon dry up.

Hoseok’s features soften.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but if my opinion means anything... I think you’re really amazing.” His deep brown eyes reflect sincerity. “I haven’t had this much fun performing with anyone before and it’s not just ‘cos you’re fucking hot.” He laughs to cover up his embarrassment. “Maybe it’s a bit of a reach to compare the two, but porn is a bit like dancing in a way. There’s a choreography to follow, a certain rhythm and mood you have to get into. But the most important part is the chemistry and trust between you and your partner. And you - when I perform with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m acting at all. Not many people have that ability. For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty special.”

“T-thanks,” you stutter in reply, taken aback by his candor. “I appreciate that.”

You’re not the only one caught off-guard by Hoseok’s frankness. He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles to fill up the momentary lapse in conversation. A bashful smile inches its way across his face, but surprisingly he doesn’t break eye contact.

You quickly change subjects, unwilling to acknowledge the slight fluttering in your stomach.

“...So, you dance?”

It’s not the smoothest transition, but Hoseok’s face instantly lights up.

“Yes! I mean,” he pauses and clears his throat. “Not professionally. I minored in dance. But it’s something I definitely enjoy, you know, to blow off some steam. Ah, wait a sec—”

He takes out his phone to show you short video clips of his dancing. He pulls up his instagram account and scrolls through an eclectic mix of mirror selfies showcasing his bold fashion choices, dog pics, and videos of him working out and dancing.

“Here’s a recent one.”

You don’t know much about dance but in spite of your little knowledge in the subject, your eyes stay transfixed on the screen in front of you. “Whoa...”

The way he moves is enthralling, for lack of a better word. You know from experience that his body is flexible and agile, lithe and strong, but seeing it in action like this leaves you speechless, momentarily robbed of coherency. You can’t even describe it. His execution of the choreography is sharp and powerful, yet his body doesn’t look rigid. On the contrary, his movements are surprisingly fluid and he never misses a single beat. You watch in astonishment as he pushes himself off of his knees after bending backwards in one fell swoop.

“Eh? Is it even possible to move your body that way?” Surely if you try to mimic him, you’ll look like a flailing chicken. “That can’t be safe...”

Hoseok laughs at your shocked expression. “It takes a lot of practice. You should come to a workshop one day! My friend teaches beginners. He’d be glad if you could join. The more the merrier, right? You don’t need to know any of the basics... And if you’re worried about people poking fun—don���t. Dancing isn’t a competition or anything.”

“I dunno.” You hand him back his phone after watching the video loop back for a second time. “I think my back would crack if I attempted any of that.”

“I think you would do really well! You’re pretty flexible and I don’t think you need to worry about stamina. Your core muscles are also really well developed. Based on what I’ve seen, you have a good sense of balance and beat awareness, so even if you’ve never danced before, you have the body and disposition for it.”

“Well... I guess I—”

“Hey.” Jimin interrupts, plump lips curved into a polite smile. You try not to let your surprise show; you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. He kisses your cheek and slides his hand into yours, clasping it between his own. “Sorry to interrupt, doll. Seokjin wanted to have a word with you before the shoot.”

“Oh.” You blink, your eyes darting back and forth between Jimin and Hoseok. “Um...if you don’t mind?”

“That’s straight,” Hoseok steps back, shoving his hands down his pockets. He shoots you a tentative smile. “I’ll catch you later.”

You feel bad for ditching him mid-conversation after he’d been so nice, but you know how annoying your agent can get when ignored for too long.

Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours. When you look up, he’s pouting, his lips pursed and brows drawn together.

“Is something on your mind?”

You can see the hesitation flicker across his face. When he finally meets your gaze, his expression is troubled.

“It’s nothing...” He looks away again and the grip he has on your hand loosens.

“Hm.” You swallow down any further inquiries, worried you’ll upset him.

“What was that about, anyway?” he asks casually, trying his best to look uninterested. “You and Hoseok look like you’re getting along well.”

“Yeah.” The memory of your previous conversation makes you smile softly despite yourself. “He’s a nice guy.”

“I can imagine.” Jimin mutters under his breath. Before you have time to question him again, he straightens his spine, his features twisting into an apologetic expression. “Look, I gotta help setting up the cameras. I’ll see you after the shoot.”

“Ah... Alright.” You fight to keep the disappointment of your face. Since you only have a few minutes before filming begins, you’d been hoping to spend it with him.

As if reading your mind, Jimin leans in and kisses you, his plush lips soft and familiar against your own. You expect him to pull away after a few seconds but his left hand slots itself behind your neck, bringing you in closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand angles your head to the side, giving him more access, and he doesn’t waste any time before brushing his tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You respond to the kiss as if on auto-pilot, but your thoughts are all jumbled in your head. Jimin’s always been a good kisser but he’s rarely kissed you quite like this. His style is more of a slow-burn, the kind that slowly creeps up on you and leaves your whole body numb with pleasure. Every press of his lips feels like a silent prayer of worship and each swipe of his tongue tastes like adoration. You like that he takes his time, like you’re not just a quick meal to curb his hunger but a delicacy worthy of being savored.

Right now, this kiss feels unfamiliar. Urgency replaces devotion. Perhaps it’s because he’s short on time, but his touch is hurried and sloppy. He bites your lower lip, hard enough for it to hurt, and licks into your mouth when you mewl out a gasp of surprise.

“I wish I could just mark you up,” he pants against your parted lips. They feel tender when you smack them closed.

“The makeup artist is going to strangle you for messing up my lipstick.” You fake a scowl. You’re not half-wrong, though. Once she sees how swollen they’ve become she’s bound to take out her frustration on the closest available victim. “If you marked me for real, she’d probably kill you. Don’t tempt her.”

He chuckles and pulls back, letting his hands fall to his side. His eyes dart to somewhere behind your shoulder, his smile curving into a smirk.

“You’re right.” He sighs, looking back at you. “But that’s easier said than done. You’re hard to resist... Anyone would agree.”

Something dark clouds his eyes but whatever it is, it’s gone in the next blink.

You laugh, pleased nonetheless by his flattery. “Didn’t you say you had to help set up? You’re going to end up in trouble because of me…”

Jimin snorts but backs up all the same. “Don’t worry about me. Besides, you’re worth getting in trouble for.”

Someone behind you gags dramatically. “Absolutely sickening.”

When you whirl around, your agent shoots you a disgusted glare. “I was wondering what was taking you so long but I should’ve known you two were out here fabricating babies. Have you no shame?”

“I’ll see you after the shoot!” Jimin says quickly, eager to get away from Seokjin and his sharp tongue.

“See you.” You smile sweetly, ignoring Seokjin’s grumbling. You feel a pang of jealousy as you watch him scurry out of sight. If only you could avoid Seokjin’s pre-performance motivational speeches...

“Anyways.” Seokjin looks noticeably less irritated once Jimin is gone. “I wanted to check up on you before filming could begin. How’s your ass doing?”

You don’t bother hiding your grimace. “Squeaky clean and stretched.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He sounds proud. “Don’t make that face. It’s your first anal scene after all. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

By ‘be prepared’ he means following a strict diet prior to shooting, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a colonic, stretching out your asshole for a good thirty minutes using a fuck ton of lube, and constantly rehydrating yourself throughout the day to the point where you’d gone to the bathroom more times than you could count on one hand.

You’re never this thorough with prep before having anal but apparently that’s the difference between fucking in the privacy of your own home and on camera.

“There’s a reason why cleanliness is one of the fundamentals of anal sex, especially when shooting porn. It’s a pain...in the ass...but this way, no one sees something they’d rather not see,” had explained Seokjin after giving you a non-exhaustive list of detailed steps to follow. You suppose there’s logic behind his reasoning. Due to the magic of 4k-quality videos, viewers can now easily see everything, down to the sweat droplets dotting your hairline and any makeup-covered skin imperfections, so you don’t want to imagine what they’ll notice once the camera zooms in on your back entrance.

“Eventually you’ll get used to squeezing water out your bum on the regular.” He shrugs. “You’ll also start to avoid certain foods on your own. The dietary restrictions aren’t that bad, all things considered, and your body will thank you for eating more spinach than you’re used to. Greens are good for your health even if they taste like yuck.”

Athough his suggestions are well-intended, you don’t need another 25 minute speech on all the know-hows of filming anal sex. The first time had been more than enough.

“Thanks for the advice!” you interject right as he opens his mouth to continue his counseling. “That reminds me I need to get this butt plug out of my ass before we start shooting.”

Seokjin sighs. “That would be preferable, yes.”

He doesn’t need to know that you’ve taken out the butt plug in the bathroom half an hour ago. Any excuse will do, as long as you’re spared from listening to his passionate discourse on the benefits of high-fibre food diets and his long list of enema tutorial video recommendations.

The fussing, you think, is unnecessary. You’re not worried about the upcoming sex scene, even if it will be the first time someone other than your partner sees you in that position. No, what troubles you is the possibility of the audience growing tired of seeing you onscreen now that they’ve witnessed you take it up the ass. Boredom is the reason why so many of your peers are forced to end their careers prematurely, after all. Why else is Seokjin so adamant about you pacing yourself and not filming everything there is to film right off the bat? You’ve always held off shooting anal, double penetration and the likes, for that very reason. Although you have no qualms with the act itself, you’re worried that you’re now one step closer to retirement.

The thoughts sit on your shoulders like a heavy weight as you get ready for the scene to come. You listen to Director Ryu’s instructions as he describes the scenario’s key points, your character’s motives, and what sex positions you should include before the scene comes to an end.

“The rest is up to you,” he says with an encouraging nod. “I want the words to come from the heart! Let yourself be a vessel, a way for your character to express their innermost desires.”

“Leave it up to us.” Hoseok’s smile radiates confidence.

“I like your enthusiasm!” Director Ryu approves, clapping his hands together. He misses the way his two leading actors exchange exasperated glances over his shoulder. “Good, then we’re all set? Remember where the cameras are positioned, please, or else we’ll have to reshoot to get the right angles.”

“Got it.” You nod, eager to get this show on the road. Between him and Seokjin, your ears are about to fall off from the incessant chattering. Even the camera men are starting to grow restless.

Speaking of... You meet Jimin’s gaze, the sides of your mouth upturning the moment you spot him. As usual, he looks slightly out of place standing between the other crew members, his white, ironed dress shirt neatly tucked into his black pants providing a stark contrast with his co-workers’ unkempt appearance.  

Jimin mirrors your smile and your shoulders immediately relax. A lot of people may not understand why you’d allow your boyfriend on set while you’re fucking someone else, but his presence brings you a strange sense of comfort that’s hard to put into words.

The sound of your name being called pulls you from your line of thought.

“Can you scoot over to the right? Just a little.” Director Ryu orders while glancing at the monitor. “Yes, that’s much better. And can we fix the lighting, please? My shadow’s getting picked up by the camera.”

Now that the start of the shoot is right around the corner, your stomach cramps up with a nervous kind of anticipation. Your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth and even when you swallow, the unpleasant feeling doesn’t go away.

You clasp your hands together in your lap to hide the minute trembling of your fingers. It’s strange, you think. Ever since you started working with Hoseok, you always get too wrapped in your thoughts. Not necessarily in a bad way, at least not all the time, but --

“You all good?” Hoseok asks, low enough that the mics won’t be able to pick up his questioning. “Do you need some water?”

You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

He hesitates but doesn’t push. “I just wanna run this with you one last time. I know we already signed the consent forms but I’d feel better talking with you about the scene directly.”

“Oh.” You remember he’d done something similar last time, too. “Sure.”

“Anal aside, are you okay with the use of degrading names during the scene?” His eyes never leave yours, like he wants you to know how serious he is.

