#oneshot gone wild | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

httpsserene · 1 year ago

Text

ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.”

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face.

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come.

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it.

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly.

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…��.okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.”

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.”

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

3K notes · View notes

saythenametotheworld · 9 months ago

Text

I Can See You | jjh

Genre: workplace romance ; oneshot Synopsis: After a wild, unforgettable hookup with Jung Jaehyun, you were convinced you'd never see him again. Apparently, you were wrong because why is he strutting into your office as your newest coworker? Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 16k words, song prompt was I Can See You by Taylor Swift. Had a bad writer's block and wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night while I was high on Speak Now TV and fueled with cold coffee.

"So, are you going to Tiff's birthday party? We'll go to that new bar downtown. The one that recently had a big opening."

You shook your head without glancing at your coworker, Jenna. Your eyes were focused on the task flashing on your computer screen. "I have plans with my sister."

"I see. That's too bad. You haven't gone out with us in a long time. I thought I'd be able to convince you this time."

You gave her a quick glance and an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I've been busy."

Jenna narrowed her eyes at you. "Are you sure you didn't get a boyfriend? You used to be the life of the party. Now you rarely ever show up. I mean, even though your sister has moved in with you, I don't think that's enough reason to suddenly change your habits."

"No, Jen. No boyfriend. I love partying with you girls, but lately, I just don't feel like it. Do you know what I think about every day when I clock in for work?" you grumbled at her curious expression. "Clocking out."

"Oh my god, you're getting old," Jenna faked a gasp that made you laugh.

"I'll make it up to you though."

"It's fine if you don't. But do let me know when you're feeling up to it again." Jenna flashed a wide grin. "We'll tear this city apart when you do."

Your chat was cut short when you spotted your department's head walking into the office. Jean rushed to her desk and there was a quick shuffle of feet before everyone settled in their own spaces. You eyed your department head and saw that he was coming in with someone else. It must be the new analyst who's officially replacing the last one who resigned recently. That's great because Tiffany's been going through double her usual workload as the only data analyst on your team.

"Good morning, Team!" your department head greeted. "Today's a good day."

Indeed it is, you think so too. It's probably even the best day in the office, given the immaculate sight before you.

"My, my. Look at that..." Jenna discreetly tapped on your shoulder. "A tall, handsome gentleman has graced this tiny workspace with his presence."

You just shook your head dismissively despite also thinking the same thing. When your eyes flitted back to the two men standing by the doorway, you found the new guy's eyes fixated on you. It was like you had been hit by a freight train, the nerves making your heart beat wildly and your eyes widen ever so slightly when you recognized him. Jung Jaehyun.

"This is Jaehyun. Starting today, he will be joining our team as our new data analyst. I trust all of you to help him settle down and get to know our company. I also expect all of you to get along well."

"Yes, sir!"

"Welcome Jaehyun!"

"Welcome to the team!"

Your coworkers immediately gathered around him, greeting, introducing themselves, and welcoming him into the team. Jenna slides towards you in her chair.

"Is it just me or have I seen him before?"

"I'm sure it's just you," you lied, chuckling nervously as you cleared your throat.

Jaehyun was courteous, greeting every single one of you and shaking hands with everyone. You notice him lingering a little longer by your desk but pay it no mind and treat him like it's your first time meeting him. He examined your face as if he was trying to see if you really didn't recognize him at all. That look made you a little impatient, especially after flashes of memories displayed in your head; ones where he was giving you the same intense gaze while you were straddling him.

"It's nice to meet you, y/n." He smiled before leaving your desk and even after he was gone, the way he said your name replayed in your head like a broken record.

"You think he's hot, don't you?" Jenna teased. You had been trying to focus on your job but Jaehyun's desk had to be across the room, right within your line of sight. He was going through some papers with Tiffany, seemingly getting his first taste of his new job post.

He was just as dashing as you remembered, in his complete set of suit and neatly styled hair. Although when you first met, he didn't have his coat or his glasses on. He probably doesn't even need those unless he's reading or something. You know his eyesight works well, judging by how clearly he can navigate even in the dim lights of the hotel room you locked yourselves in a few months back. The memory made you squeeze your legs together, feeling a nervous but euphoric rush run down your heart to your stomach. You cleared your throat, tugging on Jenna's arm to excuse yourself.

In the restroom, you checked yourself out in the mirror and washed your hands for no reason. That night with Jaehyun was like a fever dream, almost surreal. What's even more surreal was meeting him again, even in an actual dream. After that night, you regretted escaping in the morning while he was still asleep. You regretted not giving him your phone number when he asked for it and also not asking for his. You never saw him again after that, even when you tried going back to the place you first met him. You've come to make peace with the fact that you will never be able to see him again, or even meet anyone like him. Yet now he comes strutting into your office and introduces himself as your new coworker? You can't tell if you're being rewarded or screwed over.

"So, Jaehyun..." Tiffany was beaming when she approached you and Jenna by the pantry. "I invited him to come with us tonight and he's totally down."

"You invited him?" Jenna exclaimed in disbelief and Tiffany nodded. "He's a guy."

Tiffany shrugged nonchalantly. "And? It's my birthday. Besides, Carl and the department chief are coming too so technically, this isn't a girls' night out."

That seemed to have convinced Jenna. "That makes sense."

Tiffany turned to you and started batting her eyelashes. "So, is my favorite colleague coming tonight?"

You chuckled at the flattery. "I would love to—"

"Ah," Tiffany cut you off, covering her ears. "I don't wanna hear it."

"Tiff..." you lilted but she just pouted and shook her head.

"I know exactly what comes after 'I would love to', y/n," she ranted, looking sulky. "It's my birthday."

"I know that but it's also my sister's birthday, so..."

"Oh." Tiffany softened at you after hearing your reason. "I didn't know we had the same birthday."

You just shrugged. Tiffany went on to suggest celebrating together but you declined because you've already made a reservation in a nice restaurant and you'll be with your parents. She tried charming you to agree to meet them at the bar after you're done with the family dinner and you could only say you'll try but won't make any promises. Honestly, knowing Jaehyun would be there too piqued your interest. Now you're curious to know what would happen at the bar, but you held it all in. You're simply just tired and would rather go home after a nice dinner than spend energy on socializing until late. Not even the hot specimen will be enough to convince you otherwise.

You had a hearty family dinner and Tiffany had her party. Judging by the stories on their social media, you can tell your coworkers had plenty of fun. Strangely, as you swiped through their posts, you didn't feel any ounce of envy at all. In the past, you would've been the organizer of this party. You would be coming home wasted, or not come home at all. But instead, you're wrapped in your blankets, scrolling through your phone on a Friday. You do feel bad about turning Tiffany down, but you won't swap this peaceful weekend for any rowdy, noisy, and dizzying nightclub.

Jenna was right. You're getting old. But you also know sooner or later, they'll succumb to the same lifestyle as yours right now.

Your finger pressed on one picture in Tiffany's long array of stories, the one where Jaehyun was posing with your colleagues. He stood out the most, with his pearly white skin and tall height. In his hand was a bottle of beer, his cheeks and chest were rosy due to alcohol and the rims of his eyes were pinkish. Your eyes focused on his lips, plump and red under the flash of the camera. Your mind spiraled again, falling into an immediate recollection of the one-night stand with Jaehyun. The weather was cold at the time, but Jaehyun's skin was hot against yours. His eyes were fiery with lust, staring you down and scanning your entire being as if he were trying to memorize you. His arms were strong, and so were his chest. You remember how the high came as quickly as it left, and how it was the best part of the whole thing. It was an intense night out, and an even intense hook-up. You will never forget that, nor will you be able to compare it to anything else you've had before. That night with Jaehyun was so good that it almost felt illegal; like a vice that will get you addicted to it if you're not careful.

You tossed your phone across the bed, taking deep breaths to calm your raging hormones. You would never admit to anyone, even to yourself, that part of the reason you stopped going on night outs was because of Jaehyun. Everything about him has been imprinted in your mind that nothing about your nightlife satisfied you anymore, especially not the guys who tried to humor you.

"Fuck my life," you mumbled to yourself, dreading Monday as much as you're looking forward to it. Jaehyun will be there. That idea made you feel giddy and nervous at the same time and you hate feeling overwhelmed, especially about a guy.

Monday rolled in like clockwork and you imagined yourself bumping into Jaehyun at the building entrance. Obviously, you didn't, but you did catch him inside the elevator. He gave you a small smile as you stepped into the elevator with a few other employees. You stood right next to him, your shoulders brushing slightly because the lift was packed.

"Good morning," he greeted casually and you tried not to collapse on your knees.

"Good morning, Mr. Jung."

Jaehyun's smile widened. "You act like we don't know each other."

"Pardon me, Mr. Jung," you chimed, smiling sweetly at him. "But I would rather keep things professional in the workplace. So, wherever it is that you remember knowing me from, I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up at work."

Jaehyun pursed his lips, his brows forming a knot. "I was talking about the way you addressed me just now. You're the only one who calls me that here. Everyone else calls me by name."

You opened your mouth to retort but then closed it again and avoided his gaze. Jaehyun's grin didn't leave his lips until you were out of the elevator. That annoyed you a little, knowing he was amused about you feeling awkward. You sat in front of your computer all day, looking pissed. Jenna chatted with you several times but you just gave her the bare minimum of your attention. By 3pm, your coworkers were chatting randomly among themselves and while most of them found Jaehyun to be the most interesting one in your bunch, you drowned in your own work instead of participating. You feel awkward enough seeing him around, and even more so because you know you want him. You want all of him. But given that your office has a rule against dating coworkers, you can only dream. You wonder if you can take more of this agonizing situation, and you wonder how much his presence would affect your daily office life.

You must be delusional or have high self-esteem because, for the next few days, you were convinced that Jaehyun was as antsy as you were. Several times you caught him staring at you intently, with his forehead creasing and his lips pursed, not even avoiding your gaze like he meant for you to notice him staring. Even around your coworkers, you can see him watching you with those eyes. You're not oblivious to the meaning behind those gazes and you're not ignoring them either. You acknowledged them, every single one. You gave him the same exact look with the same exact intention. Each time you brushed past each other, regardless of how close or far apart you are, he always made sure to graze your arm, or your elbow, or your shoulder; especially your shoulder when you're wearing something that exposes them. Each time your name is mentioned in your small office, his eyes follow the direction of your desk. And your desks just have to be positioned right across each other's. Far apart, but face to face.

You know he wasn't being discreet and you hoped he would because sooner or later, people will start to notice how he paid attention to you. You can tell by the way your colleagues would randomly tug him because he was in a daze staring at you, and the way someone would always clear their throat to prompt him.

One night, during overtime, when you had to cram some paperwork for the monthly audit, you were alone in the pantry making coffee for yourself when Jaehyun walked in. You held your breath for a moment, giving him a nervous smile before reverting your attention to the coffee machine.

"Evening," he greeted, his voice deep and throaty, damn attractive.

"Evening," you greeted back, watching him reach for a mug from the cupboard. He stood there with you, waiting for the brewing coffee, but your senses were on high alert because of the proximity. Your shoulders were almost touching and his hand on the counter sat close to yours.

"Seeing any light at the end of this tunnel?" he asked, referring to the loads of work everyone had piled up.

"The only light I'm seeing is daylight. We'll be here until the morning," you huffed, sagging your shoulders as you glanced down your wristwatch. It's 11pm but you eventually stopped caring about the time when you saw his pinky finger linking with yours.

"Well, if you need a hand, just let me know."

Your eyes were fixated on your linked fingers but you still replied. "I'm sure you have plenty on your plate as it is."

"How about you try not to decline someone's good intentions," he chimed, letting go of your finger to properly place his hand over yours. "Especially if it's mine?"

"I don't think you mean good intentions, Jaehyun," you purred, challenging his bluff. His lips lifted into a smile, revealing a set of dimples that would have looked cute if only he wasn't staring at you like he was ready to devour you at any moment.

"As long as we're on the same page, I don't care how you label my intentions."

You stared at each other for a while, conversing with your eyes and seemingly coming to an agreement. Your self-restraint had always been thin, but right now it's at its thinnest and your rationality is working hard to remind you that you're in the office and anyone can walk in on you anytime.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling that the coffee is ready. You drew your hand from under his hold and were about to grab the kettle when Jaehyun yanked your hand back and pulled you into his arms, locking you there.

"Jaehyun!" you scolded in a hushed voice. He lets you go after a soft whisper in your ear that had his lips brushing on the sensitive skin. The pantry door opens and you jolted a little in surprise. Jenna lets out a big huff.

"If I die today, know that I loved working with all of you," she said dramatically.

Jaehyun chuckled, grabbing the kettle and pouring himself a coffee. "Hang in there," he comforted Jenna as he poured some on your mug too.

He left after that while you stood rooted on your spot, your mind in shambles because of Jaehyun. Jenna had to shake your shoulder to prompt you.

"Are you okay?"

You flashed a fake smile. "Yeah. Of course."

Jenna gave you a pitiful gaze. "This is killing you too right?"

"Right," you sighed, taking your mug from the countertop. "Let's have some more of this and hope we get through the night."

"Amen," Jenna quaked.

You go back to your desk, but your mind cannot focus on work now. Your heart started beating wildly in your chest the moment you were alone with Jaehyun, and it hasn't stopped since. You tried not to pay him any attention, but he was right across the room so it was impossible. When your eyes met his, he lifted his ID card to show it to you, and that made you look away. You grabbed your headphones and played music to drown your thoughts and hopefully focus on your task. But Jaehyun's melodic voice was still in your head.

'Did you know everyone at the motel knew my name when I stepped out the morning after?'

Fuck him. And fuck motels with crappy soundproofing.

Jaehyun was still smug about you getting flustered by what he said. Now you're thinking he did that to see how much of an effect he has on you. Why bother? He already knows he had you in a chokehold.

"Hey, still swamped?" Tiffany asked sleepily, sinking her chin on your shoulder. You leaned your head on hers and sighed.

"Halfway there, but I'm just finishing up on this one file. I'll work on the rest tomorrow." You were all required to finish work tonight, but after seeing how late it had gotten, your chief eventually told everyone to go home, saying he'd ask the higher-ups for an extension.

"Yeah, it's impossible to finish everything tonight," she grumbled. "Don't stay too long though. No job is worth dying for."

"I know," you sighed, giving her a comforting smile. "See you tomorrow, Tiff."

"See you."

Half of your office is now vacant and the only ones left are you, Carl, and Jaehyun who seemed to be working at a steady pace while still giving you a hard tease. You ignored him altogether, eager to just finish this one paper. But then you caught him yawning from your peripheral view, making you peer over your computer screen to watch. He took off his tie completely and tucked it away before unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. Then he flexed his arms and rubbed his nape, seemingly trying to shake off the drowsiness. The way he closed his eyes and threw his head back while massaging his neck is getting you riled up. You told yourself to look away, but your eyes were fixated on the masculine display before you. It was also at that moment that Carl stood up from his chair with a hand over his belly. His hurried steps caught you and Jaehyun's attention and you watched as he exited the room and slammed the door close behind him.

Jaehyun's eyes fell on you, his expression smug as ever. With a huff, you rose to your feet, tossing your headphones on the desk before you walked straight toward Jaehyun. He seemed taken aback and confused, frozen on his seat when you pushed his swiveling chair and sent it bumping against the wall. A smirk formed on his lips the moment you grabbed his collar.

"Whoa, whoa," he chuckled, even his voice is driving you insane. "What's with the aggression?"

You silenced his cocky attitude with a hurried kiss, straddling his lap while he grabbed your waist and kissed you back. It didn't take long for the making out to elicit an erection from him. When you gave it a grind, Jaehyun pulled back in surprise. The flustered look on his face gave you confidence.

"Why? What happened to the cockiness you've been giving me all day?" you challenged, running your hands through his neatly styled hair. "Don't tell me you're good with just words?"

He grabbed your hands and locked them behind you, hissing as he snapped at you. "Don't tempt me, y/n."

"Like you have been tempting me all day?"

Jaehyun smirked, leaning in to kiss your collarbone. "How long before Carl comes back from taking care of his business?"

"Long enough," you replied, trying to free your wrists from his hold but Jaehyun was infinitely stronger than you were.

"Good. Be quiet," he whispered to your skin, eyeing the CCTV at the far corner of the office. He gently pushed you off his lap before pulling you into the pantry door and shutting the door close.

The rendezvous with Jaehyun might have been a bad idea. It didn't only go against what you personally believed in, it also went against your company's code of conduct. You had expected the next day after to be the most awkward, but contrary to what you initially thought, things weren't that bad at all. You kept everything professional and not in a forced way. Jaehyun was cordial, and so were you. It helps that you were all busy chasing the deadline for the audit too.

"Coffee?" Tiffany asked when she passed by your desk on her way to the pantry. You smiled at her, catching Jaehyun's gaze from his desk.

"No, thanks. I'm good."

Yes, you kept everything professional between the two of you, but you haven't forgotten the events of last night just yet. Eventually, you will have to stop avoiding going to the pantry, but you will surely never look at it the same way again.

What could be worse than dating a coworker? Hooking up with them. The no-strings-attached guarantee of hook-ups may sound like a good thing, but it's not when your hookup is your colleague. AND if you hooked up at the office. The chances of your little rendezvous happening again were high. You knew that and you were right.

Coffee? -jjh

You stared at the note for another second then glanced at Jaehyun's direction. He was already eyeing you, his brows lifting as if seeking a response to his query. You mouthed a 'no' before crumpling the sticky note and tossing it in the trash bin under your desk. Jaehyun just grinned, shrugging as he rose to his feet and headed for the pantry. Your eyes followed him, sighing when he disappeared into the door.

"What's wrong?" Jenna whispered in your ear, startling you because you never noticed how closely she was sitting next to you. She chuckled at your surprised reaction. "Girl, you should really slow down on those espressos."

"Indeed, I should," you agreed, laughing awkwardly before resuming your work.

Hooking up with Jaehyun was a bad idea and you had decided it would never happen again. That was a lie, of course, and it was proven to be when you found yourself making out with him in the copy room; your back leaning on the copier for support while he ravaged your lips and your neck. Several times, you couldn't suppress the moans that escaped your lips and several times, Jaehyun had to laughingly remind you to be quiet. On another occasion, he pulls you into the fire exit to make out, where he also had you weak on the knees all day just by going down on you for a good five minutes. The pantry would also be a venue for more than just that one time Carl had a bad stomach. Notes passing became a habit too.

Soon, you and Jaehyun had sullied the secret spaces on your office floor. You've memorized the areas where people never usually went to, the blind spots behind cameras, and the dark corners around. Overtimes became more frequent for you, with most of it being spent with Jaehyun between your legs or yourself bent over the pantry table or the copy machine. Surely, you gotta stop doing this at one point. But at which point exactly? Neither of you ever discussed that. You're not in a kind of relationship where you have to talk about this stuff anyway. As a matter of fact, you never even talk about the hookups. You just find the opportunity at random and then you both grab it each time it appears. That's how it has been for the past few months, and it doesn't look like things might change anytime soon. Or so you thought.

"You look gorgeous!" Tiffany praised, the moment you met her in front of the elevator. "Is that a new dress? Did you go shopping by yourself?"

"Thanks, but this isn't new or anything. I've had this for a while now. Barely wore it though," you replied, looking down at the dress you took your time to pick out this morning.

"Well, you need to wear it more often. You look great in it," Tiffany affirmed so you thanked her again.

At the office, Jenna uttered praises about your outfit too, throwing in a nice comment about how your hair was styled. You haven't really noticed it but these days, you've been paying more attention to your appearance. Not that you never cared before, but lately, you've taken an extra hour from your daily routine and dedicated it to looking great every day at work. Now that you're being praised for it, you had to admit to yourself that the reason for this might have been Jaehyun.

"Are you seeing someone?" Jenna asked while you were having lunch at the pantry. Your eyes briefly met Jaehyun's, who looked at you like he too wanted to know your answer.

"No. That's so random. Why'd you ask?" you chuckled, shaking your head and poking your food with the fork.

"I just had a feeling that you might be seeing someone. You look great these days," Jenna chimed.

"Agreed. You're literally glowing, y/n."

You shrugged, feeling shy because of the attention being focused on you. "I'm just feeling great these days. You know, skincare, working out, good sleep and stuff."

"And stuff?" Tiffany repeated, grinning playfully. "Is it the good stuff?"

Jenna snickered. "Must have been some satisfying stuff."

You chided them sternly, shaking your head at their teasing as you reluctantly glanced at Jaehyun. His head was bowed down as he was looking at his food, eating quietly but the grin on his lips made you kick his feet under the table. Carl jolted next to Jaehyun, whimpering as he reached down his leg.

"Ow, y/n. What was that?"

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," you blurted and gave him an apologetic smile. "Something brushed my feet. I thought it was a rat or something."

The rest of the day went with Jaehyun still giving you a teasing grin. You just rolled your eyes at him each time and refused to deal with it. In the afternoon when you were about to clock out, he pulled you into the fire escape, giving you a quick kiss.

"Stop. I have no time for this," you chided, hitting his chest. Jaehyun just smirked and you saw that as him challenging you. "I'm serious. I have plans and I'm gonna be late."

Jaehyun tutted and then sighed. "That's too bad. I was gonna ask if you'd like to have dinner with me."

"Dinner with you?" you repeated. You heard him clearly, you just weren't expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Just the two of us?"

Jaehyun looked around. "Let's see. There's you, me, and no one else around. Yeah, that means it's gonna be just the two of us."

You scoffed. "Stop playing around. I'm busy."

You were about to leave when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his chest. He then pressed soft kisses on your neck. "How about tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I'll check my calendar," you quipped, rolling your eyes. "I'm a busy woman."

"Come on, I'll pick you up," Jaehyun chuckled, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips before tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. Somehow, his actions and the way he's looking at you felt affectionate, making your heart race. "Assuming you don't want to leave the office together. But if you're okay with that, we can just go right after clocking out."

"Why would you want to have dinner together?"

Jaehyun looked at you like you just asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard. "Why not? Is it not allowed?"

"No," you replied but then shook your head. "I mean, it's not that it isn't allowed. It's just... weird."

"Weird? The good stuff is fine, but dinner is weird?"

"Good stuff?" you hollered, hitting his chest as you felt your cheeks flare with embarrassment. "What good stuff are you talking about?"

"That's what you girls called it," Jaehyun laughed, trapping your hands so you'd stop hitting him. "Alright, I'm sorry. That was ungentlemanly of me."

"You're far from being a gentleman, Jung Jaehyun."

"Okay, I know why you think that way. So, maybe you'd be curious to see me be the gentleman that I am and have dinner with me. Tomorrow, after work."

You rolled your eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll think about it."

"Great," he lilted, fishing his phone from his pocket and handing it to you. "This is the part where I ask for your number. Though, I know I should have done that a long time ago."

You scoffed as you took his phone and dialed your own number. After that, he kissed you again and you ended up making out for a few more minutes before you hurriedly stepped out of the door back into the building. You didn't expect to see Jenna when you pushed through the door. Her bright smile was a contrast to your surprised expression.

"Oh, hi! Are you leaving now? Should we go together?"

You were just about to respond when Jaehyun stepped out of the door behind you. Jenna stood there confusedly, eyes moving from him to you and him and back to you again. You grabbed her arm and led her away with a burst of awkward laughter.

"Yes. We should leave together," you blurted, dragging her away. "I was actually on my way to see my mom. Would you like to come with me?"

Jenna's face lit up. "I'd love to! I haven't seen her in ages!"

"Good. She'll be glad to see you too."

Dinner with Jaehyun? This year is really full of surprises for you. Jaehyun went from being a man you thought you'd never see again to picking you up at your apartment on time for a dinner date. This was impossible a few months ago, but now there he is, standing by his car in a nice suit and neatly styled hair as he waits for you to come down.

"There you are," he chimed, greeting you with a sweet smile and a peck on your cheek. You kissed him back, thanking him after he opened the car door for you.

"So, where are you taking me?" you asked as he occupied the driver's seat.

Jaehyun chuckled, probably because of the way you phrased your question. "Where am I taking you? You make this whole thing sound so insincere."

You just shrugged, not denying his observation. "Sorry, just not used to this at all."

"I don't blame you," he replied, shaking his head. "The way we got into this relationship is unconventional."

Relationship? You hummed. Well, whatever this is that you have with him, it is considered a relationship, just not the roses and dinner dates kind. Still, here you are, pulling up in front of a nice restaurant. Jaehyun was attentive to you, opening doors and pulling chairs out. You know better than to assume he was an actual gentleman. His telling you he'll show you how much of a gentleman he was has kinda ruined it for you. Whatever this dinner was for, you decided not to overthink it anymore and just enjoy the night.

"To be fair, I was hoping not to see you again after that," you told him over steak and wine. You were talking about random things when the first time you met him was casually brought up. "I don't really like being nice and friendly with one-night stands the morning after."

"Is that so?" he questioned, brows furrowed but he had an amused smile on his lips. "I thought we had something going on."

You scoffed. "Something going on? Jaehyun, come on. You're not expecting to form some kind of connection with a girl you met at a nightclub. Well, except maybe the physical kind."

Your statement had Jaehyun throwing his head back as he laughed. "God, y/n, you have no idea how adorable you are."

Your cheeks flared at the compliment, but you chose to act aloof and just roll your eyes. "Now, you're just simping."

"Wait, what happened to the witty flirt who swept me entirely off my feet that one night at the club?" he asked so you shrugged.

"That time and right now are different. I was trying to flirt with someone then, now I'm just enjoying dinner with a coworker."

"A coworker?" Jaehyun's smile turned mischievous, dropping his fork gently on his plate so he could use his hand to wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin. "Just a coworker?"

A coworker you have occasional quickies with. "Don't flatter yourself, Jaehyun."

"How can I not? Having a date as gorgeous as you are is very flattering indeed."

This time, it was your turn to let out an amused laugh. "It's amazing how well you use words to charm people. Is that a skill?"

"It might be but I'm not too confident in that aspect. I'd say I'm more well-versed in other uses for the mouth."

You choked on the wine and did so violently that you had a hard time breathing. Jaehyun was quick to offer you a glass of water, but mischief never left his lips. You glared at him because of that. "Whatever happened to being a gentleman?"

Jaehyun just wiggled his eyebrows, laughing after you rolled your eyes at him. Fortunately, he dropped the teasing and you were able to eat in peace. A huge part of you expected the night to extend until after dinner. You imagined all sorts of scenarios, all of them leading up to you and Jaehyun alone in an actual bedroom this time. It could be his place, or yours, maybe a hotel room. And as you were making out with him in the car right in front of your apartment, you pictured both of you naked on your bed and your mind went as far as waking up in the morning with him beside you.

So when he bade you a reluctant goodbye, and wished you a good night's sleep, you couldn't even hide the disappointment on your face.

"Everything alright?" he asked, noticing your silence as you sat there dumbfounded.

"Yeah," you muttered, still in a daze. Embarrassment soon crept up on you, making you look away and reach for the car door. "Good night, Jaehyun."

"You're not gonna invite me in?"

The way your head immediately turned to him and your face lit up was embarrassing, but your body was aching to be one with his so you ignored the shame. "Would you like me to?"

"I was waiting for it," he chimed, gently pulling you by the neck to kiss you again. When he broke away, he looked apologetic. "But we have work tomorrow and it's getting late."

"You're right," you chuckled nervously. "Duh."

Jaehyun smiled contently, giving you one last peck on the lips before letting you go. "See you tomorrow?"

You flattened your lips together, eyeing him curiously as you asked, "You know we can't date in the office, right?"

"Of course. It's a workplace. Not a dating spot," he chuckled and you sighed exasperatedly.

"No, I meant we can't date coworkers. It's a rule in the company."

Jaehyun looked like he was hearing about this for the first time. "That's a thing?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" you chuckled. "That's fine. It's not like we're dating or anything, right?"

"We're not?"

You groaned in frustration. "Okay, you know what? We're not having this conversation. I'm gonna go."

Jaehyun didn't stop you from exiting the car, but he bade you goodnight before you stepped into your apartment building. The dinner was pleasant but not that you were alone, you realized what a disaster it had been. Thoughts flooded your mind, all of them about Jaehyun; his dinner invitation, his intentions, the subtle implications in his statements, and what's going on in his mind. You thought maybe he was just teasing with his subtle hints. Surely he can't be serious about it, right? He's a grown man who knows how to properly communicate. If he wants more than what you already have right now, he can tell you directly without the mixed signals.

Then again, what if you're both just adults with communication issues? Admittedly, you too have no idea what you want out of this setup. Sure, you enjoy the thrill of it but one way or another, one of you has to be responsible enough to put an end to this.

That being said, you found yourself finding the right opportunity to bring it up with Jaehyun. Unfortunately, work kept both of you busy for the following days after your first date. So much that he can't even find the slightest opportunity for a quick rendezvous around the office. Other than work-related subjects, quick greetings, and fleeting glances, you have yet to speak a proper conversation with Jaehyun.

"Hi," Jaehyun greeted as he rounded the long conference room table. "You're here early."

You panicked on your feet, standing up in surprise at his sudden appearance. Doing so, your hand that was sitting on your lap hit the edge of the table so hard that you thought a bone was broken. Groaning in pain, you clenched your fist in hopes that it might alleviate the pain. Jaehyun rushed over to you, gently taking your hand in his to examine it.

"Why are you so clumsy?" he chided softly, blowing on the reddened skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you replied. It did hurt a while ago, but now that you were moving it, the pain has gone and you were relieved to know you didn't actually break a bone. More importantly, you are currently exhilarated because this is the closest you've gotten to Jaehyun in the past few days. The whiff of his perfume was faint, but it was enough to make you feel euphoric.

Jaehyun eyed you curiously, his forehead creasing with concern. "Are you sure? Does it hurt if I do this?" With gentle hands, he pressed on the reddened spot.

"Jaehyun, should we stop this?" you asked directly, and the astonishment on his face was evident.

"Stop this? This?" he asked back, motioning for your hand. You sighed, flattening your lips tightly together. Jaehyun's face darkened. "Oh, you don't mean that, do you?"

You pulled your hand back, shoulders sagging in frustration. "See, this is the problem with us. We talk in codes instead of communicating like grown adults."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened before he could say something. Your co-workers walked in, chattering like busy bees. While that was happening, Jaehyun was moving back to his seat. The meeting began after quick greetings and work dragged you away from a proper conversation once again.

"GUESS WHAT?!" Tiffany exclaimed when she found you and Tiffany in the pantry. Her eyes gleamed with excitement and she was jittering like she'd explode if you didn't respond to her immediately.

Jenna was the one who asked, "What?"

"There's a secret couple in our company!" Tiffany said briskly, in a single breath. Your ears rang warning bells. "And it's from our floor."

"From which department?" Jenna asked.

"No one knows yet, but apparently, Olive from Marketing saw two people making out in the fire escape."

At this point, you were sweating bullets despite the cool office. You wanted to remove yourself from the conversation but there was no excuse to leave. And to be honest, part of you wanted to know what people were saying about this.

"Oh my god, who?" Jenna was completely invested, it seems.

"They could either be from the same department or separate. But what if they're from ours?" Tiffany squealed.

Jenna appeared to think. "That's a possibility but who could it be? It's not like we know two people who are weirdly close to each other. Ones who act all sneaky and jumpy from time to time. And also keeps sneaking glances at someone from across the room."

You were stirring your coffee slowly, quietly listening without looking at them. But then you noticed they'd stopped talking so you glanced at them only to realize that they had been staring at you.

"Why? What's up?" you asked dumbly, still a little jittery.

"Well, would you look at that? It seems we do know someone," Jenna grinned knowingly and you could feel the color draining from your face. You and Jenna eyed each other, her looking like a predator who just found her prey, and you feeling smaller and smaller. You knew that she now knows. Feeling caught, you gulped the entirety of your coffee and belched.

"Sorry. I'm gonna go," you told them.

Jenna snickered. "Oh, okay. I'm gonna follow you then."

"Wait! Hey! Who is it?" Tiffany called out, following the two of you out of the pantry. "Girls! What do you know?"

Fuck the universe, you told yourself. The moment you left the pantry, your eyes caught Jaehyun who just entered the office. He did a double-take upon seeing you, stopping in his tracks and walking toward you. Jenna nudged your elbow a little too obviously, so you nudged her back.

"Hi," he began, smiling at the girls and then back at you. "Carl passed me on to you. He said you were in charge of this before so I should come to you for help."

You peered at the file he was handing to you and then turned to Tiffany. "Yeah, I did. But Tiffany worked on this after the previous analyst resigned. I just helped a little."

"Oh? Which file is it?" Tiffany questioned, also looking at the papers. "Yes, I can help, but y/n did the work on this entire project. It was already perfect so I didn't change anything on it and just submitted it as it is."

"You didn't?" you asked Tiffany who shook her head in response.

"Great. Will you help me update it then?"

"Oh, she'll help you just fine," Jenna giggled, nudging you forward. "She's really good at her job. Just don't go sneaking around."

"Jenna!" you chided but your friend just laughed, grabbed Tiffany by the arm, and walked away with a wave.

You groaned in frustration, snatching the file from Jaehyun's hand and mumbling to yourself. Jaehyun inched closer.

"Everything alright?"

"Jenna knows we hooked up."

"Jenna?" Jaehyun repeated, taken aback by your confession. He looked at Jenna who was still walking away with Tiffany. "She did seem like the type to catch on quickly."

"She's sharp when she needs to be," you replied, also glancing at your girl friends. "But she's not the most observant in our office. If she noticed something was going on with us, others will soon realize it too."

"Are you free tonight?"