“I’m okay with you calling me a whore.” Your shoulders loosen up. It’s easy to relax when you’re on familiar territory. Working in this industry requires complete transparency. There’s no shame in discussing your kinks just like there’s no shame in admitting the acts you’re not comfortable performing. “As long as I can call you a slut.”

“That’s fine.” His lips quirk up, but not in a mocking or dismissing way. “I don’t really have any hard limits myself, except for what you’ve already seen on paper. Degradation is fine with me. Call my dick tiny all you want, I won’t take it to heart.”

You laugh, forgetting to keep the volume down. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

“So degradation is fine. Is humiliation okay as well? Situational and verbal?”

“I like that.” You bite your lower lip as you remember your encounter with Min Yoongi a month or so ago, how turned on you’d been from his words alone. “I’ll admit I haven’t dabbled too much in BDSM on the porn scene, but I enjoyed what I’ve done so far.”

“That’s good to know.” He raises his brow. “Ever since we received the pitch for today’s movie I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it, uh, more interesting. So to speak. But I didn’t want to take any initiatives if they made you uncomfortable. Oh, also I meant to ask if there was anything you wanted to include in the scene aside from anal sex.”

Somehow you’re not surprised he’s put thought into this. Last time you’d worked with him, he’d been overflowing with suggestions as well. Maybe because the previous filming formats aren’t as flexible, but it’s not often you meet someone so willing to exchange ideas before filming.

The change is more than welcome. For the first time, it feels like your opinion actually matters. The two of you quietly go back and forth discussing different possibilities while the filming crew finish setting up the set the way Director Ryu wants it.

“Alright,” Ryu calls, settling into the director’s chair. Somewhere in the background, the gaffer wipes off his brow. “Everyone ready to rooooollll?”

Hoseok takes a few steps back and reaches for a nearby clipboard.

Miraculously, you note distantly, the swarming of butterflies in your stomach is now gone. Your palms are no longer clammy and cold with perspiration. When you swallow, there’s no lump of nerves stuck in your throat.

Hoseok sends an encouraging smile your way right before Director Ryu yells “ACTION!” and he schools his features into a more polite, appropriate expression.

He doesn’t speak up right away, just walks over to where you’re sitting on the massage table in a leisurely manner. You open your mouth to fill the silence but he beats you to it.

“Welcome to Happy Ending Clinic, where we ensure every client leaves feeling 100% satisfied. We guarantee high quality services personally adapted to suit the needs of our every client,” Hoseok says in lieu of greeting, the lilt in his voice smooth and practiced, like he’s used to repeating this introduction multiple times throughout the day. “My name is J-Hope and today you will be in my care.”

“Nice to meet you.” You’re careful to keep your back ramrod straight, hoping the stiffness in your body will be picked up by the cameras.

The role you’re playing today is more reserved and awkward than the usual unabashed and bold characters you’re used to acting. And while it’s not your first time pretending to be coy and shy for the cameras, such behavior isn’t second nature.

His smile, whilst professional, radiates warmth. You suppose it’s meant to be reassuring.

“I will do my best to make this session unforgettable.”  

His gaze sweeps over the clipboard sitting in his hands.

“Hmmm... ______, is it?” When you nod in affirmation, he continues. “It says here it’s your first time visiting our establishment.”

You’re surprised at how naturally he adapts to the role he’s been assigned to. The words that roll off his tongue sound like his own.

“Yes... Honestly, I - I didn’t think it was necessary, but my friend insisted - I mean, she recommended I visit this place...said it would do me some good.”

You wring your hands in your lap. You’re lucky the character you’re playing today is supposed to be a little shy and rigid. Otherwise, you’re not sure Director Ryu would have let your awkward stuttering slide.

“That’s not a problem.” The lines of Hoseok’s mouth bend into a reassuring smile. “Let’s see... It says you’ve booked an hour-long session?”

“Yep.”

“Then with your permission, I’d like to take fifteen supplementary minutes to find out which massage course is best suited for a novice like you. It’ll be free of charge, of course.”

You nod, eager to get the show on the road. Given your character’s disposition, maybe you should have pretended to mull over the proposal for a few seconds more - if only for appearance’s sake - but you’re tired of all this talking. Impatience gets the best of you.

“Oh! Yes, that sounds fine.”

He pulls out several colorful mock pamphlets and hands them over for you to peruse their contents. You try not to let your astonishment show.

It’s the first time you’ve seen a prop team this devoted to their task. Although the insides of the brochures remain blank, you still can’t believe someone actually took the time to print out fake brochure covers. You appreciate the effort, even if the covers do look like they’ve been made by someone who’s looking to major in ‘graphic design is my passion.’

You hold one up at random and pretend to read through it, hoping that whoever will watch the movie later will ignore the ugly block font that spells out ‘NAUGHTY MASSAGE : FOUR HANDS EDITION.’

“Inside, you’ll find a detailed explanation on the various vegan, cruelty-free products we use. All of our treatments are oil-based and you can choose the scent of your choice. If your skin is particularly sensitive, we have essential oil-infused body butters that work just as effectively and leave the skin silky smooth to the touch. Depending on your skin type, you might be interested in testing—” He takes out several jars all while explaining the different health benefits of ylang ylang essential oil.

Once again, you’re caught off guard by his convincing performance. Even though you’ve been given several pointers by the director before filming, Hoseok is the one who ultimately calls the shots. Inwardly, you wonder how he manages to come up with such original lines on the spot. Despite not being a professional actor, Hoseok’s intuitive choices are beyond your expectations.  

The thoroughness of his explanation makes your head spin. Cruelty-free products? Body butter? You have no way of knowing whether his statements are fabricated for the sake of the vague storyline - but you suppose the credibility of his words doesn’t really matter in the end. It’s the small details he sprinkles here and there that help you immerse in the scene.  

His proficiency in acting makes all of your worries melt away. It’s hard to believe he’s only a rookie, just starting off his career, and not an acting veteran with dozens of movies under his belt.

Not wanting to be entirely overshadowed by your co-star, you furrow your eyebrows, determination set into your features.

“I’m sorry... I’ve never done this before. They all look the same to me.”

“Ah.” Still, Hoseok’s smile stays amiable and professional. “Well, let’s go about it this way - why do you think your friend insisted you visit our establishment?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze dropping to the floor in order to avert his probing stare. “I - um. I haven’t had - I mean, I guess I’ve been stressed lately. More pent up than usual. I’ve tried exercising and meditating and mas- uh...well everything, honestly. But nothing seems to work. I’m snappy all the time and...frustrated.”

Today, the character you’re playing is a bit more bashful, too timid to voice her desires into spoken words. “It’s all about the tension! The build-up!” Director’s Ryu’s voice echoes in your mind as a reminder.

“I see,” Hoseok nods, taking your comments into consideration. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the quality of your sleep?”

“A five...” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t wake up during the night, but it takes me a long time to fall asleep.”

“Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

“Pain? No, not really.” You roll your shoulders back, conscious of the way your perky chest juts out, nipples prominent through the cheap fabric. “My neck does feel sore from time to time but I think it’s because I work an office job. They say staying hunched over in front of a computer all day is bad for your health.”

His gaze roams your figure, quietly assessing. “It is.”

“May I?” he asks, taking a tentative step closer. “I think I’ll need to gauge your level of sensitivity for myself. We’ll adjust the intensity of the massage depending on how much pressure you can withstand and how your body reacts to different types of stimuli.”

Your brows lift. “Oh. Sure, why not.”

“Move back a little. A bit more.” You obey his instructions without second thoughts. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

Your legs dangle awkwardly over the edge of the massage table. You can probably close them if you wanted to, but you don’t miss an opportunity to expose yourself in front of the cameras. The shorts you’re wearing are more like tiny scraps of denim put together with the help of a few stitches. You’re certain that if someone were to really look, they’d see the outline of your pussy lips.

Hoseok walks around the table to stand behind you. The sensation is somewhat familiar—right away, you’re reminded of the first encounter with Hoseok, the one where he’d wrapped his arms around you and whispered words of love into your ear. You close your eyes and let the images flash by in quick succession. The memories all come rushing in at once—an artist’s lips painting your skin like a brush would canvas, a potter’s agile fingers molding your body from clay, a lyricist’s tongue composing sonnets into your weeping, open cunt. Your body remembers it all.

When he finally touches you, his hands radiate warmth the shadow of his memory does not.

A shudder runs down your spine.

Oblivious to your inner thoughts, Hoseok carefully gathers your hair into a ponytail and moves it out of the way. His mobility no longer restricted, he lets his slender digits travel down the slope of your neck, the pads of his fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders.

“You’re unusually tense here.” Concern colors his voice as he increases the pressure.

Suddenly the discomfort you’re to convey to the audience is no longer feigned. “Ow!”

The wince that mars your face is authentic. You try to wiggle out of his grasp to relieve the sharp ache in your shoulders. Hoseok’s grip is strong, however, and he keeps you exactly where he thinks you ought to be.

“Hmm...”

He massages your arms one by one. The circular movements he traces across your skin are a lot more gentle this time around, and you allow yourself to slowly relax under his touch. He manipulates your body like one would a rag doll, pulling your arm over your head.

“Can you reach behind, towards your neck? How about a little lower? You should feel a stretch here.” He taps at an arm muscle.

“Yeah… I can definitely feel it.”

You suspect that Hoseok’s stunt as a Pilates instructor is what’s helping him sound so experienced and natural.

“Good.” He lets out a pleased hum. “Hold the position for as long as you can.”

His hands reach around your body to squeeze your perky breasts. You gasp at the rather rough way he handles your tits. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been told to forgo a bra, but you’re much more conscious of his every action - from the way his fingers splay out, cupping the fullness of your breasts between them, to the way he kneads your mounds with his entire palm as he gropes you from behind.

“How often do you masturbate?” he asks in an almost offhand manner, his tone is more clinical than casual. The question is crude and direct enough to distract you from the way his fingers encircle your nipples through the cotton fabric of your shirt.

You recall Ryu’s earlier directions: unlike your first movie together, this tryst is not romantic in nature. The scenario that you’re acting out this time doesn’t involve sweet kisses and whispered declarations of love. Feelings aren’t on the table.

You pretend like the bitter taste you swallow down isn’t disappointment.

“Um.” You struggle to remember the initial question. Luckily, your mental buffering comes off as bashful and true to the character you’re playing. “I, uh, I guess masturbate often?”

“But it isn’t enough, is it?”

His question comes off as slightly patronizing. Before you can formulate a suitable answer, Hoseok’s fingers tweak your hardened nipples and your back bows under the pressure. You oscillate between the desire to thrust your chest out in offering, and the pressing need to flee the sharp sensations his skilled hands provoke.

“I - um!” You squirm helplessly as he continues playing with your breasts. “It isn’t!”

“Just as I thought.” He pinches both of your nipples and pulls at them until you cry out in half-pain, half-pleasure. The thin material of your shirt doesn’t dull the ache; if anything, the cotton scratches your skin, rubbing the nubs raw.

Despite your very visible discomfort, Hoseok doesn’t let go. You can only sit there obediently while he has his fun, knowing that if you wiggle too much it’ll only worsen the pain.

“Ah!”

Only then does he release them. You fight against the urge to cover your sore nipples. Your flimsy shirt hadn’t provided any protection against his rough onslaught, none at all.

“You’re quite sensitive,” he observes, giving your breasts one last squeeze.

Finished with his appraisal, he steps away and picks his clipboard up. He makes his way around the massage table, coming back into view, and scribbles something onto the paper with a ballpoint pen. He looks so absorbed in his work that you almost fall for the act.  

You worry your bottom lip, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. Without a bra, your hardened nipples are clearly visible through the thin shirt. They jut out in a distracting way; Hoseok’s eyes drop down for a split-second in appreciation before flickering back to the clipboard in his hands.

“Your body is wound up. It’s tense in places it shouldn’t be.”

“Is that...a bad thing?”

“No. Your case is not abnormal.” He shakes his head and offers you a reassuring smile. “Although... Hm. When was the last time you achieved an an orgasm?”

You look away, mumbling your answer in an embarrassed voice. “Last night.”

More scribbling. He taps the end of the pen against his chin, pretending to be lost in thought.

His eyes glint when he asks, “How many times did you cum?”

It’s not real - none of this is - and yet you can feel warmth spreading from your cheeks down to your chest. It’s a strange sensation, stuck somewhere between humiliation and arousal, and it makes your entire body heat up from the inside out.

“Just - Just once…”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap towards his on command. He looks relaxed, unbothered, like he’s discussing the weather forecast and not your masturbation habits. You want to look away but something in his stare pins you in place.

“You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“Yes! I’m not - I wouldn’t lie.”

“Good.” He smiles pleasantly, nodding to himself. “So. You came once. Did you use your fingers? Or, perhaps, a toy?”

He’s still staring at you, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes while you confess your sins. Your thighs clench together and you struggle to focus on the conversation at hand.

“F-fingers.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you imagine Hoseok’s fingers replacing your imaginary ones. They’d fill you up nicely, too. Compared to your own, they’re longer, capable of reaching places yours can’t. All you’d have to do is hook your arms under your knees and keep your legs spread wide open. He doesn’t even need to take your clothes off; he could pull the seam of your shorts and underwear to the side and fuck you just like that. “I only used my fingers.”

He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t quite believe you. Somehow, that makes the fire between your legs burn hotter. It’s like - he knows you’re too cockhungry to settle for just fingers. And if a mere stranger can tell how desperate you are to get fucked, what about the rest?

“Interesting.” Hoseok’s eyes darken by the minute. “And do you prefer clitoral stimulation to penetration?”

“I-” You pause and struggle to formulate your response. Your ears feel hot. In fact - your entire face feels like it’s on fire.

The embarrassment you feel doesn’t make sense - you’ve never had any qualms discussing sex. You can talk candidly about any topic for hours on end, from the condom brands you prefer to advice on how to maintain a rash-free pussy, to the point where some people might think you’re over-sharing or being too crass. Discussing intimate topics shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s not even a real dialogue anyway, so why do you -

“Yes?” Hoseok leans forward, interrupting your train of thought. The corner of his mouth is upturned, like he can’t help but be amused by your discomfiture.

“I like, um.” You close your eyes, hoping that it’ll somehow make the admission easier. It doesn’t. The darkness makes you feel even more exposed, like all your secrets are laid bare for him to see. Your voice quivers when you answer. “I - I touch - I mean, sometimes I’ll - my fingers aren’t long enough. So just rubbing the outside is - fine.”

“Ah. You like being stuffed full, I take it?” Hoseok’s vulgar vocabulary makes your eyes snap open in shock. He smirks, not expecting you to answer. “Poor girl.”

You shake your head, your reply dying in your throat. With every word he utters, your thoughts become fuzzy, muddled.

“What did you imagine last night while you were getting off? A stranger fucking your face? Big men taking turns using your cunt? Tell me. In detail, preferably.”

“I don’t see how-” The sharp look in his eyes makes you swallow down any protest. Still. You can’t get your mouth to work correctly and you look back at him helplessly.

“Is there a reason why you can’t tell me?” He tilts his head to the side, the smirk on his face growing, canines flashing. “Oh. I see.”

You flinch, your face impossibly hot.

“Were you thinking of today’s session?” He chuckles, delighted. “That’s quite naughty of you. Although, I can’t blame you, can I? We are known to deliver the best orgasma. It’s only natural to imagine what would happen.”

That’s right, you think. You’d spent all night fantasizing about a faceless, nameless stranger’s hands all over your naked body. How long had it been since you’d felt someone’s touch? Their tongue buried deep in your cunt, fucking you until your thighs trembled? Even your best dildo couldn’t hold a candle to a hot-blooded, throbbing cock.

Hoseok taps the pen against the clipboard, the staccato sound filling the silence.

“One last question.” He makes sure he has your undivided attention before continuing. “No need to look so worried. I won’t ask you what lewd thoughts you get off to, although maybe in future sessions I’ll expect that of you.”

You don’t linger on the implication there - that you’ll undoubtedly come back for seconds - and nod your assent for him to go on.

“Did you cum hard while thinking of getting fucked by me today?”

You inhale sharply, struggling to hold his stare. “I… The sheets were so wet afterwards, I had to change them.”

“I see.” He jots something down on his clipboard but his reaction doesn’t give anything away. Nervously, you pull on a loose string hanging from the hem of your short. “Hm…”

After a few seconds of silence he speaks up again, done with his assessment.

“Well, normally for first timers such as yourself we’d recommend starting with a more soothing body massage. But I think in your case a more thorough massage is needed. It’s not a cause for concern!” He adds quickly, as if to assuage any growing fears. “But in my professional opinion, I think the massage I have in mind for you might be more beneficial than the beginner level massage.”

“Um, what does this massage entail exactly?”

“We call it the full treatment. In other words - it’s a deep tissue penetration massage,” Hoseok explains calmly. “It includes an internal massage. We’ll use a variety of methods but rest assured - all techniques are tried and tested! You’ll be in safe hands.”

You pretend to mull it over.

Hoseok waits for your nod of confirmation before instructing, “There are towels at your disposal.” He motions to the pile of fluffy white towels folded neatly on the bench. “Feel free to use them. While you change into a...less restricting outfit, I’ll go retrieve the rest of the massage equipment. See you in a bit!”

And with that he’s gone. The privacy he grants you is, of course, just an illusion. Even without looking in their direction, you know that the cameras’ lenses are all focused on you, waiting to capture the impending striptease. You’d forgotten about them but Hoseok’s absence reminds you of their presence.

Per Director Ryu’s earlier instructions, you make a show of taking off your clothes. Teasing the camera comes naturally to you thanks to your prior experience as a cam girl; you know exactly which angles are the most flattering and which ones, on the other hand, emphasize your flaws.

Your back arches as you peel off your shirt, drawing attention to the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. Not long after do you shimmy out of your shorts, exaggerating the swing of your hips for the audience’s viewing pleasure. You try not to show your surprise when the dampness of your crotch sticks to your folds as you pull them down your legs - you hadn’t expected how much a simple tit massage and few exchanged words would rile you up.

The denim pools around your ankles and when you bend over to retrieve the useless item of clothing, you’re acutely aware of how your wet, waxed pussy peeks out from between your thighs. You stay in position, giving the camera ample time to zoom in, and while the stretch isn’t painful (thanks to your yoga lessons!), it is a rather awkward position to maintain.

Once you straighten up, you take a few seconds to fold up the shirt and itty bitty shorts before setting them aside. Normally, you’d leave your discarded clothing strewn about but you can’t imagine your character behaving in such an uncouth way.

With that thought in mind, you wrap yourself with a short towel. Rather than covering your intimate bits, it’s so short that it emphasizes your nakedness. When you go to sit on the massage table, the towel rides up, leaving you exposed and you have to fold your hands in your lap to preserve a semblance of modesty.

It’s easy to convey nervousness while you wait for Hoseok’s return. While you’ve never attended any drama school, you have watched plenty enough Netflix dramas to know which physical cues are more or less effective - constant fidgeting, shifty eyes, audible gulping. Since it’s your first time putting your knowledge into practice, you’re not certain how convincing your acting is, but hey, isn’t it the effort that counts? You’re not here to audition for the starring role in Hollywood’s next summer blockbuster, after all.

Hoseok knocks twice before entering, stopping your self-depreciation in its tracks. He’s abandoned the earlier clipboard for a large, nondescript, white cardboard box that rattles with every step he takes. It sounds more ominous than it actually is.

If Director Ryu is truly aiming for realism, he wouldn’t make Hoseok carry back the items in a fucking box, you think privately. Who even does that? Although you suppose realism isn’t the be-all end-all, no matter how much the director insists. Sometimes viewers like to be metaphorically edged and endlessly teased, and all this guessing only adds to the build-up, making the climax more than worth it. They could, of course, fast-forward to get to the juicy sex scenes, the crux of the matter, but you’d like to believe all this extra effort is worth it.

You blink curiously back at Hoseok, feigning ignorance.

“Oh good.” He beams in your direction, his eyes drinking in your scantily-clad figure. “Now that you’re more comfortable, please lie down for me.”

He sets the box to the side, opens the lid, and takes out a bottle of oil while you settle down on your stomach and carefully rearrange your towel so that it covers your bum.

“I’ve chosen bergamot essential oil for today’s massage. It’s a nice, citrus-like scent that’s not too overwhelming because it’s been mixed in with sweet almond oil. Its many virtues include, but are not limited to, increasing the body’s energy flow and enhancing feelings of joy and freshness.”

“That sounds lovely.” You sigh dreamily. Getting massaged and getting dicked down in one go? Hell yeah. That one is a no-brainer for sure.

There’s a shadow of a smirk on Hoseok’s face when he rounds on you, like he’s somehow privy to your thoughts. That, or your eagerness is too transparent. You’re betting on the latter.

His voice lowers an octave, the low timber making shivers run down your back.

“Shall we begin?”

He moves your hair to the side, leaving your neck and back exposed. He then pulls down your towel so that it uncovers the expanse of your back and covers more of your bottom half instead.

“Is this alright?” he inquires. As if testing the waters, his fingers trace down the line of your spine, stopping right before your lower back dips into a curve.

You moan your assent. “More than.”

Hoseok takes the bottle of oil and drizzles its contents over your skin like a painter splattering ink onto a blank canvas. He spreads the lubricant all over your back, rubbing your skin in circular motions until you’re coated with it. You let out a few pleased sounds here and there that are not entirely faked or exaggerated. He definitely knows what he’s doing with his hands.

Honestly, you feel sorry towards your co-star who’s stuck doing most of the work while you’re splayed out like a starfish. It feels a bit unfair that you’re getting paid more than him when he’s the one putting in most of the effort. Had you any shame, you’d give him half of your pay for his services. Alas.

“Tell me if it hurts anywhere,” he warns, not unkindly.

Your back stiffens. You expect Hoseok to replicate the rough treatment he’d inflicted to your breasts, but contrary to your expectations, he kneads your body gently, almost tenderly. The contrast between this touch and his earlier ministrations messes with your head. When his hands outline your flank, his fingers prodding the sides of your breasts, you swallow a hopeful sigh as you wait for him to envelop your soft mounds and roll your sensitive nipples between his skilled fingers.

Betrayal brews in your gut when he fails to indulge your fantasies. You’re tempted to grab his wrist and guide his hand to where you need it the most but you miraculously hold yourself back. Since the scene doesn’t call for that much impatience and desperation on your part, you’d hate to be the reason why Director Ryu asks for a re-take.

Thankfully, he soon puts you out of your misery. Hoseok retreats, done teasing the sides of your breasts for the time being. You’re not sure it’s relief or disappointment that swims in your lower belly, but Hoseok doesn’t give you time to dwell on the question. Almost as soon as he retracts his hands from your back, he redirects his attention to your legs. His hands, warm and slick from the oil, glide over the back of your calves and thighs with ease. His thumbs rub circular shapes into your flesh as he slowly works his way up, the pleasant sensations leaving your whole body boneless.

“You loosen up well.”

Hoseok’s fingers skirt the hem of the towel. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he toys with the fabric.