You glared at him. "Did you even listen to a word I said?"

Jaehyun shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets. "We can talk about it over dinner if you're down. It's on me."

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, then turned on your heel to leave. He calls out your name so you waved your hand in the air. "Fine. Whatever. Just go away for now."

Jaehyun was grinning fondly, but he heeded your request and walked the opposite way.

Dinner was quiet. Jaehyun kept chatting you up, and he had to keep prompting you because you kept drifting away into an absentminded daze. It's not that you didn't want to listen, you just had something in your mind that's making you dissociate with your company.

"Y/n," he prompted again, now looking concerned.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

Jaehyun exhaled calmly. "Nothing important. Would you like me to drive you home and call it a day?"

"What? No, I..." you paused, sighed in defeat, and then massaged your temples impatiently. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he replied, smiling sweetly. He reached for your hand on the table and squeezed it. "Just let me know if I can help."

You shrugged. "I'm just really tired right now."

"I know. Work hasn't been the easiest for all of us."

"Right," you chimed, looking down at your food that you barely touched. "Actually... I really think we should stop this."

Once again, Jaehyun's handsome face darkened with concern. "Is there a specific reason why you keep saying that?"

"Nothing!" you blurted. "I mean, yes! Of course, there is! We can't keep doing this as coworkers. People from work are soon gonna notice."

Jaehyun shrugged. "What's wrong with dating a coworker?"

You laughed derisively. "Aside from the fact that it's a spoken rule to not date a coworker, we are also not dating. I thought we both knew that?"

"We're not?"

"You see that?" you told him, stern and annoyed. "That's our problem. Despite being so intelligent and charming, you always played dumb whenever I bring this up."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, letting go of your hand and straightening his back. "It's a serious question, y/n. I am actually under the impression that we're already dating."

"Having sex occasionally does not mean we're already dating, Mr. Jung Jaehyun."

"Then at what point do we start dating?"

At this point, you were fuming because of frustration. You couldn't tell if he was pretending to be dumb or if he was actually clueless. Although, the look on his face told you he was genuinely curious about the answer to his question.

"Come on, Jae. You've dated before, I'm sure you know this isn't how it goes."

"Indeed I have but..." he paused, looking away with a creased forehead. "I never had to spell it out to them."

Oh, to be Jung Jaehyun, charming and gorgeous enough to pull any girl he wants. He probably never had to chase after someone he liked. They all probably fell head over heels for him immediately. Like you did.

"Do you like me then?" you asked straightforwardly. If you were to be asked the same question, you would say 'yes' in a heartbeat. That's because you do like him, a lot actually. You don't have deep feelings for him yet, but you feel a romantic spark with him that could lead to something.

"I won't sleep with someone I don't like, y/n."

"It's a yes or no question."

"Yes!" he pressed on, laughing at you like you should've already known the answer. "What do you think?"

You sighed, slowly processing the situation before you. "Won't you ask me if I liked you at all?"

"No," he replied curtly, poking his food with the fork.

His answer made you scoff loudly. "What if I tell you I don't like you?"

A grin formed on his lips as he looked up to meet your gaze. "Then I'd call you a liar. You like me, y/n. I know."

"You're awfully confident," you bluffed, crossing your arms over your chest to challenge him. "Where is that coming from?"

Jaehyun smiled cockily, leaning back on his chair with an air of confidence. "It comes from the way you held on to me tightly whenever you're in my arms."

Your jaw dropped open. Embarrassed, you covered your mouth and looked away. Jaehyun didn't stop.

"The way you trusted me enough to keep doing what we've been doing these past few months. Even the way you look at me from across the room. My confidence comes from those."

You took a deep breath and faced him again. "Okay. You can shut up now."

"That's why I thought we were already dating, y/n," he continued. "I thought we liked each other enough to call this dating. I was just beginning to treat you the way a girlfriend should be treated but work is keeping both of us apart."

You were quiet because you didn't have anything to say, so you just let him talk. Like always, he is composed, confident, and well-articulate. Had he explicitly asked to date you, you would've said 'yes'. Then again, your relationship didn't start in a meet-cute kind of way. It didn't blossom beautifully like cherry blossoms in spring. So he had a point. To be honest, you had no idea how it was supposed to go given the situation. But you would still have preferred if you two just talked about it like proper adults.

"Should I just quit?"

"What?" you asked, not because you didn't understand him but because the question was downright ridiculous. "Why would you quit?"

Jaehyun pouted. "Because I want to be a proper boyfriend."

Boyfriend. Did he actually just say that? And is that an ecstatic giddiness you're feeling?

"You're way in over your head, Jae," you ridiculed, successfully hiding your elation behind aloofness. "You're not my boyfriend."

"Alright, then, how do I become one?"

Just ask, you thought. You didn't want to have to spell it out for him. If you did, you would think he was only asking because you told him to. "How do you not know?"

"If I ask you now, would you say 'yes'?"

"You'll never know unless you try."

Jaehyun straightened up in his seat, reaching for your hand again as he gazed into your eyes. You stared back, letting his deep, dark brown eyes lure you into a beautiful abyss--the kind that's impossible to escape once you fall into it.

"Be my girlfriend, y/n."

You blinked. "Oh, that's not exactly asking."

"No, it's not. That was me making it official with you." Jaehyun's self-esteem is impressively baffling. It almost feels like he's got you wrapped up in his finger. In fact, it feels like he knew exactly that things would go his way, no matter what. He knew what he wanted, and he also knew you wanted the same thing, it seems.

Nevertheless, a voice in your head is screaming a protest. He's a coworker. Indeed, he is. The sex may be phenomenal, but he's still a coworker.

You could abandon your beliefs and take a leap. Jaehyun could be worth the risk of breaking office rules. Not to mention you've already broken said rules anyway, even making a sacrilege of your workplace. Though secretly, it was still scandalous. You never knew you'd be the type to engage in something so risky. It didn't even need any convincing, you straight up just did what was done. You gotta admit though, you liked every second of it; the risk, the thrill, not to mention Jaehyun in his entirety.

Your eyes flitted over to him. His sweet smile will make people assume he's a gentleman, which might be true if you didn't know what he was capable of doing in a hidden but still public space. You remembered the first time you had sex in the pantry; it was quick, almost fleeting. But it was unforgettable and you were absolutely satisfied, so you kept doing it. His aggressive thrusts, hand tight over your mouth to keep you from making any noise, the urgency on his face, and the release that comes crashing through. The image that registered in your head made you squeeze your thighs.

Jaehyun tapped twice on the back of your hand. That was when you realized your mind had wandered elsewhere and was dazed. "What's on your mind, babe?"

Babe? "You."

He didn't even flinch, nor was he taken aback. He just tilted his head a little, and asked, "And why is that when I'm right here in front of you?"

You stared at his lips, craving their warmth and the way they felt on your lips, on your neck, and on the skin of your inner thighs. Your breath hitched and a moan almost escaped your lips because of the vivid memory. You looked away from him and started fanning your face, worried your lewd thoughts were showing.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you breathed, meeting his eyes again. Jaehyun shook his head, moving his glass so the red wine would swirl.

"Don't ask, baby. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Should we just go, then?"

Jaehyun licked his lips, savoring the rich wine. "That's still asking. Assert yourself, babe."

You stood up at once, grabbing his hand on the table and dragging him up. Jaehyun almost choked on the wine he was still drinking, but he quickly put it down and tossed the napkin on the table. You weren't paying him any attention, eager to just leave the restaurant as soon as possible. When you reached the sidewalk, you stopped and looked around.

"I must say, that's one way of asserting yourself," Jaehyun quipped but you ignored his comment and pointed to a certain building around the block.

"Let's go that way," you ordered, and wasted no time discussing plans.

Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige. When you reached the hotel, he was the one who checked you in using his name and his card. You'd barely gotten inside your suite before Jaehyun had you up against the wall, his lips crashing into yours urgently while his arms held you strongly.

You kissed hungrily like you'd been starved for days, which was true because you hadn't had any alone time with Jaehyun for a while now. You ran your hand up his muscly arms to his broad shoulders. Jaehyun reached over to your ass and lifted you off your feet while you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Take me to bed," you breathed, almost in a whisper. "Please?"

"Anything you want, baby," he grinned, biting his lip as he strode over to the king-sized bed. He laid you down gently, caressing your cheek and letting his hand wander from your face to your clothed breasts. He cupped it and gently squeezed it, and his eyes never left yours even for a second. You pushed yourself up to kiss him and as you did, your dress slipped off of your skin. Jaehyun reached for your back, then you found your bra leaving your body the same way your dress did. When his fingers found your nipple and gave it a good squeeze, you let out a moan that made his face twitch. "God, you're so beautiful."

His mouth went to where his fingers had been, sucking, pulling, and teasing at the sensitive bud. Each contact electrified you to the core. His hands are everywhere at once until they find the cloth of your lace underwear. "Can I do--"

"Jaehyun! Less talking, more doing," you interjected, your voice urgent and your tone pleading. "Please."

He chuckled a little. "So polite."

You wriggled out of your panties as he undressed, seemingly taking his time to stall you on purpose. You hated the smug look on his face because you knew he was taunting you. He knew exactly that you were desperate for him, and that you'd beg if he pushed you hard enough.

Jaehyun hovered over you, staring at you intently with lustful eyes and a cocky grin. You tried not to fall for it, but you needed him so you folded.

"Jung Jaehyun, I swear to god if you keep this up, I'm walking out that door," you threatened, You would never do that, but you'd like to see if it would have any effect on him.

Jaehyun inched closer to your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips before moving his head all the way down between your thighs. Without warning, he started lapping on your cunt, squeezing your thighs in the process. You didn't even try to muffle your moans, instead, you screamed them out. Your stomach was doing somersaults and your head was flying on cloud nine. Just as you were about to feel the release coming, Jaehyun stood on his knees and looked down at your confused expression. He flashed a grin that made your belly flutter. There he was, hovering over you with a body that looked like he was some Greek god sculpture, except that his size was nowhere near that of any Greek sculpture.

You stretched up your arms and Jaehyun fell into them. He kissed you again, needily. And when he thrust himself into you, you cried out in sweet surrender; rocking against his hips, kissing his shoulder, his neck, his chin, and then his lips like you'd die if you didn't. The release hit you like a waterbomb, making you dig your nails into Jaehyun's skin. And then he too cried out of release before he collapsed on top of you, panting.

When you awoke, Jaehyun was still beside, you playing with your hair as he watched your eyes fluttering. You blinked several times, trying to make sense of what was happening. The civility of it all, the fog of affection in the air, his sweet smile, and the warm glow of admiration in his eyes.

"That was an excellent dinner," he quipped, making you smile. "How about some dessert?"

You scoffed then hit his chest. But Jaehyun just gave you a good-natured laugh before gently flicking your forehead.

"I meant real dessert," he scolded softly, motioning to the table across the room. There sat a course of desserts and fruits, as well as a champagne bottle in a bucket of ice.

"Oh," you blurted.

"I'll give you the other dessert later," he added so you glared at him again. Jaehyun was quick on his feet, jumping down the bed and running towards the table before you could even try to hit him. You couldn't help laughing at the unexpectedly goofy display. You weren't discouraged though, if anything, you liked him more because he was adorable.

You sat on the bed and noticed you were wearing a nightgown. You recalled falling asleep after the sex and had faint recollections of Jaehyun telling you to raise your hands so he could dress you up. You thought that had been a dream but looking at the silky dress on your body, you now realize it wasn't.

Delectable food waited for you on the table. Despite being apprehensive about it at first, you gobbled the good food. Over conversations, you also emptied the bottle of champagne and that had you pawing at each other for a while before you both ended up back on the bed, moaning under the sheets.

You spent the weekend in that hotel room; chatting, eating, and goofing around. The fact that you're not shoving your tongue down his throat every hour was surprising. But then you realized that you've learned more about each other in two days of being alone together than you did the past six months.

You strutted into the office with a beautiful glow at work on an early Monday morning. Your steps were light and you were humming happily as you sat in your cubicle. Jenna was quick to notice your ecstatic demeanor.

"Did something good happen this weekend?"

A smile crept on your lips. "No. It wasn't good. It was amazing."

Jenna mirrored your grin, pushing her chair closer to yours. "Why? What was it? Did you and Jaehyun go on a date?"

"How did you-" you stopped, sighed, and rolled your eyes. "What do you mean?"

She nudged your shoulder. "Oh, so you did. Is that why he was in a hotel all weekend?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know that?"

Jenna covered her lips, looking like she had been caught. "Ah, that slipped out. Excuse me."

Her chair slid back to her desk to escape you. Intrigued about how she knew about the hotel, you followed her to ask but before you could speak, your department head tapped on your desk and asked you to see him in the meeting room.

"We'll talk later," you told Jenna before following your superior.

Jaehyun entered the office just as you were passing by the doorway on your way to the meeting room. He flashed you a sweet smile which made you giddy. You smiled back before disappearing into the meeting room. That was the beginning of your hidden relationship. It was so much different from your sexual rendezvous, this was more exciting. The secret glances, mouthing endearments when no one is looking, brushing hands or shoulders on purpose, and the contentment of being close to each other when you happened to gather together with your other coworkers. Each day, you leave the office separately only to end up in each other's embrace at night. In the morning, you arrive to work separately too, eagerly waiting for the day to be over so you'd be together again. It was fun and exciting, so much so that you felt like a giddy teenager experiencing your first relationship ever.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Jaehyun complained, nuzzling his nose on the crook of your neck. He kissed your skin and inhaled your scent. "I miss you."

"You miss me? We see each other every day," you chided softly, turning so you were face to face with him. You snaked your arms around his neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. Other than the pantry, this file room has also become your secret meeting place. "We practically live together since you're always at my place."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, unconvinced. "That's not enough."

You tapped his chest twice, pulling away from him. "We're not kids, Jaehyun. Let's make do with what we get."

Jaehyun sighed, leaning on the shelves and then crossing his arm over his chest. "We can get more than this, you know?"

"How do you suggest we do that?" you questioned curiously. You're not convinced that his idea will be a good one but you wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I could try talking to the HR about the ban."

You scoffed. "That's your big idea?"

Jaehyun just shrugged. "Not really. It's part of the idea. Would you like to meet my parents?"

Your brows are tied in a knot. "Out of nowhere?"

"Yeah. I told them I am dating this intelligent, charming, and lovely woman. They can't wait to meet you."

Well, that was sudden. Despite your previous physical relationship, you haven't been official for long but he's already talking about meeting his parents. Jaehyun had to leave before you could give him an answer because a coworker walked into the file room. You seemed unnerved about the invitation but you were actually ruminating on it all day, weighing the pros and cons of this meeting.

That night, Jaehyun couldn't go to your place because of a prior engagement. But when he called you right before going to sleep, you told him you'd love to meet his parents. There should be no pressure, it's just a brunch. You told yourself to relax and not overthink it.

And so the weekend came. Jaehyun looked majestic in his Prada cardigan, leaning on his car as he waited for you in the parking lot of your apartment. He greeted you with a sweet smile and an even sweeter kiss, followed by a compliment on your hair and your outfit.

"You smell nice too, damn," he added, smelling your neck and tightening his hug. You just giggled, letting him sniff you all he wanted. It was all cute and adorable until he was pulling you by the waist and pressing his crotch on you. "Should we just stay in?"

You laughed heartily. "Let's go, Jaehyun."

"Call me 'baby' and I'll listen to you."

"Baby," you obliged but your tone was stern instead of endearing.

Jaehyun threw his head back, groaning. "God, that backfired. We really should just stay in."

You pushed him aside, opened the car door, and then locked yourself in his shotgun. Jaehyun was grinning when he rounded the car to sit in the driver's seat. He wasn't done flirting with you though because as soon as he was inside, he pulled you into a kiss--long, sweet, passionate. Oh, how he made you feel so beautiful.

He drove halfway across the city, locking your hands together and singing along to the song on his stereo. When you finally reached your destination, you were in awe of the luxurious home before you. You had an inkling that Jaehyun might have been rich but not this rich. His family house is hidden behind a high fence, probably ten feet high, and inside was a literal mansion surrounded by well-kept landscaping. If you're gonna be honest, the display of wealth made you nervous.

"Intimidating, isn't it?" said the familiar voice of a woman. When you spun to see who it was, your jaw dropped upon seeing Jenna walking towards you and Jaehyun. She grinned at your shocked expression. "It's scarier inside."

"Jen," Jaehyun chided. "Don't scare her."

"Jenna?" you exclaimed. Your friend flashed a silly grin.

"I knew something was going on between you two."

You shook your hands to dismiss her. "Wait, before that. What are you doing here?"

Jaehyun interjected. "She lives here."

You did a double-take, checking if you heard it wrong. Jenna let out a hearty laughter. "Sorry, hon. I would've told you but that would ruin the whole point of being undercover."

"Undercover?" you echoed, touching your temples. "Wait, how about explaining it to me like I'm five?"

Jaehyun and Jenna laughed before the latter guided you inside the house. On your way, she explained that she and Jaehyun are siblings. And that the company's CEO was their older brother. It was straight out of a soap opera and Jaehyun assured you that your reaction was understandable. He also apologized for not telling you about it sooner.

"It's fine, I was just... surprised, I guess?" you blurted. You reach the garden area where a group of people are happily chatting at a dining table. Jenna walked ahead of you, tapped an elder woman on the shoulder, and told her you had arrived.

This elder woman was beautiful and had an air of elegance about her. She stood up from her chair to welcome you.

"Hi, Mom," Jaehyun greeted, giving his mom a peck on the cheek. "This is my girlfriend, y/n."

"Hello, y/n. Wow, Jaehyun wasn't lying when he said you were very lovely." His Mom beamed at you, and contrary to what you expected, she was warm and sweet, ushering you to sit next to her at the dining table while asking you about the journey here.

You met his brother, a face you were so intimidated to see because you knew he was the Big Boss of your workplace. He was cordial and well-mannered, and so was his wife. You didn't ask about his father but based on their conversation, you figured out that he had passed away. You knew better than to ask. Brunch hasn't started yet, but you were already gathered in the garden. At first, you thought it would only be you and them, but a group of people arrived and you found out you were meeting Jaehyun's extended family too.

"We're Koreans. Family means so much to us," Jenna told you. "Not all of us are close though."

Brunch began shortly after their cousins arrived. The food was great and the conversations were engaging enough. Most of the attention was on you because apparently, you were the 'first girl he brought home in three years' according to Jaehyun's brother. Jenna confirmed it too. After the satisfying meal of hearty Korean food, you all dispersed to your own little circles. Jenna dragged you to the patio, chatting with you and apologizing for not telling you about her relationship with Jaehyun. You told her it was fine and that you understood why she had to do it. Jaehyun followed closely behind you two.

"So, are you gonna marry my brother?" Jenna asked and the question made your heart race.

"Stop calling me that. It's giving me chills," Jaehyun interjected so Jenna hissed at him.

"Shut up, I'm not talking to you."

You nervously laughed. "We just started dating."

"Yes, so, is he a marriage prospect or not?" Jenna pressed on.

Jaehyun was the one who said, "We haven't talked about that yet."

"Jaehyun, go away," Jenna complained, pushing her brother but he didn't budge. Jaehyun pulled a face at her to which she responded by lunging her tiny frame at his large physique. They bickered for a moment while you watched in fondness.

Then you said, "He's right, we haven't thought that far ahead."

Jaehyun grabbed his sister's wrists to stop her from hitting him, and then he stared at you, looking befuddled. "We haven't?"

You stared back at him, wondering if you had said wrong. "Have we? I know we haven't. Did I forget?"

"No, you didn't," he replied, letting go of Jenna's arms and straightening up. "I mean, we haven't talked about it yet. But I was already thinking that far ahead."

You blinked, surprised by his confession. Jenna snickered and said, "You can't say that so openly, dear brother. You're putting her on the spot."

"I'm putting her on the spot? You're putting her on the spot! You started this discussion!" Jaehyun whined. You couldn't help laughing at the rare sight. He'd always appeared well-mannered, calm, and collected. Seeing him bicker with his sister made him even more endearing.

"Why not? You guys aren't getting any younger. This is an important question to ask!"

While the siblings bickered, your thoughts screamed loud enough that they deafened you from external noises. Marriage was never an issue to you, you can get married anytime you want as long as you want to. But only now were you realizing that you've gotten old and this was in fact an important question to ask.

Still, now is a little too early for it. Truth be told, you don't know if you want to take this relationship to that level yet. Sure, you're in love but with marriage, love is not the only factor that needs to be considered. Jaehyun is from an affluent family with influence and money, you don't know if you want to be a part of it. Even if you did want to be, you're not sure if his family would want you for him. So far, they had been nothing but nice. Then again, it will be no surprise if these families have criteria that you might be too middle-class to comprehend.

"Baby," Jaehyun prompted, nudging your shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

"You," you replied absentmindedly. Jaehyun grinned coyly.

"Really? We're in the middle of a family gathering, but I think can make up a good excuse to leave."

You rolled your eyes at his lascivious thoughts. "No that's not what I meant, dumbass."

Jaehyun chuckled. "That's a shame. I was ready for it. No, actually, I'm always ready for it."

"For what?"

He pressed his nose on the side of your head, sniffing your hair before whispering, "For my naughty little girlfriend who randomly gets these sudden urges to ride me till I'm spent and dripping."

Your face flared at the lewd image that formed in your mind. Holding your cheeks, you walked away from him in embarrassment. Jaehyun laughingly called out to you. "You'll dry me up in no time, baby."

You glanced back at him, scandalized. "Oh my god, be quiet!"

"What?" he mimed, looking around. "No one heard me."

"I did and you're gross," Jenna grimaced before walking away too.

It's been a week since the family luncheon. Aside from the fact that you now know Jenna and Jaehyun are siblings, nothing much has changed in your relationship. You admit that it was weird with Jenna at first, in a way that whenever you have your usual girl talk, you suddenly remember who she was and just daze. It took some getting used to. Same case with Jaehyun who gets ordered around the office for being a newbie and him doing everything he is told to do like he's not the literal son of the company's founder. You realized just how much humility these two have and how impressive it was that they were raised this way instead of the regular snobbish rich kids.

Your boyfriend's identity had you ruminating about the future of your relationship. What would be the reactions you'd get if people found out you were dating a coworker--especially if it's revealed that he was actually the CEO's brother? You'd surely be called a Cinderella, scoring a jackpot by dating a billionaire's son. People might think it's magical, while most will assume you were in it for the money. Either way, the possibility of your life being put under public scrutiny terrifies you.

"GUESS WHAT?" Tiffany barged into the meeting room, startling you and Jenna. You clutched your heart, beating rapidly in its cage while Jenna gave your coworker a stern look.

"You gotta stop with the dramatic entrances, Tiff," said Jenna.

"Jung Jaehyun just got named CHRO."

Jenna scoffed. "Yeah, and Jung Jenna just became COO. Jaehyun would die and get reborn again before he takes an executive role in this company. Shut the door."

Tiffany shook her head as he approached you, pushing the door close as she went. "I'm serious. Check the company page. They just announced it."

You toggled on your tablet and pulled up the company portal. And there it was, the announcement of the company's latest personnel changes. Jung Jaehyun was indeed the Chief Human Resources Officer.

"Why would he take that job?" you questioned, genuinely curious. Jenna told you before that Jaehyun was supposed to come in as a department head since his education and experience made him qualified for the position, but he still chose to do the undercover thing. Now he's suddenly a CHRO?

"No way, he's not!"

"Apparently, he is. And guess what was the first thing he asked to change in the company policy?"

"What?" you and Jenna asked in a chorus. Tiffany ducked to toggle on the screen and opened another announcement.

"He abolished the dating ban among coworkers. Effective immediately."

Your jaw hung open, while Jenna started laughing like a maniac. Then she said, "Jung Jaehyun, that sly little bastard."

"Does that mean he has a girlfriend here?"

Jenna eyed you. "Yeah, he obviously has a girlfriend here."

"Or he could be sympathizing with the people here who want to date but can't because of the ban," you suggested, trying to challenge Jenna.

"Yeah, like you," Jenna teased. You just rolled your eyes, giving up on challenging her. "He must really like this girl to go through this much trouble. I didn't know he could do something admirable."

"No way!" Tiffany exclaimed, eyes still glued to the screen. You and Jenna turned to her. "Jaehyun is the CEO's younger brother?"

Jenna exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. "Oh, boy. I guess this is where it starts." She walked away, bidding you quick goodbyes before disappearing to the door. You and Tiffany stayed, waiting for the meeting to begin.

The next few days at work were filled with excited chatters and gossip. During the company's annual staff meeting, Jaehyun and Jenna are introduced as family members of the company. Their positions were also made official, sparking up a debate among the employees on whether they deserved their posts or if it was plain nepotism. You didn't join any of these discussions, but when you're alone with Jaehyun, you'd tease him for being a nepo baby and he'd just laugh at it.

"Should we go to work together today?" Jaehyun asked, nuzzling his nose on your neck.

"No," you replied briskly, scoffing as you pulled away from him. Jaehyun, a lot stronger than you were, grabbed your waist and pulled you back to bed with him.

Your apartment has never been this warm. Love emanated from the walls and you've never felt this content with a relationship. Jaehyun seemed to have made this small studio apartment his favorite place to be and you're not complaining at all. He would spend the night here almost every day. You would sleep in each other's arms, and wake up still cuddling.

"I made coffee," Jaehyun would boast in the morning. "And pancakes too but they're not as fluffy as the ones from the breakfast cafe."

"I love the pancakes you make," you would tell him.

And he'd say, "Thanks, I love you too."

He'd ask to drive you to work but you'd decline. It's been three months since he became head of HR, but the people at work are still clueless about your relationship. You liked it that way, but you also feel bad for Jaehyun who would often invite you to lunch or for coffee. It's not that you don't want to, it's mainly because you'd rather not be talked about. Jaehyun seemed to just take it in stride. He'd ask once in a while, and if you declined, he'd give up and try again next time. He's been most understanding of your reasons.

But then again, he's Jung Jaehyun; he will never let up until things go his way. That said, he walked into your office on a Wednesday afternoon, with a massive bouquet of red roses in his hand, and an even bigger smile on his lips. Your colleagues went into a frenzy, hurrying over to greet him and chat with him. Questions were thrown his way; ones like, 'What are you doing here?' or 'Is there anything we can do for you?' and 'Can we help you?' And then there are also comments like, 'I knew you looked familiar! You were the CEO's brother!' or 'You should have told us who you were!' and 'Man, I didn't overwork you, did I?'

Jaehyun was courteous and greeted everyone back, but after he was done with the pleasantries, he locked his eyes on you--his target. He waded through the crowd, his feet walking straight to where you were sitting quietly in your cubicle. You had hoped he would ignore you, or that no one would notice you. But that was impossible since you knew he was there for no other reason except to see you.

"Are those flowers for someone?" one of your colleagues asked and you mentally cursed him for asking because now, everyone's curious who the flowers were for.

"There you are," Jaehyun beamed, peering over the cubicle. You smiled sheepishly, taking a peek at your coworkers' shocked expressions.

"Can I help you, Mr. Jung?" you smiled back, hoping he'd take your cue and stop whatever he was trying to pull.

"No. I'm here to pick you up. We have dinner plans, remember?" he grinned, seemingly enjoying the way you're all flustered and shy. "You look great. Looks like we can go straight to the restaurant without changing."

"You're having dinner? Is it a company dinner?" Carl questioned, his hand raised in the air like an elementary student.

Tiffany was quick to slap his hand away. "Gosh, Carl, you're so clueless."

Jaehyun offered you the flower. "Shall we go then, my love?"

You've never heard a crowd gasp in unison before, but now you have. Cheeks burning in embarrassment, you took the bouquet and pushed yourself up. Jaehyun had a content smile on his lips when he offered to hold your hand, which you accepted.

"Jung Jaehyun, you really are a sly little bastard."

"You love me for it," he chimed.

And so, hand in hand, you and Jaehyun walked out of your office as a couple.

[fin]

621 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Note

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down.

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust. I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further. Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man.

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him.

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him.

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock.

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two?

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth?

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was.

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects.

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth?

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone.

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm.

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside.

. . .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy.

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck.

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun."

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest.

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant.

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?"

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us."

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient.

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy.

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide.

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding.

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?"

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great…

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?"

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch.

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower.

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear.

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–"

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you.

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…"

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside.

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen.

"Yes."

#ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #is this too soft?#is there such a thing as too soft #omg I think I'm part of the Ghost babygirl crew now #i accept my fate #also no beta we die like men

3K notes · View notes

ericshoney · 6 months ago

Text

Sturniolo Triplets Masterlist

Code:

Nick

Matt

Chris

All

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mini Matt Series (Masterlist)

Brothers!Triplets (Masterlist) (Second Masterlist)

Secret Sister Series (Masterlist)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Our Girl (Oneshot)

~ Shopping Trip (Oneshot)

~ Grumpy Girl (Oneshot)

~ Protective (Oneshot)

~ Perfect (Oneshot)

~ Late night drive (Oneshot)

~ Matching Tattoos (Oneshot)

~ Wild Card (Oneshot)

~ Clothes thief (Oneshot)

~ Surprise! (Oneshot)

~ Nightmare (Oneshot)

~ Pepsi Princess (Oneshot)

~ Sweetheart (Oneshot)

~ Toxic Friends (Oneshot)

~ Talkative (Oneshot)

~ Hide and Seek (Oneshot)

~ Fearless (Oneshot)

~ Deaf, blind, mute (Oneshot)

~ Cuddles! (Oneshot)

~ We're here (Oneshot)

~ Kiss Cam (Oneshot)

~ Happy pride! (Oneshot)

~ Distracted (Oneshot)

~ Interrupt (Oneshot)

~ Gorgeous (Oneshot)

~ Date (Oneshot)

~ Too Noisy (Oneshot)

~ Zoomies! (Oneshot)

~ Eating (Oneshot)

~ The big 18 (Oneshot)

~ Scared (Oneshot)

~ Caring Boy (Oneshot)

~ Prank gone wrong (Oneshot)

~ Movie star (Oneshot)

~ Horror girl (Oneshot)

~ Family Troubles (Oneshot)

~ Sad movie (Oneshot)

~ Back-flip (Oneshot)

~ Stress baking (Oneshot)

~ Sunshine girl (Oneshot)

~ Goofy duo (Oneshot)

~ Accent (Oneshot)

~ Meet and greet (Oneshot)

~ Party girl (Oneshot)

~ Tigger and Eeyore (Oneshot)

~ Migraines (Oneshot)

~ Driskill hotel (Oneshot)

~ Clumsy (Oneshot)

~ Retail therapy (Oneshot)

~ Girly girl (Oneshot)

~ Tara's Sister (Oneshot) (part two) (part three) (Final)

Zoned out (Oneshot)

~ Quen's sister (Oneshot) (part two)

~ Language barrier (Oneshot)

~ Swimmer (Headcannon)

~ Madison's sister (Oneshot)

~ Mini pizza (Oneshot)

~ I got you (Oneshot)

~ Money troubles (Oneshot)

~ Coming Out (Oneshot)

~ Swimming Fears (Oneshot)

~ Matching Costumes (Oneshot)

~ Blood Stain (Oneshot)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

411 notes · View notes

pinkrelish · 1 year ago

Text

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

rockstar!eddie x assistant!fem!reader

✶Tossed to the wolves of touring lifestyle, you'd had enough of Corroded Coffin's backstage antics one night after a show, and try to escape to the bus for fresh air. Eddie follows.✶

NSFW — 18+ drug/alcohol mention/use, eddie spits whiskey in reader's mouth, sexual themes, crude jokes, enemies to lovers vibes, secret soulmates au

[wc: 8.8k]

↳ standalone gift oneshot for the i will wait series written by @abibliophobiaa, @blueywrites, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, @fracturedarkness

The methodical chaos—the mechanical creep of soundscape under the drums punching through your body, building to something bigger—ended forty-nine minutes and twelve seconds ago, and like the suspended chords he loved so dearly, you were left with a sense of foreboding.

Stage lights dimmed off. You were on the clock. Showtime.

Babysitter. Handler. Assistant who knew better than to offer him water.

Nerves holstered your shoulders. Unease twisted your stomach. Your ears rang, your teeth ached. Your jaw clenched in throbs off tempo from your heartbeat running wild on the adrenaline feeding the racing pulse hammering in your chest.

The concert was over, but the noise never stopped.

Inside the venue’s backstage room, abrasive bursts of laughter collapsed in excited chatter after an individual cocked back an object, and threw it.

The true night began.

A mostly empty beer bottle smacked its intended target in an echoey clang, and fell in a spray of foam. Fine. You could handle that. Then someone grabbed a plastic chair with metal legs, hoisted it over their shoulder, and chucked it, stumbling after the trajectory in the sloppy way drug-encouraged drunkenness would imply. A cacophony of too-loud cheering was caught on tape by a sound engineer’s personal Sony camcorder, flattening himself against the wall to capture the reaction to the CRT TV dropping from its shelf in the corner, stage live feed long since dead. On its fateful descent, it clipped the edge of an EXIT sign, which now dangled by its chord like a pinata, becoming the next target.

The beige brick room dampened outside interference and amplified the rest, living between yours ears alongside the snappy demands, rude remarks, and crude jokes. Spoken down to, disregarded like caked dirt between boot treads. Anxieties buzzing, looming a presence at the back of your mind, always. On edge.