“Will you open up for me, pretty? You look tense right here.” He flips the towel up, revealing your bare lower half. He wastes no time before gripping the meat of your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He spreads your cheeks apart, cool air blowing against your exposed holes, and lets them jiggle back into place after giving the camera ample time to capture the view. “Hm. Looks like you haven’t been properly stretched out in a long time... We’ll fix that today.”

Bolts of pleasure run through your body. The whole situation is ludicrous and yet, for whatever reason you cannot pinpoint, moisture gathers between your thighs with every passing second, adding to the mess dripping from your folds.

“Um, like this?” You part your legs open slightly, as if unsure. In situations like these, the biggest challenge is to act diffident and coy when all you want is for your co-star to blow your back out.

He tsks, the sound sharp and reproving. It goes straight to your core and makes your belly clench with unspeakable need.

“How am I supposed to fuck your holes open in that position?” He has the audacity to sound impatient. “Work with me here.”

He grabs your ankles and separates them himself, ignoring your yelp of surprise. Unaccustomed to the stretch, the muscles in your thighs strain with the effort to hold the position.

A whine slips out your mouth. He’s so mean.

While you expect Hoseok to act somewhat distant and objective because of the role he’s playing, his fluctuating behavior gives you nothing but whiplash. One moment he’s cordial and friendly, the epitome of what a  professional should be, the next he’s treating you like you’re his plaything, not his client.

His grip around your ankles is firm and unyielding. He’s got you spread impossibly wide, your legs dangling dangerously off the edge of the table with your waxed holes exposed for inspection.

“That’s good, just like that.” His hands let go of your ankles when he’s sure you won’t move from the position he’s steered you into. He strokes up your legs, the touch feather-light and fleeting. “Keep your legs spread wide. I want to see your cute little holes on display.”

His crude remarks make your body flush with heat.

Even if this is the sort of place that offers sexual gratification, Hoseok’s wording toes several lines. As his client, he should be focused on giving you pleasure, so why do his comments make it sound like you’re here for his entertainment instead?

Despite your character being fully aware of what type of establishment she’s visiting, you reckon Hoseok’s words are enough to make her squirm in embarrassment. There’s something filthy about the way he orders you around and bends you to his will. Even you’re not indifferent to the impersonal way he handles your body like a doll. Flickers of arousal lick up your spine, and with your legs extended so far apart, it’s not difficult for Hoseok to notice how much you’re wound up.

The position is far from proper. Hot streaks of humiliation burn through you when you imagine how easy and slutty you must seem to whoever is watching. You don’t dare move from the pose he’s maneuvered you into, not because you’re scared of the consequences, but because his presence demands obedience. Even without explicitly saying so, he’s made it clear that for the next hour or so, you’re his to toy with.

“Good girl. You open up so nicely.” Hoseok purrs, satisfied with your compliance. “Now let me see what I’m working with here.”

He swipes his index finger through your glossy folds, the action forcing you to stifle a startled gasp. It’s nothing like the erotic oil massage you’d experienced minutes prior. The touch is inquisitive, clinical, assessing. Like he’s testing out a new product before purchase.

You want to stay still but you’re so wound up from his incessant teasing. The slightest caress makes the hairs on the back of your nape stand straight. Hoseok is all too aware of this fact. The tip of his pointer finger comes in contact with your clit, the touch more delicate than a feather's caress. Hoseok watches with thinly veiled amusement as you jerk against the table.

“You really are sensitive,” he all but coos. “What a treat. Don’t need any oil when you’re leaking all over the table like a faucet. How long has it been since someone touched you here, hm?”

The teasing lilt in his voice borders on condescending. Heat simmers under the surface of your skin as you struggle to collect your thoughts.

“Eight months,” you squeak just as two of his fingers dip into your slicked up entrance.

“No wonder you’re all worked up.” He slides his digits right up to the knuckle, the glide so easy it’s embarrassing. “Needy holes like yours should be used more often.”

He fucks his fingers into your pussy one, two, three times, before pulling away, chuckling under his breath when your hips push back, greedy and desperate for more. Using the same hand he’d used to test out your cunt Hoseok slaps your ass once, the sharp sting making you still at once.

The damp mark on your ass is a testament to how fucking soaked you are. You can’t imagine what kind of mess the cameras are picking up on - but maybe you don’t have to.

Hoseok wipes his fingers off on you, using you to clean himself off. Although you can’t see anything because of the way you’re laying down, everything feels wet and filthy. He rubs your own juices onto your skin, reminding you of the intensity of your need.

And just when you don’t think his mouth can get any filthier, he proves you wrong.

“I can tell you haven’t been stretched recently,” he sighs, almost disappointed. “You’re just gagging for a pounding, aren’t you? It’s a shame your fuck-hole is too tight to take a big cock or I would have given it to you right away.”

Your lower body clenches as his words wash over you.

The idea sounds downright delicious. Hoseok is right. Even if it’s just for the sake of the storyline, there’s nothing more you want right now than a good, hard fucking. It would take him less than ten seconds for him to pull his hard cock out from his scrubs and make a home for himself between your thighs. Images flash through your mind of Hoseok’s hands on your breasts, in your hair, around your throat. You want him to cover you, smother you, as he forces you down against the table and takes his fill. You want his lips on your skin, hot and possessive, as he uses you like the cocksleeve he needs you to be.

God, you want that. You want to be used hard, to be fucked full until you break. You need this - your character needs this.

You whimper, high-pitched and needy. “Please. Please, I want it. I want - I want your cock.”

“I’m sure you do.” Hoseok all but scoffs. “Why don’t you just sit still and relax for me? I’m going to massage you until you’re nice and loose, alright? First-timers like you could get hurt if they’re not prepped properly but I’ll get you ready, don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be able to take big cocks in all your holes like a pro.”

“Shit.”

You bite back a moan, startled at how much you’re turned on.

Porn dialogue is rarely arousing. You’re the first to tune out your partner whenever they talk for longer than a minute. It’s because you hear the same exact shitty lines repeated so often that you’re half-convinced there’s a porn acting for dummies handbook being circulated around.

Although… Maybe if Hoseok’s lines had been delivered by someone else, they wouldn’t have the same effect on you. That’s the difference, you think to yourself. Hoseok’s delivery. The cockiness that infuses his every word, the way he confidently carries himself… He does it all so convincingly - nothing like the wooden and awkward memorized performances you’ve witnessed from fellow actors.

While you’re lost in thought, Hoseok rummages inside the cardboard box. Without his touch or words to distract you, it’s harder to ignore the building arousal between your legs. As the seconds tick by, your shameful desire only worsens.

Before you can crane your neck or voice your confusion, Hoseok returns, humming under his breath.

“We’re gonna try a different massage technique now. This method will help with lubrication,” he explains evenly. “I’ll use a special vibrating tool that will massage hard to reach areas.”

“Um…” You swallow, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds. We’ll start off slow and I’ll gradually up the intensity once I deem you ready for the next stage. How does that sound?”

A click, followed by a low buzzing, fills the room.

You gasp when the vibrating object comes in contact with the back of your knee. Hoseok’s free hand settles on your leg - a nonverbal reminder to keep your legs wide open for him as well as the cameras.

“See? Nice and easy. Nothing to be scared of.”

He rotates the tool in slow, even circles. You force yourself to relax and accept the foreign massage, disregarding how strange it feels to have small vibrations travel up and down your leg. After a few minutes of him repeating the same motions on your other leg, he slowly makes his way up your thighs, the rounded tip of the tool dangerously close to your drenched pussy.

A pleading whine reverberates in your chest. The electric whirring of the vibrator is not enough to soothe the burning between your thighs. If anything, it makes it worse. You need more, you think urgently.

Hoseok moves to the side of the table so that the cameras can get an unobstructed view of your clenching hole. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he made you lie down. From his voice alone, it’s impossible to tell how affected he is. More than once you’d caught yourself wondering… Does he like what he sees? Is he enjoying himself?

A dark streak of satisfaction crosses over you when you notice the hunger in his gaze, his pupils blown so wide his brown eyes look black. Drool pools in your mouth when you spot the sizable tent in his scrubs.

The fact that you’re at the perfect height to suck his dick doesn’t slip by you. He could flip you over onto your back, your head hanging off the table, and use your mouth to his heart’s content. You whimper at the thought of him fucking your face, your mouth reduced to a fleshlight for him to get off. You could probably cum like that - his cock buried deep in your throat, his fingers pressed against the side of your neck to you struggle around his length, while his other hand reaches down to grab at your breast, using it as an anchor to fuck into you harder.

“Shit, you’re really making a mess of my work table.”

Hoseok’s gaze is trained between your legs. He wets his lips and adjusts his hold on the vibrator. The sudden movement changes the angle, positioning the tool right over your dripping entrance, closer than ever to your swollen clit. The vibrations suddenly feel louder and stronger than before. If this keeps up, you reckon that it won’t be long before you’re hurtling towards the edge of a precipice.

A moan slips past your parted lips, loud and wanton. Embarrassed by the sheer need that colors your voice, you quickly shut your mouth closed, hoping that your desperation goes by unnoticed.

Hoseok chuckles, the sound sharp and mean. He comments on your obscene behavior, how you’re acting so slutty it’s a wonder you’d kept this side of you locked away for this long without people suspecting your love for cock. Every word infiltrates your mind, leaves no corners untainted, until all you can think and breathe and smell is him.

“Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of sluts parade in here and pay for my time,” he says, his dulcet tone making the degradation sweeter. You hang onto each and every word, letting yourself fall deeper into a haze of arousal and submission. “But it’s been a while since someone like you showed up. Just look at this… Your little fuck-hole can’t even take a bit of teasing without getting me dirty.”

The buzzing between your thighs switches back and forth between strong pulses and rapid, little vibrations. You keen, shaking from head to toe in pleasure. Your thighs are wet, sticky with your juices, and your clit is hard and aching for attention.

You don’t even want to know what state your sopping pussy is in. Every time your body jerks and trembles, you feel the pool of arousal that’s gathered underneath you. It’s - embarrassing. That you’re this soaked and close to cumming when he hasn’t even touched your clit or fucked you with his cock.  

In the midst of your pleasure-induced haze, your eyes meet his. The lines of his face are drawn into a smug expression, his gaze smoldering. Embers of arousal light up his dark eyes, and you can only stare back at him, clit throbbing, as he ups the intensity of the vibrations.

“Fuck! Oh God, oh I’m-” Your legs thrash, hips lifting off the table in an effort to escape the shocks of pleasure zapping throughout your body. Mercifully - or not, depending on how you looked at it - Hoseok brought the vibrations down a few settings, until the whirring had quieted down to a low thrum.

“Feeling good, huh?” The grin he sends your way is positively wicked. “I think you’re ready to take more.”

More? you think weakly. Any more and you’ll explode, like popcorn kernels in a microwave.

For a second you think he’ll bring the vibrator up to your clit. Maybe even slide the long, phallic-shaped vibrator inside your pussy so that it’ll stretch you out like he’d promised. What you don’t expect is for him to bring it down to your other hole, the powerful vibrations rattling you to the core.

Your surprised gasp is so loud, not even the buzzing of the toy drowns it out. Hoseok places his available hand on your left hip and pins you to the table, the gentle weight keeping you steady.

“That’s right,” he soothes, voice smooth like silk. It sounds patronizing, almost like he’s calming down a dog startled by thunder or explaining right from wrong to a small child.

“Um.” You let trepidation inch its way into your voice. “You - what are you doing? That’s not - that’s dirty.”

“What is?”

“My,” you pause, humiliation coiling tightly around your spine. Hoseok presses the toy harder around your rim, its coat of arousal making the tip slide over your sensitive skin. You’re tempted not to answer but you know Hoseok wants you to voice the dirty words. “My asshole. It’s - dirty. Please - I… I don’t think you should touch it. It’s not right.”