Shouts, thuds, broken glass. People had the sense to duck, and cower. A side table was lifted, and heaved in a barbaric yell. Beer bottle after beer bottle after beer bottle. Chair legs ripped off, slick from the boozy bubbles coating the floor, and hurled at the red blinking sign. A lamp from another room. An ugly trash can. A hairdryer. The telephone you used to make a phone call thirty-two minutes and forty-three seconds ago; ripped from the wall with its receiver, and added to the clutter of projectiles. A bucket of melted ice, nailed head-on, splashing two dots of cold water on your cheek.

Expendable bottles were gone, but the riot didn’t stop. Another case was ripped into. Hard liquor traded hands. White powder stung noses, earning bloodshot eyes. Rewards. Rowdy shoving. Boys will be boys behavior.

An unopened Pabst whizzed past your head, slammed like a bullet into the mirror on the opposite wall, launching itself in a jet of built-up pressure across the room, ending its route at the toe of your heeled shoes seemingly just to ruin your wool-blend Express pencil skirt with hoppy liquid.

Eddie kicked the can away.

He circled his thumb and forefinger up the sides of his nose, and sniffed hard. “Want some?” he asked as he leaned on the wall with you, posture lax and open in all the ways your crossed arms weren’t. You cut your glare to the clear bottle he offered you. His grip obscured most of it, but you could see a worrying amount of whiskey had already been drunk when it crested the sides between his middle and ring finger.

Remembering to answer, you shook your head. The amber liquid sloshed with his tut, “Suit yourself,” and two deep gulps bobbed his throat.

You weren’t opposed to drinking when around him, but you learned your inebriated lesson four stops ago when the bill from the hotel totaled a stomach dropping amount, and as much as alcohol made it easier to tolerate Eddie in particular, your sluggish tongue slurring over an authoritative reminder of the early start to the morning to make it to the next city on time only fueled his defiant attitude. Pink puckered skin marked the stitches he snipped out of his upper arm with a pair of nail scissors after he and Gareth decided to smash the Hilton’s wine glasses for fun, and was surprised when a sliver of glass bit him back. Under his stringy bangs was an angry red scab from yesterday’s mic throttle to his forehead at the end of a verse, screaming his voice to the point of cracking with emotion. Other self-destructive tendencies coated his knuckles in dried blood.

It was a lot to deal with.

Today’s toll was one ruined guitar, a broken bass after the fretboard was stabbed into an amp, a bent hi-hat stand, and a completely deboned keyboard; keys removed thoroughly by the sole of someone’s boot scraping them clean off in the midst of performance. Blowing off steam, Eddie called it. Boys will be boys, one of the returning tour managers shrugged at you.

So far, it was one of the lighter days of tour—

You flinched.

A loud pop flickered through the room. One of two fluorescent lights shattered, and the tube swung down from the ceiling, becoming the next victim to a corner store ham sandwich being thrown at it.

Staying as small as possible, the emotional support water bottle in your hand crinkled as you hiked your fists further up your biceps, eyeing the camera man in the corner. Your employer tilted his head at the sight too, admiring, perhaps, the scene of two guys puffing on cigars. They stood behind two young women dressed in short jean skirts and hot pink tops, leering over their shoulders as the camcorder zoomed in on the obvious body parts a crowd of men would be interested in. The cigars bounced in their mouths as they spoke an unheard instruction in the chaos surrounding you, and the halter tops came off, breasts dropping to the tune of their girlish giggles. The men cupped their palms around the assets, and bounced them as if they were weighing fruit. From their gross laughs, it appeared they were rating the groupies, and the ladies were just happy to be on camera, pouting their lips and arching their backs.

You drew a line from their tits to Eddie’s gaze, hating the sick kick of anticipation knotting your stomach, aware you shouldn’t care for an entire phonebook’s list of reasons if he was watching them with interest. But with clarity, you realized he wasn’t paying them attention at all. His lazy smile was aimed over the rim of his bottle, full lips moving in a goad to the mass of crew members clogging the doorway.

More property ready to be damaged entered over their heads. A couch. An entire fucking couch was carried, stood on its end, and lobbed at the sign, breaking loose a length of red and yellow wires. But it still held strong. Tenacious thing.

Two grown men wrestled beside you. Their sleeveless shirts tangled, riding up to show purpled bruises on their backs—one from a mic stand thrown at him, the other from who fucking knows what. At least Gareth’s was in the shape of a crescent moon.

You shifted closer to Eddie to get away from their kicking feet, and relaxed the frustration from your brows before he commented on it. He, likewise, was bumped into by his friends, but his stature didn’t waver. That’s just how it was. Your bodies were near enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his hot skin, but the moment his sticky elbow made contact with your nice blouse—forever marking it with oily sweat—he earned an apology from Jeff who fell into him, meanwhile you were increasingly worried about receiving a tennis shoe to the ankle.

Exhaling an overdue sigh, you glanced sideways at Eddie to gauge if this was an appropriate time to remind him he should shower and get ready to greet the fans waiting outside the venue, but your breath crumbled to a groan. An eager grin cracked his face, almost manic if it weren’t for his heavy-lidded brown eyes. An idea.

He stepped forward. Everything that wasn’t his tight lips on the bottle of whiskey was ignored; downing what he could in a long swallow, and shaking off his pinched features as it burned past his gritted teeth. He raised the rest over his head, and aimed. Perfectly. The sign smacked the wall from the force behind his pitch, spinning wildly on its cord, slinging the front EXIT display clean off, and dropping lower from the ceiling, ready to sever ties. Shouts for its demise pounded your headache. Many palms clapped the back of Corroded Coffin’s frontman. He held out his hand to his audience, and a fresh bottle of whiskey was produced into his grasp.

Intuitively, employees shuffled to avoid his uncoordinated steps backwards, but you didn’t have the luxury of options, thus he misjudged the distance to the wall and ran into it, and you.

Your poor toes were the first to scream out, stuck under his heavy heel. His elbow jutted into your stomach, digging the sharp corner of your laminated backstage pass into your sternum. Even better, his shoulder mashed your nose, and you didn’t twist your head in time to keep your mouth from coming in contact with his bare tricep, getting a lick of stale salt on your inner lip, and a whiff of boy scent assaulting your nose after his deodorant stopped working hours ago. Too much of his weight depended on you to keep him upright, so you grunted out, “Fucking—Eddie,” and pushed him when others wouldn’t. Laying your hands on him in annoyance when no one else dared. He wouldn’t remember it in the morning, anyway.

Eddie followed his stumble through, and spun around. “Whoops!” he said to you in a smile—a viciously sincere thing, betraying his status over you with a genuine shine to his heavy eyes. So innocent behind his sleepy blink, long lashes fluttering, fine lines creasing at the droopy corners from the happy grin teasing his dimple into coming out, freckled nose bathed in hues of pinky red darker than the places he chewed on his bottom lip. He appeared so earnest, so charming despite his current condition, that when his dilated pupils swallowed the rim of bitter coffee brown, you lapsed in staying alert, becoming enamored by his ability to steal the noise from the room when his gaze swept your expression in a slow study. Tender, almost. If he were anyone else.

That’s why it hurt more when the comradery in his features were a trick of the light, and you were reminded of your position as his paid bitch killjoy.

The uncorked bottle of whiskey made itself known under your nose. “Want some?” he asked with kindness he did not possess, easing into a higher register to lift the question to you. Knowing. Mocking.

You swatted his hand away, and answered flatly, “No.”

It was coming. You didn’t have to be looking at him to see his face slide into dull neutrality, dry mouth and wicked tip of his tongue swiping over the back of his teeth. The displeasure was felt. Living, breathing. Fracturing your resolve like the second lamp thrown against the wall.

“Y’sure? You look like you could use a drink to loosen that stick up your ass, and have a little fun.”

Maybe it was the fact Eddie’s day started with him bitching at you for waking him up, when yours started hours earlier, rebooking his hotel rooms after being banned from the chain after last week’s incident. Maybe it was his snide tone when he demanded coffee, and you glanced at the lobby’s carafe on instinct, only to be immediately humiliated in front of the interviewer who was sitting opposite him, festering an indignant response under your skin all day. You weren’t even intending it to be for him, you weren’t stupid enough to serve him such pedestrian coffee, you were thinking about getting it for yourself. Stupid fuckhead. Maybe it was the hours you spent oscillating between enjoying the travel to new places you’d never been, and wondering if the price of him getting this riled up whenever he pleases was worth it. Maybe it was the nauseous haze flogging the room from the cigars. Maybe it was the channeled aggression from the three guys who flipped over the fold out tables for no reason, sending plastic cups of backwash tequila across the floor. Maybe it was the collateral damage the venue was going to seek. Maybe it was the three days of disaster challenging your professionalism. Or maybe it was Eddie’s next comment which pushed you over the edge.

“If alcohol doesn’t do it for you, there’s prob’ly some guy who hasn’t left the parking lot yet, maybe he can loosen you up.” And to further imbue disrespect behind his comment, he leaned in and feathered the low dip of his raspy voice over the shell of your ear, speaking so quietly the syllables had trouble catching, “But if you fuck ‘im on the bus, I wanna watch.”

The sign snapped and crashed onto the heap of damp valuables, inciting a louder celebration from those participating.

You dropped your water bottle where you stood, and skimmed past Eddie on your way out. A firm departure with seething eyes aimed straight ahead. Chin strong, moving past him with a message. “Go to hell.”

And your backbone faltered when the mass of roadies blocked your exit. Security guards with big bodies jumped, rejoicing. Lanky lighting techs downed their beers and threw them over the small crowd with no aim. Your shoulders collapsed, tucking your arms to yourself. Avoiding elbows, meaty arms with enough muscle to floor you, testosterone laced boys will be boys behavior with a heavy dose of uppers. A wall of men who ignored your plea spoken so loud in your voice which did not carry.

But they obeyed the tattooed arm beside you. Minded the obnoxious rings when rapping on a man’s arm. Heard the hoarse voice commanding them all into a single file line for you to squeeze by, “Give her some room,” and their big bodies were already hugging the other side of the hallway with a laughed apology—to him, not you.

You shuffled out as dignified as possible, knees stiff and weight focused on the balls of your feet to avoid slipping on the tile. It was embarrassing enough as is being trailed with a bottle at your back—a far cry from a heroic palm guiding you forward—and his need to overtake you in a single stride. Eddie shot his other hand out and pointed down an unoccupied corridor, in essence blocking you from leaving. Not that you had much fight left in you to argue after being awake for twenty-one hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty-two seconds. You followed the lead he set for you.

Scarce lighting shone down on the two double doors leading outside, leaving the alcove he chose cast in a darkness your eyes had to adjust to. Musty warm air from the arena swept your face. A cleaning crew attacked the stands, creaking along the seating tiers. Sweeping, chucking empty cups. The pressure on the small of your back drove you to an open area near the instact and working EXIT sign allowing you to discern the back of the stadium, and his face.

Eddie’s features were glazed in a gentle omen of red.

There were thousands of scenarios churning in your mind at the situation of being stuck alone in a dark corner with a drunken man, but his slight smirk put you at ease, ironically.

The source of the painful knots between your shoulders spoke, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He then had the gall to crowd you to the dusty drywall, and rest his arm atop your head, caging you there. Treating you as a nuisance. An insect. A little bee. A bug caught in his sticky trap. Gazing down at you with reptilian cold pupils behind his happily hooded eyes, substances battling in his body. Dangerous to no one but himself.

You squinted. “No?” The questioning lilt wasn’t intentional, but you had no idea what he was getting at.

He cocked his hip out with a dramatic sigh, and dropped his head forward to stare at you through his lashes, mouth hung loose. Waiting, waiting, waiting; acting as if he were the pinnacle of patience when you refused to play into his game, making you the bad guy. But worry not, he upheld the onus to inform you, his assistant, in a tone wallowing from the dregs of flat boredom with an edge of irritation and touch of patronization for having to spell it out for you, “I’m hungry.”

A polite, professional sneer lifted your upper lip. “Okay? Food should be here soon. I called it in a half hour ago.” About when the band came off stage, and Harry gave his honest opinion on their sloppy performance, while Eddie gave notes to the sound tech about Jeff’s mic not picking him up during Down In It. “Should be here in a few minutes.”

“What’d you order?”

Apprehension tensed through your back, perceived by his forearm mussing up your hair as the instinctual emotion stood you taller, defiant; knowing why his glinty grin taunted a show of teeth.

Pizza on Fridays. Texmex on Saturdays. Chinese on Sundays. That’s how it was every weekend. The consistency ensured you didn’t mishear him earlier when he requested his usual lo mein. “You asked for Chinese food,” you stated evenly, strongly. One step ahead of him.

“Mm.” Eddie scrunched his nose as he pretended to think it over. “Not feeling it today. I want pizza,” he said, the last word suffocated inside the bottle lifted to his lips, taking a long draw as your exhausted brain snapped to condescending him.

“So eat a cheese wonton and use your imagination.”

Utter elation gleamed in the steady eye pinning you in the crimson gloom, head tipped back to drink and drink and drink, cheeks sunken from sucking in liquor, pursing his lips around the glass rim from the smile he tried to suppress after succeeding in getting a rise out of you.

Your blood could only simmer for so long. Rolls of pent up anger, of festering disdain at his ability to find any opportunity to get under your skin, of fatigue from being ‘on’ for nearly twenty-four hours, stone in your gut from the constant passing glances when you were seen with Eddie; it all met its limit. You just wanted to leave. Your path to the hallway was blocked by the smooth contour of his bicep. Ducking under would mean an introduction to his armpit, and you weren’t thrilled by the idea of flattening yourself to the wall to slip by the untamed forest of black wiry hair. It would also be an admission of defeat, even further affirming your role as his spineless assistant to boss around. You could choose the other way and go around him, avoiding him all together, but there was no pride in that, either.

“Can you move your arm?” you asked, giving him the option despite better judgment when sudden pin pricks of uh-oh spiked your senses when he lowered the bottle.

A glistening line of whiskey traced his puckish smirk. Never menacing, but never a good sign. For a long moment the ghosts of the arena haunted the space in distant noises. Caresses of other humans around. Feedback other than the clutch on your heartbeat, and his troubled exhale into a strong inhale through his nose. Big breath filling his chest. Held. You took note of Eddie’s dimpled chin and the beads of water building at his lash line, and finally, he moved.

A sticky circle stamped the soft underside of your jaw, sliding his spit along your skin as he used the rim of the glass bottle of whiskey to lift your chin up, up. Stretching your neck, tipping your head back to the relaxed length of muscle along his forearm. Barely time to register the cherry-red halo striking the ends of his frizzy curls, or the ramping excitement overriding his already ruined impulse control.

Shy, you severed the intense eye contact when his face drew near.

Blank black soundless vortex rushing in your ears.

Drip, drip, drop.

Tiny splashes, one after the other, thumped on the locket of your lips. Mouth softly shut from the pressure under your chin. Tapping, tapping. Beat, by beat. Two, three, four, before your confusion determined what the sensation was, and the astringent scent cut its way to your sensitive nose.

You froze. Body clenching tight, fists sweating, nervous saliva pooling under your tongue too difficult to swallow. Jaw clamped shut and rejecting the liquid pooling at your lips, flooding it to the corners of your mouth, tickling the peach fuzz at the edges in tall walls of surface tension until, at last, they swelled, broke, and crashed. Thin streams flowed down either side of your neck, absorbed by your white blouse’s collar and trickling to the top of your bra cups, skirting to your cleavage. Brain overloaded. Clocked out. Warring with disgust, shock, and disappointment at the pathetic way you curled your fingers in some frustrated gesture at his actions, but ultimately, wrenched his tank top into your grip, and submitted.

You parted your lips, and Eddie poured.

Liquor, warmed from his mouth, filled yours. Burning, burning; drowning under the surge of spirits setting a blazing trail to your stomach, piquing a noise from you which would only draw the attention from those curious as to who the couple was fucking in the dark corner of the arena. You blocked the deluge from choking you with your fat tongue; rising onto your tiptoes while bending at your weak knees in the same involuntary whine as you tensed and squirmed—conflicted. Twisted your hands into the top of his shirt where the ribbed knit stuck to his chest, fabric damp with sweat and cool to the touch. You lurched him forward without thinking, locked in a panic. He complied. Easily.

Body to body, lazy weight on composed. Rubber soled boots dragging along the outside of your simple heels in a stuttered slide. Nudging the introduction of his bare legs against your skin; his hairy shins and the scraggly strings from the ripped hem of his shorts brushing the sides of your knees. Feeling his heavy arm flex as the front of his hips met you in the same stunted bursts as his steps, going from the man who frowned when you approached him, to the one who pressed himself between your thighs, causing the bulk behind his zipper to rock against you as he found his footing and stood tall, keeping his mouth aimed above yours, forgiving what spilt over your cheek in his stupor.

Dried salt and earthen dirt, embroidered texture of the fabric scraps he sewed onto his tank top rubbed your knuckles. The smooth pads of your thumbs landed above the neck hole as you centered yourself, tracing the duality of chilly perspiration on the heated skin of his sleek pecs, feeling the layer of muscle shifting underneath. Notes of oakwood barrels stroked your tongue before the sour punch of rye stung water to your shut eyes. You peeked through the wetness. Just to see.

His powerful lungs exhaled at a trained rate he could sustain in time with the runnel leaving his gently puckered lips paused above your own. Bangs stuck to his forehead. Sleepy faraway gaze. Calm, serene against the circumstances which had you questioning why you weren’t spitting the liquor back in his face. The scrunch of concentration between his brows was your last blurry sight before you were desperate for darkness again, letting your eyelids fall closed, lashes marrying.

Toofulltoofulltoofull.

The difference in your mouth size was apparent. Whiskey primed the inside of your cheeks, filling their fleshy stretch, stressing the brim of what you could hold. He’d only begun to dribble what had run hot and thick over his tongue when you untwisted your achy fingers from his shirt and served three warning taps in the vicinity of his heart. Feathery prods, like silk over the sparse hair growing in the valley between his pecs.

But, due to unforeseen circumstances, he forgot to stop.

Either you wormed yourself into stretching taller against the wall, or he leaned down. Perhaps both were true. Maybe you went rigid from the impending threat of irreversible stains on your new Liz Claiborne blouse, and maybe he shifted when the nuances of your hips slid against his own, dragging upward and reminding him of the cradle he had you in.

Richly flushed from booze, the tip of his nose thawed your thoughts as it grazed past your own, mashing a hint of tenderness you rarely witnessed from him to your cheek. By accident, of course, like the wet mid of his hair skimming the edge of your jaw where the bottle remained notched to your chin; amber glass a stark contrast from the plush give of his bottom lip flirting across yours.

Dry chapped against chapsticked satin.

The unintentional touch happened so fast, too quick to explore.

Mmm! Another antsy noise from you which rang sweet when amplified by the empty pit of coiled wires in the stadium. Mouth overfull. Stomach gripped, lungs clenching for unhindered breath. Realty checking in.

You put strength behind your forearms on his chest, shoving him and whirling your face away, keeling over what room he gave you to struggle through the largest gulp of your life, losing some of the liquor in the process, as evident by the splash on the concrete floor. Beyond brave, you drank it down, coughing, sputtering, and shuddering through the aftertaste for what felt like minutes. Huffing. Heaving. Working through the flood of drool coating your tongue, momentarily resting your dewy forehead on the thick vein drawn down his bicep by the red light, trying not to puke. Your shoulder pressed to his sternum. His heart beat, loud.

You used your sleeve to attack the wet streaks on your chin and cheeks, mopping up your pinched expression as the nausea of chugging his disgusting rye whiskey churned what patience you had for him. “What the—?”

“Hey, try not to waste any,” he commented dryly.

Voice raising, “What the actual hell is wrong with you?” You picked your head up from the crook of his elbow to pin him with your vehement glare. But the flash of temper at his drunken antics faded to the messy background of emotions when you remained in his pinion. Slotted between him, the wall, and the bottle.

Eddie’s nose bumped the bridge of yours. He pulled back slightly, and lowered the bottle. Still, his voice was one half of a sigh seeking its counterpart over your lax jaw and weak scowl. “Lotta stuff,” he answered. Still, your hands remained bound in his shirt. You couldn’t let go. Why couldn’t you let go? You couldn’t let go as the center of your bottom lip tingled like the buzzing wings of a bumble bee. Why didn’t you spit out the whiskey in his face? It was gross, revolting. Why did you swallow it?

Licks of black pepper and clove stayed on your tongue. Inhales went stale with his tangy scent, acrid and musky after giving his all on stage. His sweat clung to your fingers, mixed with the sheen on your forehead. When he breathed, his belly fought for the space between you, pressing into your stomach. Existing in the proximity you’d never seen the other in before; enabling you to hear the intimate loll of his tongue moving the spit in his mouth before he spoke.

Appearing more sober than before, with a strange amount of alertness in his glassy gaze trained on the minute changes of your features, he said, “You’re going to have a miserable time on tour if you keep being this up tight.” He angled away to sip from the bottle held by its long neck in three of his thick fingers. Rolling his lips inward, his throat bobbed a fierce line in the EXIT sign glow. “I was trying to work that permanent twist out of your panties. Get you to loosen up, have some fun.”

Just like that, the frustration was back. His words, his tone, his lack of apology for being a royal pain in the ass.

“You make me miserable,” you told him. For good measure, you pinched the sensitive underbelly of his tricep in case your voice didn’t carry the anger from the last hour of putting up with his shit.

He mumbled, “Ow,” probably not feeling the pain with how much alcohol was in his system.

Restraining yourself from reacting bigger, you tightened your fists and tried not to shake him. “I can’t relax, because the second I do Corroded Coffin gets stacks of lawsuits rammed up it’s ass, and you and I both know I’m hired damage control,” for you, you didn’t finish, getting too hot in the face to want to stand in your sticky clothes any longer, squishy inner thighs humid from being pressed together by his legs, shoes numbing your ability to feel the floor. “Would it kill you to stick to a schedule? Get cleaned up, meet some fans? Do the normal thing?”

The weight of his body returned, dropping the tension from his shoulders to curve them towards you, forcing your palms flat to his ribs. Another cage.

Unfortunately, his answer was a slow smirk. The bad kind. Sultry, and saccharine; dark like his purposefully narrowed coy eyes. “Kinda like it when you’re angry,” back to mushing his words together. “Lemme guess, you’re not even wearing panties to be twisted. You’re just naturally this…” Bitchy. “Pleasant.”

You pinched his tricep until you knew it hurt, until the roots of your hair tugged at your scalp from his forearm slipping away, and you used the space created to wedge past the areas of him which tempted a flicker of want in your core after a noticeable drag against your hip. “Don’t follow me.”

“C’mon, are you really..?” A pause. “Wait—!”

A productive conversation was a fruitless, futile thing.

You silenced the voice in your head telling you there was genuine remorse in his innate reaction to call for you. As if he were done pretending to be drunker than he was just to push things too far. Like he really cared you were walking away, in essence giving him permission to continue his night how he wanted.

No heavy thudded steps chased after you. The double doors were up ahead. You leaned into opening them past the heavy gust of hot air pushing back, and you stepped out to excited faces falling flat in disappointment when it was just a lady in a blouse and skirt reeking of booze, not a member of their favorite band printed on their bleach-dyed Corroded Coffin t-shirts.

~~~

When the tour bus doors next hissed, it wasn’t a single body stomping vibrations through the overly large vehicle on their way to pore over the details for the next show, it was a steady flow of those who called the beast their home. Most slung themselves in the couches at the front, talking shop around the kitchen table. Some infiltrated the fridge for beer. Another used the bathroom which was too close for comfort, especially in the recycled air blowing through the vents.

A body approached, and you curled your toes in as he passed.

Eddie’s heavy black boots stopped in the aisle of bunks. The soles squeaked as he turned, creaking leather as he sank his weight to one side. Stalling, facing you before he sat heavily on his bed. As he did so, two sharp pops drew his attention. Checking behind him, the privacy curtain was stuck under his ass, and the plastic rings meant to hold it up were snapped into pieces. You avoided putting your gaze on his person as you watched him solve this mystery, and returned to the paragraph you were scrawling in your notebook, moving your pen across the lined page.

Two of the last three days were journaled down, catching up from the hectic weekend, and venting through your emotions by reliving them. Darker ink bloomed where you carved the tip of your pen through your explanation of your hurt feelings and the general flippancy you were subjected to by one person in particular. The roadies and other members of the band got less screen time than the star of the show in your tirades. He knew this, too, looking from across the aisle at your clumped lashes, spying the water spots on the pages when he was standing. He sat forward, much like you, but his thighs were spread with his hands in between them, palm open to whittle a nervous thumb in the cupped center, having the decency to appear ashamed.

Your clothes were folded beside you, undecided if you wanted to trash them or wear them in defiance.

“Do you want me to apologize?” he asked, not quite enunciating due to his uncomfortableness.

Unable to mask it, you blinked rapidly before opening your eyes wide, not withholding the contemptuous sigh released from deep within. You gripped your notebook harder, bending it, rumpling the pages to hide what you etched behind your tight hands. Who the fuck asks if they need to apologize?

Eddie’s washed curls fell forward with his hung head, nodding to himself.

He got up, and left.

Anger scored your face. Draped by your headache was your furrowed brows, flared nostrils, twisted pursed lips zipped up tight from saying anything you’d regret—a lesson he could do with. Your pajamas were the makings of nine heavenly clouds after being dressed in stiff business attire all day, but the blisters on your ankles stung. Your joints throbbed. Your muscles wore sore. Your spine cried every time you moved.

Tomorrow you’d start doing the stretches the stageside crew showed you that kept them limber. You made a note to fit this in your schedule, bypassing the silly daydream of stopping at a bookstore in the next city and reading up on a yoga guide for more pose ideas than what the guitar techs could teach you, aware the chance you’d find time away from your boss to pursue your own self-interests was slim.

Flipping a new page, you dated it in the corner, began your introduction, and started on the third day of spilling your heart out.

Your pen was mighty interrupted.

It’s difficult to say what came first: the mouth watering rush of saliva, or the passionate rumble of your empty stomach yearning for the white takeout box placed in your lap by the bruised hand sporting cuts from punching Gareth’s drum platform during the one of the more self-loathing songs.

A pang of humility gentled his nature.

The four-fold top was open, revealing your favorite noodle dish with extra green onion and sesame seeds sprinkled on top, plastic fork stabbed through the middle. You lifted the container to swipe the oil stains off your mid-sentence rant, shaking free the beads of condensation collecting on the sides. The cardboard had gone soggy after being nuked in the microwave, burning through to your fingertips, but you held your dinner nestled in your palms, regardless.

It didn’t come with extra green onions or sesame seeds, those would have to be found on the side and added, along with the sauce to keep it from drying out.

Eddie made it exactly how you liked.

Hunched in the minimal space between bunks, you stared at the long stem of a bean sprout sticking out from the swirls of noodles, processing his gesture. Beneath that, your journal was splayed open to a slew of harsh sentences. Lower, directly across from your bare toes was Eddie’s boots. Higher, one of the metal aglets of his laces was stuck behind the leather tongue. Fresh socks clung the bottom of his calves. You listened to him peel back the curtain before sinking to his bunk, and trailed your study over the silvery scars on his knees. Moving up, you spotted a fresh beer in his hand, maybe one or two swigs taken. His elbows rested on his thighs, body folded over, leaning in, mirroring you to some degree.

The harsh overhead lighting brought luster to the bright golds, rich reds, and deep strands of chestnut through his dark hair brushing the shadow of his clavicle over the black shirt clinging to him, hugging the slope of his stooped shoulders.

Finally, you met the depth behind his eyes communicating what he couldn’t.

The apology lasted just long enough for your consideration, and then he lifted the crinkly wrapper tucked between two of his fingers. “You want this?”

You shook your head at the fortune cookie. “You can have it.”

“Nice,” he whispered. The unassuming planes of his cheeks lifted enough to allude to the dimple on his left side, and bracket his mouth in smile lines. He was still drunk, you assumed. A merry blush persisted across his nose, and his eyelids were as sleepy as the bags beneath them. But there was a youthful glee under it all as he tore into the cellophane. A glimpse at someone from long ago; not the rockstar before the start of touring who would pull laughs from you, but further, before the conditions of fame chewed him up, spit him out.

You wondered if Chinese takeout was a rarity in his boyhood, a special treat saved for when he left his hometown on trips to the city.

Eddie flicked the wrapper to the floor—annoyingly—and ducked at an odd angle to lay his upper half into the cozy nook of extra pillows he made you buy on the first night of being on the road. He stowed his beer at the apex of his clenched thighs, fitting the cold bottle snug against the packed seam guiding your eyes to the hill of his zipper, provoking hot blooded thoughts. His shirt rode up as he brought his arms above him, fanning the thick trail of hair out from under the hem, impossibly soft in appearance, auburn tinted, growing less dense on the sides of his belly. He cracked the crisp wafer in half, and you watched his stomach tense on the snap.

Squinting in the dark, Eddie depressed the button on the tiny reading light with his knuckle, and unfurled the paper from half the cookie, scanning the faded red text.

He snorted.

Choosing a mystical-sounding rasp not far from his real one to invoke the guise of a palm reader in a smoky lounge reeking of incense sticks, he read the fortune aloud while waving his other hand about, “You will be successful in love,” he said. His wrist went limp, and he tucked his chin to congratulate you. “Lucky you.”

No amount of plastic forks shoved in your mouth would rid you of the smile tightening your eyes. “Lucky me,” you echoed, full of wryness. The food, amongst other things, worked wonders to lift your mood. You weren’t as much buzzed from the shots sloshing in your stomach as you were queasy, and greasy noodles filled the tumultuous void stupendously.

He stuffed the crunchy cookie in his mouth, and turned the fortune paper over, speaking through the gnash of crumbs, “Your lucky numbers are 35, 26, 56, 10, 32, 52,” he continued.

“Uh-huh.”

The noise across the rest of the bus was at a level you could endure. Shooting the shit at an appropriate volume, or nodding along to the conversation. The driver would give the signal soon, and the boys would, or should, go to their bunks.

While you ate, Eddie stayed laying with his legs off the bed, head crooked against the wall due to the narrow space. He held the fortune above him. Reading it, sometimes. Thumbing the edge other times, or rubbing the texture of the stiff paper across itself. Staring, staring, unblinking from whatever he was thinking as he wrung a hand around his face; eliciting a sense of comfort from the audible stroke of his knuckles scratching over his stubble.

You scraped the bottom of your container, and put aside your notebook to gather your trash, two feet planted to make your way to the kitchen. At the last second, a glint caught your eye, and you bent over to pick up the wrapper Eddie dropped, tossing it in the takeout box, too.

“While you’re down there, be a doll and take off my boots.”

“No.”

His disgruntled groan followed you to the front of the bus.

The guys gave you a mixed reaction of curious glances and uninvolved nods as you stuffed your garbage in the overpacked bin. Jeff in particular made a point to look from you to his best friend’s legs, though you didn’t have much of an answer to whatever he was searching for.

A goodnight wave would have to do, and you were back at your bunk, folding the sheets down in preparation for the dreamless state you wished to be in. You sat on the mattress, eyes closed and spine somewhat neutral. The structure of the bunks were unforgiving, but the small crawl space could feel cozy at times, like a blanket fort made from couch cushions. Except, the house moved throughout the night, and angry honks woke you up on occasion. Not to mention you were a light sleeper from the stress of a car crash, or being dumped onto the floor.

The fortune paper flitted. Regarding you over the imposed suggestion between his legs, he informed you, “It says here the best way to relieve some of that tension you’re always carrying around is by taking a ride on a nice, fat—”

You snatched the beer bottle from between his thighs, big fake hard-on standing tall. He startled from the sensation, darting his eyes from the phantom trace against himself, and hailing you with a sputtered laugh through his cheek-aching smile, denying you the reward of taking him off guard by covering his mouth with his hand.

“I earned this,” you said about the drink.

“Yeah?” he goaded, pleased at your forwardness.

In a valiant attempt to show off, you tipped the mildly hoppy bitter back. Two pulls in, you thought better of it. Not quite a chug, but he lost the war with his grin, pearly teeth shining behind the thumbnail he strummed over the center of his bottom lip, eyes almost closed entirely in a bout of crinkles.

You pulled your lips off the bottle; off his spit and off his drink, off his glass cock, and were emboldened by the confidence of his playful disposition to rib on him openly, like the guys would when his pendulum mood swung to the good side. You lamented in a dramatic sigh,”Maybe my love life will be so successful, I'll get swept off my feet, and be free from the burden of listening to your sloppy guitar plucking all night.”

His expression lurched towards impressed. Overacting with his mouth agape in surprise, lips curled over his teeth, and splaying his hand on his chest. With how he propped himself up on one elbow, his shirt stretched flush against his pecs, accentuating the two round shadows at the ends of the metal bars through his nipples.

Right, you remind yourself, able to forget their existence through most of his wardrobe choices, he has pierced nipples.

Your body ran hot at the memory from two short hours ago where you were inexplicably thrusted into a situation where you could’ve felt the jewelry by accident, pressed against a wall. Now you were able to think through the adrenaline, and acknowledge having another person’s touch on your skin did more harm than good for the loneliness lurking within, calling it to the surface.

The notebook beside your pillow drew your glance.

Eddie stabilized your position in the conversation, not letting your sudden reservation deter him from seeking retribution for your insult. “Think y’drank too much honey, there, Bee. That one stung below the belt.”

The moment it took for you to register the low leech of a tease sneaking its way through his croaky, whiskey-hoarse words was a long one. Longer was his heavy palm falling to demonstrate where exactly your insult hurt him, cupping and grabbing the afflicted area. “You wound me!” he dramatized, demonstrating the limits his fatigue green shorts flattered, cotton fabric scrunching under his grip, then slouching flat on the release. Longer, still, was the distance between the gaudy ring on his middle finger and the tip of his short nails, thick digit landing on the tattered seam splitting him down the middle. Letting go, he rested his hand above his belt.

Everything about him was victorious. Champion eyes glinting rum colored; a shade you’d never seen on him, and almost missed with your observance stuck lower, trapped by his overt flirtations.

His belly rose and fell with a sympathetic hum devised to rattle you.

When sober, the invitation to crude insinuations began and ended with intangibility. A calculated smile to fluster you when caught admiring how his tattoos twisted over the muscles in his upper arms when he leaned on his keyboard, a sentence spoken in the morning before his voice warmed to its comfortable register, a tossed comment in the midst of conversation with his band mates and the effect it had on you shifting uncomfortably just outside the ring of amity—quarantined behind the scope of his single-handed gesture pumping an obvious motion, pretending you were absorbed by the timetable schedule for the band inside your folder, appearing busy and decidedly not desperate to either be included or released from the task of being present, even when hot needles of sweat stressed the lack of consideration for your feelings with each sorry expression cast in your direction. You were his worker bee, paid to wait on him, and his teasing was rarely physical beyond an appropriate knock on your bicep for your attention in the off chance he didn’t snap his fingers at you like a dog. Or a tap on your knee under the kitchen table to get you to stand so he could leave; a light pressure which you could replicate days later with your own knuckles. His daily indifference was born of spite, and his drunken actions were bred of the same annoyance, bottle-deep perspective viewing you as the one who was ruining his night. Assuming he continued to push his tolerance with more drinks after you left the green room, his bold teasing made sense, you supposed, too unrestricted to deny himself the fun of riling you up.

The right thing to do would entail divorcing yourself from this conversation, and bringing up his conduct tomorrow. The wrong thing to do would involve taking another swig of his beer. The right thing to do would require reminding him of his meeting with Murray in the morning, who had a shorter fuse than anyone in the music industry. The wrong thing to do would include lobbing the bottle in his bed. The right thing to do would demand not giggling at Eddie’s poor reflexes when he made a bigger mess of the ale spilling on his blanket.

Eddie seized to catch it, but his hand-eye coordination was not up to par. He scrunched his eyes closed at the last second, jolting into a crunch with his chin tucked in an inordinate amount of wrinkles, and hands turned with his palms out, more keen on keeping the bottle from hitting his face than truly catching it. Which was a plausible excuse for his boot kicking your bunk in the process, and overall lack of poise as he brought his hands together after the beer had already bounced off his belly, and rolled where the bed dipped around him.

The wrong thing to do would consist of you running your knuckle along your shameless grin, prodding the flesh against your teeth as he dropped his head back and emptied the bottle onto his softly cradled pink tongue, thank you for sharing the drink, every last boozy drop.

Recognition curved the groove of his mouth.

Boys will be boys behavior.

“Here,” he said, rolling forward with his arm extended. The glass bottle in his hand drew your immediate wilt, but before you advanced too far into your frown, he alleviated your ire with the two fingers pointing at you, fluttering the damp paper between them. “You believe in this sorta shit, don’t you?” Despite the mock, you knew better than to refute his claim, not having the chops to sound convincing. Not that you really had faith in the mass produced slip of paper, but the affirmation that you’d find your soulmate one day produced a sense of ease before bed. Even when the word ‘successful’ was blurred from a drop of beer.

You placed the fortune in your notebook, feeling the ache of an unfinished entry.

At the front of the bus, the driver stamped up the stairs and gave the signal he was going to start moving soon, cuing the subliminal bedtime. The unbelonging technicians left, and the rest of Corroded Coffin stretched from the stiff cushions lining the booth seats around the table. As they picked up after themselves, Eddie untied the top set of his laces, and kicked his boots off, leaving them in the aisle along with the empty beer bottle.

He rolled onto the edge of the mattress to rip back his sheets and shoved his legs under, hesitating from drawing the curtain when he browsed the end of your bunk, where your feet moved under a pile of belongings placed atop your covers. “I’ll send your clothes to the dry cleaners tomorrow.”

Not an apology.

“You mean you’ll send me to the dry cleaners tomorrow,” you corrected, and his face smoothed flat from the accidental snub.

Harry moved between you two. Jeff divided the conversation further. Gareth cleaved whatever rapport you had with Eddie when he snorted at the two of you facing each other in your bunks, cuddled up like a sleepover.

Thinking harder as his peers climbed into their beds, Eddie relaxed onto his forearm supporting his upright posture, and sank into the jut of his shoulder, spinning his hand in the same flippant way the scrunch between his brows appealed to the snark loading in his throat. “I’ll just give you my wallet then, mm?” he offered, gravelly voice dusted with insincerity. “Then you can buy all the white blouses, and black skirts your pretty heart desires.”

Someone snorted again. It sounded like Gareth.

“And, uh,” Eddie endured as the plastic rings tinked across the metal bar, leaving a generous window visible from the top of his shoulders to his wild hair spread about his pillow palace, limp curtain hanging pitifully, “if you’d be so kind, don’t watch me sleep.”

“I won’t,” you said, and it sounded so sad. So soft, and faint, no bite behind it. No zest, no strength. Just confusion, though you understood the events leading to the pendulum swinging the other direction.

You closed your curtain, too.

The tour bus rumbled before sighing its characteristic hiss and chugging forward, pitching its cargo inside. You swayed in your nook. Laying on your back meant you experienced every roll of the tires cutting corners in the parking lot, but you weren’t ready to turn over yet. Your mind was swarming with cluttered thoughts. There were things you could be doing other than peering out at the depressing darkness where the dim ambient light didn’t pierce. You could brush your teeth, stow away your pocketbook before the pens rolled out, pick up the bottle before it tipped over and played pinball down the aisle all night. Your journal entry could be finished, you could sit up and read a book like Eddie, you could do some of those stretches for your hips and back. You could cry, you could count sheep for the next four hours and forty-seven minutes, you could cry some more; wet face wiped raw by the stiff sheets, and mouth buried in the unfeeling comforter to muffle the squeak of air leaving your lungs when you couldn’t suppress the emotions lodged in your throat any longer.

You could do many therapeutic things.

Instead, you pressed your knuckle over the center of your lower lip, replicating the pressure, and thought about the fortune.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie x reader

2K notes · View notes

loveandpeaceanddoughnuts · 29 days ago

Text

Levi x Scout!Reader - oneshot hurt/comfort, use of y/n, minor injury

Levi reaches out in half-sleep to pull you close and jolts fully awake when he doesn’t feel your body in the bed beside him. His heart pounds and he breathes deep, trying to shake off the burst of adrenaline. The sheets on your side are cold- you’ve been gone a while.

He slips out of bed, wrapping his coat around him as he lights the closest lamp. “How many times have I told them not to do this shit?” He grumbles, more to remind himself that you’re okay, that this has happened before, than out of any real anger.

And it has happened before- you stealing away to suffer alone rather than let someone else, even your partner, see you hurt. You’re not in the rest of the quarters, not in the hallway when he sticks his scowling face out the door to check.

“Fuck’s sake.” Levi shoves on his boots and heads straight for the training grounds, grimly confident that he’ll find you there.

You’re sweating under the pale moon, launching attacks at a sparring dummy that’s seen better days. Your knuckles are split- you didn’t bother to wrap them before starting to swing. A nightmare drove you here and you’re deep in your mind, seeing the faces of enemy soldiers on the worn, straw-stuffed head of the dummy.

The face before you is suddenly replaced with Levi’s, and you just barely manage to pull the next punch before it lands squarely on his clenched jaw. You still clip him on the chin and he takes it, his head snapping to the side, sleep-tousled fringe falling across his eyes.

“Hey, y/n. Rough night?” He deadpans.

You’re panting, breathless with exertion and the shock of him sneaking up on you. “Take a wild guess.”

He doesn’t answer, just looks down at your bloody knuckles and frowns. “Seriously?” He catches your wrists before you can pull away and turns your hands over, inspecting them in a tense silence. “Tch. Even shitty cadets don’t train barehanded.” You yank your hands away as he continues. “You know better. You wanted to hurt, is that it?”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see their faces, Levi, it was my fault!” He steps closer, cautiously, like he thinks you might bolt.

His voice is quieter but still firm. “Then hit me.”

“What?” It knocks a bit of the fight from you, and you lower your fists warily.

“You’re right, I wasn’t there. But you’re on my squad, I gave the order. You're just a soldier following commands. Hurt me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Your voice cracks.

“I’m not.” He’s right in front of you now and he tugs his jacket open, exposing his chest to you and the empty field. “You wanna lash out, go ahead.” He spreads his arms like an invitation.

Your eyes sting with frustrated tears and you turn away so he doesn’t see them fall. “Fuck you, Levi. You know I can’t.”

“Y/n, look at me.” You shake your head, refusing to meet his gaze. His hand cups your cheek to bring you back. Levi’s eyes, still bleary with sleep, are softer now. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. Why didn’t you wake me?”

You can’t answer, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll only be able to sob. The bright, guilty rage that had driven you out here was beginning to fade, but the shame it left behind was a different pain. A pain Levi knew well. He doesn’t ask you again.

Instead he gathers you into his arms as you cry, strong hands stroking your hair, your cheek against his steady heartbeat. Levi carries you gently back into the barracks, back into your room, into safety and the dim glow of lamplight.

He hushes the apology you begin, thumbs the tears from your cheeks without comment. He only lets you go when your shuddered breaths have smoothed back to normal, the worst of it over.

Levi disentangles himself from you with a murmured reassurance that he'll be back soon. He returns bearing two steaming mugs and an armful of bandages, disinfectant, and...cleaning supplies?

He rolls his eyes at your confused look. "You got blood on my jacket, brat. Can't let the stain set." He won't bother with his clothes, though, until he's finished gingerly cleaning your bloody knuckles and wrapping them in clean bandages.

You wince into your tea as he works, trying hard not to show more weakness in front of him. Especially not pain from wounds you caused yourself. Levi notices, and without adjusting his scowl he presses a quick kiss to your hands before wrapping the last layer. "Stop that."

"Hm?"

"Stop beating yourself up. The world fucks us badly enough. It doesn't need your help." He turns away to start scrubbing at the bloodstained jacket. "And I need to sleep through a night without worrying that you've run off to do something idiotic."

The hint of a smile creeps onto your face. "You worry about me?"

Levi's gray eyes narrow. "Of course I do. What kind of a question is that?" He pokes your forehead. "Or is there only room to think about yourself in that stupid head of yours?"

"I love you too, Levi."

He reddens and looks away. "Yeah, well. Next time wake me up."

"Promise."

#levi x reader #hurt/comfort #angst with comfort #scout!reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #snk levi #aot x reader #aot #snk x reader #oneshot #levi fluff #levi angst #levi x you #aot levi #levi x y/n #y/n

257 notes · View notes

d0rothydraws · 3 months ago

Text

Plus size reader has been sick and busy for the last 2 weeks. Sylus has also been busy, resorting in them not having sex for that time. Then, you feel better one day.

content: f!reader, plus size reader, description of fat bodies, very body positive, oral f! receiving, teasing, smut

w/c: 2.4k

Ao3: Here

a/n: I had an idea and it turned into this which was NOT my idea but I hope you enjoy it anyways. I want to write more plus size content as a big girlie myself I need to make my own food for this community.

also i'll be posting less because I'm starting a new job but I'll try to post now and then but also i'm going to try and write a bunch of prompts and oneshots for kinktober so if i do write stuff, I might just be saving it for october.

if theres anything you want to see with any of the boys for kinktober, send me an ask or comment and i'll make a list. I'll write pretty much anything.

You and Sylus have been busy as of late. Meetings, work, other obligations that left you tired. On top of that, for the last week you've been fighting off a cold. So, reluctantly much to the both of you, you had not had sex for two weeks; which for you two, two weeks ago seemed impossible. Two weeks ago it seemed like every few hours you were being dragged away, pulled onto his lap, lifted onto the counter, in the shower, against the door. Everywhere, anytime.

Of course you both were pent up, but your relationship was more than sex. You enjoyed each others company, and he would hold you close no mater how worried you were about getting him sick. He would kiss your forehead, his touch gentle and caring as you waited until you recovered. You swore you drank a years worth of orange juice which, in turn, upset your stomach more. He would tease you about wanting to get better so quickly, that he enjoyed taking care of you. But you knew he was just as eager as you.

So when you woke up one night you noticed how you felt imminently.

The feeling in your throat, gone. The weight behind your eyes, gone. The soreness in your stomach, gone. It was like you were a new person. As you sat up in the bed, knowing Sylus was still awake, probably in the attic watching a movie, your heart raced. You already felt the excitement build inside you as you just thought about what the next couple hours would consist of.

You changed clothes, your frumpy baggy night clothes replaced with a thin tank top that left nothing to the imagination. The curve of your soft stomach poked out slightly through the bottom of the fabric. Shorts replacing the thick pajama pants you've been wearing for two weeks straight. You looked at yourself in the mirror, pleased at the display. You weren't shy about your body. Not anymore, not worth him. He told you time and time again how your curves drove him wild, how his hands would sink into your body. The way your thighs touched and shook as you walked. You caught him looking more than a couple times. And now, with everything on display, your mission had begun.

Making your way up the stairs to the attic you didn't try to be quiet. You knew he would be able to hear you, anyways, you wanted him to see you. As you immerged, the room was dark. Sylus preferred to use a projector, the white canvas stretching the entirety of the wall beside the door. And in an instant, his eyes were on you. The red piercing the darkness more than the projector light did. You didn't hesitate or falter though as you walked right past him to the little bar that was behind the couch.

"What's got you all dressed down, kitten. Did you get too hot?" He said the concern clear in his voice but also, there was a roughness that he's been holding back for weeks present. You felt the sound make your head spin.

"Yeah, I got another hot flash." You said moving to grab a bottle of water that you knew you weren't going to drink, but you wanted to catch him off guard. "What are you watching?" You asked as you moved to stand behind the couch. You could nearly see the hair on the back of his head prickle at your presence. Before he could answer you leaned down, your lips pressing against his ear. Your voice low, your chest pressed against the edge of the couch, against his back as he felt your soft body against him making his breath hitch. "I don't think I seen this one before."

You felt his body tense against you, his hand on his drink tensed as your hand moved over his chest, feeling his muscles flex under his sweat shirt. He turned his head trying to look at you, but in turn, you took advantage, pushing your lips against his now exposed neck. What you didn't expect, was for him to moan.

"I thought you were still sick, sweetie." He said with an edge to his voice as he tried to not let his emotions get the better of him. But you both knew he was more sensitive than what he wanted you to believe. As he felt your teeth graze his neck, you moved back up to his ear, catching the lobe softly with your tongue.

"I was. And now I'm not." You said matter-of-factly, leaning more over the couch so he could feel your chest on the back of his neck. Sylus moved his hand, trying to touch you, any part of you before you moved away, circling the couch. You stood Infront of him, your body casting a shadow on the movie. His eyes raked down your body, his cheeks having a faint red glow. Slowly you walked over to him, your thighs trapping him against the couch. You sat back on him, watching his throat constrict slightly as his hand touched the soft curve on your side.

"You look very appetizing right now." He said with a groan, feeling your body in his hands, his cock twitching under your ass that was barely covered by your shorts. "Are you sure you're feeling better. If we start it will be hard for me to stop especially when you look like this." He said, his breath heavy as his hands moved to your love handles, the soft dough like area melting under his fingers as he started to sink his fingers more into you. His hands kneading your body as his cock twitched again. You pressed against him, your stomach and chest soft against his hard one, filling the space between your two bodies.

"Aw are you saying I'm cute? I could say the same about you." You teased as your own hands moved to the hem of his shirt. He helped you, taking his hands off you just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it to the side of the couch. His eyes narrowed at your comment but he smirked softly, enjoying the hunger in your eyes as you looked at his body. His muscles flexed, so defined, strong. And yours on top of him. Soft, more curves than he could hold in one hand and just as sexy as him. You complimented each other.

"Oh darling you're much more than cute" He purred, his hands on you again as he trailed down your curves to grasp the side of your thigh. His other hand moved to the top of your tank top, pulling it down more and more until it ripped. He watched as your chest was slowly revealed more as he stretched out the already thin shirt. The sight made his mouth water. You shivered, watching as your chest shook softly from the fabric ripping, the rest of your shirt falling off of your shoulders. You teased him, using your arms to press your tits together, shaking them slightly. You seen a spark flash in his eye before his head pressed into the cleavage.

His eyes looked up at you as you moaned, feeling his tongue lick at one nipple a your other nipple as being pinched and played with by his fingers. You ground your hips against him, moaning as you felt him bite your nipple as if giving a warning. That didn't stop you from doing it again though. And this time, he ground back. Slow, and steady. He pulled his mouth away from you, a long string of saliva attaching him to your nipple before it broke.

Your hands moved to his chest, the palms brushing over the skin as you ground again, his hands moving to your hips, holding you still. In seconds, you felt the couch against your back, one leg hanging off of the couch due to the width of your thighs, but it only made his job easier since you were practically on display for him.

His hands moved over your body, body caging you in as he left no inch left untouched and un-kissed. He started at your neck, peppering kisses as he licked down between your chest, his hands returning for a second before he continued lower. He kissed down your stomach, taking extra time for his hands to play with you some more. To feel your weight in his hands, how your body was so soft against his. His hands weren't shy about any rolls you had, or extra softness. If anything he took his time to appreciate every curve, his hands and fingers making your dizzy as he slowly reached the top of your shorts.

His hands slipped under the band of your shorts, pulling them down to find the lack of underwear. He chuckled, trailing kisses down your soft thighs, nipping the inside gently as he felt you twitch and shiver from his touch.

"No panties? What a naughty kitten." He purred as he licked the inside of your thigh again, his other hand pulling the one that was hanging off the couch to rest on his shoulder. Before you could answer, his face was between your thighs. He had the hunger of a man that hadn't eaten in weeks. And in a way, he hadn't. One hand moved to grope your stomach, fingers squeezing and kneading the softness you had as his tongue pushed inside you. He moaned, breath heavy as you clenched around his tongue, pulling your hips closer, forcing his tongue deeper.

"You taste sweeter than I remember. All of that orange juice might have had something to do with it." He growled, pulling back for a moment as you gasped for breath at the sudden stop. You looked at him, the sight of his face covered in your juices, how he licked his lips. His free hand moved between your thighs, gently pushing two fingers in at once. Your body arched, eyes rolling back as he moved his mouth back to meet his hand. His lips moving to suck and lick your clit until you were shaking and begging him to not stop. As you came on his fingers, he licked you clean, not wasting a single drop as he pulled away, purring softly. "Delicious." He said, his voice heavy with arousal.

As you caught your breath, he moved off of the couch, discarding his pants and boxers. You looked at him, moaning softly as you felt heat flood your body at the sight of his thick dripping cock. It had been 2 weeks since you took him, and a thrill went through your body as you wondered how he would feel after so long. A hand moved to his cock as he rubbed himself, walking to you. His eyes raking over your body. You moved one leg over the back of the couch as if to draw him in more, if that was even possible.

As he repositioned over you, he kissed you slowly. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him, kissing back. A hand moved to your cheek as his thumb trailed your jaw. After a moment he pulled back, his voice earnest and soft.

"It's been a while, so I'll start slow." He said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wetness, coating himself slightly. You gave a soft nod, your heart fluttering at his sincerity before he started to push in.

Your body went numb. Your cheeks flushed as your mouth opened. every nerve in your body contracted at the feeling. Pure pleasure and some pain as you felt your body stretch. He did move slow, but the moans he made, the grunts as you clenched around him, it made it hard for the both of you. You knew he was big, you've fucked more times than you could count. But in your abstinence, your body forgot.

"God, Sylus." You moaned, a hand curling in his hair, another clawing his arm. "You feel bigger than I remember." You gasped out, nails digging into him which made him rut slightly, pushing more into you as you cried out.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm almost offended. But I suppose it's more of a happy surprise." He said with a chuckle before he bottomed out. Your head was empty, the only thing that felt empty if you were honest. The only thought was him. How full he made you feel. How deep he was, how much he stretched you as you shook around him. No wonder you fucked him several times a day, his cock was like a drug. A drug made for you and you alone.

As he started to move his hands grabbed your love handles, fingers sinking into the flesh as he pulled you closer. Your body jiggled with each thrust, your chest bouncing, thighs wobbling, stomach shaking. Sylus growled softly, his eyes darkening at the sight as his thrusts got rougher as if to see how much he could make your body bounce from his cock.

Soon, you felt his hips start to stutter. One of his hands moved to between your thighs, thumb working the hard little nub that was begging to be touched. As he felt you clench around him, moaning and clawing his arm which was definitely going to leave a mark, he felt how close you were. Your moans getting louder, your cries getting higher pitched as your face grew more red, legs shaking around him.

"You look so good like this under me." He said, his voice heavy with need as he continued his movement. His comment pushed you over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a wave. You gasped out his name, hand falling off of his arm. Seconds later he followed after you, groaning as he painted the inside of your walls with his thick cum. He continued to pump into you, slower as he released, riding it out. Your eyes rolled as you whimpered. Had he not came this whole time? There was so much. You shivered as you felt your body get aroused again, feeling how much he was filling you before finally pulling out, his cock still half half. He panted, leaning over you as he put one arm on the couch arm rest.

Kissing you slowly, he brought his other hand to your face, holding you firmly. There was heat behind the kiss. His body still burning with that need for you.

"I hope you're not tired." He said against your lips, his hands moving to rub the expanse of your thighs. "Because we have to make up for lost time."

#love and deepspace #sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads #l&ds #plus size reader #sylus x plus size reader #l&ds sylus #sylus x mc #sylus qin #lnds sylus

224 notes · View notes

fandoms-x-reader · 5 months ago

Text

Wild Child

Word Count: 5,930

Oneshot

Summary: The brothers decide to go to a party without you. Instead of sulking alone, you decide to go out with Solomon to have your own fun. Demon Brothers x Female! ~Wild~ Party Reader Solomon x Reader (Platonic/Best Friend) Mentions alcohol and clubbing/partying.

You let out an annoyed sigh as you sat on one of the bed’s in Diavolo’s Castle. You crossed your arms as your mind flashed back to the seven demon brothers who abandoned you here. Okay, abandoned was a bit of an over exaggeration. But, you were definitely upset with them.

They had gotten invited to the annual Succubus party. It was apparently some great big party that everyone had fun at. There was only one problem - humans weren’t allowed. You rolled your eyes as you thought about the rule.

The demon brothers all told you that they had to go. It would be improper for the Seven Rulers of the Devildom to not show up…or something like that. As much as they made it seem like they were going out of obligation, though, you could see the excitement in their eyes. They even convinced Levi to go!

You were fine with them going. You would have gone if you were in their position as well. What made you mad though, is they insisted on dropping you off at the Demon’s Lord Castle. They told you that they didn’t feel comfortable with you being left alone - for your safety. So, they asked Barbatos to make up a guest room and brought you over.

Diavolo was unable to go to the Succubus Party because of how busy he was at the moment which meant that he also wouldn’t have any time to spend with you. You were doomed to spend the night in the guest room, bored out of your mind.

Most people would have just thrown a pity party and gotten comfortable. But, this was not how you were going to be spending your night. Not while everyone else was having fun. So, you called the only person you could think of - Solomon.

You quickly grabbed your D.D.D. and called your best friend. Since no humans were allowed at the party, he had to be free. You waited as the phone rang, praying that he would pick up. You were just hoping you could invite him over to the castle to keep you entertained for a bit.

“I was wondering when I’d get a call from you,” you heard him say as he answered. “You were expecting me to call you?” you asked. “I heard about the brothers “banishing” you to Lord Diavolo’s castle while they’re at the party,” Solomon replied. “You heard about that?” you questioned, surprised.

“They may have mentioned it to me. You’ll never guess their reason either,” Solomon said, and you held your breath as you waited for him to continue. “They said it’s because they knew you wouldn’t be able to get into any trouble there,” he finished.

You raised an eyebrow at his words as you said, “So, they all get to go out and have fun without me, and they get to decide whether I get to have any fun tonight.” Solomon stayed silent for a moment, a smirk on his face. He knew that every time someone told you to do something, it was a challenge to do the exact opposite.

“We’re going out tonight. I don’t care where,” you told him after a few more moments. Solomon let out a chuckle before telling you, “I came prepared for you to say that. There’s a club having a party tonight as well. It turns out there are some people who don’t want to go to a party full of succubi.”

You turned the idea around in your head, a smile slowly forming on your lips. “The brothers will be mad if they find out you went to this party, though,” Solomon told you - daring you. “Well, they told me they would pick me up in the morning, so we’ll just make sure we come back to the castle when the night’s over,” you responded.

“I’ll come pick you up. See you soon,” Solomon stated before hanging up. Your heart skipped a beat in excitement as you went over to the suitcase you had packed for the night. Luckily for you, you had packed an outfit on the off chance they decided to invite you to the party last minute. You thanked your lucky stars that you were somehow always prepared to look good and you went to the bathroom to change.