You mumble the end of your sentence like you’re embarrassed to say such a scandalous thing out loud.

Hoseok laughs, sounding both mocking and endeared. “Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m going to loosen up all your holes. Because that’s what you’ve always wanted deep down, isn’t it? To service cock. Even if it means letting me play with this dirty hole of yours.”

The vibrations intensify with the click of a button. Your whole body spasms, limbs flailing pathetically as the sensations run down your back all the way to the tip of your toes.

You bite down a whimper. How does he know? How can he tell? All you want right now is a nice, hard cock buried inside of you - and at this point you don’t care which orifice he sticks in it. You’re just so - empty. So empty it physically aches.

Hoseok dials down the intensity of the vibrator and with his free hand, squeezes a copious amount of oil onto the toy, slicking it up.

Surprisingly he doesn’t bother prepping you with his fingers before easing the toy into your back entrance. From your position, you can’t tell if Director Ryu signaled to hurry things along or if his own impatience played a part. Either way, your sharp intake of breath is genuine.

You try your best to relax your muscles but the toy is thicker than expected, its sides bumpy and ribbed. Even though you’d stretched yourself out beforehand with a sizable dildo, the girth of the toy still makes your breath hitch. Your bottom lip hurts as you scrape your teeth over it.

“Relax for me. That’s it.” Hoseok whispers soft words of encouragement. “You’re doing such a good job.”

Finally, after what seems like light years, the toy is fully inserted, only the base of it peeking out from between your parted cheeks. You feel full, deliciously so. It’s only now with the weight of the toy inside of you that you realize how much you’d missed being stuffed to the brim.

“There you go.” Hoseok smacks your right ass cheek hard enough for the sting to go straight to your clit. “How does that feel?”

“Full.” You smack your lips together. Eloquence is not your strongest suit in the present moment and your lack of coherency only humiliates you further. It’s like he’s rendered you cock-dumb. Reduced you to a lust-driven creature that only has dick on the brain. “I feel good.”

“Of course you’d enjoy that.” The cockiness in his voice is undeniable, like he’s drunk off the power he has over you. “Needy sluts like you only care about getting filled up, huh?”

It sounds like a rhetorical question but you answer it anyway, just in case he wanted an answer.

“Yes! I’m a needy slut. Please - could you…?” You wriggle your hips, trying to entice him into action. The rocking motion jostles the toy nestled inside of you, causing you to choke out a moan. “Hng! Use my pussy this time, please?”

Hoseok clucks his tongue and slaps your ass again to keep you still. It moves the lodged vibrator, knocking it against a spot inside of you that makes you gush. Your pussy clenches up in an imitation of an orgasm - but you know from experience that you haven’t cum just yet.

Fuck. You’re so fucked and he hasn’t even given you his cock.

Your head thumps down against the table as you take in deep, steadying breaths. You can’t think straight; every thought seems clouded by a dense smog of lust. Your body feels like a live wire, all your nerve endings crackling with electricity. How much more can you endure before you shatter beyond repair?

Hoseok takes pity on you. “The vibrating massage should have helped your muscles relax. Your tight cunt should be able to fit this in by now.”

He slides another silicone toy into your pussy, this one wider and longer than the first. Your hands grapple for purchase as your body accommodates both toys, one in each hole. You’re so wet that there’s no resistance despite its impressive size and you suck in a breath as Hoseok keeps pushing it in, inch by interminable inch.

If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to how stretched you feel now. The wall separating the two toys is stretched thin and when you tense your abdomen, you can feel both of them nudge against one another. Your stomach feels - bloated. As if there’s a bulge where the toys are nestled deep inside of you.

It’s quite frankly obscene.

You’ve never felt more turned on.

“Whoa.” He grips both of your legs and widens them even further, displaying your stuffed holes for the cameras. “Your hungry cunt ate up my biggest dildo like it was nothing.”

The fact that he admitted it was a dildo - and not some vibrating tool - just adds to your mortification.

“Okay. Two holes down, one to go.”

He releases his hold on your legs and raises a brow at you. The smirk is back on his face and that, paired with the ravenous look in his eyes, makes you want to run and hide. He looks like he’s two seconds away from devouring you whole for dinner. “Why don’t you turn around for me? It wouldn’t be a full body massage if I didn’t rub down the other side, right?”

His chuckle spurs you into action. It’s not that you’re not embarrassed by the idea of baring yourself completely for him like some sort of cult offering, but the need to get dicked down trumps all.

Your mind feels fuzzy and your body sluggish. There’s a fire inside of you that not even double penetration has managed to extinguish and it roars to life as you manœuvre into the position he’s ordered you to get into. The toys jostle inside of you, reminding you of the depraved lengths you’d go to because you’re starving for cock.

He’s right about you, you think as you settle onto your back. You’re a needy slut. All you want is for your holes to be filled. And when they’re empty, your body aches with the need to fill them back up again. Toys will do but they’re a poor substitute for what you really want.

Thankfully, Hoseok’s own patience is running out. You’ve barely gotten into a comfortable position when he’s fishing out his cock from his scrubs, not even bothering to remove his clothes.

Drool pools into your mouth at the sight. He’s just as long as you remembered him to be. Not too thick or veiny, but prettily flushed and glistening with translucent precum. How long has he been hard? The erection looks painful. Distantly, you’re comforted by the knowledge that you haven’t been the only one suffering from this prolonged foreplay. God is fair, you rejoice internally. 

Your mouth opens of its own accord and your tongue lolls out, hungry.

Hoseok doesn’t comment on your pathetic state -  a testament to how worked up he probably is. He guides his cock into your waiting mouth with barely repressed urgency.

His cock is heavy on your tongue, the perfect weight. He pushes in until he can’t go any further, the position you’re in giving him better access to your throat. You fucking love it.

When you swallow around his length, he hisses between his teeth. “Shit.”

He gives you little time to adjust. As soon as he’s certain you can take it, he starts to thrust his hips. His cock drags across the rough surface of your tongue as it’s pushed and pulled out of your mouth at a rapid pace. Each thrust of his hips makes you gag, drool running down the sides of your face, and the obscene sounds of your choking echo in your ears.

The rough treatment should revolt you, make you squirm or shy away, but you’ve never felt more alive. Your mind feels pleasantly blank - like your sole purpose in life is to be a glorified cum bucket, a receptacle for his cock and cum. Even when he buries himself all the way to the hilt, so far down your throat it feels like he’s reached your stomach, you’re eager for more. Logically speaking you don’t even know if you can handle more, don’t have the mental faculty to figure out if more is physically possible, but your body knows that it’ll never be sated, not fully, not until he cums inside you.

“Greedy girl,” he rasps between heavy breaths. “Look at you… I’ve plugged up three of your holes but you’re still gagging for it, aren’t you? Filthy slut.”

His words are meant to degrade and humiliate you. Instead of disgust, you can hear the admiration ring in his voice. His awe satisfies you and you hollow your cheeks, suctioning around his girth just to hear him curse under his breath. You live for the way his hips stutter and how his deep breathing is interspersed by the occasional grunt or moan. It feels good to know that you’re bringing him pleasure, that your hole is satisfactory.

Hoseok reaches over your body and grabs something from the discarded cardboard box you can’t see. You soon find out what it is though - the oil is drizzled over your torso and chest, liquid spilling down the sides of your body. He throws the bottle to the side, more interested in spreading the lubricant over your tits until they’re slick and shiny.

It soon becomes clear that he’s abandoned his earlier massage techniques in favor of a more rushed treatment. Gone is the slow build-up. He rubs your breasts, grabbing and squeezing them like stress balls, and pinches your hard nipples tightly between his fingers, pulling them out until your back arches.

The next time he slams his erect length into your mouth, your breasts bounce from the force of the thrust. Hoseok’s eyes remain transfixed on the lewd way your breasts jiggle; because he keeps your nipples clamped tightly between his fingers, your tits have no other choice but to swing around every time he rocks his hips back and forth.

Every time you gag and choke on his cock, tears prickling your eyes, you feel the fire between your legs grow stronger. Shame and arousal course through you, your head dizzy with lust. You can’t move, can’t scream, all of your moans of pleasure muffled by the cock buried in your throat.

He laughs derisively, pulling out after a particularly hard thrust. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock and your eyes zero in on it, finding it impossible to look away.

“You slut.”

He makes a disapproving noise low in his throat before slapping you across the face with his cock.

It doesn’t hurt anywhere as much as a real slap but it’s so unexpected you gasp, your jaw throbbing in pain. The imprint of his cock is wet and dirty against your cheek. He keeps his cock hanging a few centimeters above your face. It taunts you, beckons you closer. The seam of your mouth stays wide open, your appetite evidently knowing no limits.  

“Heh. You’re really something… Never seen a whore so cock-hungry in my life. And trust me when I say I’ve seen plenty.” He sneers, walking away.

For a long second, you fear he’s gone and left you high and dry and that the scene will end like that. Except - no. He’s positioned himself at the other side of the massage table. You shudder as you realize that can only mean one thing : he’s going to grant you the fucking your body craves. 

Hoseok’s lips twitch into a knowing half-smile. He grips his stiff cock in one hand, the length of it soaked with your spit and precum.

You gulp, suddenly intimidated. Perhaps it’s the angle, but he looks taller than you remember him to be, bigger, his shoulders slightly broader. His cock looks more imposing, too. Despite just having choked on it, it’s long; his hand sits loosely at the base of his cock, leaving a few good inches poking out of his fist. Your mouth goes dry, your insatiable hunger reawakened. 

The impatience marring your features is probably disgustingly obvious because Hoseok makes another comment about how desperate and pathetic you look once you’re deprived of cock.

Using his left hand, he slowly removes the toy from your ass. The slide is painful because you’re clenching so hard down on it, unwilling for your hole to become empty once again.

A whimper escapes your parted lips. Hoseok laughs at the betrayed look that crosses your face at the loss of the thick dildo.

“So fuckin’ greedy.” He slaps your entrance with his cock, his grin wolfish as you wail in reply. “Stay still if you want my cock.”

Immediately you freeze, taking his words to heart. Deep down, you know that he won’t be that cruel but you’re so exhausted from the never-ending teasing, that you’re not willing to take any chances.

Hoseok holds up one of your legs and pushes it over his shoulder.

“Good girl.” He breaches your ass, both of you moaning as his cock works its way inside of you. It’s a tight fit; you can feel his cock bump into the vibrating dildo in your pussy, the feeling overwhelming you. He grunts, fingertips bruising your skin as he hold back from cumming too quickly. 

His hips work up a steady rhythm, the both of you already so close to finishing. You know that a lesser man would have cum ages ago, but Hoseok troops on, eyebrows creased in concentration. He looks - hot. Ridiculously hot, even in that dumb fake masseuse uniform.

His once perfectly combed hair is now disheveled, strands of hair falling over his eyes and dripping brow. There’s something about all of it - the wild glint in his eyes, the rough way he’s fucking you, the domineering aura that he exudes - that makes you absolutely lose it.

You clench up on his cock without warning, your insides squeezing around him even more tightly because of the toy still lodged in your dripping cunt. The orgasm rips through you, fast and hard, leaving your thighs soaking. Hoseok fucks you through it, his cock relentless, drawing your pleasure out until your body goes limp. 

It’s the kind of orgasm that on a normal day you could only hope to achieve.

Except Hoseok doesn’t stop to let you rest or take a breather. He brings your other leg over his shoulder, testing the limits of your flexibility, and uses the new angle to plow into you with renewed force.

“Ah - ah fuck wait!” You cry out, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations traveling through your body. “Oh my God, oh shit! You’re so fucking deep, ah!”