After you finished getting ready, you took another look at the outfit and blushed a little bit. This was the first time you were wearing this outfit. Asmo had picked it out for you on one of your shopping trips. You never had the occasion to wear it, but you figured if you were to get invited to a party with a bunch of succubi, you should wear something that matched the theme; and, this outfit definitely did.

You didn’t realize how much skin was exposed until you were wearing it. Your chest was supported in all the right ways while exposing a decent amount of your cleavage. The outfit hugged you in the best places while showing off your body with an open stomach and stopping mid-thigh to flaunt your legs.

Once you were satisfied with the way you looked, you grabbed your D.D.D. and made your way to the door of the castle, where you unfortunately ran into Barbatos. He looked surprised to see what you were wearing. You don’t think anyone had seen you were something so provocative.

“Heading out?” Barbatos asked you. “With Solomon, he’s outside,” you replied, reassuring him of your safety before giving him your best puppy dog eyes. “Please don’t tell the brothers,” you asked him. Barbatos took in a breath before telling you, “I’m not your babysitter, you can go wherever you like; but, if they ask, I won’t lie.”

That was the answer you were looking for. Hopefully, if you planned everything accordingly, you would be back long before the brothers would even have to ask where you were. You flashed Barbatos a smile before leaving through the door and meeting up with Solomon.

When you got to the club, you were surprised to see how busy it actually was…and what was that song they were playing? You knew it. You turned to Solomon and he looked like a kid in a candy shop, practically bursting at the seams.

“I actually have a pact with the demon who owns this club, and when you agreed to go out tonight, I made some calls. Welcome to your very first human party in the Devildom,” Solomon said and your smile widened. Tonight was going to be fun.

You quickly dragged Solomon inside the club and couldn’t help but laugh. There was multiple human-world games set up. Beer Pong, Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare…Twister. Solomon really thought of everything.

He handed you a drink and you took a sip, surprised that you could actually feel the burn of the alcohol. You loved your best friend, but he was going to get you in trouble tonight.

Your mind switched to someone you knew who was sitting at the bar and you made your way over to him. He immediately smiled and you asked in disbelief, “Simeon?” He pulled you into a hug before saying, “Y/N! I was waiting for you to show up!”

_______________

The Seven Rulers of the Devildom had been sitting at a nearby table contemplating their decision to come to the party tonight. Usually, they loved the Succubus Party. There was enough fun there to last them until the next year. But, this time, it felt like there was something missing; and, it didn’t take long for them to figure out what that was.

They felt bad for pawning you off on Lord Diavolo, but you had a tendency to get into trouble when they weren’t around. They all figured they could make it up to you later. But, now they were wishing they had stayed in with you instead.

Lucifer and Satan sat in silence, watching the people around them. Mammon mindlessly twirled a grimm coin in between his fingers. Levi pulled out one of his handheld games, deciding it would be more fun than this party. Beel’s only mission was to eat the entire buffet, and Belphie was a few more quiet seconds away from falling asleep. Even Asmo was lacking the motivation to try and seduce a Succubi. What was wrong with them?

_______________

You weren’t exactly sure when, or really even how, it happened, but you, Solomon, and Simeon were wasted. At first, you couldn’t stop laughing about Simeon’s drunken state - it was so ironic to you to see an angel so drunk. But, the more he loosened up, the more you realized how fun he was to party with.

You and Solomon made sure to play every single game that was set up. After all, you weren’t sure when you’d have another opportunity to play any human drinking games. You weren’t going to miss out on the opportunity.

You started with beer pong, surprising yourself with how good you were. A crowd of demons gathered around you, watching you play against miscellaneous opponents. Their cheers spurred you on and you won almost every time.

When you were done with that, you decided to move over to Twister. You didn’t know the demons you were playing with; but, in your current state of mind, you didn’t care. The demons, however, were very excited to play with you. Almost every demon in the Devildom had a crush on the beautiful human exchange student. However, most of them weren’t allowed within an inch of you, thanks to your seven bodyguards. Now that they weren’t there, though, all bets were off the table.

Solomon decided to spin the wheel for the game, giving the instructions for which body part to put on which color. You found yourself twisted in a precarious position between two demons and a small blush rose to your cheeks. You stayed strong in your position, though, and after a few more turns, you were all sent tumbling down to the ground.

You let out genuine laughs as Solomon helped you stand back up. “Are you okay?” he asked with a small smile. He may have been the one to get you into this trouble, but he was also your best friend and wanted to make sure you were doing okay. That you weren’t feeling sick or uncomfortable. “I’m doing great,” you replied warmly before taking him over to the next game.

_______________

The brothers had noticed that the already unusually quiet party had lost more and more people. What was happening to this year’s party? They decided not to think much about it. It wasn’t their place to question the succubi. They were just waiting for it to be over so they could finally leave.

That was, until, a particularly drunk lower-level demon approached their table. Normally, they wouldn’t tolerate such behavior, but he was clearly inebriated. “Guess you guys chose the wrong party to show up to, huh?” the demon asked, plopping down next to Mammon.

Mammon raised an eyebrow as he shared a glance with his brothers. “What are ya’ talking about?” “Your human - she’s all over Devilgram,” the demon replied with a smile. All of their hearts stopped beating as silence filled the air. “What?” Lucifer asked, anger rising in his eyes. Anger rising in all of their eyes.

“Yeah, Solomon and her are throwing an awesome party at the club. I’ll show you,” the demon proudly stated, pulling out his D.D.D. and opening Devilgram. Satan snatched the device away from the demon as soon as the app opened and they all crowded around the fourth eldest to look at the screen.

Pictures of you and Solomon started popping up and everyone’s eyes widened as they saw you. More specifically, when they saw the outfit. The problem wasn’t the outfit - the problem was you looked absolutely stunning in it and you were letting every passing demon look at you in it. That was a huge problem for them. Like the demon said, you were their human.

The anger and jealousy hung like a storm cloud over the brothers as they looked at the pictures. And, if that wasn’t bad enough - then came the videos. And there was a multitude of them. Videos of you dirty dancing and playing Twister. Videos of a demon getting dared to kiss your neck and another one in which you were chosen for ‘Spin the Bottle’.

What made things all the worse was that none of them had gotten a chance to see this side of you. The opportunity had never presented itself for them to get you alcohol from the human world, and Demonus had no effect on humans. They were missing their chance to see you stumble around or slur your words in the cute way humans do. They were missing their chance for you to be cute and cuddly, the alcohol clouding your decisions. Instead, the honor was going to a bunch of random low-level demons who had the audacity to have their lips on you. Someone was going to pay.

“Looks like everyone’s getting a piece of her tonight,” the demon joked, laughing a bit. Not funny. The ‘joke’ was enough to send them all into their demon form, Satan crushing the demon’s D.D.D. in his hand from the wrath he was feeling.

“Hey,” the demon pouted but they paid him no attention. “We’re leaving,” Lucifer stated - as if he even needed to. All seven brothers walked out of the Succubus Party - much to the succubi's dismay - and made their way to the club.

_______________

You hadn’t planned on being as adventurous as you had been tonight. But, Solomon was an excellent wingman - and an instigator. He held a mischievous look in his eyes everytime he suggested you play a game. He knew if the brothers found out, you would be in trouble, but that was part of the fun.

So, now here you were, sitting in a chair in the middle of the club with a demon who had been dared to do a body shot off of you. The idea made you blush but you complied nonetheless. After all, a dare is a dare right?

You sat there nervously in the middle of the club while others cheered the demon on. He got down on his knees in front of you, holding a shot in his hand. He looked nervous and you felt a bit bad for him. So you flashed him a small smile, and told him, “Don’t worry, it’s just for a dare.” That seemed to make him relax a little bit as he got ready to do the body shot.

The demon brothers had arrived at the club and entered it with a mission - to find you. Nothing else mattered. They noticed that everyone’s attention was focused on the center of the club and they all looked in that direction, stopping dead in their tracks at the scene in front of them.

The demon who was in front of you poured the shot on your stomach before gripping your hips and seductively licking the shot off your body. When he was done, he moved up your body and crashed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss.

When the demon pulled away, everyone cheered loudly, enjoying the completion of the dare. You stood up from the chair, blushing and laughing at the situation as Solomon approached you. Before he could say anything though, your eyes scanned the club and you stopped breathing when you saw all seven brothers standing before you, a look of murder in their eyes.

Your smile immediately fell as you saw them. “Uh oh,” you muttered and Solomon looked in that direction, his own smile leaving his face. You two were in so much trouble. As if on cue, all seven of them started walking towards you, the true aura of their power shining around them.

“Solomon,” you muttered. “Yeah?” he asked. “I want to be buried in the human world,” you replied as they finally reached you. They were so angry, no words could even come to their mind. In your intoxicated state, you thought it would be best to break the ice by asking, “How was the party?”

They all narrowed their gaze on you as Lucifer grabbed your wrist and told you in a dangerously low voice, “You’re done.” He then started leading you out of the club, his grip tightening on your wrist in case you got any funny ideas of trying to stay. You knew better though. The other six brothers surrounded you, forming a wall of protection from all of the other demons. They would be damned if the other demons tried to sneak a look at you again.

The whole way home was silent. No one dared to speak a word, and you didn’t know if that was more scary than them yelling at you.

When you got to the House of Lamentation, Lucifer instructed you to sit on the couch in the living room while they all stood in front of you, ready to give you the lecture of your life. “What were ya’ thinking?” Mammon asked, breaking the silence. You knew better than to try and talk in the middle of their lecture.

His question began an onslaught of questions from everyone else as they scolded you on the dangers of going to parties without them. You did your best to sit there and take it, but you had a lot of alcohol in your system and you were struggling to focus. Eventually they realized this and Asmo said, “Maybe we should pick this up tomorrow.”

None of them were completely satisfied with that, still feeling angry; but, they knew it was for the best. “You’re banned from hanging out with Solomon until further notice,” Lucifer added in as a last remark. You didn’t say anything in response. You just sat still while everyone headed off to bed for the night. Everyone except - him.

Lucifer watched your unmoving form as his brothers headed off to bed. He thought what you did was completely irresponsible. The simple fact is that you are a human in the Devildom and who knows how many of those demons were just waiting for their chance to pounce on you. The opportune moment when someone wasn’t watching you, and with how drunk Solomon was, Lucifer doubted he was capable of keeping his eyes on you the whole time.

He wanted to keep a stern appearance so that you knew he was serious, but he couldn’t leave you sitting there on the couch in the state you were in. He approached you slowly and offered you his hand. You looked up at him in shock and he softly said, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You gave him a small smile as he led you to your room. You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse into your bed for the night, but Lucifer had decided you needed to change into different clothes. He accompanied you to your closet and then ushered you inside your bathroom to change.

He waited for you to change and when you came out, the two of you exchanged awkward glances. You knew he wasn’t going to leave you alone. Not yet at least. So, you crawled over to your bed and slipped underneath the covers.

Lucifer didn’t say anything, he just leaned against the wall by your door, making sure you got to sleep safely. You sent him one more glance before closing your eyes and letting sleep overtake you. Lucifer was surprised at how quickly you fell asleep, but with the amount of alcohol you had, maybe he shouldn’t have been.

He looked over your sleeping form and for the first time all night, his cold facade broke. He approached the bed and sat down in front of you, careful not to wake you. He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face before letting out a small sigh. “Why do you always have to end up in trouble?” Lucifer asked softly, letting his gloved thumb stroke your cheek bone. If only you knew his true feelings for you, maybe you wouldn’t have gone to the club in the first place.

As everyone shuffled off to bed, Mammon immediately went to you. He couldn’t leave his human there with no help. He sat down next to you on the couch and you looked up at him through your eyelashes. Dammit, why did you always have to look so cute?

“Come on, I’ll help ya’ get to your room,” Mammon offered. You nodded your head as he helped you stand up, keeping his arm around your waist in case you needed any help walking. He helped you get into your room and told you, “You should change.”

You moved away from him to your closet and immediately peeled off your top much to Mammon’s surprise. His cheeks burned a bright red as he immediately turned around, the image of you shirtless seared into his brain. “I meant in the bathroom,” Mammon muttered.

You finished changing and turned to face Mammon who was looking away from you. A slight blush rose to your cheeks as you realized what you had just done. “Sorry, you can look now,” you told him and he slowly turned around, as if he wasn’t sure if it was safe or not.

He relaxed a little bit once he saw you were fully clothed, and you moved to get in your bed. You stumbled a bit and Mammon’s arms were immediately around you, making sure you didn’t fall. You looked up at him and noticed your lips were inches apart from each other. He wanted so badly to lean in and kiss you, but he couldn’t have your first kiss with him be while you were too drunk to even remember it.

So, he helped you get into your bed instead, making sure you were properly situated. He was about to leave when suddenly he felt a surprisingly strong force pulling him down.

He let out a small shout as you pulled him into the bed, snuggling into him. “Wha?” he began to ask, but you cut him off. “I missed you tonight,” you told him, your head on his chest while your arm wrapped around his torso.

Mammon was blushing furiously as his heart was pounding in chest. By the time he finally got his thoughts together to respond, he could hear you softly snoring. He finally let his arms relax around you as he closed his eyes. Why did you have to have so much power over him?

Levi stood there looking at you and a frown fell upon his lips. How could he not help you - his true friend? He let out a small sigh as he nervously stood there, not knowing what to do to help you. He cleared his throat after a moment before asking, “Do you - need any help?”

Your head snapped up to see him standing there, looking very unsure of himself. “I can make sure you get to your room okay,” Levi suggested. “Sure,” you said with a small smile. You moved to stand up and you were a bit wobbly. Levi took a step forward to help you but when he noticed you had steadied yourself, he backed off, not wanting to overstep.

He followed you to your room and didn’t think about telling you to change clothes. He’s never really had to deal with someone this drunk before. He helped you get in the bed immediately. He thought the best thing for you would be sleep.

You laid in the bed not moving, and Levi was about to leave, but he took another glance at you and you looked too still. He went into panic mode once again as he moved forward, gently touching the side of your neck to check for a pulse.

He let out a breath of relief as he felt it, but the coolness of his hands felt nice on your overheating body, so you reached your hand up to his and interlaced your fingers with his. He let out a startled noise, but didn’t pull away. There was something about the way your hand felt entwined with his that made him never want to let go. He stayed frozen for a moment before deciding to sit down on the bed. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if he stayed a little longer, right? Just to make sure you weren’t going to die.

Satan followed the rest of his brothers to leave the room, but something stopped him. He paused for a moment before turning back around to look at you. You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch. He was angry, for sure, but he couldn’t leave you to pass out on the couch.

He slowly approached you and you immediately looked up at him as soon as he got in front of you. You were looking up at him with big, helpless eyes and his heart swelled. He knew that even if he was angry at what happened, he couldn’t be truly angry at you.

Satan gently brushed the back of his hand over your cheek before letting out a small sigh and helping you stand up. He helped support your weight as he managed to get you to your bedroom. He went to your closet and quickly picked whatever clothes looked comfortable, not wanting to rummage through your belongings without your permission.

He handed you the clothes and then guided you to the bathroom. You gave him a small smile and went inside doing your best to change. You managed to slip into the bottoms, but getting changed into the top was a different story. You managed to get your current top most of the way off when it snagged in your hair. Great. As if you weren’t already embarrassed enough as it was.

You let out a sigh of frustration and you heard Satan shuffle from outside the door. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “I’m, uh, stuck,” you replied, a blush covering your cheeks. Satan was confused and asked, “Is it alright if I come in.”

You nodded your head and then realized he couldn’t see you. “Yes,” you said, and the door slowly opened. Satan blushed when he noticed your shirt was still off but focused on the task at hand. He moved to stand right behind you and carefully untangled the top from your hair.

His fingers brushed gently against your back, sending a shiver down your spine. His blush deepened when he felt you shiver and he closed his eyes to regain his composure. He had imagined you shirtless many times, but it was never under this pretense.

“Got it,” he said softly, removing the top from your hair. “Thank you,” you told him, slipping the new shirt on before exiting the bathroom. You moved over to your bed and sat down on it. You looked over at Satan and he was standing there, unsure what to do at this point.

“Would you stay with me tonight?” you asked him, your eyes filled with hope. Satan could never say no to you. “Of course,” he replied, getting into the bed next to you. You didn’t overbear him with cuddles, not wanting to push him out of his comfort zone.

He stayed laying on his back until you were fast asleep, and then he turned to face you. He cupped your cheek before leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead. He wished he could understand what about you made him have such strong feelings for you.

Asmo stood still for a minute, taking in your appearance. You were absolutely wasted. He sympathized with you. He had been in the same position many times over the countless years he had been alive. As soon as his brothers were gone, he approached you and titled your chin up to look up at him. “Come on, hun,” he said, carefully helping you up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he told you, brushing some hair out of your face. “Thanks Asmo,” you replied, making him smile. He helped you get to your room and immediately looked at your closet. He turned to face you and told you, “You look absolutely stunning in that outfit, Y/N. I definitely made the right choice when I got it for you.” A blush coated your cheeks, and you looked down to hide it.

“But,” Asmo continued, tilting your head back up to lock eyes, “You can’t sleep in it.” He then moved over to your closet and searched your clothes finding the perfect outfit. It was comfortable and cute. Leave it to Asmo to make sure you look good even when you’re too drunk to remember it.

He led you to the bathroom and told you, “I’ll be here when you’re done.” You gave him a small smile and went inside. You changed quickly and then opened the door again where Asmo was waiting eagerly.

You tried to take a step out, but he stopped you. “You’re not done quite yet,” he told you. He quickly lifted you onto the counter, surprising you with his strength. He then pulled out multiple beauty supplies to take off your makeup and wash your face. After all, being drunk wasn’t an excuse to damage your skin by sleeping in your makeup.

You let him do whatever he wanted, enjoying the feeling of his hands gently rubbing over your face. When he was satisfied, he helped you back off the counter and led you to your bed. He laid you down on it before moving towards the lights.

“Asmo?” you asked, not wanting him to leave. He smiled at the sound of his name and turned the lights off. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he told you, climbing into the bed. He would never take advantage of you while you were in this state, but there was also no chance he was going to leave you alone.

He quickly wrapped you in his arms, letting you know he was there for you, and he gently stroked your hair, making sure you were as comfortable as could be. You fell asleep pretty quickly and Asmo listened to the sound of you breathing. He thought about the night and couldn’t help the jealousy that rose back up in him. Next time, he - and he alone - was going to be the one who made sure you had the night of your life.

Concern filled his eyes as he looked at you while his brothers each gave their own lecture. He understood where they were coming from, and he was equally upset about it in his own way. But, couldn’t they see that you weren’t feeling your best right now? Maybe some food would help you feel better.

As soon as the “intervention” was called to an end for the night, Beel went straight to the kitchen to whip up a snack. He held off the urge to eat everything he had made and brought the snack right back to you.

He let out a small breath of relief as he noticed you hadn’t passed out yet and came and sat next to you on the couch. He offered you the plate and you gave him a warm smile as you graciously took it. “Thank you,” you told him. He smiled back at you, happy that he had found some way to help.

When you were done eating, Beel wasted no time in getting you to bed. You let out a small shout of surprise as he swept you into his arms, lifting you off the couch. You could have protested, but you were so tired. It was nice being carried to your room, especially by Beel.

It felt so warm and safe in his arms, you nearly fell asleep on the short walk to your bedroom. In fact, you thought you had when you felt Beel set you down on your bed. His mind was on a one-way track to making sure you got some rest, and there were no stops for a change of clothes or taking off your makeup.

Beel sat next to you on the bed for a moment, gently patting the top of your head. A frown suddenly formed on his face as he thought about the idea of you getting nightmares tonight. You did have a lot to drink, and he had heard that alcohol could have negative impacts on a human’s sleep.

The thought of you waking up alone and scared was too much for Beel to handle. So, he decided he would stay the night. He had gotten comfortable in the bed when you had suddenly shifted, your head leaning against his shoulder.

A blush coated his cheeks as he dared to turn his head and look at you. Your sleeping form was so cute! He let out a small sigh as he went back to staring up at the ceiling. He was so into you.

Belphie couldn’t help the small smile that rested on his face as his brothers all left the living room. He looked over your appearance and the smile slowly turned into a smirk as he went to sit down next to you. He can’t just take care of you. No, he has to tease you a bit first.

He frowned a bit when you didn’t lift your head to acknowledge his presence, but decided to push further anyway. “You’re always getting in trouble, you know?” Belphie asked, gently poking your cheek.

You finally turned to look at him, a playful glare in your eyes. “It’s not like I meant for things to get this far out of hand,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie. “When you’re with Solomon, things always get out of hand,” he teased back. You let out an unsatisfied huff and Belphie got the message. He would tease you more tomorrow.

He stood up and pulled you up from the couch, leading you to your room. He’s another one that doesn’t care about appearance as much as the others, so your clothes and makeup are a non-factor.

Instead, he leads you to your bed before turning the lights off and shutting the door. Maybe you wanted cuddles, maybe you didn’t. He never thought about asking you. Instead, he figured he should be compensated for taking the time to help you up to your room. And, he wanted cuddles.

So, as soon as you were laying in bed, he slid in next to you, wrapping his arms around you as he snuggled in as close as he could. “Belphie,” you muttered with a blush, not expecting him to do that. He didn’t respond, pretending he was asleep, even though you knew full well that he couldn’t fall asleep that quickly.

You let out a small giggle at his childish behavior before deciding to take advantage of the cuddles. You shifted slightly to get a little more comfortable and then found yourself easily falling asleep.

Soon, your soft snores and even breaths were the only thing Belphie could hear and he opened his eyes to take another look at you. You looked so peaceful when you were sleeping. He had never felt like this about anyone before.

275 notes · View notes

skrrts · 3 months ago

Text

Home Is ✧ seonghwa version (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x park seonghwa ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, fluff, romance ✧ word count: 1,4k

You have found the love of your life, and now the two of you are ready for the next step in your relationship: moving together. Neither of you can wait to finally be able to spend every day together but it's out of the question ... the whole progress looks a lot more casual and aesthetical on social media than it actually is. Chaos. Why are there so many cups and should you go for the aesthetical or the useful setup2? But wait a moment... did you see seonghwa's most beloved animal crossing lego figures? there is no way you continue unboxing until it's found.

a/n: #1 of my friday oneshot series for September ft. the hyung line. i meant to do them in order but after watching hwa's live stream, i changed my plans. just something short and chaotic for the start of the weekend. also, for some reason, this might be part of the animal crossing proposal universe... they just fit so well together.

Did you always own so many plates? You couldn't stop wondering when you went through three boxes of plates, cups, and other smaller kitchen items. Seonghwa and you both previously lived in very tiny apartments and on all the days you spent at your boyfriend's place, it just never felt like it just was as much. You carefully turned the cups around that very likely were gifts from Hongjoong because they had handpainted little doddles on them.

There was a wild mixture of elegant pieces and a few very silly ones from Animal Crossing to Star Wars you carefully took out of the cardboard box with his name on it. Now, you couldn't part with those, could you? A small sigh followed as you started to make two pills, a keep and one you'd likely donate. Nobody needed that many.

It still felt like a fever dream to realize it really happened, Seonghwa and you made the step of moving together. Now that you finally graduated and picked up a job, it was the logical decision and you managed to find the perfect apartment, it was still small but cozy with a tiny balcony just big enough to put a table and two chairs out. There was a giant old oak tree outside, offering some privacy.

Seonghwa's small noise made you look up. He was about to unbox his selection of Lego figures after you two spent all morning putting together a new shelf dedicated only to them. You placed the cups aside and walked over, finding him going through a box in semi-panic, long hair falling out of his little ponytail.

"I can't find it!" A name was added but you had given up trying to remember all of the little Animal Crossing figures, there just were too many. Your boyfriend looked up, blinking.

"Is one of them missing?" Seonghwa nodded as he went through the other box again: "It's the bunny! The one I used for the special surprise for you! I know I put it in one of the boxes, I was so sure it was with the garden set!"

You rubbed a hand over your cheek before moving over: "Let me help you." After all, there was no way it was gone, so maybe it just slipped into the wrong box. The truth was that just maybe, you were a little distracting when Seonghwa tried to pack but it had been difficult not to, your excitement just had been so high on that day. You might be guilty there.

"Are you sure you put into the bubble wraps? Maybe it stayed in one of the sets," you offered as you checked the ones he already emptied to see if maybe, it got stuck in the additional paper to protect them from being thrown around in the box.

Seonghwa frowned, trying to remember when he really had it for the last time. "I was sure I did put it in here but ... now I am not sure anymore. Let's check those."

He turned around, looking at the remaining two boxes with Lego. "Let's split it up, I will take the upper one and you can take out the other. Then we also just can unwrap everything and see if it is there."

You walked over and took his hand, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. "It is okay, Hwa. I am sure we will find it," you promised and he sighed, a soft smile spreading on his lips. "You are right. It's just special, you know? Everything that is tied to a memory with you is." His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you a little closer.

Seonghwa always was sentimental, he loved to collect pieces that reminded him of a moment in his life he enjoyed and you always thought just how sweet that was. "You will forever judge me for being unable to remember the name but I know how much it means to us. I am sure it is right there, just teasing us."

He offered a lazy smile: "You are right, considering it is my figure, he likely does." He smiled, seeing you giggle before letting you go, and clapped his hands together the same way he did when he announced he'd clean your messy apartment.

"Let's do this!"

You picked up the other box and very carefully unwrapped all of the small Lego figurines, placing them on the desk before starting to take out the scenery sets. You gifted Seonghwa a few of those last year for his birthday and he treasured them ever since. As you placed it on the table and removed the protective wrap, there it was.

The little bunny figure was napping in the middle of the star death ship or whatever it was called.

"I found the criminal, about to destroy our apartment," you called out, laughing. Seonghwa was over in a second, gasping: "I can't believe this! Such a betrayal! What is your excuse for leaving your fiance alone?!" He scolded the little figure on purpose, making you chuckle. Seonghwa walked over to the shelf with the other Animal Crossing and placed it next to its announced counterpart.

"Now it's where it belongs," he hummed.

You threw the wrapping back in the box, crossing your arms with a smile: "The day has been saved. Such an excitement." No doubt this was much more enjoyable than carrying all of those upstairs, even with the help of seven people and your families.

Seonghwa's gaze softened as he looked at you, walking over. He cupped your chin and lifted your head a little, his thumb brushing over your cheek making your heart jump.

"You know how much I love you? Never judging how silly I am," his voice was soft and full of affection.

"And I love you because you are just like that," you whispered and he leaned in to share a tender kiss, one you wouldn't mind to last forever.

Seonghwa was smiling into it and before you knew it, turned into a teasing grin, and suddenly, the floor underneath your feet was gone and you were lifted up on top of his arms.

"Hwa! What are you doing?" you blushed, looking at his pretty face as he carried you over to the to-be bedroom with little effort. You decided on a new bed, one that only would be delivered in a few days so you set up a mattress in the form of a little semi-blanket castle as the sky above it.

"Placing our world to your feet," he whispered and placed you down carefully before laying down as well, pulling you closer to him.

This was nice, you could smell his perfume and admired how hair framed his face as he undid his ponytail. Soon, you were snuggled against him and you two sighed contently.

"Can't wait to do this for the rest of our lives," he whispered, placing little kisses on top of your hair. You nodded, your fingers brushing over his stomach muscles: "I know... it's strange to think we really no longer have to say any goodbyes. I can't wait, for all the memories we will make living together now."

There was a moment of silence before you two laughed in sync: "We really are sappy, aren't we?" Seonghwa asked and you looked up, grinning: "Mhm, we are hopeless." He smiled, a hand resting against his cheek: "Good, I'd not want it any other way. Now we will make this our own little dream island."

That sounded amazing, really.

"Do we also have to become best friends with the neighbors here?" You asked, winking as you snuggled back against him.

Your boyfriend chuckled as he relaxed back into the pillow: "Well, let's say I'd not be opposed to it but we also won't have to worry. I am quite confident that our friends will come over often enough to make it about the same experience."

Your friends and family, now your worlds really slowly melted into one. "They better bring gifts then;" you teased and closed your eyes.

"I'm sure they will but I'll make sure to take good care of you always," Seonghwa whispered in his gentle voice. You only nodded, yawning as you slowly drifted off.

You once read in some countries, they believed the first dream of a new home would come true. Yours was about a life with Hwa, so you gladly would embrace this. Always.

#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez au #ateez writing #park seonghwa x reader #sh tag #home is #seonghwa fluff #ateez fluff #fluff tag #reis writes

149 notes · View notes

j0kers-light · 4 months ago

Note

hi bae, ik youve been going thru a rough patch i hope(in fact ik) you’ll bounce back harder.🫶🏻

i really wanted to make a request for a long long time now, no pressure write it whenever u feel like it i am just going to drop it here.

for me J has always been a Lana del rey song specially the ultra violence album, he’s shades of blue, he’s ultraviolenec, smts hes even brooklyn baby. Can you write something dark, like real dark where hes possessive, violent, exatcly like he was in TDK. Pulling stunts and dropping hints. maybe he kidnappes the reader or smt like that, he’s acting all crazy and violent but something inside him just makes him slip to a lil caring or loving side every now and then, which eventually leads to some serious SMUT 😏😏

the reader could be his enemy’s daughter(maybe even batman’s daughter lol i am going wild) he tortures her,loves her, takes care of her then tortures her a lil more but make no mistake the reader is a fireball she gives him that lil fight they have in her which makes J even more attached to her.

ik i am just blabbing and making no sense, but i hope ukwim. i am also attaching a link to my fav J edit ever which might give u an outline of what i am trying to say. maybe even add J’s POV.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqyP1PdveA9/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

okay ill shut up now. feel better love you 🫶🏻

His Lighthouse: Broken Dolls (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

I feel ashamed that you had to wait so long for this request. Forgive me times a thousand @heathisbae !! I still love you and I got carried away with the word count. (10,500 words!!) I promise you that my blood, sweat, and tears went into this request. You should've let me stay in my enclosure. I LOVE DARK requests and I was in a dark and lonely place when I wrote this. The perfect mood for Broken Dolls.

Gather round children it’s time to go over some legal stuff. I usually do not care about trigger warnings. You are responsible for your own reading pleasure, BUT I’ll add a TW: List because yall gone need it. Chaos had a lil bit too much fun writing this one.. 👀😬

TW! Dark!Joker. rape, knife, blood, impact, choking, power play, dacryphilia, spitting, biting kinks, unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, degradation, no prep (foreplay is important kids) uhhhh… I’m missing something. 🤔 It’s canon Joker people. He’s a walking trigger warning.

Just be careful if you decide to read this one. I know I went overboard but your mental health is always my top priority. Enjoy or not. It’s entirely up to you. Since its a dark request, I decided not to tag anyone except @heathisbae Read at your own risk 🖤✨

Your father made it virtually impossible for anyone to find out. By fate’s design, you looked nothing like the iconic figure you called “father”, and you were forever grateful for that.

Your skin complexion, eye, and hair color masked you from the surname that was your birthright. You were the rumored Wayne heiress that Gotham City whispered about. Many far and wide longed to meet you to strengthen their businesses by marriage, whereas others flat out questioned your conception.

Bruce Wayne had neither confirmed nor denied the mother of any of his children to the world. Not like he ever would. There were only a few secrets Bruce had left in this world: you being the most important one.

Your life would be in danger if anyone were to find out you were a Wayne or worse, the precious daughter of Batman.

Many were adopted into the bat family, but you were blood to Bruce. A last-ditch effort he made to secure his family’s legacy; He hired a surrogate.

Should Batman ever fall in combat, you could pick up the torch and continue the Wayne legacy.

At an early age you wanted to make your father proud and wisely decided not to follow in his footsteps moonlighting as a vigilante. The eldest boys, Dick and Jason, celebrated for days. They loved their half-sister and supported every decision you make, but they would’ve put their foot down should you have wished to don a bat suit.

Instead of violence, you dedicated your life to education. Only the best schools with full ride scholarships—your cv was lengthy as it was profound. You spoke multiple foreign languages, held many accreditations issued from all over the globe, and excelled at virtually every extra-curricular skill you could think of.

You were a hardworking, driven woman with a no-nonsense attitude. That much, you got from your mother.

You dominated any boardroom you entered, and your famous e/c eyes could make or break contracts with a single look. Now that was all your father’s genes. You gave the phrase, beauty and brains, a living breathing, mascot and Bruce couldn’t be prouder.

That unfortunately made you a target.

You shied away from public humanitarian appearances to avoid being recognized as a Wayne. Too many similarities with Bruce would make people curious. Instead, you worked behind a smokescreen and attended the many charities and sponsorship parties as a third-party spectator to oversee your work.

That way, you got to see your hard work being implemented into the community—far better results than your father’s monetary donations provided.

You took pride knowing your hard work was creating a change in Gotham City. With the safeguards Bruce and the boys had in place; it would take an actual genius to put the numerous clues together to uncover your identity. You could live in relative peace while still making a difference.

Sadly, your long forgotten surrogate mother would soon threaten life as you knew it.

Joker prided himself in being a vigilant man. Nothing, not even the smallest of details, went unnoticed by him and when it came to his best friend Batman, J took extra care to notice every little thing.

The level of surveillance Joker did on the dark knight bordered on obsession but in a way, he was. Joker strived to be twelve steps ahead of his arch-nemesis in order to maintain his freedom. Being shipped back to Arkham was not an option, so he took information gathering very seriously.

Joker knew that Batman was Bruce Wayne for years. He was surprised other Gotham villains or just the local law enforcement didn’t put the clues together. It was so obvious.

There was no point in telling the world Batman’s not so little secret, but when Joker studied the daily life of Bruce Wayne a bit further, now that was a blackmail gold mine. Having a one up on Bats just felt good and especially when Joker discovered the perfect weapon that would break the man once and for all.

You.

Tucked away and hidden in plain sight; Y/n Wayne, the perfect tool for Joker’s plans.

A father’s worst nightmare, seeing their child in distress, Joker looked forward to scaring Bruce with this latest prank. All he had to do was get close enough to steal you away, but Bruce kept you protected twenty-four seven. Smart man and Joker didn’t blame his bestie for being a protective father.

There were dangerous people out there who would dream of your demise if they knew the truth!

No, it was much easier to track down your mother and it was mere child’s play to make her talk. Joker thoroughly enjoyed extracting as much information from the woman before her untimely demise.

He found it was unfair that she was virtually defenseless while you had security tighter than most world leaders. It wasn’t fair in Joker’s book, so he set out to put your safeguards to the test.

And what achievement it was to outsmart Batman at his own game.

You should’ve known better. Dad drilled it into your brain time and time again to always be aware of your surroundings.

There was no such thing as a coincidence. Things happened for a reason, and it was up to you to detect any signs of danger at any given time.

The same could be said for that fateful night. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed by a journalist at a charity event. She kept asking probing questions—a few hitting too close for comfort about your identity.