Hoseok chooses that moment to turn on the vibrating dildo. He doesn’t even start at the lowest setting, sets it straight to one of the higher level ones, and your whole body jumps. Both of you moan as the toy comes to life. The vibrations rattle your insides - and that, coupled with the fat cock that’s splitting you open relentlessly, threaten to rearrange your insides.

Arousal builds again quickly inside of you, pulsing steadily alongside your heartbeat.

You feel so fucking full you think it’s possible you’ll burst. Before, when you had both toys buried inside of you, the stretch and the fullness had been pleasant. You had even been able to tune it out for the most part once you’d got used to it.

But with the way Hoseok is now fucking into you with reckless abandon, it’s impossible not to be reminded of how stuffed your holes are. Every thrust of his cock in your ass bumps against the vibrator, pushing it harder against your bundle of nerves. 

“I knew the minute I saw you,” he growls, his pace punishing. “No bra, pussy ripe for the picking. Whores like you could never be satisfied with the beginner massage. No, I knew exactly what you needed.”

He adjusts his grip on your ankles and the change in angle keeps the vibrator pressed directly the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh God, there there! Please, keep going. It’s so good. Fuck me!” You chant, out of your mind with pleasure.Your words are raw, unrefined, and in any other circumstance, you’d laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he hisses between grunts of pleasure. “Why don’t you go ahead and cum for me. Make yourself useful and tighten up this hole of yours so I can feel good.”

He reaches down between your legs and fiddles with the switch.

You scream. Your eyes roll back and your entire body locks up. Intense pleasure that you’ve never experienced before thunders through your body. If your previous orgasm was like a building wave crashing to the shore at long last, this one is a fucking tornado determined to rip you to pieces.

Maybe you might’ve passed out. You don’t know. But when you regain consciousness, Hoseok’s cock is pulsing jet after jet of hot cum inside of your pussy. You feel it spurt inside of you, coating your already slick walls with his essence. 

He pulls out quickly so that the camera can zoom in on the way the cum oozes out of you in thick globs. Instinctively you clench your walls to keep more from leaking out, but it only pushes more of the mess out, painting your inner thighs white.

When you glance up at him you notice his shirt is soaked. There’s a huge dark spot that starts from his chest to his pants. He doesn’t seem to mind the stain.

“You came so hard you passed out,” he informs you while tucking his spent cock back inside his scrubs. “I came inside of you while you were out of it but I figured you wouldn’t mind. That’s what you came here for, right?”

The smile he shoots your way looks more like a smirk. You bite your lip. He must’ve taken out the dildo - or it might’ve gotten pushed out during your orgasm, you don’t know - and you feel your holes gape a little after being stretched and used for so long. You’re tempted to snap your legs shut but you know the cameras need to record your debauchery.

“I’ll let you change. You can meet me out front to schedule your next appointment. Hm let’s see… Considering how well you reacted during this session I think we’ll have to take more, hm, drastic measures next time. I’m curious to see how far your greedy cunt is able to stretch with enough incentive. I’m positive that with you anything is possible. We’ll try fitting two cocks insides for starters and maybe - ah. I’m getting carried away.” He chuckles. “Anyways, meet me at the counter in ten minutes and we can go over the details then.”

“I…” You wet your lips. “I’d like that.”

A silence ensues and for a second you think your acting was bad or you’d said the wrong thing.

“CUT! And that, my friends, is what you call art!” yells Director Ryu, clapping his hands like a seal.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and sit up despite your muscles protesting loudly. God, your ass feels sore. Hoseok had really done a number on you.

“Hey, are you all good?” He asks, drawing closer to you in concern. He must have seen your grimace.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. It’s just - it was kind of intense. In a good way! I’ll probably be sore later but that’s because I’m not used to these kind of scenes yet.”

“You were really hot. I couldn’t tell this was your first anal scene at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Really.” Hoseok sighs dreamily. “I think I saw Jesus when I came.”

“What?” You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter. “It was a good nut, I take it?”

“The best.” He looks over at you, dimples on his cheek as he returns your smile. “I blacked out for a second and went to heaven.”

You bask in the afterglow for a few minutes longer than you usually would. Hoseok makes no move to leave either, even if logic dictates that you’re both better off washing up instead of letting the mixture of sweat, cum, and oil dry on your skin. You know from experience that it’s hard as fuck to clean up once it hardens - not to mention it stinks.

“Babe!”

You’re roused from your peaceful state of mind as your boyfriend approaches. He’s smiling but one side of his mouth looks stiff. He hands you a towel, eyes trailing down your figure, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. You hurriedly wrap the fluffy material around you, eager to hide the cum still dripping out of your swollen cunt and the red marks littered over your body from Hoseok’s rough treatment.

It’s not - you’re not ashamed. You never are. It’s just - you don’t want to hurt Jimin. Even if it does come with the job, it can’t be easy for him to see his girlfriend getting fucked by someone else.

“That was so good! You did great. The camera really loves you. I can’t wait to see how the final cut turns out,” Jimin compliments and you preen despite yourself, conditioned to suck up praise. “Are you hungry?”

Just on cue your stomach lets out a grumble.

Jimin’s eyes crease into crescents as he smiles. “I knew it. You’re always famished after a scene. It’s a good thing I booked a reservation at our favorite restaurant, right?”

You nod, thankful yet again that you have such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend. “I’m famished now that you mention it.”

Hoseok observes the exchange silently and his presence makes you embarrassed for some reason. Maybe not embarrassed but - something. You can’t put a name to the emotion.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” You say as you gather to your feet. Jimin is instantly by your side, his hand wrapping around yours tightly. “It was nice working with you again! Thank you for your hard work.”

Hoseok’s lips quirk into a half-smile. He’s still eyeing the both of you in a strange, intense kind of way and the scrutiny makes you fidgety. You try not to make your desire to flee the scene too transparent.

“It’s always a pleasure. I look forward to working with you again.”

The words he utters are tactful and diplomatic - nothing like the carefree familiarity he’d showcased minutes prior. You don’t blame him, given the circumstances.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you turn away to leave. To your relief, Hoseok doesn’t appear dejected or offended. Just - curious, maybe? Pensive? Like he’s in the middle of solving a complicated and intricate puzzle and that puzzle involves you.

The idea scares you. Mostly because you yourself don’t know what he’ll find.

As soon as you’ve rounded the corner, Jimin excuses himself. “I have to finish helping the guys. There’s still some equipment to put away. But we’ll meet out in the back like last time?”

“Sure.”

He kisses your cheek and scampers away.

Seokjin is waiting for you in the next room over. He’s holding a water bottle, your favorite silk robe, and a dark chocolate energy bar. You’re so sweaty that it feels silly to wear the robe but you shrug it on anyway, knowing that Jimin will feel better if you’re not parading around the set naked.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and it’s only then that you realize the extent of how fucking hungry you are. Non-stop sex sure is tiring, you note while ripping open the energy bar with your teeth. Seokjin calls you a savage under his breath but those types of comments are so commonplace that it’s easy to tune him out.

“God, I could kiss you right now,” you say after swallowing down a mouthful of granola. After eating spinach exclusively for the past three days, the sweetness on your tongue tastes like a slice of heaven.

“Not with that mouth, you won’t.” Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I know where it’s been.”

Still high from your mind-shattering orgasm, you giggle and pretend to kiss him just to watch him squirm. It’s not until much later, after you’d washed up as best you could with the help of baby wipes, that you check your phone. You respond to a text or two before finally checking your social media page out of habit more so than anything else.

.

(2) new notifications

JHOPE94 has followed you!

JHOPE94 has mentioned you in their story.

.

It’s the same account Hoseok had shown you earlier in the day. You follow him without much thought, grinning to yourself when you read his bio “hope on streets and in the sheets ;)”, and click on his Instagram story.

You’re surprised to learn he’s one of those people who uploads multiple pictures about just about anything - his Starbucks’ coffee cup with JAY written in black sharpie, several mirror selfies, a snapshot of his shoes, pictures of the film crew setting up the scene. You click through the pictures, a little flummoxed by the random collage, and pause when you get to the picture you’d been tagged in.

It’s you. Squinting, you realize that he must have taken the candid picture in passing. You’re sitting in the hair and makeup chair, the makeup artist applying a layer of gloss on your lips. The row of lights that border all around the vanity mirror give your figure a halo spotlight effect.

JHOPE94 : not in heaven but i saw an angel today :))

.

.

[hb-writes]

Tidy Sums

Summary: Sophie Mason (OC) was John Shelby’s first friend and his first kiss. They’d never been in love, not in the way he’d been in love with Martha. Their relationship wasn’t quite so tidy, but that had never stopped them from loving one another in their own way and finding their own happiness in the mayhem. 

Characters: John Shelby and Sophie (OC)

Warnings: canon-content, mention of a sexual relationship, kissing/ touching.

--

If Sophie was being honest, and honest was something she usually was, the problem was quite simple. 

The numbers no longer made sense. 

They hadn't for some time now, the figures blurring together with the lines meant to keep each transaction separate, the columns and neat symbols representing the company's wins and losses jumbled in her mind although the tidy sums were somehow still accumulating on the bottom of every page. 

Sophie had been working with the betting shop's books for years now, more familiar with the content of the ledgers than she was with any other book she’d come across—the bible or the latest popular novel she’d taken out from the central library. She supposed the only other pages she knew as well as the ledgers were those of the children’s book John’s kids begged after anytime she sat for them, refusing sleep until they heard a tale from the old, worn tome that was so well-loved it was missing the cover page. Sophie could probably recite the story from memory, but she had no ideas about its proper title, not with the kids referring to it exclusively as “daddy’s story.”

Sophie had worked for the Shelby family in a somewhat official capacity since leaving school almost a decade earlier, but she had had her nose in their books for longer than that, ever since Polly realized the girl had a penchant for numbers. And it was Sophie who encouraged John to get involved with this side of the business when they were only fourteen, convincing him easily enough that the pair of them could get up to the same amount of fun in the betting shop as they got up to out on the lane. It was Sophie who had known, despite what his school records had to say on the matter, that John Shelby was good with numbers. 

But numbers were cleaner, less bloody, less exciting, and certainly more mentally taxing than playing at peaky boy, or at least mentally taxing in a different way. They had to generate their own sources of amusement within the walls of the betting shop. She and John had always been good at sourcing their own amusement though.

Sophie sat back from the books, taking a moment to rub her eyes with the heels of her palms. It was late. Scudboat and the twins had already gone, and John had locked her in when he went home to check on his lot, saying he’d be back to let her out and lock up once he got his kids down for the night. 

That was their routine these days. She’d spend an extra couple of hours each night with the books while John stole an extra couple of hours with his kids before putting them down for bed and coming back to number six to wrap things up for the night.

She startled a bit when John’s hands found her arms, his rough palms pinching and rubbing against the delicate fabric of her shirt. She settled as the warmth of his hands came through her thin sleeves and sunk into her skin, finally leaning her head back to rest against his stomach, tilting her eyes up to him briefly as the left side of her mouth pulled up. 

“Devils went down early tonight,” she said. 

He’d been gone for less than an hour. It was usually twice that before he made his way back and his return was usually accompanied with some sort of complaint about the kids’ behavior, about their refusal to go to sleep or eat the dinner he made them, something Sophie was always quick to remind him was simple coded behavior for them wanting more time with their father and being uncertain of a better way to go about it.

“Finn’s on devil duty for the night.” John shrugged. “Says he’s saving up for something, so he’s eager for the pocket money.”

Sophie hummed, tilting her head back down to the books as she picked up her pen once more. “A little devil put on devil duty,” she mused. “I’m sure that will turn out well.”

“I think you’ll find most of us Shelbys are devils,” John said.

“I don’t...” she started, pausing both her hand and her mouth as John’s fingers traveled up her arm, fingertips slipping across the smooth skin of her exposed collarbone and then her neck as he pushed her hair aside. 

She tried again. “I don’t intend...”

Sophie gulped, stilling for a moment as John’s lips found her neck. A deep breath came from her in a nearly involuntary capacity and her shoulders relaxed back. She was overcome by his slow focus, overcome by the simple way John could tease her. Despite his leisurely wandering, they both knew he was venturing towards the one spot he knew could have her entirely undone, have her forgetting her words and how to properly breathe, obliterating from memory the notion of responsibility and the company books entirely. 

“Don’t intend to what?” John mumbled the words against her skin as she tilted her head, exposing her neck as his fingers wound in her hair. 

“Fuck,” she breathed as his lips found her earlobe, his warm breath melting any remaining resolve as her back arched away from the chair. 

“No, John, stop.” 

John released her from his lips, straightening his back, and turning her face to his with the hand still entwined in her hair, the guidance gentle yet resolute. 

“You really want me to stop?” 

Her skin burned hot and her breaths had started to come a bit quicker, more shallow and less gratifying in meeting her need for air, her need for calm and control and the mysterious power she knew a steady cadence of breaths could hold. Sophie forced herself to deepen her inhale and pause before the exhale, forced herself to calm her racing heart and quell the more instinctual desire stirring inside of her, willing her mind and body to focus...on anything other than John.

“I want,” she started after a barely sufficient cycle of inhales and exhales, reaching up to wrap her hand around John’s forearm, “for you to let me finish these ledgers so your aunt doesn’t issue me a death warrant.” 

John sighed and rolled his eyes at the protest but removed his hand from her hair at the gentle nudge. 

“Or a boot. Or a smack upside the head,” Sophie continued, pulling a hair comb from her desk drawer and initiating some attempt at getting the hair out of her face, “or whatever retribution it is she’s offering us these days.”

“Pol won’t come after you like that,” John said.

“She’s done it before.”

“That woman hit you once, almost fifteen years ago, and we both deserved it that day. Scared the shit out of her playing in the Cut like that.” John rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment, thinking on the whiskey and cigars tucked away in his office before deciding to forgo both vices for now. “Anyway, we’re not kids anymore.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure Aunt Polly smacked you upside the head just last week.”

“Well, that’s me, not you,” he said. “She’s got a soft spot for you.”

“All the more reason not to chance it, then. One go around with her was more than enough for me,” she answered, finally succeeding at securing the bulk of her hair up, the loose bits falling back into her face just a few seconds after she tucked them away. 

John laughed as he moved to sit against the desk, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, what if—”

“No, John. No what-ifs…What-ifs and…” Sophie glanced up at him, regretting it even before she met his mischievous eyes, lamenting the decision as soon as she caught sight of his lips, swollen and reddened from his previous endeavors. “What-ifs and that fucking smirk are what made me fall behind to begin with.”  

John chuckled. “You’re behind because you like doing me more than you like doing the books.”

She sat back in her chair, arms folding across her chest as she looked at John, his body shaking slightly with the laughter he only half-heartedly tried to contain. “You think so?”

“Seems like it. You were very diligent back when you were stepping out with that dim bloke. The one with the sweaty hands?” 

Sophie leaned forward just an inch and John held up a hand. “Now, don’t you go smacking me, too. You can’t dispute it because you told me yourself.” 

“This has nothing to do with Phillip’s sweaty hands,” she said, smirking back at John. “Maybe I’m behind because my boss is a hard ass who has put too much on my plate and not enough on theirs?”

John nodded like he was considering her words. “You know, I wouldn’t let Aunt Pol hear you speaking ill of her like that if I was you.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I'm talking about you and you know it. I’m here late every night and you leave early every day to go home to those kids.”

John shrugged. “If you don’t want to be here every night with the books, you’re more than welcome to go mother my lot and make us dinner.”

She frowned as he said it, sighing as his playful demeanor didn’t quite stick, the note of his words far too hopeful and desperate and longing. 

“I don’t want to be a mother, John,” she said. “And you know I’m a shit cook.”

Sophie had made that much clear to him over the last year, both the bit about the mothering and the bit about the cooking. She was good with the kids, and would gladly watch them for a few hours or so when he needed, but she had no desire to raise a hoard of children, or even one child. Not someone else’s, and not one of her own either. She had other aspirations and they didn’t involve being tied to a home and a child, or even to a man. 

“I’m perfectly content being an almost auntie. I’m good with children so long as they go back to their parents when all is said and done.” 

“And the cooking?”

“You really want me cooking for you?”

“No, you’re right. You’re rubbish in a kitchen,” he said before picking up the tube of lipstick set on her desk. “You’re their favorite auntie though,” John continued, fidgeting with the tube as he spoke. The thing went unused nearly every day now that she was working late, passing the bulk of her evenings at the shop with John instead of out at a pub or dance hall, but the thing still sat on her desk just in case, a gentle reminder of the types of nights she used to have. 

“They’re always fucking asking after you,” he said.

Sophie pulled her eyes away from his hands to observe his face. “Well, they take after their father then because you can’t seem to get enough of me either.”

Sophie pushed some strands of hair from her face, only causing more to come loose from the hair comb. She pulled the whole thing out and began twisting her tresses up again as she continued speaking. “Constantly bothering me… keeping me from my work… never ending nonsense and devilment.” 

John snorted and pushed himself off the desk, taking the hair from her hands. 

“What are you doing?” 

Sophie turned towards him and John planted his hands on her shoulders, twisting her so she faced away from him once again.

“Fixing your hair so you can focus on your work, so do us both a favor and sit still,” he said, combing his fingers through her hair to release the knots, the nails of his fingers grazing her scalp as he swept the hair back from her face. 

“That’s not going to help me focus on my work,” she muttered as he began weaving her hair, the ritual a calming one, nostalgic even, reminding her of her youth, reminding her of when she had someone to plait her hair. Sophie hadn’t worn a braid in years. She was skilled at braiding other people’s hair, but she had never learned how to manage her own.

“No?” John asked. “You’ve got two free hands and two working eyes while I’m doing this. No reason you can’t be adding and subtracting right now.” 

She shook her head and John tugged the strands between his fingers tight, eliciting a howl as she reached her hand back. 

“What the hell?”

“Sit still,” John said, smiling into the words as he continued with his work.

“Don’t pull my fucking hair.”

He pulled the strands tight once again, laughter spilling from his lips before she even had a chance to react.

“I told you to sit still. You’re worse than Katie. Never have to tug on her braid more than once to get her to settle.”

Sophie huffed but followed his directive, knowing there was less than a minute left of John’s undertaking, and knowing he would have no qualms about tugging her hair again.  

“Remember how we said we’d get married if we both weren’t married by the time one of us turned twenty-five?”

A part of Sophie wanted to look at him, wanted to turn her head and meet his eye, to see what kind of expression graced his face while he brought up the pact from almost fifteen years ago, a silly agreement made between two kids who knew absolutely nothing of life, but John had told her to sit still, so while she felt his hands still winding in her hair, she did just that. 

“You’re turning twenty-five next month,” he said, finally tying off the braid. John stepped to the side, resuming his seat on her desk.

“You’re very good at that,” she commented.

“Good at what?”

She pulled the braid over her shoulder, admiring its neatness. “The braid. You’ve gotten good. You used to be quite abysmal with it.”

“You taught me well, I guess.” John rolled his eyes. “You had more patience with me than Martha did.”

“Well, could you really blame her? You were a horrible student, all fumbling hands and that fucking cheeky mouth running the whole time for no good reason.”

John smiled. “And you’ve gotten quite good at that,” he said.

“Good at what?” she asked.

“Changing the fucking subject.”

She sighed as she dropped the braid and looked at him. “We’re not getting married, John. Not because of some silly pact and not because your kids need a mother.” 

“What if it’s because we like each other?” he asked, tugging her up to stand between his legs. “What if it’s because we love each other, eh?” 

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked away, fighting only a bit when his hand caught her chin and tilted it towards his face. 

“You do love me, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” she said, “but not like you’re asking. And you don’t love me like that either.” 

“Love is love.”

She shook her head. “We love like friends.”

“Friends love like this?” John glanced down and Sophie’s eyes followed his gaze to see how their bodies were wrapped up together. Her hand had settled on his thigh, his on her hip, with both of their fingers idly caressing clothing seams while they were each thinking of caressing the skin beneath.

“Attraction and romantic love are different things, John.”

Sophie was always saying it, and he liked to argue with her even though he knew it was at least a bit true. John knew they were friends who happened to be physically attracted to one another, and maybe, if he’d never fallen in love with Martha, or maybe if he’d never had kids, or if Sophie had not gotten so close with Martha in the years he’d been away, things could be different, but as it was, Sophie was right and John knew it. Because he didn’t feel about her the same way he’d felt about Martha and she didn’t feel that way about him either.

Their relationship was a combination of friendly care and sexual attraction and the type of love that came from knowing someone for as long as it was possible to know another person who wasn’t truly family, but there wasn’t a true bit of romantic desire between them. 

“And I don’t want to be what you need your woman to be. You and the kids deserve someone who wants that life.”

“And what happens when I find someone who wants that life?”

“What always happens,” she said with a shrug, “we stop this and I catch up on the books.” 

“Is that what you want?”

Sophie was telling the truth, but she hesitated anyway. This was the longest stretch they’d done this, the longest stretch during which she’d not bothered with dates, and if nothing else, it was habit now, their ritual. It was a comfort. But if John found someone he wanted to settle down with, Sophie knew they’d put a stop to things, same as they’d done all those years ago when he fell in love with Martha and same as they’d done earlier this year when she’d decided to go on a few dates with Harvey Johnson or a few months later when she’d agreed to see Phillip Miller a few times.

It hadn’t bothered Sophie when he was with Martha, and though John had teased her about the men she’d chosen to step out with over the last year, he hadn’t seemed too bothered by it either, more concerned with expressing what he’d do to the men if she came out of it hurt. Sophie knew from experience they could simply stop. 

Stop the flirting. 

Stop the kissing and the sex and the nonsensical talk of being anything more than friends. 

They could stop with the rest of it and still be friends.

John wrapped his hand around Sophie’s braid, giving it a small tug to pull her attention back to him.

“Quit pulling my fucking hair.”

“It’s the only thing that ever makes you listen,” he said, tightening his hold a bit. “And I know you like it.” 

“And the only thing that ever makes you listen—” 

John caught her hand before she could reach high enough to smack him upside the head. “I’m listening. Answer the question.” 

“I already told you what I want,” she said, nodding towards the open ledger beside him. “To spare myself a lecture, hell, probably two lectures if Polly decides to let Tom know we’re behind, too. Your brother’s in a right fucking mood lately.” 

“Is that what you want? The end of this?” John asked, glazing over her chastising him about pulling her hair and her concerns about lectures and the hand she’d raised to smack him upside the head. 

Sophie shrugged, pulling her hand loose from his hold and absently rubbing at her wrist as she leaned against his leg. 

“C’mon Soph, I’m being serious.”

She pushed her finger into the corner of John’s frowning mouth, forcing a half smile. “John Shelby doesn’t do serious.” 

John moved her hand away from his face. “I’m doing serious right now.”

“Fine, John. I want to be happy. And I want you and the kids to be happy,” she said, turning towards him straight on and resting both hands on his thighs. “And someday that may mean you have someone to go home to, and those babies won’t be looked after by another baby, but for now, that means we do this whenever we can.

“I have to finish this work first though.” 