How ironic that you attended every event the rumored Wayne heiress organized and knew so much about her personal affairs. What a coincidence how reporters asked you questions like you were the boss..

The curious woman would not leave you alone! Her mindless chitchat felt more like an interrogation by the minute. You feared your identity was compromised after one of her questions rang true, but she simply laughed it off and said that if you were indeed a Wayne, “You’d be way prettier.”

Whatever that meant.

Perhaps the comment hit hard since your longtime friend/rival, Lana, stole attention from the fund raiser with her scandalous outfit. The brunette reeked of new money and had an ego the size of Metropolis, demanding attention wherever she went.

Her appearance ruined your event for helping orphaned kids and turned it into a mini Met Gala. You had every right for storming out to scream into the back alley. She never failed at ruining things!

You were really letting your frustration be heard when a whistle nearby startled you.

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”

You quickly stopped screaming once you realized that you weren’t alone. A lone male was smoking in the same alley, and he locked eyes with you once he caught your attention.

They were an unnatural green that felt familiar however, you couldn’t place where you might’ve seen them before.

“By all means... don’t let me keep ya from your.. uhh temper tantrum.” He blew a long puff of smoke into the night air.

At first you were in shock, but that reaction soon turned into irritation. Just who did he think he was talking to you like that? “I am not having a tantrum thank you very much a-and... you can’t smoke here!”

He simply chuckled while taking another drag. You crossed your arms and tapped your heels on the concrete as you waited for a response. This guy was something else.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” You added.

“Yup.” He popped the letter p, “Loud n’ clear. Pretty sure this area is ah... employees only. Ya wouldn’t catch me smokin’ if ya weren’t out here being a brat, hm?”

He had a point, but you still scoffed at his choice of words. You had the idea of using your title as the boss of this event to get him fired; yet he would surely talk and by morning, Gotham City would know that you’re a Wayne. That was the last thing you wanted; however, it was worth the hassle if it got rid of him.

For now, all you could do was shake your head at this strange man breaking your employee’s no smoking rule. You personally selected all the staff for the event and your security team performed background checks on everyone to ensure your safety.

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.

His presence made you uneasy and you took a step back, “Do I know you?”

He snorted, smoke emerging from his nostrils in comical puffs. “Uh no, but I knoooo~ooow you.”

The blood in your veins ran cold when the stranger stood up and stepped into the light. “Didn’t your dad tell ya not to talk to strangers Miss Wayne?” He said mockingly.

You took one look at The Joker’s grotesque scars and turned to run.

Joker grinned and let you have a running start although you didn’t get far. Your feet got caught in your dress fabric and made his job relatively easy. The two of you tumbled to the ground, Joker landing on your back, but that quickly changed with a sharp elbow to his nose.

You didn’t stick around to see if your hit landed, you just scrambled to your feet and tried to reach for the back door when a hand grabbing your ankle disrupted your sense of balance. One second you were upright, the next, you were on the ground seeing double vision.

Joker didn’t think you’d put up much of a fight. His research into you was limited, but he doubted that you had any of the fighting skills your father was notorious for.

Technically he was right. You had taken up self defense training from Jason and he reported that you sucked at it.

Despite your lack of skills and concussion, you weren’t going down without a fight. One of your nails scratched Joker’s elongated smile causing it to bleed and suddenly, he had enough of your little games.

You were making too much noise, and his window of opportunity to kidnap you was running out. If he didn’t move you soon, his plan would be ruined. You just had to make things difficult for him.

“Alrighty Y/n, time for a little nap. Shhhhh... shh easy now.” Joker dodged your wild punch to his face as he dug a syringe out of his pocket.

The sight of it made you panic and fight back harder but your scream of help was drowned out by a roar of applause from inside. The auction must’ve ended with a success. Joker pierced your skin and watched the milky white substance disappear into your system.

It was cold seeping into your veins as you still tried to fight back.

“Aht ahttttt don’t fight it. Let it happen.” Joker crooned into your ear; not like you could hear him. Your body felt so heavy, you lost function of your limbs so suddenly it was terrifying.

The Joker’s obnoxious laugh sounded miles away from you. When your eyelashes fluttered closed, Joker knew victory was his.

The environment that you woke up in was dark and cold.

Your limbs were still groggy with whatever The Joker had injected you with and after a few test stretches, you still had motion in them. Although it would do you no good. The distinctive sound of metal on metal gave away your current predicament.

You were chained to something.

You tried not to panic but you were unable to see anything a few inches in front of you much less see how far the chain allowed you to move. You felt something solid underneath you and concluded that it was some sort of mattress or padding. It was a small comfort while being confined in total darkness.

Wherever you were, The Joker was to blame, and you weren’t going to let him have this much power over you. You had to find a way out before he started his sick form of entertainment.

Every citizen of Gotham knew Joker’s M.O. You didn’t want to be tortured to death all for a laugh.

You waited until your eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings before exploring how much freedom you truly had.

You felt around in the darkness until your hands bumped into something solid. It was a surface with nothing that could help you escape on it, so you moved on. Minutes felt like hours as you stumbled through the dark, searching for anything useful. Just when you thought you were painting a clear picture of the room in your head, a door opened beside you.

The blinding light was nothing compared to the searing pain of the door hitting you square in the face or that of the trauma caused by falling to the ground.

The room was still spinning when your loudmouth got the better of you.

“What’s your f__king problem?!” You cried out. You feared that your nose was broken, it sure felt like it with the amount of blood you felt gushing out. The Joker didn’t seem phased by the display.

Instead, he stepped right over you and flicked on a light, blinding you in the process. “Errr let’s see... problems. MY problem.. Social injustice? Global warming…uhhh rush hour traffic?” Joker paused for dramatic effect and slowly turned to face you. You froze, feeling his emerald eyes rake over your form hungrily.

The unnatural hue seemed to suck you in the longer you stared. “You.” Joker purred.

“M-Me?” How were you a problem? He abducted you not the other way round!

You had never crossed paths with the Clown Prince of Crime until tonight. The two of you couldn’t be more worlds apart. You stayed nose deep in your humanitarian work and out of any trouble whereas The Joker was trouble personified.

The only thing that linked you to Joker was your father, yet you doubted the clown was smart enough to put all the puzzle pieces together to uncover that.

You prayed that this was all some sort of misunderstanding but judging how The Joker was staring, your hopes began to shatter one by one.

You instinctively shielded your body from the known threat and in doing so, your skin brushed against unknown material. The formal dress you originally wore for the evening was gone and replaced by a thin t-shirt and baggy men’s pants. The implications were not lost on you.

You turned to glare at the madman before you. “Who changed my clothes!?” If you were able to blush, you knew you’d be redder than a tomato.

This man obviously had no respect for women. He simply threw his head back and laughed, “The pleasure is allllllllllll mine.”

You failed at hiding your full body shudder and even worse, you were unable to silence yourself from talking trash. “Screw you.” You regretted saying it the moment you opened your mouth.

The room suddenly got quiet. Joker sauntered his way over to your mattress and crouched down so he could be eye level with you. He admired the fire burning within your e/c eyes for a time. Such a strong wielded fire, it was beautiful to behold. If Joker had his way, there would only be smoking embers after he had his fun. He would make sure of it.

The Joker always had an air of drama about him, and it took center stage as he spoke to you. “Ya wanna.. know something? You should be lucK-yyyy my boys didn’t change ya. They would’ve loved to uh.. what did ya say? Screw you.”

His choice of words held more meaning as he tried to brush a few strands of hair out of your face. You shut down that idea by chomping at his fingers the second they were within your reach.

You refused to sit around like some damsel in destress until dad or one of the boys came to rescue you. You would fight back even if it killed you.

To Joker, your little stunt was comical. You could rebel all you wanted; your antics would never compare to what he had in store for you.

He simply wagged his paint-stained fingers at you like a scolding parent and insulted you further. “Mm, feisty! I like thaT. But that’s no way to behave while you’re here. No noooo. No. You are a verry special guest, Y/n!”

Joker walked over to the table that you found earlier. You watched as he pulled out a tripod and took the time to set up a camera in your general direction. Once it was positioned to his liking, he mashed a button—and to your horror, a red light began to blink.

“Tada! May I present.... Y/n, my lead-ing lady in this uh.. short film of mine! The title you ask? Why it’s, How to Break Batman’s Little Girl 101!”

Joker’s words were like a sucker punch to your gut. They bounced off the thick walls of the room and echoed back in your eardrum's times a hundred. Your worst nightmare was happening right before your eyes. Not only did someone know who you were, but dad’s long kept secret was out—and his arch-nemesis of all people, knew about it.

You were blinking a mile a minute and Joker thought your lips flailing like a fish was oh so adorable. Kissable really but he shook that odd thought away.

He hyped up his performance so much, you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or the camera at this point.

“Oh come now, Y/n. Don’t act so sur-prised! I knew Bats’ secret for years now. We are friends ya know.... Mmm on second thought. Ya might wanna work on the security Batsy.. I just so happened to waltz in and steal your precious.... and might I add.... beau-ti-ful daughter away easy peasy. Did I mention she’s verrrry beautiful?”

You snapped out of your panic by Joker’s fingers grazing your cheek. Your response was instinctive by slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

Joker wasted no time reacting to your outburst. His gentle touch turned cruel and struck your face hard enough to turn it sideways right into the wall.

He quickly grabbed ahold of your jaw and yanked you back upright. You were forced to bear witness to his self-inflicted scars, all jagged and swollen up close. It was a permanent reminder just how insane this man truly was. Joker’s nails dug into your cheek and for a split second, you genuinely feared this man.

His green eyes were almost electric staring into your soul. “You’re mine now and I’ll touch ya however I want. Got thaT?”

Joker saw the insult queuing up in your brain and squeezed your face tighter in his grasp. You whined but still managed to part your lips to respond. “I’m not yours.” You growled.

A brief staring contest ensued. Green verses your e/c.

Joker admired your bravery; you questioned his sanity. He dressed the part of a gentleman with his three-piece suit and coattails (despite the outlandish colors) yet he was so far removed from the title. He was unpredictable in every sense of the word that you weren’t sure if you would survive a moment longer in his presence.

You were confident that someone would come save you, Joker thought you were too naïve to understand the gravity of your situation. In any case, he would have ample time to extinguish the fire blazing in your eyes before someone started searching for you.

He was so caught up crafting his mental plans, he didn’t notice the glint in your eye right before you bit his hand.

It hardly phased him and for your efforts you received a rough shove towards the ground. Thankfully the mattress softened the blow however you still had the strength to glare at The Joker in disdain.

“Let’s see how long that feisty streak of yours last hmm?” Joker chuckled under his breath and walked over to the door.

The sudden change in brightness blinded you again but this time you caught a glimpse of a bulky man guarding the door before he and Joker disappeared from sight.

Finally you were alone with your thoughts. The first thing you did was let out a shaky sigh and glance at the camera still recording you. The Joker didn’t turn it off and you concluded its sole purpose was to monitor you and collect material for the ransom cd your dad would receive.

You choked back a sob just thinking about dad. He would be beside himself knowing you were abducted. Finding out that his greatest enemy took you would be a low blow—one you hoped he would overcome in order to rescue you. Dick and Jason would steer the detective in the right direction but with every hour that passed, you knew dad would slowly lose his mind. He knew firsthand what Joker was capable of. Your nose throbbed bitterly as a harsh reminder.

There was nothing stopping the clown from killing you if he simply became bored.

If only you took dad’s words to heart and abided by his strict security measures. You had snuck away from your detail for a bit of privacy. Now you regretted that dumb decision. You were in Joker’s clutches with no chance of escape, and it was all your fault.

He chained you to a bedpost like some animal and now that there was light in the room, you could see it in its entirety.

It was a mini prison right down to the bare necessities. The Joker had every intention of keeping you here, cut off from Gotham City, most likely below ground to disrupt the bat tracker embedded in you since childhood.

You scratched at your wrist, praying that it miraculously still worked despite the odds. Surely your father, the world’s greatest detective, could locate his daughter with much less.

It was the only reassurance you had.

You were getting tired overthinking your predicament. There was nothing you could do at present, so with one last hesitant glance at the video recorder, you tried your best to get comfortable on the mattress and fall asleep.

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.

Was it a few days? Weeks? Longer? How were you to know? You were confined to four concrete walls with no form of contact, save for the ever present blinking red light watching your every move.

You were forced to use the horrendous facilities they called a bathroom, and meals (which were surprisingly great) were brought to your room like clockwork while you were asleep.

You began to look forward to the tray that would magically appear on your table. It was the only connection to the outside world you had, and you didn’t take it for granted.

There was always a special treat on your dinner plate and it never failed at putting a smile on your face regardless of being a prisoner. You tried to keep a grip on your sanity with these small bouts of happiness, but it was obvious what angle Joker was playing at.

He was using isolation to mentally break you and it was working.

You thought being locked away all alone would be easy, but the constant silence was unbearable and before long you began to fear when Joker would return.

Not fearing him specifically, but of what you might do for a sliver of human interaction.

That visit came unexpectedly. You woke up from a nap sensing a presence inside your room. Sadly, you had embraced having hallucinations during your lengthy stay here, but this one felt a little too real.

Something didn’t feel right. “H-Hello?”

The door was still closed with the lights dimmed and there wasn’t a tray of food dropped by, so you glanced near the bathroom area on pure instincts. Nothing was inside the room except that camera that you loathed so much. Its constant flashing light both annoyed and comforted you. At least you weren’t completely alone.

You sighed to yourself and was about to fall back asleep when you felt something move behind you. Joker’s laugh blended in with your scream as you tried to scramble away.

You didn’t get far given that Joker dragged you back towards him.

The last thing you expected after waking up was a man lying in the same bed as you. It was a natural response to freak out, especially since it was The Joker pinning you to the mattress. “YOU SICK F__K! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”

You didn’t see the way Joker's eyes glazed over or the way his hands tightened around you before he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Have I lost my… have I.. losT my mind?”

You tried to pry his hands off you, but Joker was just too strong as he continued to repeat your question over and over. His manic laughter was deafening in your ear. “Have I lost my mind, Y/n? Or have you?”

You looked up into pools of jade that glinted mockingly down at you. “What are you...?”

Joker cut you off by directing your gaze to the camera in the room. “Did ya forget I’ve been watching you this entire time doll? Talking to yourself, your uh... hopeless words of affirmation? Oh Dad will come, he’ll come save me! Hang in there, Y/n! You’re so braaaaaave and strong!”’

Joker’s imitation of your voice was cringeworthy as he repeated your own words out loud. He mocked your defiant spirit and hopes of escape as if it was a joke. Strangely enough, Joker’s tone softened, and he sounded sincere with his next angle of attack.

“You just don’t get iT. Daddy’s not coming Y/n. No one knows you’re missing, and nooo one cares either. It’s been a month now doll. If Daddy Bats really cared about his precious daughter, he would’ve rescued you by now don’tcha think?”

Joker was just messing with you. This was another tactic of his to break you down. He was a master of manipulation and his way with words was just as dangerous as his work with knives. His sole existence was to harm others and yet with your fragile state of mind, a part of you believed him.

You couldn’t believe that a month had passed with no one trying to find you. Was Joker telling the truth?

It was too absurd to believe. “N-No.... no dad cares about me. He wouldn't.... he wouldn’t give up..” You whispered. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince here, you or The Joker.

He must’ve seen the doubt starting to creep in for he pushed you a little further. “Are you sure, Y/n? He’s a uh, busy bat! Fighting crime always comes first, you know that better than anyyyyy one. He’s never had time for you...” Joker smiled, watching you blink back tears.

He enjoyed every minute of tearing down your defenses one lie at a time.

He leaned away and bit back a smile when you followed, seeking his contact. You were making this child’s play for him.

“Bats always sent ya away when you were younger. Never letting you err.. blossom to your fullest. He hid you away because you were a failure to him. A mistake. He never cared about you! But guess whaT?”

Joker waited until you looked up into his grassy green eyes. Were they always so expressive or was it your imagination that made them sparkle? It was the first source of human contact you had in who knows how long. You felt special to have The Joker staring at you the way he was.

The air in the room was filled with static energy as you waited for Joker’s next words. You craved validation, acceptance, and attention at a time like this. The Joker had starved you for far too long in isolation.

His hand raised up and softly caressed the side of your face and you missed how his eyes lingered on your lips longer than intended.

“I care Y/n.” He chuckled seeing you pout, “I mean iT! I’ve been so ah.. cruel to ya. I should’ve treated you better. You want me to treat ya better doll?”

Joker leaned forward and kissed both of your cheeks. The contact made you jump and blink up at him in shock. If he couldn’t hear your heart beating wildly, then he was deaf.

You soaked up his form of human contact like a sponge. How long had you been wasting away in this room?

Was it really a month like Joker had said? Right as Joker was leaning down to kiss you properly, you had a moment of clarity.

Who was to blame for you being trapped in here? Why were you here in the first place? The answer was right in front of you, buttering you up with sweet lies and fake affection. Joker was playing you like a fiddle, and you were weak enough to fall for it.

Not anymore.

The Joker was the enemy. He was full of lies. Dad would never abandon you so why were so inclined to believe this green haired clown? No amount of isolation, no form of torture, could break you to believe such. You couldn’t give up so easily. You were a Wayne. You were born a fighter.

Joker’s scarred lips ghosted against yours as you shoved him away. “You are nothing but a liar.”

You enjoyed his brief moment of shock before his eyes cooled into the hard emeralds that they were.

And just like that the act was over. One second you were in the comfort of Joker’s arms, the next you were tossed aside like trash and his true colors were revealed.

He towered over you like a titan as you tried to back away but there was simply nowhere to go. You were at Joker’s mercy, and he spared you none. Each kick to your body made you cry out for Joker to stop but he didn’t listen, rather he laughed and kicked harder.

You grabbed his ankle and begged him to stop but he jerked free and stomped on your wrist in retaliation. The audible crack was background noise to your earsplitting scream— yet it was all music to Joker’s ears.

He enjoyed the pain of others and yours was icing on the cake.

You sounded so pretty, so helpless and filled with anguish. He wanted to hear more. He was obsessed. How far could he push you until you gave under pressure?

Two knocks on the door stole Joker’s attention and his eyes watched as another person entered the room. Joker knew who it was. Anyone else wouldn’t dare enter while he had his fun.

Frost took one look at you sobbing on the floor before he focused his attention back on his boss. “We got trouble.”

Joker rolled his eyes at Frost for interrupting his fun although it was probably for the best. He didn’t want to break you just yet. Slow and steady won the race and he had all he time in the world to do so.

He might’ve went overboard today judging by how you visibly flinched when he moved in your direction, but he knew you’d bounce back defiant as ever. You had to.

“You’ll have to uhh, excuse me Y/n. It seems.. I’m needed elsewhere. Don’t. You. Move.” He patted your head and laughed all the way out the door.

The heavy sound of it closing did little to silence your tears.

The pain was nothing. You were more upset with yourself for not being stronger. Joker was destroying your fighting spirit in record time and you were powerless to stop him.

The bruises never faded, and it made sleeping even more difficult on your worn mattress.

Sure, Joker was considerate enough to cast your broken wrist, but it was a small gesture compared to the verbal and added physical abuse he bestowed upon you daily.

You became Joker’s personal punching bag and there was no end in sight to your suffering.

Each time the door opened, you were forced to endure Joker’s twisted mind games or his heavy hand. It didn’t matter that you were a woman, in his eyes you deserved every ounce of pain that he inflicted. And when he finally left you bleeding and holding back tears, your own thoughts tortured you some more.

Did father really abandon you? How was the world’s greatest detective, renowned for his state-of-the-art technology and gadgets, unable to locate his only daughter?

The days blended together and all the hope you originally had of being rescued, diminished.

The Joker enjoyed his daily visits with you but he could tell that it wasn’t enough. Your body was obviously battered yet your mind remained intact.

You still possessed a thread of hope that made you defiant to the end. You spat in Joker's face whenever he was in range, and you rolled your eyes at his half-hearted jokes about killing you.

“Then do it.” Your snide remarks often led to more beatings that did little to fulfill Joker’s goal.

Nothing seemed to be working to ultimately break you, so he decided to try a different angle.

You woke up to the smell of food in the air. Your stomach growled in want, but the reset of your body hurt too much to move. You debated skipping eating all together in favor of rest however that choice was made for you.

“Sit up.”

His voice. The root of all of your problems. You didn’t have the strength to be bothered with him today.

Joker waited for you to move yet when you remained lying down, he became agitated. “I won’T re-peat myself doll.”

Your voice cracked with your response. “I can’t. It hurts.” You just wanted to be left alone, to hurt in peace but Joker controlled everything here. As if you had a choice to begin with.

“Lemme help you.”

Just hearing the offer gave you the strength to flip over to face him. Surely he was joking. He wanted to help you?! After all he did? Screw the consequences, you had to speak your mind.

“Help me? You want to help me? Okay then. Go away! Far… far away and leave me alone! Or even better! Let me go! What’s the point of keeping me here? What do you want from me?!”

During your speech you began to cry and Joker (for the first time in his life) felt guilty. Your timeless beauty was marred by cuts and bruises that he caused, and he couldn’t justify his actions for creating them.

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.

It was all a game— to get at Batman but along the way Joker saw how strong you truly were. Anything he tossed your way, you deflected it with ease. You never faltered, never lost hope. Even now as you lay weak and hungry, your eyes set him ablaze.

You had won, he just didn’t know at what.

Joker didn’t know what else to do with this failed experiment of his. One thing was certain, he wasn’t letting you go. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.

There was an odd gleam in his eyes that you were wary of. He looked lost in thought and when he snapped to, you were shocked to see a genuine smile appear on his lips.

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.

To mask your fear, you rolled your eyes at his lack of an answer and reached for your dinner tray. Your groan of pain made Joker wince. Were you really in that much pain?

Without thinking, he smacked your hand away and stabbed a portion of food with the provided fork. The two of you stared at each other in silence waiting for the other to make a move.

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.

Joker gave you an, ‘are you sure about that’ look and tapped the fork to your lips.

Just thinking about moving used up too much energy and your muscles begged for you to take him up on the offer. The Joker, Gotham City’s notorious criminal, wanted to feed you dinner; who were you to deny him?

You begrudgingly opened your mouth while looking away from his smug green eyes.

The act was so demoralizing, but you kept your cool while chewing in silence and opening your mouth for the next morsel.

Just to be cheeky, you closed your lips around the fork and refused to let go. Joker didn’t think it was funny but he entertained your bratty behavior nonetheless. He considered stabbing your tongue—but thought against it. There was no need to be violent.

He was trying a different angle to this whole hostage situation he created. Your defenses were down tonight and he would be a fool not to take advantage of them.

A quick glance to his right confirmed that the video camera was still recording. Perhaps it was time to send a message to daddy dearest and make some progress.

You were under the impression that Joker was taking pity on you with his nice guy act. He was patient, feeding you bites of food and not shoving it down your throat like he’d done in the past when you tried starving yourself.

He was being.. (dare you say it) nice. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

He finished feeding you and you thought he was moving onto the slice of cake that was on the tray. You had been eyeing it since Joker uncovered it and you licked your lips thinking about the delectable treat.

It would have to wait. There was an ominous shift in the air that completely blindsided you.

Joker didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t have any plans when he entered your room tonight. It was supposed to be a simple food drop—nothing more, but the moment his eyes landed on you curled up on the mattress resting so beautifully, what left of his demented mind, checked out early.

This past month and a half was filled with harsh lessons and far too many close calls. Batman and his ban of birds did everything in their power to find you and they almost succeeded once or twice.

Thankfully Joker was smart enough to place you inside a shipping container so you could always be mobile and out of reach. You hardly noticed the frequent moves since he coordinated them during your sleeping hours. It also ensured your meals were always hot and fresh since they could just travel to wherever Joker deemed fit to your standards.

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail, everything except developing feelings for you.

Now that was out of Joker’s control.

Underneath the clown façade, Joker was still a man and you were absolutely stunning with your aristocratic beauty and educated mind.

Your fierce personality drew him in despite you being a means to an end. You were supposed to be a form of entertainment, a toy until Joker got bored and let Batman have his daughter back but over time, Joker became attached to you in an unhealthy way.

You were Joker’s property, his special secret hidden from the world to do with as he so pleased.

He stopped hitting you and allowed you time to heal due to some unknown form of guilt. More and more tasty desserts were included with your meals to make up for his abusive behavior, and unbeknownst to you, Joker watched you sleep every night.

There was something soothing watching you blissfully unaware of the monster in your bed. He could slit your throat in your sleep but he didn’t. No, that would be a waste.

Joker found it better to sleep beside you and hold you close. He knew you would freak out if you knew all the liberties that he took while you were asleep.

From tracing your major arteries with a knife to leaving lipstick marks all over your skin—his feelings for you were disturbing and perfectly justified in his opinion.

Joker didn’t want the traditional lovey dovey crap most couples shared because he wasn’t normal. He wanted to own, to control, to destroy you completely and then protect the broken pieces that remained.

There was no concept of love in Joker’s mind and there never would be. Seeing you so docile as he fed you was the breaking point. He got a taste of your submissive side and craved more.

Why couldn’t you just give in and break already? You brought this upon yourself. You forced Joker to do this.

He blocked out the sound of your cries and wrestled your arms down to onto the mattress. His only goal was to get you naked and when you began to struggle more, he took matters into his own hands.

Joker grabbed the army knife from his pocket and sliced your clothes off. One motion caught your skin and you howled as the sharp metal tore it open. Joker saw red bubble to the surface and dove down to lick you clean.

He didn’t like hearing your voice filled with pain. It distracted him from getting hard and after staring you in the eye, you quickly got the message. Keep quiet or else.

You tried not to make a sound louder than your whimpers. You didn’t want to provoke Joker’s wrath.

“Much better. So pretty.” Joker hummed to himself when you were laid bare beneath him although he frowned seeing tears staining your cheeks. “Shhhhhh, hey hey. Look at me... Behave and it won’t hurT.”

He watched your lip wobble as you remained quiet. Your wrists were being held down by Joker’s hand, leaving you powerless to squirm away and he loved the power scale tipping in his favor. Good. You would always be beneath him.

He struggled a bit to unzip his fly but managed to get his cock out without letting you go. A shame you were being bratty and didn’t prepare yourself for this. He really had to do everything around here.

Joker spat on his hand and worked it up and down his cock, groaning to himself at the feeling. His eyes roamed over his doll and admired your beauty mid stoke. You had curves in all the right places that begged to be fondled. He wanted to touch them, but if he let go of your hands, you would act out.

He could see the fire burning in your eyes. If he gave you an inch, you’d take a mile.

Yet it was criminal not to mark you up the way he wanted.

Joker sighed as he lined himself up with your pussy. You panicked and tried moving away from his tip tapping your opening with heavy slaps to no avail.

“Are ya gonna behave doll?”

He shifted his weight and applied more pressure on your healing broken wrist when you continued to rebel. The searing pain made you bite your lip and cease struggling altogether.

“Now. Are you gonna be a errr.. good doll for me n’ stay realllllllly still?” Joker sang.

Your lip curled back, ready to cuss him out, instead a loud scream took escaped your lips as Joker began to force his way inside your dry entrance.

It burned. It ached. He was tearing you apart and you shook your head in agony as it continued without end. You didn’t think about the consequences, you bucked your hips away from the unwanted invasion.

You knew you were in trouble the moment Joker said your name in warning.

“What. Did. I just say doll? Dumb b___h.”

Joker let go of your wrists to hold your hips instead. Once he found purchase, he began thrusting in and out of your pussy. His pleasure was your torment. Your silent tears spurred him on and he swatted your hands away that tried to push him off.

Nothing would stop him after he got a taste of you. He was an idiot for not taking you sooner.

“Haha, you’re grippin’ me soooooo tight doll. Ease up for me!” Joker groaned louder to drown out your pathetic pleas. He would not slow down; you were too perfect to stop now.

He noticed the camera in the corner and got an idea. “Are ya enjoying yourself, doll? Why don’tcha give the ah.. a-audience a good show? Go on. Tell him how you feel.”

You forgot all about the recorder in the room! Your sharp gasp was music to his ears. You tried to turn away, but Joker would have none of that. He grabbed your jaw and forcibly turned your face towards the lens. Your tears were a paid actor for his production.

“Ya see that Bats? ThaT, oh f__k... t-that is the face of your failure. She’s all mine and I’m gonna take ahaha.. verrry good care of her. All mine.. d__n it..” Joker choked back a moan and licked the tears from your face as he sped up his thrusts. If he kept this up, he would cum before the fun really started. Although he shouldn’t have to be the only one getting off.

With a smug grin, he snaked a hand down to rub messy circles on your clit.

The response was instantaneous. You threw your head back with a mewl on your tongue. He felt the result of his adventurous touch the same time you let out an unexpected moan. “Oh? Ya like that doll?” He mocked.

He laughed at you trying to deny deny deny but your body was speaking on your behalf.

You tightened around him and he felt the slick begin to coat his cock. He arched an eyebrow at the sudden turn of events. You really were enjoying this. He wondered...

He stroked your clit faster and was rewarded by another sweet moan gracing his ears. His doll made the prettiest sounds under distress. He could see the confusion dancing across your features.

“Ohhhhhh Bats! You have a naughty.. naughty girl! Enjoying my touch after begging me to stop just minutes ago? Ah.. mmm, it's okay doll! M-Moan louder. Enjoy ittt, I know I am. Mm, you feel better the uh wetter you become.”

Joker stopped mid thrust when you clenched down unexpectedly on him. Were you trying to crush him to death?

He wondered if you could feel him throbbing in your pussy. Your tiny fists were beating on his clothed chest but there was no point in pretending.

You were enjoying yourself and if he was correct to assume, you were getting close. You just needed a little push and Joker had just the thing.

“I knew you were secretly a whore. Only dirty sluts get off on being used like a toy. Hehe. It's a-always the quiet ones f__k!” Joker chuckled to himself followed by a shuddering groan. You were very close. He had to act fast.

Without warning he bit down hard on your shoulder. You moaned out before covering your mouth with your hand. It was too late; Joker already knew what kind of woman you were. He bit harder and rejoiced as blood bubbled up to the surface to coat his lips. Finally, he was marking you up the way you deserved.

He sped up his thrusts, laughing at the sloppy sound of wet skin on skin in the room. His cock happily slid in and out of your pussy now that you were horny.

You were shaking your head in denial even as your legs shivered on Joker’s shoulders. He licked the fresh bite mark clean before whispering in your ear.

“Let go Y/n. Shatter into a thousand tiny lit-tle pieces— and when you snap them back together, I'll be righT here to ruin you all over again. And again. And again. I will always break you just the way you need. The way you deserve. So go on. Do itttt. B-Break for me.... For us.”

Joker thought you were beautiful before, seeing you admit defeat and cum was a vision from heaven.

Your cheeks darkened in color as your lips parted like the sea to allow carnal bliss to fall from its depths. You twitched uncontrollably in Joker’s hold, and he was more than happy to pull you in close as you fell apart on his cock.

You rode the wave of pleasure and swept Joker along with the force. He was caught off guard by your tightening cunt and came with your name a whisper on his lips.

No drug could ever compare to the high you gave him.

He saw new sounds and heard colors that he couldn’t name. His breath came in short pants as he came down. Words failed him, his head was still too foggy to process the world around him.

What could one say after an orgasm that intense? He just came inside your quivering hole, and he already wanted to do it again.

He couldn’t find the energy to even think coherently! All he could do was flop down next to you and sort out his senses in the right categories.

His paint-stained hands wandered aimlessly and began playing with the ends of your hair, much to your horror. While Joker floated in post-coital bliss, you fell back to your harsh reality.

You let this monster have sex with you and even worse, you enjoyed it.

You felt dirty, cheap, a literal failure. You allowed The Joker to touch you, to make you feel good. You came from his ministrations. God, you could feel him softening inside your used pussy. Your inner thighs felt sticky, and you shuddered realizing that The Joker came inside you. The room began to spin as you spiraled into a panic attack.

What would dad think when he found out? What if you became pregnant with this monster’s child. You felt sick to your stomach and feeling Joker playing with your hair, as if nothing was wrong, tipped you over the edge.

“Don’t touch me!” You wailed. Your shout made Joker come to and instinctively hold you closer to his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on inside your head, but you didn’t have to be so loud.

“Doll... I ahh uh, already touched ya.” He rubbed up and down your back despite you flinching from his touch.

You made eye contact with the video recorder in the corner and Joker curiously followed your gaze. Oh. That would explain your sour mood. You were smart and deduced what he would do with the footage. “Listen Y/n..”

A knock at the door interrupted Joker’s sentence. He didn’t move an inch as he granted whomever on the other side entry.

You tried maintaining your modesty but it was a useless effort. You were bare as the day you were born in Joker’s arms and he wasn’t letting you go.

Joker’s henchman walked in and struck a conversation with the clown, pretended as if you didn’t exist. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die you were so embarrassed.

You didn’t notice what was going on until Joker snapped his fingers in your face. “Huh?”

Joker rolled his eyes at your lack of awareness. He sat up straight and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I said..... take a bath while I’m gone. I uh.. took your chain off for ya.”

He pointed at your bare ankle that was in fact free of the heavy metal. You twisted your leg, feeling the freedom granted to you.

You wanted to thank Joker but he was already walking out the door with his henchman. And just like that, you were alone. The silence was unbearable as the full reality hit you full force.

You didn’t fight back. Why did you give in so easily? Why did you miss the warmth of Joker body against yours? Just what was wrong with you for craving his touch?

Screw taking a bath, you ran straight towards the toilet to empty your stomach.

Sleep did not come to you when your mind was abuzz with doubt.

You paced the room while biting your nails and reliving your time spent with Joker over and over. You were beyond restless thinking about your uncertain future. What would Joker do now that he got what he wanted?

Would you be killed off and discarded like trash? Would your family be given the chance to mourn your passing? Would they even know what became of you? There were too many questions and not enough answers. One thing was for certain, you refused to sit around and wait for your fate.

For some unknown reason Joker removed your chain. It was a sliver of hope that you planned on exploiting.

The heavy metal door loomed in the distance. Before it served as a reminder of how trapped you were; now it was a shining beacon of hope. Either coincidental or simply a miracle, Joker also took the elusive camera with him. Nothing was stopping you from running, and nothing was holding you back.

Joker had slashed your clothes to ribbons but the woolen blanket on the mattress was still intact for you to wrap around your body.

It left you feeling far too exposed, but you had no other option available. Once covered, you padded over to the door and turned the handle to freedom.

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to venture into the unknown. You looked at the barren cell you were forced to inhabit and back into the dark void, weighing the odds.

You took the first step, then another, and another until you were walking with haste—desperately searching for an exit.

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you stumbled across a door with light poking out underneath the frame. It was the only lead you had so far towards an exit. You slowly pushed it open and regretted it instantly.

The room full of men all stopped their various conversations to stare you caught like a deer in headlights in the doorway. You quite literally walked into a den of wolves.

“Well well. Look what we have here!” One guy catcalled.

They all leered at your body poorly wrapped up in a blanket. It was obvious your purpose here at their hideout. Free entertainment.

The door slammed shut behind you, trapping you again, only this time in far more hostile conditions. You berated yourself for leaving the safety of your cell if this was the cost. You could barely defend yourself against Joker. There were too many men here to even consider escaping.

You backtracked right into a broad chest and the male laughed at you already cowering in fear.

He roughly pulled your hair while another pair of hands ripped your blanket away to knead your breasts. Whistles and laughter broke out in the room at the sight. “The Boss been keepin’ this from us!? Look! She’s freshly used too!”

You screamed as fingers stabbed their way into your cunt and explored inside. Their hands weren't like Jokers. There was no pleasure to be gained here and unlike before, your body did not warm up to the stimuli.

You were in pain as they groped and fondled your body and despite Joker being the origin to all your problems, you cried out his name to save you.

Someone yanked your hair again before shattering all your hopes with a handful of words. “Ya think the boss is gonna help you? You are nuthin’ to him! Just a warm hole for him to use. And now it's our turn.”

You closed your eyes to block out the pain. The last of your fighting spirit faded away as a lone tear rolled down your cheek.

Frost and Joker were waking back towards your room when they heard the loud commotion coming from the common room.

It was well in the night and nothing of note should’ve excited the men to be so rowdy. Most of them should’ve been on patrols in the first place.

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.

Curiosity killed the cat, but Joker was not so simple minded. He knew something was wrong. He wasn't religious by any means, but he prayed that this didn’t involve you.

He barged into the common room ready to scold his men when his worst fears came to light.

Joker didn’t think, he simply acted until nothing else stood in his way to get to you. Frost could handle the aftermath of his rage—you were the only constant in Joker’s mind the second he opened the door and saw you in distress.

He left you just a few hours prior, safe and accounted for in your room. He left to prepare better accommodations to reflect your newfound status in his life. Joker took great care of his possessions, and you deserved better than being tucked away in some dingy shipping container. You didn’t belong on the floor like a cheap whore. No, you were worthy to be displayed, dressed up like the doll Joker wanted you to be.

Never did he imagine he would return to this.

He fought his way to your side and fell to his knees by your side. His green eyes were wide with an unknown emotion as they took in your battered form.

He didn’t want to touch and accidentally hurt you any further yet something about the thousand-yard stare in your eyes told him you were no longer here to feel anything at all. Joker knew how ruthless his men were, but this was barbaric.

He didn’t regret killing them after what they done. His only remorse was not making them suffer more before death.

Joker gathered you up in his arms and tried shaking you back into focus. “Y/n? Y/n, c'mon doll! Look at me.. s-say something!?” He pleaded.

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.

Rage. Guilt and surprisingly shame. Joker’s mind was wild with this flood of new emotions.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a single cell of compassion in his body, yet the sight of his newest toy utterly broken (and not of his own doing) had him feeling remorseful.

“I... I don’T.. I...” Joker gathered his thoughts with a deep inhale.

Frost watched the intimate scene while kicking over a body. It was a bloody mess in here; however, that had to wait.

Frost could tell his Boss needed some assistance. “I’ll run a bath.” Frost said offhandedly.

It would point Joker in the right direction at least rather than rocking you back and forth on the floor to no avail. The comment snapped Joker out of his musing.

Emerald eyes roamed over your sleeping form. “Bath. Y-Yeah uh she needs a uh.. bath.”

He nodded to himself and slowly rose to his feet to carry you out of the common room. He passed up your old room in favor of his own that had more privacy. Not like it would matter. You had yet to speak.

This was not the outcome Joker had planned. Even after he washed you clean and tucked you into bed— he sat by your side contemplating his next move.

You were no longer the shiny doll he wanted on his shelf. His own men had ruined you. They took away your feisty demeanor and all conscience thought from you that made this game fun.

Joker tried to get you to speak, to react to anything, but you remained stagnant, blinking owlishly at the wall until sleep finally took you. Nothing of the defiant Y/n that Joker had grown to like remained.

You left him with no other alternative. He got what he wanted, and it was time to move on.

In three more days, it would mark your two-month long disappearance. Bruce would be a liar if he said he didn’t count the days if not the minutes that you were gone.

He blamed himself for your capture and the boys tried their hardest to steer him in the right direction and not spiral into depression. Bruce loved all his children, but you were his by blood. You held a special place in Bruce’s heart and as such, he spent every waking second trying to find you.

No expenses were spared, and any lead (no matter how small) were investigated. Joker was smart, but Bruce was smarter. He would find you.

Dick and Tim investigated a possible lead and discovered where you were originally being held. You still had a sweet tooth and your favorite bakery recognized your custom order being placed and tipped off Wayne Enterprises about the person who picked it up.

Unfortunately, The Joker moved you before Batman could arrive at the location but now they knew you were still alive. It strengthened their hopes in finding you safe and sound.

Numerous rescue attempts were thwarted in the following weeks, but they never gave up. There would be another lead, they would have another chance to save you.

All hope was not lost.

Their patience was rewarded the day the Batcomputer picked up a signal on your tracker. It was finally online for the first time in months. Everyone scrambled to assemble at the pinned location. Bruce was ready for a fight and mentally prepared himself to do anything necessary to get you back.

None of the boys were prepared to arrive at the back of your office building. It seemed to be a mistake, it had to be. Was Joker sending them on a wild goose chase? Bruce scanned the area but there was only one faint heat signature detected. His nerves were on edge, already assuming the worst.

Bruce’s heart stopped beating when he saw a body lying in the delivery drop-off/ loading area. He didn’t wait for the others to secure the area. His father instincts were in overdrive as he rushed to your side, calling out your name.

You were unresponsive with only a tattered blanket covering your shivering form. That’s when Bruce saw the bruises painting your body and the cast still present on your wrist. He didn’t want to believe that this battered woman was his spit-fire daughter.

You were a shell of your former self when Bruce finally roused you awake. The fire that once blazed intently within your e/c eyes was gone and it was evident what The Joker did to you.

“Bruce, look.” Dick said as he picked up something near your feet.

Scattered around your body was a deck of playing cards. On the joker card a note was written in red.

You can have her back Bats; I don’t like broken dolls.

188 notes · View notes

rollingsins · 1 year ago

Text

all hers, epilogue

summary: Tara and YN try their hand at some healthier habits.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence. Smut.

word count: 5.3k

a/n: it's been a wild ride. thanks for all who have come along. all hers is over, but I will still be writing gf!tara drabbles in the same universe - maybe some college oneshots in the drabble files. Until then: enjoy the final chapter! :))

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months, slowly, the pain subsides.

Your normal? It’s potentially forever gone. It shouldn’t be a surprise, at this point.

Once you’d just been a teenage girl, crazily in love with another girl.

Who turned out to be a serial killer. Who’d somehow turned you into a killer.

Who’d made you cry, and laugh and love harder than you’d ever loved in your entire life.

In the grand scheme of things - the scar on your belly is probably the least of your worries.

But that doesn’t stop you toiling on it.

It always seems to be the way, doesn’t it? Worrying about the things that don’t really matter.

You worry nonetheless.

“It’s pretty,” Tara murmurs in comfort when you’re staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, shirt lifted slightly, eyebrows pinched in dismay.

It’s not pretty.

It’s wiry and long and stems from the tip of your bellybutton down to your navel.

“It’s hideous.” You say, voice a little fraught.

It’s hideous and permanent.

You’ll never be able to wear a bikini again. You’ll never be able to take your shirt off again without being reminded of it.

Of her.

The woman who had tormented you for weeks.

The woman who you’d tormented for weeks. The woman whose son you’d taken from her. The woman who’d repaid you in mental scars to last a lifetime.

A belly scar to last a lifetime.

“It’s beautiful,” Tara says, pressing her lips to your shoulder, “It means you’re alive.”

She squeezes your hips, then lifts her own shirt.

“And it matches mine,” She says, eyes shimmering, “Matching knife wounds. Like soulmates.”

You snort.

Because of course Tara tries to make stab wounds romantic.

But to her credit - it works.

Your heart sings.

Soulmates.

Because that’s what you are.

“Who needs a wedding ring, right?” You say, biting your lip, insecurities suddenly fading.

Tara entwines your hands, lifts the back of your hand to her lips.

“You do,” Tara says, “And you’ll have one. Soon. I promise.”

You pull back.

“Not before-“

“College,” Tara says, rolling her eyes, “I know, babe.”

You press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

“I just don’t want to be one of those couples who rush into marriage and fall apart the moment they turn twenty-one.”

“That won’t be us,” Tara whines, and then she pouts, “Plenty of high school sweethearts get married right after high school.”

You groan.

“Tara, we talked about this already-“

“I know,” Tara says, voice hasty, “I’m just excited. I want you to be Mrs. Carpenter already.”

“Mrs Carpenter, huh?” You say, ignoring the fluttery rush that blooms through you at the thought, “And what if I want you to take my name?”

Tara cocks a brow and considers this.

“I don’t care, babe, I’ll change my name to garden gnome if you want, as long as I get to be your wife.” She says after a moment.

You smile. Squeeze her hand.

“You’d suit it,” You tease, “But Mrs and Mrs Carpenter has a nice ring to it.”

Tara tilts her head hopefully.

“So, maybe a high school wedding?” She asks, voice sly, “Mrs Carpenter would look good on your college application forms.”

You press a warm kiss to her lips.

“There’s no rush, babe,” You tell her, “And I need to save up. Get you a pretty ring.”

Tara squints.

“I’m proposing first,” She says immediately, “You promised, babe.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yes, you baby, I know.”

Tara tilts her head, seemingly satisfied.

You press a kiss to her lips. She’s cured your insecurity, for now.

But a new feeling gnaws at the bottom of your stomach.

Dread.

As you realize what comes next. You try to keep your voice light. Lighter than the heavy pit at the bottom of your stomach.

“Come on,” You say, trying and failing not to sound anxious, “It’s time for therapy.”

Dr Colmann is a five foot woman with long, flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

Her office is bland. Gray walls. Little decoration.

Like she wants your attention on her.

You’d met her first, a few weeks ago. Like a pterodactyl scouting out a potential nest for her baby.

Your situation is tricky - there’s only so much you can tell her.

And you’re no doctor - but even you know surely it’s impossible to diagnose an illness without knowing all the symptoms.

“I want to get something out of the way,” You’d said after a long moment, clearing your throat.

Dr Colmann had looked over at you, pen tilted and ready to write. With all the intimidation of a woman who was about to change your life.

“I’m aware my girlfriend is…” You had paused, trying to think of the right word, “A little… possessive.”

Dr Colmann said nothing.

“I know that, and that’s why we’re looking for help.” You’d bitten your lip, nervous, “And I’m also sure the first thing you’re going to tell me is to leave her. But that isn’t going to happen. I love her. And she loves me. We’re looking for coping methods. I want to help her feel secure. But I will not break up with her.”

Dr Colmann had just listened.

Her silence, if possible, made you all the more nervous.

“She’s not abusive or anything,” You’d clarified, hastily, “She doesn’t hurt me. She just gets… jealous.”

“And what does she do when she gets jealous?” She’d asked, finally breaking her silence.

“Um-“ You’d said, voice a little high. Memories flashed before you like nightmares and you’d been entirely grateful your thoughts couldn’t be seen.

“She lashes out. Not at me. At other people.”

Dr Colmann scribbled something in her notepad. Long, wiry, black inky marks.

You’d squinted, trying to make up the words, but she’d looked back at you before you’d had the chance.

“Do you have any examples?” Dr Colmann prompted.

You paused.

You had a fair few of those.

None of which you could disclose.

“Little things,” You said, “I used to play soccer. But I had to quit because Tara thought some of the girls might become interested in me.”

You chew your lip.

“And… I was just in the hospital. She got jealous of the nurse.”

“The nurse?”

“She tried to… give me a sponge bath and Tara freaked out.”

Dr Colman stared.

You swallowed. The words out loud somehow seemed even more ridiculous than they are.

“How did she freak out?” Dr Colmann asked.

“She tried to…” You swallowed again, “She didn’t want the nurse to touch me again. Not even to change my bandages.”

Dr Colmann pursed her lips.

“I told her that was stupid,” You’d said, hurriedly, “But when she gets like that, nothing can stop her. She calls it The Rage.”

Dr Colmann tilted her head.

“The Rage?”

You’d nodded.

“Yeah. It’s like… it’s like something takes over her. Like a demon or something. Something she can’t control.”

Dr Colmann had closed her notebook. She’d looked over at you, surveying. You’d blinked back, eyes wide, surely screaming help me, or something to that effect.

Then, she smiled.

“When can I meet her?”

You’re no less nervous the second time.

You greet Dr Colmann with a tight smile, draw Tara down into the seat next to you. Your knee bobs up and down, unable to quell the tide of anxiety rising deep within you.

Please, you think, a little desperate, please help her.

As Tara and Dr Colmann exchange pleasantries, you blink. Too many times.

Like you don’t know how this is going to go. The worst case scenario flashes before you: Dr Colmann in a body bag.

Tara in a jail cell.

You in a jail cell.

Never able to touch her, or hold her, or kiss her ever again.

You need therapy, the little voice in your head leers, judgmental, not being with Tara is worse than a woman dying?

“So, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, when you’re all seated. With all the cheeriness of someone who isn’t aware you’re imagining her as a corpse.

“Tell me about The Rage.”

An awkward silence settles over the three of you.

Tara shoots a hesitant look towards you.

You squeeze her hand and nod.

Then, she looks over to Dr Colmann.

“It’s an anger thing,” Tara mumbles, not looking her in the eye, “I’ve seen shrinks before, none of them can fix it.”

Dr Colmann tilts her head.

“And what did these other doctors do?” She asks, “Anger management classes? Medication?”

“Both,” Tara says, “Nothing ever worked.”

Dr Colmann hums.

“I’ve read through your file, Tara,” She says gently, “Fourteen different therapists across the state. That’s a lot of doctors. Especially for such a young girl.”

Tara assesses her. Her face is tight, guarded. Like she’s not sure if she can quite trust her.

Dr Colmann scribbles something in her notepad.

“Lots of kids have problems with anger,” Says Dr Colmann, “But anger is just a symptom, like any other emotion. From what YN has told me, anger isn’t the problem. Sharing is the problem.”

Tara frowns.

“Plenty of children have issues with sharing,” Dr Colmann continues, “Usually, it’s the parents who stamp it out. But not always. I see in your file your sister used to bear the brunt of most of these anger issues.”

Tara folds her arms.

“Not always,” She says.

“But most of the time,” Says Dr Colmann, pointedly. She squints, reading through her notes, “It says here you attacked your sister when you were four years old because she tried to play with one of your Barbie dolls. Then again, later that week for taking a bigger slice of pie.”

“Four year olds are allowed to have boundaries, aren’t they?” Says Tara, defensively, “That Barbie was mine.”

“And YN? She’s yours too?” Asks Dr Colmann, evenly.

Tara blinks.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tara says, diplomatically. The question is a trap, one she’s determined to avoid.

Dr Colmann tilts her head.

“And you don’t like when other people play with her? Is that right?”

Anger flickers through Tara’s features. You bite your lip, and squeeze her hand. Try to keep her grounded.

“I suppose not.” Says Tara, voice tight.

“YN told me about the nurse,” Dr Colmann says, “And the soccer team. You made her quit? Why?”

Tara looks over to you, a little helpless.

“I didn’t make her quit,” She says, slowly, like she’s being very careful with her words, “I just… suggested it. Strongly.”

Dr Colmann makes a noise of dissatisfaction.

Then returns to madly scribbling on her notepad.

Tara frowns again, looking self-conscious.

Dr Colmann looks up.

“And what if someone on the soccer team had been interested?” Dr Colmann asks, “What would you have done?”

You avert your gaze.

Kill them, is the answer.

It’s already happened.

More than once.

Tara shifts.

“I wouldn’t like it.” Tara says.

“No reasonable person would like that, Tara,” Dr Colmann prods, gently, “But what would you do?”

“I don’t know,” Says Tara, sounding aggravated, “Not let her see them anymore.”

“And do you think that’s an appropriate request?” Dr Colmann asks, “Do you really think you should have control over who your girlfriend associates with?”

Tara narrows her eyes.

“YN would do it for me,” She says, “We’re in a relationship. Relationships are about compromise.”

“That isn’t compromise, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, gently, “That’s you demanding she do something and her complying. Do you not trust her?”

Tara blinks.

She looks over to you, then back to Dr Colmann.

“Of course I do,” She says, voice soft, “It’s other people I don’t trust.”

“And what do you think these other people are going to do?” Dr Colmann asks.

“I don’t know.” Tara says, voice small, as if she’s never really thought that far ahead.

She looks like a little lost puppy. You want to wrap her in your arms and tell her you’ll never talk to anybody else again if that’s what she wants.

You resist.

Healthy wife, happy life, is what you tell yourself instead.

Dr Colmann’s face washes with sympathy.

“Jealousy is pointless, Tara,” Dr Colmann says, voice gentle, “Worrying is pointless. If YN is going to cheat on you, she’ll cheat on you. If she’s going to leave you, she’ll leave you. There’s nothing you - or The Rage can do about it.”

Tara blinks.

“I-“ She says, as if Dr Colmann has just spit in her face “What?”

Dr Colmann sits forward in her seat. Her notebook discarded.

“What you need to do - is trust. Your girlfriend loves you. Clearly. She wouldn’t be here with you if she didn’t.”

Tara frowns.

“You’re afraid of losing her,” Dr Colman says, eyebrows knit, as if Tara is a particularly difficult puzzle she can’t quite get her head around, “But why? We’ve already established she loves you. She wouldn’t be here with you if she didn’t.”

Tara blinks. You soothe a finger across the back of her hand. Resist the urge to press a kiss to her pretty forehead.

You let the doctor do the work.

“Have other people you loved left you, Tara?” Dr Colmann prods, gently.

Tara’s shoulders tense.

Dr Colmann waits a moment.

“Who?” She asks, "Your Mom? Your Dad?”

“Both.” Tara says, voice small, “They both left me.”

Your heart aches.

If you could - you’d sucker punch the two of them right now.

It isn’t an option. Instead - you grip her hand tight, offer her a small smile of encouragement as she speaks.

Tara swallows.

“My Dad tried to fix me,” Tara says, “For years. I was an angry kid. They could never figure out what was wrong with me. Eventually he just… gave up. He walked out on me and My Mom and my sister. Left us, just like that.”

“That must have been very traumatic,” Says Dr Colmann, “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.” Says Tara, “My Mom never left. I mean, she did. She threw herself into work to cope with my Dad leaving. She started going on these long business trips. But she never officially left.”

Dr Colmann offers her a small smile, “And that’s why you get so jealous, is it Tara? You’re afraid YN will leave you? Like your Mom? Like your Dad?”

Tara hesitates.

She looks down at her hands.

“Yes.” She says, after a long moment.

“Baby,” You say, voice hushed. Tara squeezes your fingers.

Dr Colmann hums.

“That makes a lot of sense, Tara,” She says, her voice kind, “That gives us something to work with.”

She closes her notepad, offers the two of you a reassuring smile.

“Your anger - we can work through that. We can figure out some coping methods. But the main problem here isn’t anger, Tara. It’s trust. I know you said you trust YN but you’re still scared. Deep down you’re scared she’ll abandon you, just like your parents did. We need to work through that.”

“Is it something we can fix?” You ask, a tad desperate.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d promised Tara you’d never leave her.

And each time it seemed to fall on deaf ears the moment The Rage was invoked.

“We can try,” Dr Colmann says, “I can try. And it’ll take some hard work. But Tara, it’ll only work if you’re open to it. If you’re open to changing. Is that something you can do?”

Tara thinks for a moment.

And then she nods.

“Yeah,” She says, “I want to do it. I want to be different. For you, babe,”

She squeezes your hand. Thinks hard.

“And for me too."

You’re silent the entire way home.

Tara too.

She grips your hand so hard you think it might fall off at one point. It’s only when she pulls into the driveway, she speaks.

“I didn’t scare you off, did I?” She asks, chewing her lip as she looks over at you, “With all my… problems.”

“Never, baby,” You say immediately.

You lean over to kiss her cheek. She relaxes.

“I’m going to need a lot of therapy, aren’t I?” She says, sounding worried.

You press another warm kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll be with you the whole way,” You assure, “I'm not going anywhere, Tara.”

You hesitate.

“You know I’m not like your Dad, right?” You say, “Or your Mom. I’m not going to leave you.”

Tara offers you a small smile.

“I know, babe,” She says, “At least in theory, I know.”

You press a kiss to her lips.

“I guess I’ll just have to remind you then,” you say, “Everyday. I love you. You’re stuck with me. I’ll say it until you believe me in theory and in practice.”

Tara rests her forehead against yours.

“Okay,” She says, “And keep saying it after that, okay babe?”

You kiss her.

“Deal.”

Your Mom’s still in the hospital.

Her leg had been amputated after the attack, and the procedure hadn’t been easy on her or your Dad. She’d come home after two weeks and then been admitted once more when the wound became infected.

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask her now, chewing your lip, phone pressed to your ear.

Tara finishes up the dishes, setting down the washcloth to nestle in beside you, squeezing your hip comfortingly.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” She says, “Will you come and visit tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there,” You promise, “Sam is going to pick us up after school.”

“And everything’s alright at the house?” Enquires your Mom.

You were staying at Tara’s place until your parents came back home, a decision that was quickly agreed on, for once.

“Everything’s fine, Mom,” You assure, “Sam’s working now, but she’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

Your Mom hums.

“And Tara’s there with you, isn’t she?” She asks, sounding a little worried, “You’re not alone?”

“Tara’s here,” You say and Tara kisses the back of your neck, “You don’t have to worry, Mom.”

“Is that Tara?” Asks your Dad through the phone, a little gruff, “Can I speak with her?’

“Dad wants to speak to Tara, YN, bye for now,” Says your Mom, “See you tomorrow.”

You barely get out the goodbye before you hear your Dad’s voice once more.

“Tara?” He asks.

“It’s me Dad,” You say, and he makes a noise of vague disappointment.

You roll your eyes.

“We’re fine, thanks for asking.” You say.

“Yes, yes, I heard you speak with Mom,” He assures, “Put Tara on the phone.”

You hand off the phone to your girlfriend and pry yourself out of her grip, busying yourself with playing the leftovers into their containers.

“Hello, Sir,” Says Tara, the way you might speak to the President.

She bobs her head, eyebrows knitting.

“Yes, I did see the 49ers play.”

You huff.

Tara averts her gaze.

“Yes, I did think they played like a bunch of seven year old girls.”

You roll your eyes once more.

Tara’s newfound friendship with your Dad is better than the alternative, at least. You’d lived the alternative.

It hadn’t been much fun.

“We’re okay,” Tara promises, suddenly, “I have every door locked down, alarms set and cameras operating.”

Your Dad murmurs something down the line you can’t hear.

Tara smiles, and then reaches for your hand.

“I’m not letting her out of my sight, Sir, you don’t have to worry,” She says, “I won’t let anyone hurt her. I promise.”

She hangs up not long after.

You should be used to it by now, the flutter in the pit of your stomach every time she gets protective, or calls you hers, but you’re not.

Butterflies cascade through your belly, branching out to the tips of your fingertips where they settle. You curl in around Tara and press your lips to her neck.

She smells good. No perfume, just the tinge of her skin and her coconut body wash.

You squeeze her hips and nip your teeth against the nape of her neck.

“Oh.” Tara sighs as you slip your fingers into the waistband of your jeans. She leans back into your touch, titling your head to capture your lips.

“Really?” She asks, a little excited.

You laugh.

You’d not had sex in a few weeks, hardly in the mood. Your wound aches most days, and the rest are spent really remarkably unsexy, despite Tara’s constant reassurance you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

She turns in your arms, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Sam won’t be home for hours,” You murmur against her lips, “Just you and me. The way it should be.”

“Your stomach doesn’t hurt?” She asks, a little soft. Her eyes swim with concern, “We can just watch a movie, if you want?”

You shake your head.

She looks good. Her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. No makeup, her spill of freckles poignant, her pretty lips pouty and red and kissable.

“I want you, baby,” You murmur, nuzzling your nose to the side of her face, “Do you want me too?”

You don’t have to wait long for a response.

She presses a searing kiss to your lips.

“Do you even have to ask?” She says, biting her lip.

“No,” You smile, “But I want to hear you say it anyway.”

“I want you,” She says, immediately. She’s excited again, you can tell by the way her eyes flicker, “I want you all the time.”

“Come take me then,” You murmur against her mouth.

She doesn’t have to be told twice.

She leads you up the staircase, walking backwards. Her mouth fused to yours, her careful hands roaming every span of skin she can get her hands on.

She helps you onto the bed, far gentler than her usual gig of wild hands and wild lips. Instead, this time she touches you as if you might shatter into a thousand pieces.

You make an annoyed murmur as she pulls your jeans down your legs. It feels like an age, the way she softly untangles the button and the zipper. Her touch is light, so un-Tara.

When she finally pulls your legs from your jeans, you almost cry out of frustration.

“Babe, I’m not going to break.” You tell her, but it falls on deaf ears.

She’s pressing her lips to your thigh, tiny, gentle touches as she pulls your underwear down your legs at a pain-stakingly slow pace.

“Don’t rush me, babe,” She says as you reach down to help her, “And lie back. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I feel fine,” You say, tilting up to meet her kiss, “Please hurt me.”

Tara huffs, drawing back slightly.

“It’s not fair to say things like that when you know I can’t.” She pouts, “The things I want to do to you will almost certainly rip your stitches.”

Arousal coils deep in your belly.

Then annoyance.

“Now who's not being fair?” It’s your turn to pout.

Tara nudges her lips to your neck.

“I’m going to make love to you, baby-girl,” She promises, her eyes dark, “That’s more than fair.”

You tilt your head up and press a lingering kiss to her lips.

“Besides. If I rip your stitches I think your Dad will have something to say.”

You wrinkle your nose.

“Let’s not talk about my Dad when we’re getting naked, babe,” You suggest.

She hums in agreement.

And then you reach for her shirt.

“Off.”

If she’s going to spend the entire evening getting your underwear down your legs, the least she can do is give you something to look at, you reason.

Your touch is impatient.

You pry off her jeans like there’s a time limit. Strip her of her shirt and her bra until she’s hovering naked above you, making your mouth water.

And suddenly, what little patience you had left is gone.

You rise up, starling her.

“Babe-“ She protests, but you can’t be reasoned with.

You tilt her around, until she’s lying back on the mattress, nudging her bare legs apart with your thighs.

“Too slow, my turn.” You murmur.

Your lips are hungry.

You kiss her, fierce, groaning slightly as your hands get to work. They work down the curve of her hips, to her thighs. You squeeze her, a little rough, and then move your hands to take her nipples between your fingers.

She gasps, her hips involuntarily jerking up towards yours. You detangle yourself from her lips, leaning down to press hot kisses against her neck.

She threads her fingers through your hair, tugging, tugging, as she moves against you. She’s still holding back, being careful not to touch your stomach.

You can tell by the way she’s groaning it’s hard for her.

And so you make it easy.

Your lips move down from her neck to her breasts. You circle each nipple once, then twice, before you’re taking her in your mouth, curling your arms around each of her thighs.

“Baby,” Tara murmurs, “Baby, your stomach-“

You release her nipple with a wet pop and a frown.

“I’m fine, babe.” You say, and it’s true.

It aches, slightly, but it always does nowadays. No matter what you’re doing.

And if it’s her you’re doing, at least the ache is dampened by the forest fire of arousal surging through your veins.

You return to your pilgrimage down her body.

Your lips graze her belly-button, your tongue slips down over the jut of her hips to the crest of her thighs.

She sighs, seemingly satisfied as you slip down further. Moving your body to settle nicely in between her legs.

Then, she tilts her head up, biting her lip.

Her eyes are hesitant, though encompassed with want.

“Tell me if it hurts,” She says, “Tell me and we can stop. Or…re-adjust.”

You nod, impatient.

“Alright babe, I will,” You say, raising an eyebrow, “Can I go down on you now?”

Her cheeks flush red with arousal.

“Please.” She whispers.

She’s beautiful, as ever.

You press your lips against the soft skin of her inner thighs, grazing your lips just gently. You use your tongue to work your way inwards.

Your breath catches in your throat the moment you taste her. Wet, syrupy, bittersweet goodness.

You lick it up, greedy for more. You press your lips to her folds, use your hands to spread her open for you. You lose control of your tongue.

One minute you’re ready to tease, the next, you’ve worked yourself up too much.

Your tongue moves hot across her folds and then down to her entrance. Your top lip brushes her clit and she sings.

A low moan that vibrates through the room.

A moan that indicates it’s been far too long since you’ve touched her like this.

You apologize with your mouth.

Low strokes of your tongue at her entrance. The quiet murmur of your own moan as your tongue moves up to circle her clit.

Lazy, slow, movements.

Then fast.

Like you’re changing your own mind too quickly.

You settle for writing words with your tongue.

babygirl, is what you spell out against her clit.

Your name. Her name. You connect them with a heart.

And then: mine.

Tara lets out a quiet moan as you take her clit between your lips. Sucking gently until her thighs are gripping like iron bars around the side of your head and her nails against your scalp bruise.

You give up on using the alphabet.

You slip two fingers inside her, sighing as she encases you. She’s tight and wet and begging for more.

You give it to her.

Curl your fingers up in just the right way. Lap your tongue over her clit just the way she likes.

And then she’s gasping as she tightens around you. She cries your name in a breathy moan as she cums hard around your fingers and mouth.

It’s always over too quickly, you think briefly as you reluctantly slip out of her. You need to learn patience. You need to learn how to tease.

But there’s something about her, and you don’t know how she does it. You just have to give her what she wants.

She lets out a happy sigh as you climb up her body and press your lips to her forehead.

She’s still a moment, but you know better. She recovers quickly.

In less than a minute she’s shifting.

You groan as your back hits the mattress.

Her hands slip down to your thighs, gripping you like she has an agenda. And she does. You know it by heart.

First, the gentle touch of her lips against your neck.

Then she’s sliding your underwear down your legs.

She kisses your lips, slips her tongue into your mouth for only a moment. And then she’s trailing kisses down your body.

Your chest. Your breasts.

She pays special attention to your nipples. Her eyes locking with yours as she sucks, ever so gently.

Your body feels hot.

You grip her face, holding her in place.

And then she’s nudging out of your grip, dipping down to press her lips to your navel.

She doesn’t kiss your scar, but you can tell she wants to.

She looks up at you, eyes wide and vulnerable as she squeezes your hips.

“You’re beautiful.” She murmurs. She ducks down and presses a kiss to the top of your inner thigh, “You’re perfect. My perfect girl.”

“Tara,” You say, voice a little gravelly, “Baby, please.”

She doesn’t make you wait.

One moment she’s pressing her lips to your thigh. The next, she’s dipping down between your legs. You lean back onto the pillows with a sigh.

Her lips graze.

She kisses your inner thigh.

Drags her tongue over your entrance and you gasp.

Then, her lips are on your clit.

You moan as she snakes a hand around your waist. The other slips between your legs. She teases for only a moment before she’s slipping her fingers inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion.

It’s not as though you’re not ready for it.

You’re so wet you’d give her a snorkel if she wasn’t such an experienced sailor.

But she rides your high seas like it’s her full time job.

Lips on your clit, fingers working in and out. She squeezes your hip with her free hand. Her talented mouth is like fire. Dancing around just where you need it most.

You close your eyes and let out a low moan.

She’s being careful.

Gentle.

Loving you like she doesn’t want to hurt you.

You take back the impatience. You take back the need for more, more, more.

Your sweet, loving girlfriend is all you need.

Gentle mouth. Careful tongue.

Her between your legs, working you into oblivion like sex is just a vehicle to express how deeply she loves you.

“Tara.”

You cum with her name on your lips. Her mouth fused around your lips. You cum feeling safe and wanted and needed.

And when she’s done, she climbs back up your body and presses the softest kiss to your lips.

Nestles herself with her head in your chest. Right next to your heartbeat.

Where she should be.

You close your eyes once more.

Thread your fingers through her hair. Press the softest of kisses to her forehead.

And then she looks up at you, her pretty brown eyes shimmering.

“Love you.” She murmurs. She punctuates her words with a kiss.

Your chest is heaving. You allow yourself the moment. Body thrumming with your orgasm, the love of your life pressed tight to your side.

Tara curls into you. She waits a moment, then looks over at you,

“I’m going to be better for you,” She murmurs, “I’ve put you through hell, baby, and I know that. But it all ends now.”

You frown.

“I’m in heaven with you, no matter what you’ve done,” You say, after a quiet moment, “After what we’ve both done. Right or wrong, I love you. And you love me. And that’s all that matters.”

Tara tilts her head to yours.

She takes your lips in a long, searing kiss.

She says what she can’t with words.

You say it too.

And when you pull back, you know she understands.

She’s yours.

And you are undeniably, irrefutably, entirely:

All hers.

#all hers #tara carpenter #scream v #scream vi #jenna ortega #ghostface!tara #mine #fanfic #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x yn

765 notes · View notes

moonbaby26 · 1 day ago

Text

Title: Blood and Feathers

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairing: Rosinante/Corazon x Fem!Reader x Doflamingo

Warnings: language, non con, dub con, size difference, reader is cheated on (not by the brothers), reader is stalked/abducted, reader is double teamed, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, animal instincts/behaviors, blood, violence, toxic relationships, breeding kink

Synopsis: Set in a modern!AU. You are an avian veterinarian dealing with a recent life upheaval. Years ago, you also had a traumatic experience with creatures mainstream science still denies as even existing. But memories of that night were soon buried, relegated to your dreams alone. Or so you had thought.

A/N: This oneshot was inspired both by @tuquidflamingo‘s gorgeous Harpy!Doffy fanart for Doffytober2024 Day 24:Mythical Here, and @froggiewrites’s terrifyingly sexy Siren!Doffy fic Mating Call Here. I needed more bird!Donquixotes after seeing those works and could not restrain myself. This was originally intended as monster/horror themed for Halloween as well, but I’m way late to the party (as usual 😅).

Fic Masterlist

—————————

“You poor darling. The boys haven’t been very nice to you have they?” You frowned to your newest patient. A female dove, slightly fearful in your grip as you held her gently from behind in a small towel within your hand.

The hallmarks of overbreeding were evident to you in all the missing feathers near the back of her head.

Some single minded Lotharios within her previous enclosure had plucked her practically raw while doing their overeager business on her from behind no doubt.

“Remember. Men are all the same, sweetheart. They only care about one thing.” You mumbled, not particularly worried of how bitter you still sounded while you felt her chest and keel bone next. That bone’s prominence signaling her being rather underweight to your additional concern.

Not that you’d been eating much either, or maintaining a healthy mindstate at all. Just like hers, your life had also gone quite to shit recently.

Just two days ago you’d come home early, only to find your boyfriend of the last few years balls deep and moaning within the newest assistant from his law office.

And you’d thought he really was going to have a heart attack when he’d finally seen you standing there.

But his new young lover had only smiled, cool as anything.

“Oops.” She’d said, still on top of your fiancé and almost sweetly staring over her shoulder at you.

Her long fingernails had left trails of raised scratches all over his chest and sides. Which you’d seen so distinctly as he’d sat up in a panic to plea to you.

Of course, there would have been no way he could have hidden that evidence later even if you hadn’t caught them in the act.

As you’d dragged suitcases out and begun throwing what you could into them, he’d had the gall to swear to you too that it was both his first and last time with her.

He’d even tried to blame her, as if he’d had no say in it all.

But you’d just taken your engagement ring off and thrown it so hard it’d ricocheted off of the wall and rolled to God knew where.

To whatever void your trust and self confidence had now plummeted into most likely.

Yet the apartment lease had only been in his name. So in just that single afternoon, you’d gone from daydreams of a winter wedding to officially homeless and with mascara running down both sides of your face. All with strangers staring at you on your march of shame back through the parking garage.

You didn’t even tell anyone afterward. Because you’d had no one close enough to you to tell.

You were living out of a hotel room now. Nowhere to land as of yet as you’d still went to your normal veterinary job uptown during the day. And to this volunteer time at the avian rehab center just outside of the city each night.

The only consistently listening ears for you now were sick and troubled birds. Either domestic seizures from hoarding and animal cruelty cases like this dove, or sometimes just wild raptors and waterfowl that’d had an acute turn of bad luck.

You’d seen it all at one point or another. But every day was different. And yet only more of the same all at once.

Until tonight, when it absolutely wasn’t.

You were here alone. Staying much later than you normally would, because the company of the birds was still better than hearing your neighbors arguing through those thin hotel walls that were now all you had to go back to.

Besides this dove’s occasional cooing, and your own words of continued self pity, you also had a constant rotation of true crime podcasts, murder mysteries, and tales of the supernatural droning on from your phone still on the counter.

It was very fitting for a rainy, cold night like this one.

And in a bit of a playful holiday segment in between those longer tales, it was then some of those two sentence horror stories.

The narrator had just read one of your favorites in their best Vincent Price impersonation.

“The last man on Earth sat alone in a room.

There was a knock on the door.”

You smirked of course. Your imagination flooding with all that unnamed man’s possible fates and an idea that he may actually deserve them now, before the lights abruptly went out above you.

Both you and the dove had startled with that plunge into darkness. But under the dim glow of the battery backup lights which came on after, around the fire exit signs, you quickly silenced those additional horror teases from your phone.

“Maybe they missed a power bill again.” You’d told the dove softly as you’d returned her to the temporary holding cages.

Funding was always tight for a non profit like this. People just weren’t as giving when sick vultures and irritable corvids didn’t end up as marketable as sad kittens on the donation commercials.

But, this could also be the universe’s sign for you to give in and go home.

Wherever the hell home was supposed to be now.

You’d pulled your exam gloves inside out, trashing them before washing and drying your hands.

A coat, purse, and umbrella were all you had to gather before walking into that now near pitch black hallway.

There was only the slight squeak of your shoes on the linoleum floor for those few precious seconds of normalcy you’d had left.

And then came the first metal bang.

Like a knock.

And the next one which followed it.

Echoing through the darkness before you.