Sophie kissed him on the cheek then, squeezing his thighs once before she moved to sit back down, but John caught her at the elbow, holding her there in front of him. 

“What about you?”

She tried to pull out of his grasp, but John only gripped tighter and drew her closer. 

Sophie rolled her eyes. “What about me?”

“I didn’t hear anything about getting you your happiness.” 

“I’m plenty happy, John,” she said. 

He raised an eyebrow.

“You want the truth?”

John nodded, his hands slipping down her arms to hold her hands. She sighed, looking down at their hands entwined there together. 

The truth was Sophie was happy. The truth was she had always been happy with what they were and what they weren’t, content with the sum of things though it was by no means tidy like the lines of the ledger books they spent their days looking over.

“The truth is I think if you don’t let me finish these books I might not know happiness ever again,” she said, slipping her hands from his and stepping out from between his legs.

John pulled her back to him before she could slip into the chair though, reaching his arms around her body and wrapping his legs around hers, trapping her against him. “Well, if that’s the case, we’d better make sure you get your fill of happiness now then, eh?”

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 12 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.2 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Honeymoon

Keanu silently enters the bedroom, his eyes immediately finding her, on the balcony. With her hands on the glass railing, her attention is on the beach outside. He struggled a lot to rent this house, but he wanted the best for her. It's beautiful, slightly isolated for privacy, and if they walk out the back door, they'll be with their feet on the sand.

He doesn't want to think much about what comes after this trip. He only prays that what's left of these two weeks will go by slowly, so he'll have more time with her before... Before whatever comes next. (Y/N) doesn't know the reason for all his schedules, the reason behind all these places he's taking her. She lived her childhood here, in a neighborhood half an hour from this house. Keanu had to ask Laura for help, to know the places to go. Laura doesn't think he should tell her yet, but he can't do this anymore. He can't do this to her.

The wind messes with her hair, and he's happy the weather helped. The sky is clear, in an amazing shade of blue with only a few clouds that make it look like a painting. Taking his phone from his pocket, he snaps a picture of her, and the clicking noise gives away his presence, and (Y/N) turns around, a smile on her lips.

“What are you doing?” She asks, making her way back inside the bedroom, walking over until she's standing before him, head raised to look into his eyes.

“You're so beautiful, I had to take a picture.” A picture he'll keep, to mend his broken heart when this is over.

“Then why do you look so sad?” The question makes him realize he's been letting it show. And that's not supposed to happen.

“I'm not. I'm so happy to be here with you that I can't even put it in words.” It makes her smile grow brighter, and Keanu feels like he could live the rest of his days just looking at her.

“So am I.” She grabs his sides, hands full of the fabric of his shirt. (Y/N) always does that, like she's asking for his attention. As if she didn't have all of it. But he finds it cute, and it never fails to warm up his heart. “Where are we going today?”

“We're staying home. The doctors said to take things slow, remember?” With a hand, he cups her cheek, thumb rubbing her soft skin.

“But it's only been three days and I'm completely fine.”

“I know. But will it be so bad to stay in today? With me?” The words make her giggle, as she tiptoes, beautiful, pink lips chasing his.

“It would be amazing, as are all my days with you.” Bending down, he kisses her, the taste of her lips almost too much for him to deal with. Overwhelming, inebriating. And Keanu is addicted. If only she was his. Truly, completely his, to love and cherish, for the rest of his life...

You move to the bed with Keanu, and you quickly settle down. But you're not in the mood to just lie there, and since he doesn't want to take you out, it's the perfect day to do something fun in the house. “I have an idea.” Smirking, you climb on him, straddling his hips with each arm on the sides of his head. This is always a funny position since Keanu is a lot taller than you. Staring him from above is a nice change.

“Let's hear it.”

“There's a pool here so... We should go for a swim.” Keanu raises his eyebrows, a little surprised since you can't swim at all. But that's not where the whole idea ends. “Naked.”

“What?” The funny expression on his face makes you giggle. “Say that again.”

“Let's swim naked.” Sitting up straight, you shrug your shoulders.

“Sweetheart, you know drones exist right? The chances are small but never zero.” Keanu lightly holds your hips. “But we can go to the pool in normal swimsuits and take a bath in the tub after. And then get naked.”

“Uhm...” Looking away, you fake a thoughtful face. “The whole point is to get naked so why don't we just skip the pool and hit the tub?” Without waiting for an answer, you get off the bed, giving him a look before heading to the bathroom. You can't hold back the smile when you hear him following you.

•••

With you back resting against Keanu's chest, you relax in the warm water, even though the temperature is lowering. You have both your hands on your belly as Keanu places soft kisses on your neck and shoulder. You're still catching your breath, but you'll never tell him you get more tired with time. It's the baby, the doctors said, it's normal to feel a bit more tired than normal as time passes.

“So we have decided on the name.” He says, and you nod. “Sophie or Liam.”

“Sophie or Liam Reeves.” You agree, testing how the names sound. “I can't wait to find out which name we'll be using.”

“Me neither.”

Smiling, you feel a funny sensation. Like a pressure, a movement. Quickly, you place your hand on the right side of your belly, bellow the bellybutton, suddenly worried, and just about to tell Keanu something's wrong when you feel it. A soft, little kick under your hand. “Oh my God.” You mumble, barely able to hear yourself.

“What? What's wrong?”

Without saying anything, you take his hand, placing it on the right spot, hoping, waiting the baby will do it again, apprehension forcing both of you into silence. Then, you feel it, and you turn your head a little to look into his eyes. Keanu looks... Amazed. Blissful.

“Our baby is kicking, Ke.” You whisper, unable to hold back the smile.

“I love you.” He says, eyes set in yours, right before repeating the sentence to your swollen stomach. “And I love you too.”

Turning back around, you lie against him once more, hands above his. “I can't believe it. This amount of happiness is... Unbelievable.”

“You're beautiful, do you know that?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, you chuckle, cheeks heating up. “Why that now?”

“I just need you to know.”

Taking a deep breath, you move, once again straddling his hip, making small ripples on the water. “And you are so unbelievably handsome sometimes I wonder if you're real.” Running a hand through his jaw, you feel his stubble under your fingertips. “I love your beard. And your hair.” As you speak, you distribute kisses through his face. “Your face, your body, your voice. The kindness, gentleness, and honesty.” Keanu suddenly moves underneath you, as if bit by something. “What?”

“Nothing, beautiful. It's nothing.” Smiling, he kisses your lips. “Wanna take a walk on the beach?”

“Mhmm.” You agree, kissing him once again before standing up and leaving the tub, grabbing a towel. You're not anxious this time, eager to cover up. You feel comfortable around Keanu, and even if sometimes you still feel self-conscious, he's always there to reassure you he finds you beautiful. So it's not a problem anymore, to let him see your body. “I'll wear that dress you bought me.” You say, letting your hair down from the loose bun as you dry yourself.

“I'm sure you'll look gorgeous.”

“Maybe.” You mutter, winking at him before leaving the bathroom.

Half an hour later you're seating shotgun as Keanu drives through a cute street with colorful houses. You snap some pictures of the place, wondering why he took this route. Probably he thought you'd like the neighborhood, and he was right. “It's beautiful here.” You tell him, stealing a glance.

“It is.” After the short answer, he goes silent again for some seconds. “Let's stop here.”

“Alright.” He parks the car and you jump out, immediately kicking your shoes off and starting to walk on the sand.

“Do you want an ice cream?” Keanu asks, gesturing at a small store nearby.

“Yup.” Nodding, you smile as he tells you he'll be right back.

Moving closer to the water, a hand holding your sandals and the other keeping the hair off your face, you let the ripples reach your feet. The water is a bit cold, but you enjoy it.

“(Y/N)?” An unfamiliar voice calls, and you immediately turn at the source of the sound. A short, blond-haired guy is smiling at you, a hand protecting his eyes from the sun. “(Y/N), I... I heard about you but I didn't believe it.”

“Uhm... Sorry. Do I know you?”

The question lights up his face with recognition. “Oh, yeah. For a moment I forgot about the accident. I'm Michael. We were friends when we were younger. We went to Elementary school together.”

Your existence is not a mystery anymore. The news channel already showed your face more than once, and some magazines and online blogs talk about you every once in a while. Keanu Reeves' secret wife, with a child on the way. So it's not really a secret anymore. “I have a childhood friend in New York. Do you happen to know her name?” You decide to check since Laura has been your friend since kinder garden.

“Laura Marshal. I remember her.” The man rubs his neck, squinting his eyes. “We dated for like a month.”

“So you're that Michael.” Smiling, you offer your hand and he happily shakes it. “Sorry for not remembering.”

“No, don't even say that. What happened to you sucks. I mean, the accident.” He speaks fast, and you giggle.

“No need to sugar coat it. You can talk openly about the memory loss, I'm alright with it.”

“Yeah. But after I heard about the accident, which was horrible, let's make this clear, I couldn't believe what the news channels were saying about you and Keanu freaking Reeves.” Michael says his name in a lower voice, stepping closer as if telling a secret.

“Well, nobody knew about the marriage because we wanted to keep it private for as long as we could.” That's always the question that follows. People still find it insane how you just came out of nowhere, being Keanu's wife. “But with everything that happened, accident, memory, the baby, it would be quite difficult to keep it in the shadows.”

He makes a funny face, furrowing his eyebrows. “But that's not it, Uhm... Weren't you with Daniel?”

The name doesn't sound too strange, and after some seconds, you remember Lucia saying something about a Daniel... Yeah, she asked if you were considering the name for the baby and if it meant anything to you. “I don't know anything about a Daniel. Was he my friend too?”

“(Y/N), you and Daniel were–” Michael stops talking suddenly, eyes on something behind you. At someone.

Chuckling, you know who he's staring at. Turning around, you smile at Keanu. “Hey, babe. Come meet my friend, Michael.”

“Holy shit.” The guy mutters under his breath.

“I think he might need a selfie.” Shrugging your shoulders, you take the ice cream from his hands and start licking it.

“Hi. It's nice to meet you.” Your husband politely says, shaking Michael's hand. “You want a picture?”

“Please. I love Matrix. It's like my favorite movie. I'm such a big fan.”

Rolling your eyes, you take Michael's phone and snaps a couple of pictures of him and Keanu. The afternoon passes by with you three chatting. Michael is still quite impressed to be seeing Keanu face to face, and it makes you giggle every once in a while. When the night starts to fall, you say goodbye and head back to the house.

The trip does have this honeymoon style. It's just you and Keanu most of the time, even though Michael introduces you to two more people, Amanda and Kyle, who also claim to know you. Your husband eventually said that you grew up in this town, and he wanted you to see it. It does make you a little sad that you don't remember any of it, but Keanu soon makes you forget these thoughts. He's always so kind and loving, you didn't think it was possible to fall further in love with him, but that's exactly what happens.

Somehow you managed to convince your husband on staying one more week. It took some begging and creativity, and of course, some video calls with your doctors, but it worked in the end.

But the day comes when you're packing your things, just about to head off to the airport. You just finished with your baggage and answered a call from Michael, who wanted to say goodbye and ask you to bring Laura next time. You happily agree before hanging up, and that's when you remember the person he mentioned. The same Lucia made a big deal of. Waiting for Keanu to finish his shower, you scroll through your phone, eyes moving to the bathroom door when it opens.

“Hey, Ke.” You mutter, getting up to your feet. “Do you know someone named Daniel?” At the mention of the name, Keanu gets tense. You notice he tries to hide it, but it's crystal clear to you. It just makes everything stranger. “Michael mentioned a Daniel and so did Lucia.”

“Yeah, I know...” He mutters, avoiding your gaze.

“Ke, you're scaring me. Who the hell is this Daniel?”

×

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