Something heavy and urgent was slamming against the metal door which led to the rear parking lot.

The parking lot that backed up to the woods. Where your car and thereby only way back to the city now was.

Even then, the logic in you still refused to fully slip however. Though your heart did beat far faster in your confusion.

You could hear many birds beginning to rustle in their cages in other rooms, bothered by the new noises as well.

You wanted to comfort them, but you knew they wouldn’t understand.

Did you even understand?

You still had your phone of course. You could call the police and just wait here, locked inside if you were actually that afraid.

But outside of the city limits like this, response time would be awful unless you’d be lucky enough that a random patrol car may be nearby.

You didn’t want some judgmental cop showing up thirty minutes from now, to look at you like you were a complete idiot if you said just being in the dark with strange noises was enough to have you needing rescue.

Your hand was already in your purse though, fingers around the beveled case of your phone as everything went silent again.

And then you heard the door pull open.

That door was an exit only. If another volunteer had forgotten something or come back this late for any other reason, they’d have taken the side path up to the front and unlocked the front door instead just as you had a couple of hours ago.

There was no key to the back door. It was always locked on the outside.

Unless the latch had just been broken off.

Which would explain the banging.

Your heart was moving into your throat by then as you’d sidestepped into the nearest room in the dark.

It was this facility’s single operating room.

And by some grace above you didn’t run into anything. You squatted with your back to the wall as you fumbled to pull your phone fully from your purse.

You couldn’t remember if the emergency dispatch in this area was setup to accept text messages like they could in the city.

If you spoke into this silence to call someone, it’d be the equivalent to screaming though.

Your hands were shaking as you typed instead.

And it was additionally cruel really.

Because your mind hadn’t yet overwritten years worth of habit, even as much as he’d hurt you.

You found yourself texting your ex.

Your fingers moved faster than you thought you’d ever commanded them to then. You’d hit send and watched as that message changed to delivered.

And then…

You heard that stupid trill of his phone from the hallway.

That custom alert you’d heard far too many times to count as his phone had always gone off at all hours from important clients in the duration you’d been together.

Your brain stuttered.

And you heard a female’s laugh.

“Oh, that is embarrassing…” Said the somehow familiar female voice. It was equal parts amusement and mockery now. “She’s still here alright.”

And then a man whose voice you did not recognize, called your name outright before you could think any further. “Please, (Y/N)…there’s no reason to make this harder than it has to be. Please just come out. We’re not going to hurt you.”

But the woman quickly disagreed with him. “No. He said we could do this however we needed to. We’d still be outside in the rain if it was all up to you.”

“Be silent. I’m trying to listen.” The man retorted, yet with his voice lowering to match her own irritation.

“Hmm…no. Not needed. I already smell her.” Came her even sharper response after just another moment.

And you heard something clicking on the tile at that, faster than you could believe as it ran closer.

“Monet!” The male voice was right behind it though, dropping into a range more akin to a snarl before a shadow came bursting through that open operating room door towards you.

You knew her name.

In the emergency lighting you only had a moment to see a glimpse of her once beautiful face too, contorted into a ferocity more akin to a rabid animal before she lunged down to meet you at your still crouched position.

Her slender hand had closed around your airway as if it were all second nature.

Fingernails too sharp to be real dug in as she forced your back onto the ground.

You were choking. And staring up into the now wild eyes of your ex-fiancé’s young assistant.

Monet.

The girl he’d fucked right in front of you just two days ago.

But then she was gone. Swatted away as if she were nothing in one audible hit.

Your throat was still stinging, scratched but not wholly cut as you tried to sit up in a renewed rush of adrenaline.

“Just take her car and go goddammit! You’re going to tear this place apart if you can’t control yourself! This is exactly why I wanted you to wait outside!” That male voice now had a clear source as well. He stood easily over the both of you. Still with his hand that had struck her splayed out like a claw.

What had to be light blond hair hung messily in his angry eyes as he took your purse and threw it at her.

“Take her car back to her hotel! Keep her phone, and make sure she didn’t call anyone!”

It was like he was scolding a child now, as if she had already been told a thousand times how this all should be.

But she was panting, smiling at him even as she did.

“I just want a taste…for all of our trouble.” She breathed.

And he stepped further between the two of you.

“I said no.”

She hissed through her teeth, but you saw him straighten up in response. His lean body seeming to tighten even more in the dark.

“Go!” And that order was truly a snarl from him that time.

Her eyes widened and she clawed the floor, briefly on all fours before scurrying back up.

You could not see her feet clearly in the shadows, but you heard them.

That same clicking sound that had come from the hall before she’d run in.

Like talons moving across the ground.

You didn’t realize how much you were still shaking either before that man’s rock solid grip had grabbed you next.

You were pulled up by your arm.

And Monet was already gone with your purse, meaning she had your keys and phone as well.

She’d had your ex’s phone too.

Was he even alive any longer?

A sound of desperation left you as this tall man forced you down the hall and to that exit door they’d first broken in through.

You’d known it all had to be purposeful then.

When the power had been cut, the two outdoor security cameras would have gone down as well.

No one would ever see him dragging you out of this door and into the rainy night.

They’d likely waste days interviewing people at the hotel instead once Monet returned your car there.

People you’d never even made eye contact with long enough for them to remember your face would just shrug and say they hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

No one would ever find your body.

“Walk.” His voice was still harsh as he’d hurried you outside, across the parking lot, and immediately down a muddied path into the woods.

It wasn’t clear which direction he’d even taken you in after just a few minutes.

In the dark, the trails all looked the same. And you could only watch as his clothes hung on him, dripping in the light rain.

The forest had gone silent save for that rain and the two of you. As all animals often quieted when an apex predator moved through.

He was oddly barefoot too, striding across the wet and fallen leaves. Just in pants and a t-shirt which now stuck across his broad chest.

“You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” He asked suddenly.

And you were still floundering mentally, trying to keep up with his long legs in the darkness.

“My real name is Rosinante.” He said in lack of any answer from you though. “We’ve met before.” And his large hand squeezed your arm tighter.

He sounded like his frustration was only growing. His next words were especially accusatory. “If I’d had any idea you were still this close to the mountains…why didn’t you leave?”

His grip hurt, and you were stumbling often now, just trying to keep up.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you want.” You stammered, sounding so pathetic that it easily could have been a stranger’s voice in your ears then.

“I didn’t want him to find you!” He shot back. And at last his relentless pace began to slow. “I thought you moved away! Why the hell would you come back here!?”

And only then was something finally beginning to click within your memories.

Because it was that desperation in his voice.

Even if that tone was so much deeper now than the boy’s it reminded you of.

“…Cora?” You asked, your eyes wide while you stared up at this frightening man.

But he looked like something had just broken within him as you’d called him that. He’d stopped walking entirely, and you saw the true pain which crossed his face.

A lean, handsome face, with messy blond hair and rainwater dripping down in a way that could have easily been mistaken for tears.

Tears just like the young blond you’d found crying alone in the forest one summer.

The teen who’d said he didn’t know what to do any longer. And that he’d missed his parents so much and he just couldn’t keep pretending.

You’d thought he was a runaway. But he’d seemed so close to your own age, you hadn’t ratted him out to your aunt and cousins you’d been staying with in the mountain cabin that summer.

You’d snuck him food instead, and for those few months that summer break, you had hiked out to visit him every day at your and his secret rendezvous spot.

Eventually he’d said you could call him Corazon, or Cora for short. It meant “heart” in Spanish. The native language from wherever he had really fled from. And a nickname his late mother had given him.

Her little heart.

But he had a big one. Because he was so kind to you. Something you hadn’t been used to. And you’d both loved exploring and talking together for hours on end.

He’d even taught you a special whistle and song he’d said had also come from his mother and original home.

And so often at night you would hear that sound as you’d snuck from your bedroom to see him over and over again.

He’d known you loved birds by then. That you had dreams of going to school to learn more to help as many of them as you could someday.

But when you’d follow that special sound to find him at night, he’d also point right to where any owl or other raptor you’d missed during the day was hiding that he had found.

Just so that you could see them too.

But near the end of that summer, you’d told him you’d have to be going back to the city soon. School would be starting again. You hadn’t finished high school yet. But you’d definitely come back next summer before going to college. You’d promised him that.

He’d seemed so sad regardless though, and that had hurt you too.

He’d even disappeared for a few days. You had gotten worried.

But on one of those last nights, you’d heard that special sound again.

So of course you had rushed to it.

But Corazon hadn’t been there.

A laugh had come from above you instead in the darkness.

One you could never forget just before you’d thought part of a tree had somehow fallen down on you.

Because your breath had been gone, a heavy weight impacting your chest with a crack of your ribs.

You couldn’t even scream. The splayed claws that had first struck your chest, had then spread for thin legs to straddle you as your back had hit the dirt.

And then it had bitten you.

Straight through your shirt and over the top of your shoulder.

Your arms had come up uselessly as those fangs had sunken in.

Yet one of your hands had raked against thick, soft feathers, while the other had caught into spiked blond hair.

Utterly nonsensical in those contrasting parts between human and animal as its wings had encircled you.

But the creature had groaned at your every touch. With its long tongue then lapping at your blood running from the flesh it had broken.

All while bony hips in torn capris pants had begun to move purposefully against your pajamas.

You hadn’t known what to do.

You’d just remembered feeling warm.

But so afraid.

And confused.

And then a furious screech like no bird you had ever heard, came diving down like retribution from the sky.

Loud enough that your attacker had had to look upward. His young face framed in your blood within the moonlight while he’d grinned to the heavens.

He’d been terrifying.

He’d also been beautiful.

But the two monsters had collided. Wings had scraped the ground, flapping violently while talons had tangled, striking each other’s bare torsos over and over as they’d rolled away from you.

The sounds had been fully inhuman, hissing and screaming with splatters of their blood then mixing with yours already on the ground.

Yet you’d been frozen amongst that raw violence.

“Go!” The one with the solid black wings had called out hoarsely though. While it’d tried to even briefly pin down the other one that had attacked you. That slightly larger creature whose wings had been both a dark pink and black.

The one that had still had pieces of your skin within his scowling maw.

“Please! Go and never come back!” The finality and heartbreak in that plea from your strange protector had also been seared into your memories that night.

The same voice that was now years older, with eyes that much sadder as Corazon still stared down at you in the present day.

“It is you.” You spoke in quiet shock. “You’re okay.”

“Why would you come back!?” He demanded again though, regardless of your sudden realization. “He saw your face in all those damned pictures Monet brought to him! He’s been trying to get leverage on everyone from the district attorney’s office all year. Information about their spouses, their kids, and…”

He sneered. His teeth had grit together. And you’d never seen that expression on Corazon.

He was so angry with you.

“You were really going to marry that spineless piece of shit from the D.A.’s office!? He sold you out in a heartbeat! Where you worked, where you were staying…everything. Doffy didn’t even have to touch him! He works for him now!”

Doffy.

His brother Doflamingo?

Corazon had told you long before the attack back then that he’d had an older brother.

The one he had really been running from when you’d first met.

But Doflamingo had caught up to you both in the end.

Even if you hadn’t fully understood it then.

Because you hadn’t known what Corazon truly was.

“I did move away, Cora. I got sent to freaking therapy because my family thought I was acting out for attention!” You blurted defensively.

They’d blamed you for sneaking out. Everyone had told you over and over that it’d only been a rabid bobcat, or a coyote, something like that that had gotten a hold of you that night.

The rabies shots that followed had been an awful regimen. But the shouts that you were just a delusional teenager making up stories about boys with bird wings had been even worse.

It’d been like being branded somehow.

A permanent outcast.

And truly, you had been marked. The bite scars on your shoulder were still why you’d never wear a tank top or a swimsuit in public.

Yes, right after veterinary school you’d settled for the first man who hadn’t utterly despised you. Your standards had been that low.

But he’d still wanted to chase money and status, and to take his law degree back to the most populated part of the region to accomplish that.

So it was either break up or follow him back towards this place you’d once run from.

Yet how could you know any of this would ever actually find you again? That had been years ago.

Why would they even still remember you?

“You really don’t get it. Do you?” Corazon answered to that disbelief still on your face. “I swore to Doffy that if he let you go that night, I’d never run from him again. That I’d submit and serve him just the way he’s always expected the whole world to.” But he made another sound of disgust, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t stop him again. There’s nothing else he wants that he doesn’t already have this time.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I have everything I want.”

Your eyes had still been trained on Corazon, so you didn’t miss the way he immediately bristled at the new voice.

Cora stood at his full height then too, looking up to the branches above with hatred etched on his face.

And the monster laughed in response.

Just like that night as your insides twisted for the sound.

But also like Cora’s voice, that laugh was deeper now too.

Even more menacing.

They had both grown up.

And now you were all together again.

You moved behind Corazon instinctively as Doflamingo leapt down from the branches overhead.

He landed, letting those massive wings spread as he straightened up.

It was a purposeful display of power and size you were sure while he grinned wide.

The whites of his fangs reflected the remaining moonlight almost as much as that single glowing red eye of his. The other eye had been scarred, taken from him long ago.

“Do you know how rare it is for me to come play in the mud with the rest of you any longer?” Doflamingo taunted, crouching a little then to better see you around Corazon’s tall frame.

Yet just like back then, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that creature either. It was all tan skin, stretched tight over bones and muscle as you could see his every breath.

He was only in dark pants that looked as if they were once the bottom of an expensive, tailored suit.

The mockery of the perfect male form really. Almost human in his silhouette, save for those grand wings where arms should have been, the tail feathers which ran out from the small of his back, and the thinner, scaled over legs coming from the bottom of his pants cuffs. With splayed feet ending in razor sharp talons which now sank into the wet ground beneath him.

His weight shifted, as if he didn’t much like that feel of the dirt either. “I’d prefer meeting in my penthouse on East 22nd these days.” Doflamingo taunted as proof of that observation. “But…I thought this reunion might get a bit messy. And we did just have new carpets put in.”

“I told you I’d bring her to the lakehouse though just as you’d asked. Why are you out here already!?” Corazon barked abruptly anyway, yet you could hear that edge of renewed fear already beginning in his voice.

Doflamingo’s head tilted slightly, that amusement only growing in response. “Well, I was feeling nostalgic. How long has it been, Rosi? Since you and I really got to catch prey together?”

“We’re not doing anything like that!” Cora growled immediately.

“Feh. Quit pretending, little brother. And quit hiding who you really are.” He scolded Corazon outright that time. “This is what you want too, and we both know it. You wanted it that night as well. I was only trying to show you where to start.”

“You were going to kill her!” Cora breathed out. His hands had tightened into fists.

“Not necessarily,” Doflamingo still corrected, condescending as anything. “Actually, I doubt I would have. Don’t you remember why?” And an even deeper cruelty began to seep out with those words.

Something Corazon apparently understood that you did not.

“Shut up!”

“Oh, stop it. We were young, yes. But not in nature’s eyes. She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-“

“I said shut up!”

And Doflamingo laughed again. “You should have been guarding her better then. Instead of running away to hide just because she was ready that night. She came right to me after all…”

“Because you tricked her!”

“You taught her our call…why wouldn’t I use it?”

The special sound.

And Doflamingo did it suddenly then.

His expression changed.

You could mimic it, but not the way they did. It came up from deep within their chests. Like a music note in its pleasantness to you.

You’d ran from your bed many a summer night to find Cora making that sound for you deep within the woods.

And you’d never really wondered why no one else in the cabin had seemed to notice or wake like you did.

Like this song was only meant for you.

It made your body feel warm again. It made you want to follow.

“Stop it!” Cora’s anger snapped you from your daze.

And only then did you realize you had begun to walk towards his brother.

Doflamingo frowned as Corazon had pushed you back behind him once more.

“You are the shining beacon of utter futility, Rosinante. As always.” He tutted, pausing only a moment longer as he readjusted his rain dampened feathers with some frustration.

The weather had changed to more of a hanging mist now. And you knew it was still cold out here. But you didn’t feel it much anymore.

You were still trying to process what Doflamingo had tried to say.

She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-

Had they been fighting over you because…

“Come on, Rosi. I’ve been more than fair here. Stop stalling and change already.” Doflamingo warned a bit more impatiently then, pulling those pink and black wings back closer towards his bare torso.

As if he was just now noticing the cold himself.

“But why does it have to be her!? You could have anyone…just…pick someone else, Doffy!”

And even as a grown man now, you could still hear so much of that boy within Corazon.

Doflamingo evidently heard it too. “Quit whining!” Was what he snapped back. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around! Gutless and useless…this isn’t solely for me. Over and over you tell me how selfish I am. How cruel I am. And yet I put something desirable out for you, practically force feed it to you, and still you complain!”

“Because she has a right to choose her own mate!”

“What? Like that coward she was already living with? You’d let a rodent like him usurp what’s yours!?”

“She’s NOT property! She…she’s-”

“She’s tired of listening to this drivel.” Doflamingo sneered.

And it was all begun there in an instant.

In one lunge and kick, the elder brother had cast his physical lesser decisively to the side.

Your shield was gone.

And you were slammed against the then splintering bark of a tree as that wet maw opened right against your face.

The pain of the hit had made your body try to gasp. But it was as if Doflamingo had known that was exactly what you would do, with his tongue ready to make that his invitation as he forced his way in.

That tongue was warm and long as his wings closed around you.

You were trapped against the tree.

With the sheer heat of his body making you hypersensitive for every place he now pressed himself against you.

This was real.

This was going to happen this time.

And you tasted something metallic on his tongue aa well. A mix of blood and earthiness, warm and purposeful as his fangs bumped against your own far duller teeth.

He had made sure your mouth stayed open long enough as you felt something heavier than his spit slide into it.

“Swallow.” Doflamingo whispered, with his wet lips then still against yours while you felt that odd mixture hit the back of your throat.

You knew exactly what that was.

And what it meant to accept it.

Corazon called your name from somewhere so close as he’d stood again. But there was nothing else he could do.

You didn’t want Cora to be hurt either though. You didn’t want to ever have to leave him alone with his brother again.

But this was the price of staying.

And you were finally willing to make that deal.

Even if it now pleased the devil himself.

Doflamingo did growl in satisfaction too, his face briefly nuzzling down against yours once you had breathed in again, signaling your throat was clear.

He’d just fed you for the very first time.

A familial intimacy reserved only for those most dear.

“Change and hold her for me, Rosi.” Came the command to his brother which followed.

But you couldn’t look away from him.

Doflamingo had straightened his back again. That red eye gleaming down at you.

“My little Corazon has missed you for so long…but I think he still needs convincing to let that out. So let’s help him. Together. You do want to help him…don’t you, my sweet?” And Doflamingo’s voice was taking on a bit of that special resonance again.

As he stepped back away from the tree, you did follow without being stopped this time. His soft wings grazed your sides.

It felt so very good.

You wanted to bury yourself within the affection of those wings and never rise to see the light again.

But Doflamingo lowered them as he led you further.

Enough that you could now fully see Corazon again.

Corazon with that stricken look of devastation, as if he were watching your death in slow motion right before him. With his eyes even damper now than the weather could possibly be blamed for.

That stab of pain within you for your realization of what he was actually enduring carried even through Doflamingo’s spell on you then.

Your lip quivered. “It’s alright, Cora…” You pleaded softly. “Just do as he says…I’m okay.”

And Doflamingo chuckled.

The heartbreak between the two of you only seemed to fuel him further.

“See? She already forgives you. So show her what you really are. Let’s finish this.” Doflamingo ordered his brother even more darkly.

You both understood the threat behind those words if either of you should dare disobey him.

Cora’s spirit was visibly crumbling.

Which made you feel all the more desperate to touch him, to comfort him.

You had missed him so much too, almost having started to believe that that part of your life really had been some sort of self induced hallucination over the years.

That you hadn’t experienced your very first feelings of romantic love with some blond, teen runaway in the woods one summer.

That you actually were just crazy.

“It’s okay.” You reiterated to him. And Doflamingo allowed you to reach for Cora.

The younger brother did take your outstretched hand for a moment too. He squeezed it tightly in his larger one as his eyes offered you a last look of misery.

But that grip was already changing.

He had seemingly accepted your choice.

Corazon’s pale skin began to darken along his arms. The shirt he wore which had already been badly torn from Doflamingo’s earlier kick, he now used his other hand to rip off completely.

That fabric was discarded like trash as he then stood before you in only pants, the same as his brother.

And the prior lack of shoes made all the sense in the world as you saw the skin of his feet scaling over and those talons forming against the ground as well.

But the thing that captured your attention the most were the feathers as they began to bud. Piercing through the then fully darkened skin of his arms one by one as cartilage loudly popped and bones shifted.

Corazon’s arms elongated in time with his legs, that wingspan taking shape as he finally let go of your hand to spread those emerging flight feathers before they could touch the ground.

They were all solid black, yet with a rich shine as each moved into its place. His new tail fanned out behind him as well, hanging over the back top of his pants.

He was gorgeous, like a god even.

But with glowing red eyes, fangs, and all as you noticed the submissive way he still kept his head down regardless once the transformation was complete.

Like his brother too, Corazon’s bare torso which remained, was all sinew and purpose. Every muscle so clearly defined as he breathed in deeply in his anxiety for your judgment.

But he was no monster to you now.

He was a miracle of nature.

“I like the real you.” You told him gently.

And you saw that true surprise flicker through Corazon’s eyes.

Yet Doflamingo’s impatience had to interrupt.

With his equally long bird’s legs, the remaining distance was crossed in a single stride by him. Doflamingo pushed your smaller body roughly against his younger brother’s.

“Now, is everyone comfortable here?” Doflamingo grinned once more as Corazon caught you instinctively against his wings.

Both of them had to keep their legs bent, squatted really just to keep from towering over you in their true forms.

But neither seemed to mind the inherent size difference either.

By the predatory gleam in Doflamingo’s eye, he surely didn’t.

And before you could fully acclimate, your back was now against Corazon’s abdomen while Doflamingo pinned you from the front.

You were caught between them as wings flared and you heard Cora’s fangs hitting together above your head as he snapped at his brother in reflex, not wanting him this close.

“Hush.” Doflamingo’s lack of any real anger in response this time only highlighted the implied power difference which still remained between them. “I’ll put you back to the ground in an instant if you wish.” He reminded.

Yet it was all overwhelming to you already. Just the combination of their body heats and scents mixing together even before you felt that first movement of Doflamingo’s hips against yours.

“Put those dextrous little fingers to good use, sweet girl.” He ordered then, shifting his hips again to try and rub the waistband of his pants against your hand. “The stronger male always gets first rights of course.”

And you felt Corazon’s body tense with disgust. As if he was going to try and fight for your sake anyway.

Which you still couldn’t allow.

Because you knew he wouldn’t give up until Doflamingo had made him into a bloody pulp.

Corazon still cared for you that much.

Just as you cared for him enough to prevent that fate.

“It’s alright. I do want this.” You said as loud as the brief rise of your own bravery would allow.

Corazon took a harsh breath.

But Doflamingo just pushed what was now an obvious bulge harder against your hand in response.

“Smart little thing.” He taunted as your fingers first made it to the button of his pants.

It was all you could do to keep your hands from trembling though as you undid that button and lowered the zipper to free what was growing for you beneath.

You didn’t know what to fully expect of course when dealing with someone that was neither fully man or beast.

Yet your intuition told you not to hesitate. That hesitation would only risk his violence returning. Doflamingo wanted you to touch him immediately as your fingers ran down that muscular V shape which dipped from his navel to his pubic region.

He wore no underwear. But there wasn’t any coarse hair there either to protect him. Just the slightest bit of downy underlayer as the pads of your fingertips found and massaged through it.

It was more wispy fluff than actual feather, soft as anything you’d ever felt as he leaned his head back in clear pleasure.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid the thick base which emerged from that softness either.

Further hardening so quickly as it kept rising up once freed.

His long cock bumped against your stomach in no time, thick and twitching once already.

It looked familiar enough, save for the damn size of it that you didn’t know how the hell you wouldn’t be injured by.

“Everything off. Now.” Doflamingo growled abruptly though. Foreplay not seeming to be a priority for him in this moment as you were then ordered to disrobe.

And Corazon had gone silent now.

You could still feel the tension of Cora against your back before you began to undress.

Your own humiliation certainly didn’t matter to you by this point though. That would be the least of your problems as pieces of your clothing hit the wet ground one after another.

Coat, shoes, shirt, pants, and underwear were all quickly put out of the way. Until it was just you and all that you were in the cold night air.

“Don’t cover her. I want to see it all.” Doflamingo warned his brother immediately though as Corazon’s wings had tried to shift against you.

And the little bit of room that Doflamingo had allowed you in order to undress was swiftly taken back as he now pressed you skin to skin as soon as he could.

“Yes…this is what we should have done years ago. If my little brother hadn’t been such a prude with a stick up his ass.”

Corazon growled lowly to that.

But notably, he made no move to stop his brother this time as Doflamingo kept rubbing his cock against your skin. The head of it had begun to weep. Yet Doflamingo’s gaze had now focused onto that prominent scar on your shoulder.

The one his own fangs had previously given you.

“Did Rosi ever tell you that our kind can’t procreate on their own?” Doflamingo questioned teasingly then, seemingly at random as his tongue ran out over that scar, almost with a reverence while he licked your shoulder until it glistened with his saliva. “You see…if you breed two winged parents together, all they’ll have is miscarriages. But one winged parent and a human…”

“Doffy.” Corazon warned with his own wings still staying protectively close. “That doesn’t matter right now. Just don’t hurt her.”

“It’ll matter eventually.” Doflamingo contested with a lustful smirk.

And your knees were feeling weaker as the boys did this routine again. Falling into that lopsided codependency they had for one another, bickering even with you pressed right between them.

It was a toxic bond they shared and were so determined to now add you to.

Just like Doflamingo had first tried to back then.

But even he had gained some maturity in the time between. Evidenced by the way he first teased the head of himself at your already surprisingly wet entrance instead of just plunging straight inside.

Whether that wetness was your body’s attempt at self preservation or your own willful desire, you weren’t yet sure.

But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. That was clear as he finally began to slowly push his way in.

And when you made that first sound of pain, stretching too much almost immediately, Doflamingo actually paused.

The feathers of his wings ruffled. Somehow the brothers were now tolerating each other enough to not react when their wings bumped one another either.

Yet Corazon’s chest hummed against your back as you felt him bend to put his lips against your neck, near your ear in response to your pain.

“Relax…I’m here.” He promised, even then still trying to protect you.

And you exhaled, feeling that inner warmth once more. Corazon was using that special tone again, resonating through you as you rested your head back against him.

Cora was soothing you as his brother began to push again.

Your were fully walled in too. Corazon’s chest to your back, against him with your thighs spread for his brother. And Doflamingo in front, taking that offering, his legs bent enough for your hips to line up as he slid in deeper and deeper.

And both their wings were to your sides. They were holding you up together as Doflamingo at last bottomed out against your cervix.

You felt like he could have split you in two if he had wanted to.

But Cora’s song just continued, calming and satisfying as you stared up at Doflamingo while he let out a surprising whine with you clenched so tightly around his extraordinary cock.

“Oh…oh, fuck she feels so good.” Doflamingo breathed next. “Keep her calm…I have to move. Keep her just like this.” He was still instructing Corazon even as his sharp hips began to slowly, ever so slowly, slide back and then forward again. The skin of his cock was dragging against your insides.

And you shuddered. Everything felt like more than you could possibly take.

But Doflamingo’s initial whine soon became moans. He was falling apart even faster than you as his wings closed tighter around you and his movements increased.

His feathers kept shifting, his pupil was dilating.

Yet as he almost grimaced in what appeared to be an abrupt brush with overstimulation, you had your very first inkling that they did not get to use these true forms often.

This was a rare intimacy.

Maybe even completely unique for them.

The opportunity to be with a partner in their actual bodies. With all the heightened senses and raw feelings that must entail.

You were barely even a participant, and yet you were overwhelming Doflamingo as he slouched forward with his hips still pumping.

His chin was resting on one of your shoulders then, while Corazon’s was resting on your other from the opposite direction.

“I can’t even…hell, I can’t…” Doflamingo nearly laughed in disbelief.

And you felt him tremble all over as he thrust briefly harder, much rougher then as you cried out a little. But only for three or four more deep hits before his hips stilled abruptly.

The heat inside was immediate, spilling out into you as Doflamingo held himself in as close to the hilt as he could be.

But he was too big to be flush against you, just doing his best as he buried his face beside yours and you already felt his excess seed running out down your thighs to drip onto the ground.

The forest was so quiet again. Save for Doflamingo’s uneven breaths.

“Dammit…” He cursed quietly, sounding an odd mix of both placated and highly disappointed. “I need to try again. That wasn’t enough.”

But you were still aching, regardless of Doflamingo already softening within you from what he perceived as a premature release.

“No. You already came. It counts.” Corazon’s voice returned then and there however. His wings were trying to push Doflamingo’s further away.

And those wingtips were far more prehensile than a normal bird’s once Cora decided to just pull you away from his brother instead by your waist not long after.

It made a lewd sound when Doflamingo’s wet cock slid out of you with that sudden increase in distance. Then hanging soft in a mess of both your fluids between his legs.

He glowered at Corazon as your warmth was removed from his body once more.

And you feared they would now fight again.

Doflamingo did briefly bare his fangs.

But Cora had turned you to face only him then as he moved his wings to push against the side of his own pants next.

You weren’t even done dripping from his brother yet. But you saw the full desire now in Corazon’s eyes.

He’d had to watch everything.

And he had needs too.

Ones you were sure he had been too afraid to ever tell you up until tonight.

“Here.” You reached out, helping Cora as you tugged at his pants to slip them the rest of the way off of his hips.

Fair was fair.

What you did for one brother, you knew you had to do for the other.

Even if Doflamingo was now finding the concept of waiting for his second turn much more difficult than he’d originally envisioned.

Corazon was wearing boxers. Ones that already looked a bit too tight for him just as you felt Doflamingo step back behind you.

Cora clearly bristled, not appreciating that. But you did your best to deescalate them again.

They had their own hierarchy and rules as all flocks did you were sure.

Doflamingo was the leader of them all without question. But his own neediness and vulnerabilities were far more apparent to you now.

It was a bold risk, and you didn’t move too quickly. But you did reach behind you then to massage your hand along Doflamingo’s hip and thigh. Acknowledging him at your back, and rewarding even his few moments of patience with physical touch.

Maybe that affection had surprised him.

He’d stilled again either way, and that was all the time that Corazon had needed to slide his own underwear down enough to uncover himself.

Your face felt flushed at the sight.

Because Cora was already rock hard. Perhaps not the full length of his brother, but no less intimidating for you.

With Doflamingo still right there however, Cora didn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity.

You gasped as Corazon pressed himself right into the wetness his brother had already made within you.

Your insides stretched and filled tight as anything all over again as Cora breathed your name and began immediately rocking his hips.

Doflamingo was then growling behind you in jealous response, so your hand had to move back between his legs to stimulate him too.

You were fondling the older brother’s still softened shaft as he twitched it wantingly in your palm.

While the younger brother quickly fell into a deep rhythm inside of you, pumping your bodies together as nature had always intended.

It didn’t even feel wrong.

Because they both needed you.

And you needed them.

Or you would now.

And as Corazon scraped inside you just right, steady and sure, your orgasm was quickly building even while Doflamingo began to stiffen again within your hand.

You just stroked him harder in rhythm to his brother’s thrusts.

You could see the future already.

There would be babies.

Multiple babies.

One mother, two different fathers.

Nature was like that sometimes. Especially with a rare species that needed all the help it could get.

It’d just be easier to share the resources. To have two strong mates protecting you instead of only one.

Doflamingo was already getting ready to cum again too. You could hear it in his panting as he fucked your hand so roughly then.

But it was the combination of Cora’s steady pumping and Doflamingo’s desperate movements that finally sent you over the edge.

You felt your channel spasm around Cora, who repaid that pleasure immediately with a hard shudder as he released his own seed in powerful shots to mix with what you’d already received from his brother.

Corazon did get it all in, just barely though before those pink wings were grabbing you backward abruptly.

Yet again you were pulled off of a wet cock that had just finished as Doflamingo slid himself right back into your now fully swollen folds from behind.

His wings pushed you, then making you bend forward at the waist so he could fully mount you from behind this time. You didn’t even have the chance to recover from the orgasm you’d just had before Doflamingo was pounding you so hard against your ass.

You were panting too, trembling for the contrast of his soft wings holding you up on the outside while he utterly wrecked you on the inside.

“Come on…I need you to cum on me too…I’m not stopping this until you do.” Doflamingo threatened you. Evidently not at all missing your visible orgasm had with Corazon inside you moments prior.

Yes, everything was always going to be this way too you were sure. Doflamingo would have to have the final word, the final touch. He might share only with his brother. But everything still had to start and end with him.

He was the dominant male of this territory.

“Doflamingo…” You tried his name in some very minor bid for mercy. You couldn’t think straight enough to will another orgasm back out so soon.

But you had to.

You glanced back up towards Corazon, who still seemed a bit dazed from his own release.

But his eyes did meet yours, even as his brother now fucked you raw from only footsteps away.

Yet, it wasn’t the full sadness from earlier in Cora’s stare any longer. You saw real lust for you still so heavy in those red eyes then. That look which said he would also love to do this to you if you’d only ask him for it.

Corazon would do anything you wanted him to going forward.

And that thought was enough to bring the coil of warmth into your stomach again.

You were going to be fine. You would survive.

You’d never have to sit in a room alone again either and worry about who or what future awaited you on the other side.

Because your monsters were already here. And they had chosen you.

You moaned loudly. Both of these men in your mind, together again while that pleasure sent your body into ecstasy one more time.

You came with that cry for Doflamingo as he orgasmed gladly in return to flood your poor channel yet again with his seed.

Your abused cunt was dripping and your body shaking before Doflamingo pulled you fully back against his chest, wrapping his warm wings around you protectively.

His voice was a bit uneven, matching his rough breathing now. “Let’s go home then. All three of us. Tonight and forever.”

And Corazon smiled slightly at last to that rare sentiment. A remarkable expression in its own right.

Because maybe Cora was finally realizing as you had that the worst was not truly the worst.

Doflamingo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you now.

This deal had been made and the ink was already dry.

Cora used his feathers to awkwardly pull up his underwear and pants before he idly began collecting your clothing for you soon after.

“You’re going to need bigger beds then, Doffy. Both at the lakehouse and the penthouse.” Corazon said quietly as he looked back to the two of you who were still recovering.

Doflamingo smirked, not disagreeing this time. “That’d be much easier than arguing whose bed she’ll get in each night, wouldn’t it?”

You’d lay with them both of course.

But Doflamingo nipped your ear for good measure too as his feathers rubbed more possessively across your abdomen.

“Yes. We’ll have quite a nest going on soon enough.” He grinned wide in anticipation of this truth. “Little ones never like to sleep alone either after all.”

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! ❤️🎃

A/N: The two sentence horror story quoted in the beginning is “Knock” by Fredric Brown.

98 notes · View notes